JOHN AND SARAH
DUKE AND DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH

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JOHN AND SARAH
DUKE AND DUCHESS OF
MARLBOROUGH 1660— I 744
BASED ON UNPUBLISHED LETTERS AND
DOCUMENTS AT BLENHEIM PALACE

BY STUART J. REID, D.C.L.
WITH AN INTRODUCTION
BY THE
DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH, K.G.

WITH PORTRAITS AND ILLUSTRATIONS

LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.
1914

3y34-.>2<'

[All rights Siruertd]

PREFACE
A PREFACE to a book ought to prove, to some extent
at least, an aid to its interpretation. I sometimes
think that an author when called upon to make
such a deliverance may be likened to an architect
who, in the presence of his completed work, is asked
to explain the methods of its construction. Author
and architect might very well claim to be excused,
for books, like buildings, are, after all, accomplished
facts which speak for themselves, and if their appeal
is not self-evident, it is negligible. People who do
not care for a preface — they are in a minority I am
told — are quite at liberty to exercise the right of
private judgment, and pass over these pages in their
haste to read the Introduction with which the Duke
of Marlborough has equipped this work. But since
the majority of readers appreciate an author's con
fidences and prefer him to talk to them before the
curtain is drawn up, I make a virtue of necessity and
take up my parable. This is an age when the will
of the majorit}'^, for better or worse, prevails, and
therefore I propose to make a statement — inevitably
personal in part — which is intended to be an aid to
the interpretation of the book. There is a certain
advantage, moreover, about a preface, since it gives
the author an opportunity of telling the reader
certain facts which could not be introduced into the
actual text without doing violence to a narrative
which is at once biographical and historical. I am

vi PREFACE
a Hrm believer in the old idea that the perfection of
art consists in its concealment, and though I do not
flatter myself I have attained to it, I can at least
claim that I have kept myself out of sight in this work,
except in a few pages in the final chapter, when a
personal statement about the Blenheim Archives
was imperative.
At the outset it is necessary to explain how I came
to be entrusted with so important a task as the
vindication of John Duke and Sarah Duchess of
Marlborough, by an appeal to historical documents
and letters which have long lurked in ambush. My
association with Blenheim is not of yesterday. It
began as far back as the summer of 1889, and has
continued more or less to the present time. In the
spring of the year I have just named, one night
when I was the guest of my friend, the late Colonel
Harcourt of Nuneham Park, he made a quite un
expected proposal to me. Colonel Harcourt had read
my then recently published biography of Sydney
Smith. He was old enough to have known person
ally the inimitable and witty Canon to whom he
thought I had done tardy justice, and from that day
onwards to his death he honoured me with his con
fidence. I dwell on this in passing because it links
my first book to my last. That night, in the spring
of 1889, Colonel Harcourt told me that he had just
been consulted by the then Duke of Marlborough in
regard to the arrangement of the Blenheim Archives,
which at that time were in hopeless confusion.
He asked me if I was prepared to attempt the task
of bringing order out of chaos. In those days I
was young and ardent, and had my way to make,
and in that way began confidential relations with the
ducal family of Marlborough, which have remained
unbroken for more than a quarter of a century.
Blenheim, when I first crossed its stately portals

PREFACE vii
was difficult of approach. Handborough was the
nearest railway station, for the branch-line to Wood
stock, which makes the journey easy to-day, was not
then constructed. Probably if I had known all the
difficulties of my task I should not have undertaken
it. Those difficulties were enhanced when the Duke,
as my work was approaching completion, suddenly
discovered in some roomy and forgotten cupboard in
the palace many bundles of fresh papers, which threw
my previous classification into disorder. But to cut the
story short, with the occasional help of two assistants
— one of whom was the late Dr. Burch, F.R.S., of
Oxford, and the other my old college friend Mr. Henry
Johnson^I succeeded in arranging the papers to the
late Duke of Marlborough's satisfaction. My rela
tions with Blenheim grew more intimate when the
present Duke succeeded to the title. His Grace
requested me to make a collection of historical books,
designed to take the place of the vanished Sunder
land Library. I also, on the Duke's initiative and
as the result of researches at home and abroad,
identified a number of flags captured by John Duke
in battle, which were reproduced in facsimile, and
hang in Blenheim to-day in all the bravery of gold
and silver embroidery. Finally, the Duke did me
the honour to ask me to write a biography of the
imperious Sarah, and this book — expanded on second
thoughts to cover also the career of John Duke in
the years of his unequalled military ascendency —
is the outcome.
There is next to nothing at Blenheim beyond a
few parchments and official papers concerning the
early career of Marlborough, and therefore I have
passed lightly over his services prior to the years in
which he won his abiding heritage of renown. It was
when Anne came to the throne, and England was
confronted with the War of the Spanish Succession

viii PREFACE
that the Duke in the camp and the Duchess at the
Court rose to a supremacy which was unmatched
in the annals of the nation by any other man and
woman who stood in the relation of husband and wife.
Lord Bryce, when I began this book, said to me,
" Give us plenty of letters," and aU the way through
I have carried that counsel of perfection in my mmd.
Contemporary letters, written with no view of publica
tion, are like unsuspected doors which, when opened,
throw new light on the page of history. I make no
apology, therefore, for a constant appeal to them.
At the same time, in many instances it has only been
possible to print citations from the Blenheim
Papers. Two hundred years ago brevity had not
been accepted as the soul of wit. People of rank
and leisure spent hours over a single letter, and filled
pages of it with sentimental reflections, elaborate
compHments, or what Sarah Duchess used to caU,
with dry humour, " protestations." If I had quoted
many of the letters as they stand, I should have thrown
my picture out of scale, and might even have required
a second volume to make room for what, at this time
of day, is of no permanent value. Faded and dis
cursive rambling letters, written often in involved
phraseology with quill -pens that never seemed to
tire, blotted with mica dust, and sealed with wax,
had often of necessity to be curtailed .
Archdeacon Coxe, in the well-known " Life of
John Duke of Marlborough," which was published
nearly a century ago, and is often quoted in these
pages, took up a distant and somewhat critical atti
tude in regard to the Duchess. I am inclined to
think that that worthy cleric did not in the least
approve of her. She seems to have been, in his eyes,
a sort of marplot of unbridled speech — the kind of
person to be dismissed by a scholar with a shudder.
He never took the pains, I imagine, to understand

PREFACE ix
her. Marlborough was the hero of Archdeacon Coxe ;
the Duchess, though he could not by any means ignore
her, was a femme incomprise with a temper which,
in the end, helped to wreck the great soldier's career.
I do not think he took the trouble to examine with
any degree of thoroughness the impetuous scrawls of
the Duchess, except in regard to the historic quarrel
between Queen Anne and the most unconventional
Mistress of the Robes that was ever in authority
at the English Court. Many of them, especially
those written in later life, appear altogether to have
escaped him, or this book would not contain so much
that is new. Lord Wolseley, though he did not
profess to have studied closely the character of the
indomitable Duchess, described her in conversation
with me as a " torpedo in petticoats." But the
Duchess cannot be dismissed in a phrase, however
witty, or this book would never have been written.
She was not merely a warm-hearted and impulsive,
but also a remarkable woman, who played a great
part in the reign of Anne, and the truth about her
cannot be coined in an epigram, whether of censure
or of praise. The Duke of Marlborough, in his Intro
duction, has spoken of Sarah as a great woman of
business, and the Blenheim Archives prove that
point up to the hilt. There are innumerable docu
ments in the Duke's possession which show that the
Duchess, in the more than twenty years of her
widowhood, was alert, sagacious, and practical to
the last degree. If I have not burdened my pages
with many instances of this, the reason is that it
would have carried me too far into prosaic details.
I plead guilty to divided allegiance. It may be
ungallant to make such a confession, but the Duke
rather than the Duchess appears to me both in
character and in achievement to be the more com
pelling personage. Here the old saying, " Words are

X PREFACE
women; deeds are men," suggests itself. The Duke
was supremely a man of action— invincible amid a
shower of bullets, but irresolute amid a shower of
pamphlets. He thought that his achievements spoke
for themselves, and stood aloof from verbal contests
with a crowd of scribblers who did their best to make
havoc of his reputation. The Duchess ran to the
opposite extreme. " Words are women." Her pen
was seldom at rest. The joy of battle to her was to
repel with heat accusations which were so trivial, as
well as groundless, that they would have been for
gotten in her lifetime if she had been endowed with
her husband's coolness and self-restraint. As it was,
they both suffered, the Duke from silence, the
Duchess from speech, and slander in consequence went
its way, until it was accepted by historians, some of
whom tricked it out with rhetoric in order to prick
the bubble reputation. It was the conviction that
the motives and actions of the first Duke and Duchess
of Marlborough had been traduced which led me —
with what success others must judge — to tell the story
of their lives in the light of authentic letters which
have been hidden away for several generations. The
more I studied the career of the Duchess, the more
I realized that it was impossible to do justice to the
story without bringing into full view her illustrious
husband in the years when he was winning the
historic battles of the War of the Spanish Succession.
Hence it came about, in Mr. Murray's happy phrase,
that the " river overflowed its banks," and I found
myself compelled — as the fortunes of the Duke and
Duchess were indissolubly linked — to describe in the
light of the Blenheim Archives the part which
they both played in the short but dramatic reign of
Queen Anne.
It only remains for me to add that my book has,
in manuscript, been subjected to a running fire of

PREFACE

XI

criticism, and I am free to admit that, though its
faults may still be many, it has been improved in the
process. Perhaps at this stage I ought to acknow
ledge my indebtedness to Lady Burghclere, the Duke
of Marlborough, Mr. Harold Temperley (Fellow of
Peterhouse, Cambridge), Dr. Stopford Brooke, and
Mr. John Murray, who have all read the manuscript,
and given me more or less important suggestions.
One other allusion in this regard I must permit myself.
But for the constant and practical sympathy of luy
wife, I should have faltered and perhaps have failed in
my task. I am especially indebted to Mr. Temperley
and Mr. Murray for critical comment, which has, to a
marked degree, enabled me to steer clear of historical
pitfalls. I do not for a moment suppose that in this
respect I have entirely succeeded, but the book as it
stands would not have been quite as impeccable but for
their help. I might say a good deal more, but it is
time to bow myself off the scene, and so I will only add
in this connection, habent sua fata libelli. As for the
rest, to borrow the historic words of the Abb6 Vertot
when he finished his History of the Knights of
Malta, " Mon siege est fait." With that I leave my
book, such as it is, to take its chance for better or
worse in the world of letters. STUART REID.
Blackwell Cliff,
East Grinstead,
Sussex. May 7, 1 914.

INTRODUCTION
By THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH, K.G.
A DILETTANTE mind like mine, which passes from
history as treated logically by Stubbs to history as
treated adventurously by Froude, is rather at a loss
to describe the historian's true position. I suppose
that he feels himself free to take ground as he chooses
between romance and science; and perhaps it is for
this reason that history requires to be rewritten to
suit each successive epoch of thought. Should the
history of England, as set forth in the textbooks, be
judged to lag somewhat behind contemporary ideas,
that is due to the fascination exercised over men's
minds by Macaulay. If an historian's greatness is
to be measured by his influence, Macaulay is great
indeed. It is from his " History of England " that
the average man, even if he has never read the book,
derives his notions about the phase of our constitu
tional history which opened in 1688, and is not yet
closed, though it is closing. Nor is this influence
surprising. To his historical studies Macaulay brought
supreme literary power, and a complete sympathy
with the dominant political ideas of his time. His
" History of England " is the great monument of
Whiggery. It exhibits, and was intended to exhibit,
the constitutional development of England, from the
Revolution to the Reform Bill, as an almost provi
dentially beneficent scheme of ordered progress.
Indeed, it is hardly straining the truth to say that,
in dealing with the outstanding figures of the revolu-

xiv INTRODUCTION
tionary period, Macaulay asked himself what attitude
they would have adopted to the franchise question,
say in 1830, and judged them accordingly. Did their
work further the coming of Reform, then they are
children of light. Did it retard it, then Macaulay does
not hesitate to use his genius to awaken prejudice
against them. Of Marlborough's hostility to what
Macaulay regarded as the true constitutional move
ment the historian entertained no doubt ; and when
I come to discuss Marlborough's political opinions, I
shall try to show that Macaulay 's antipathy was well
founded. But the great Whig's judgment was too
keen to dismiss Marlborough as an ordinary foe.
In him he saw the one man who might have arrested,
perhaps have changed, the whole current of English
political development; and against him he directed
all his arts. His success has been amazing. The
" History " ends at the point where Marlborough's
supreme achievements begin, but the estimate of
character based on this incomplete record holds the
field. To the average Englishman Marlborough is a
soldier of eminence, but he is by no means a national
hero. The evil which he did, or which Macaulay said
he did, in the earlier part of his career, has been
allowed to eclipse the splendour of his victories.
No complete vindication of Marlborough has hitherto
been attempted, and it seems to me that the thought of
our time demands some such enterprise in the interests
of English History. To what extent this volume
succeeds in supplying such a vindication, time and
public opinion alone can decide. Indeed, modern
political thought is so conspicuously fluid that
It is as yet hardly possible to determine the quality
of its historical judgments. But it can at least be
laid down that the principles of English classical
Liberalism are no longer accepted as possessing the
universal soundness claimed for them by their earlier

INTRODUCTION xv
advocates. It is no longer true to say that govern
ment by a Ministry responsible to a representative
Legislature is the last word in political wisdom. No
one who considers the preponderant place occupied
by Germany in the modern world can maintain that
Pariiamentary institutions afford the only avenue to
national greatness. We are, in fact, reopening ques
tions which Macaulay regarded as settled for ever, and
we are necessarily revising many of Macaulay 's
opinions. In particular, it is now possible to give
more sympathetic consideration to the political ideas
of the man who was the villain of Macaulay 's piece.
Moreover, our general outlook has shifted in two
important respects. Political economy has definitely
displaced religion as the mainspring of political action,
and we have consequently lost not a little of our old
enthusiasm for Whiggish hatred of the Stuarts.
Marlborough never ceased to love the Stuarts, not
even when, at the supreme crisis of his life, he pre
ferred his religion to his King ; and Macaulay was not
the man to understand, still less to condone, his
hesitation. Greater justice can be done him now.
Cosmopolitanism is the second of the Whig doctrines
that have sunk in repute. Extended facilities for
foreign travel have brought a more acute sense of
national distinctions ; and a conviction that foreigners
and Englishmen do not think alike probably sums up
the average insular notion of foreign policy. Macaulay
made a hero of William III., because he found in him
the pivot of a European combination . Our own
more quizzical, more practical-minded age thinks
rather of the national unit, and is better able to sym
pathize with Marlborough's passionate service of
England and the English Crown.
Above all, Macaulay's attitude was dramatic. It
is true that he compromised with the scientific spirit
of his time by representing the figures of his history,

XVI

INTRODUCTION

not as free agents, but as protagonists of causes ; but
within this limitation he gave the rein to his dramatic
instinct. His personages stand for ideas greater than
themselves, but it is in the actions of personages that
the progress of ideas is indicated. Accordingly he
sets forth his theories by drawing a sharp contrast
between Mariborough and William III.; and to do
this he has to misinterpret motives, and even to distort
facts. For Marlborough was something more than
a foil to WiUiam. In the field he was his superior,
in diplomacy he was his equal; and when Macaulay
exhibits him as a mere background to throw up the
King's qualities he does him an injustice, a vague
consciousness of which perhaps explains his bitterness.
Nowadays we have read too many novels to demand
a dramatic presentation of history. We are not
concerned exclusively with character as presented in
action; we enjoy the study of character for its own
sake. Our temper is analytical rather than construc
tive, psychological rather than dramatic. Motive,
and the whole complex thought-process that deter
mines motive, strike us as worthy of examination;
and we are not the less interested in Marlborough's
general ideas because they bore no fruit. It is with
an eye to this modern psychological interest that this
book has been written. Its business is to set out
what manner of man Mariborough was, rather than
to pass a verdict on what he did. For this reason its
main concern is with his intimate personal feelings,
with his revelation of himself in his relations with his
wife, and not with the cold front he put on to the
world . But it does not commit the mistake of making
the Duchess a foil to the Duke, as Macaulay made the
Duke a foil to the King. By a happy coincidence
Marlborough reveals himself most fully in his attitude
to the most remarkable woman of his time, and one
of the most remarkable women of any time. The

INTRODUCTION xvii
Duchess deserves study on the score of her own merits,
and she, too, is most intimately known through her
private life. Only Sarah Jennings could command
the confidence of John Churchill ; only John Churchill
could command the confidence of Sarah Jennings;
and Providence made them husband and wife. That
confidence was never broken, was never even threat
ened, throughout the whole of their married life ; and
its memory was the one joy of her long widowhood.
The relations of these two exceptional people, and the
light thrown by their relations upon the character of
each, provide the material for the fascinating piece of
psychological history that is told in this book.
What was the secret of the hold which each
possessed over the other ? It may be sought in the
quotations given in these pages from the two little
packets of letters — his to her and hers to him — the
former of which the Duchess read over in her extreme
old age, and wrote on the docket that she wished to
destroy them, but had not the heart. If so, the secret
will be sought in vain. These notes scarcely seem
the foundation for a life-long affection. On John
Churchill's side they show a most moving and romantic
passion. But does romance withstand the common
place little strains of married life ? Too often it wears
itself away and leaves disillusion. Of John Churchill
we can only say that in this, as in other respects, his
character was exceptional. He was a true romantic;
and, as I shall try to show later, his temperament
coloured all his thought. But here it is enough to
point out that his romance lasted as long as his life,
and was even unaffected by the pitiful quarrels
between his wife and his children. To all others who
had dealings with her the Duchess was a most
efficient woman of the world ; but to her husband she
was a radiant and wonderful being, whom he was
reluctant to place in this world at all. How un-

xviii INTRODUCTION
willingly he writes her a few words of caution and
criticism at a time when her breach with the Queen
was making it impossible for him to realize the aspira
tion of his life !
Romantic though he may have been, Marlborough
did not generally allow the strength of his feelings
to overpower the firmness of his judgment ; and again
we must ask how his wife, and his wife alone, succeeded
in breaking down all barriers. Her own letters in
this bundle fail to answer the question. It would
be doing a grave injustice to a woman who, above all
things, always knew her own mind, to suggest that
she hesitated over the choice of a husband ; but her
letters do not indicate any decision. She is sure of
her man, and is prepared to play with him. She
takes a certain enjoyment in provoking him to new
outbursts. She is very determined that she shall
not be lightly won. She was not what is called a
man's woman, and she chose to show him the side
of her character that would have repelled anyone else.
The world thought her all brain, so she put all her
brain into these letters. When he offered her
romance, she replied by playing a game of skill.
It was what he wanted. Mariborough did not
possess and scarcely appreciated the intellectual
excellencies. Pohtical life, with its eternal intrigues,
never appealed to him — not, perhaps, so much because
he found it petty as because he found it cold. His
nature dehghted only in broad issues whose decision
could stir the soul. But he knew the incompleteness
of his character; and though he was unmoved by the
contemplation of his missing qualities in a man, he
idolized them in a woman. It was his wont to wor
ship things ; he worshipped intellect in his wife. Hers
was a very capable, matter-of-fact intellect, of the
order that the French recognize in the women they call
mattresses femmes. Her concern was not with ideas,

INTRODUCTION xix
but with situations ; and her masculine qualities made
her the dearer in his eyes because they were the
complement of his own nature. It would be too
much to say that he married her for her brains or
for her charm ; the truth is that he married her
because he could not help himself. But he exalted
her for her brains ; because of them he placed her even
above his Queen. He was proud of his wife because
she could deal on equal terms with the best statesmen
of his time. Excellence in anything appealed to him
because he excelled himself; and it seemed to him only
fitting that the supreme intellect of the day should
be his wife's, and thus, as it were, a part of his own
being. He was not ambitious for his own sake,
except, perhaps, in his first youth; but honours had
an attraction for him, since he knew that she would
use them in a way the worid would admire. In a
word, her brains inspired his confidence, and her
womanhood his passion; and it was her unique com-J
bination of intellect with sex which perpetually fed
the fire of his romance .
So, perhaps, half of the secret may be extracted
from these letters — his half. But what of hers ?
Even at this time she strongly objected to her letters
being kept, and her feelings towards her future
husband have to be inferred from ten meagre notes.
But we may fairly consider these as typical; and, if
we judge her by them, we might sum her up as having
nothing more than a keen intellectual relish for the
homage of a man whom she perceived to stand apart
from his fellows. It is true that in the days of her
greatness she was notoriously insusceptible to flattery ;
it took many years before even the unstinted affection
of a Queen weakened her luminous perception of
facts. But it is tempting to say that she was only
a woman after all, with a woman's love of admiration,
which she was not ashamed to indulge when her

XX INTRODUCTION
admirer was a man of genius. Possibly some such
reflections may have influenced her in early days, but
it is not thus that her character should be read. The
truth which is hidden in her letters is revealed in the
pathetic docket that I have quoted. It was no last
impulse of a coquettish love of admiration that made
her read over in her lonely old age these notes of more
than half a century before. She had not the vanity
that would demand such morbid gratification. Least
of all could pride in her past have moved her to burn
the letters and then refrain from lack of courage.
The truth is that she gave herself to her husband as
completely as he gave himself to her, and for the
same reason — she found in him the complement of
her own nature.
There was little that such a woman as Sarah
Jennings could find to lean upon, even among the
commanding men of her epoch. She had herself all
the qualities of a successful man. She might perhaps
have taken a certain masculine delight in making a
career for a husband markedly her inferior, but she
was too intolerant of incompetence for that delight
to have persisted for long. And so she sought for a
man who had what she lacked. She might have
found a mystic, would have found him, maybe, had
she lived a generation earlier. But a mystic would
have been a strange figure at Charles II.'s showy
Court. Instead she found a man of genius. Her
husband fascinated her because she never quite pene
trated his character. She could have learned the
rules of generalship, just as she mastered all the
political arts, but she could never have acquired
Marlborough's secret of unfailing victory. That
came of genius which she lacked, and was great enough
to know that she lacked. When Mariborough was
planning a batrie, he became the most secretive of
men. His wife, who would have stormed with rage

INTRODUCTION xxi
had he failed to take her counsel in any affair of
practical life, not only bore his secrecy, but enjoyed
it. It was because he could do what nobody else
could do, and that without breathing a word of it
beforehand even to her, that she acknowledged him
her master.
Before their marriage — perhaps even after it — it
was her cue to twit John Churchill for his love of
romance. That was characteristic; she was a woman
with a proper contempt for dreamers. Yet she came
to idolize a romantic because she discerned in the
young Churchill that quality, hidden from the world
until long afterwards, which places him among the
great romantics who have changed the course of
human destinies. He had the power of making
dreams come true. Any lover can tell his lady of the
magnificent things he would do for her sake; Marl
borough did them. He laid his victories like roses
at his wife's feet. For her he dreamed, and then,
grappling patiently with reluctant facts, turned his
dreams into achievements. It was to her he sent the
most splendid love-token that ever man gave to
woman, the news of Blenheim — to her, and not to the
Queen. He followed up his first despatch with a
letter explaining the meaning of his act, though we
may be sure that she had guessed it at once.
" I can't end my letter," he wrote, " without being soe
vain as to tell my dearest soull that within the memory
of man there has been noe Victory soe great as this,
and as I am sure you love me soe intirely well, that
you will be infinitely pleas'd with what has been done."
The same spirit is shown in the letter sent off just
after Malplaquet had been fought and won. He
had written to her on the night before the battle —
a long letter in a firm hand. To it he added next
day a postscript, shakily written, telling her that all
had gone well, and ending: " Nothing in this world

xxii INTRODUCTION
can make me happy if you are not kind." To the
Duchess her husband must still be kneeling as in the
early days of his courtship. His victories pleased her,
but, in spite of them, he must remain in suspense,
always doubting whether he retained her affections.
What an example of the supreme genius of woman,
exacting, under all conditions of fortune, surrender
from the loved object !
The depth of Marlborough's passion for his wife is
shown in the many letters written from the field in
which his main desire is for a peaceful life by her
side. The strength of her devotion to him is ex
pressed in the long years of widowhood which she
dedicated to his memory. It is this mutual affection
that makes their story wonderful. Between them
they had all that life could give — supreme achieve
ment, control of men and affairs, fame, honour,
power. But it all counted for little in their eyes, if
only they could be together.
The romance of Marlborough's life is fully told for
the first time in this book. The rest of his career is
almost wholly epic. It may seem audacious to sum
up a great man's record in a couple of words, since
distinction in life rather suggests subtlety of character-
But the Duke's nature was essentially simple. A few
great motives determined his principal actions, and
it was not in him to hold a delicate balance of con
sideration for and against. The variety, the com
plexity, the rapid shifts of thought and mood, that
lend fascination to the study of Napoleon are lacking
in Mariborough. His thought was clear and effective,
but was not of the type called profound. Indeed, he
had none of the love of thinking for its own sake by
which most men would hold that their best selves were
revealed. Instead, he had consummate military
genius ; and the curious thing about him is that he
seems himself to have regarded his genius as some-

INTRODUCTION xxiii
thing apart from his character. Possibly he could
not even have explained why he became a soldier.
Certainly he made no attempt to analyze the secret
of his generalship. But there was an instinct in him
that took command of his soul. It first asserted itself
on the day when he first set foot on a parade-ground,
and it never left him. When a political issue con
fronted him he was racked by doubts, but he never
hesitated over a military problem, hardly seems to
have realized that there was a problem. We do
not know how he planned his campaigns. All we
know is that he never sought advice from any other
soldier, except from his trusted brother-in-arms,
Prince Eugene. Some internal impulse seems to
have dictated to him what he should do, and this
impulse controlled his intellectual powers, at the same
time raising them to a higher level. He made his
preparations for a stroke with infinite patience, and
there is something almost uncanny in the way that
these preparations furthered the attainment of his
eventual object. The military textbooks all speak
of the unexpected in warfare. In Marlborough's
strategy the unexpected never happens. The General
acts as with a foreknowledge of the enemy's position
and action. There was, of course, no such fore
knowledge. What suggests it is the genius which
immediately and unhesitatingly pointed to the one
supremely adequate plan.
In this quahty of military intuition there is only
one figure in history that can be compared with him
— ^Alexander the Great. Like Alexander, Marl
borough was irresistible. There was no pitched
battle in which he was not victorious, no fortified
town which did not open its gates before him, no
natural defence strengthened by all the ingenuity
of skilled engineers which could check his advance.
Had he lived in an age which glorified its heroes,

xxiv INTRODUCTION
Mariborough, like Alexander, would have been viewed
as a god. As it was, French mothers made of him
a figure of terror with which to awe their children.
Contemporary opinion could have paid no greater
tribute to his marvellous generalship.
His career as a soldier lacks hght and shade. The
military difficulties which he overcame are less appa
rent than those by which Frederick the Great or
Napoleon were confronted. On the battlefield Marl
borough was not human as the word is generally
understood. He did not regard himself as liable to
the ordinary hazards of human life. It is told in
this book how in one of his later battles, when his
years were beginning to press upon him, and he
bore the weight of a reputation which even the
greatest soldier might have been concerned to main
tain, he dashed into the thick of the fight with the
boisterous recklessness of an ensign drunk with the
excitement of his first skirmish. Had one of his
officers ventured to rebuke him and bidden him be
more mindful of his fame, he could only have replied
that he trusted his star. It is perhaps because of his
unvarying success that Marlborough does not make
a greater appeal to the hero-worshipper. Only the
skilled soldier, with professional knowledge of the
difficulties which Marlborough brushed aside so easily
that they seem never to have existed, can appreciate
the full measure of his greatness. Napoleon, who was
not given to acknowledge indebtedness to other men
for his ideas, honoured him as his master, and in his
own march from Boulogne to the Danube showed to
what purpose he had studied the Blenheim campaign.
That fact alone places Marlborough high among the
world's greatest masters of war.
I have suggested that Marlborough himself treated
his own genius as something apart. In this book it
is recorded how, when reconnoitring a position, the

INTRODUCTION xxv
Duke dropped his handkerchief, motioned to one of
his chief lieutenants to pick it up, and afterwards told
him — what he had already guessed — that a battery
was to be erected at the point. The whole episode
reads like a piece of ritual, very different from the free
interchange of opinion between a commander and his
staff which reconnaissance work generally implies.
Like Nelson, Marlborough was adored by his fellow-
officers, but he would never have described himself as
forming a band of brothers with them. All that we
know of his conduct of operations indicates that he
maintained a very rigid formalism; and he certainly
admitted none of his officers to his intimacy. Prince
Eugene was the only one of his comrades who was
also in any real degree his friend, and Eugene paid
Marlborough's genius avowed homage.
Though the Duke revered his own military gifts,
he never became their slave. Enemies said that he
had secured his appointment as Captain-General in
order to wrest full control of the war into his own
hands, and eventually to proclaim himself Lord
Protector. Events soon showed the absurdity of the
charge, but no one who had followed the Duke's
career with understanding would ever have brought
it. He regarded himself, or rather the genius of
which he was the custodian, as dedicated to the service
of his country. It would have been impossible for
him to follow his star like Napoleon. The pursuit
of ambition as an end in itself is the mark of the
parvenu, and was foreign to Marlborough's charac
teristically gentle nature. The suggestion that he
fought battles for the credit of winning them does
him as great an injustice as the charge, actually
brought by a contemporary partisan, that he pro
longed the war in order to make money by selling the
commissions of dead officers; and when he protested
to his wife, in letters written from the field, that he

xxvi INTRODUCTION
would far sooner be walking in a garden with her, he
was absolutely sincere. His soldier's heart was eager,
no doubt, to carry the war into France and dictate
terms of peace from Paris. That, he felt, was how
the war should have ended and might have ended.
But that he should use his immense prestige to place
himself at the head of an invading army in defiance
of his Queen's wishes never occurred to him. To
wage war because he could wage it successfully would
have struck him as an abuse of the wonderful gift with
which Providence had endowed him. When his Queen
charged him to fight he was ready, but he felt debarred
from using his genius except in obedience to her
sovereign command.
Yet it has been said, and with a certain truth, that
he was ambitious. It was, as it were, an impersonal
desire for fame. It seemed to him a special mercy of
Providence that his talents should have been placed
at the disposal of England, and not of any other
country; that because of him England was enabled
to wreck the plans of the great Sovereign who threat
ened her liberties, and to shatter the nightmare of the
junction of French and Spanish power in one man's
hand. That such a boon should pass without formal
thanks offended his sense of piety. Therefore he set
himself to see that his exploits were worthily com
memorated, and took it as a matter of course that
no memorial could be too magnificent. The talent
that won Blenheim must be honoured ; and it was,
as he felt it, only incidental that the honour should
be bestowed upon his own person. It was his
achievements, not himself, that were to be recognized
by a grateful country. For this reason he determined
that the stately palace which his countrymen intended
to build should be named after the first and most
dazzling of the victories that it recalled. But he felt
that his fame would be the special heritage of his

INTRODUCTION xxvii
descendants, and he determined that they should be
in a position to maintain it. For them he saved
money — which, however, he spent again generously
enough when the needs of his country demanded it —
and for them he collected pictures and tapestry in
his travels through Europe. It seemed to him en
tirely fitting that his descendants should live in the
building which was to bear eternal witness to his
genius. For personal glory, on the other hand, he cared not
at all. It is true that Blenheim, as it stands to-day,
is a memorial of the first Duke much more than a
thank-offering for his victories. That, however, is
not due to any conceit of Marlborough's. The house
was only partially complete at the time of his death,
and it was the Duchess who really changed his in
tentions in endeavouring to carry them out. It was
not by any desire of hers that Blenheim was planned
on so gigantic a scale ; and she never quite understood
what was in her husband's mind when he planned it.
But she obeyed his wishes the more closely because
she did not understand them; and, as she was in
capable of drawing the distinction, of which he was
so conscious himself, between his personality and his
genius, she converted the house he had projected
into the stateliest personal memorial that has ever
been raised to any Englishman, and so helped to
blind posterity to the modesty that was really one of
her husband's qualities. Blenheim suggests the Duke
as a man rather too ready to make his less fortunate
fellows realize their own inferiority. It was thus that
the Duchess would have behaved had she been a man,
possessed of all the qualities that were hers, and of
her husband's military gifts besides; and Blenheim
enshrines her ideal and rather subjective version of
him. But the man himself was other and finer.
Had Marlborough been the somewhat disdainful

xxviii INTRODUCTION
Colossus of the Duchess's tradition, it would be easy
to account for the charges of avarice and jealousy
brought against him by contemporaries. The mag
nificent man must needs live magnificently, and does
not brook rivals near his throne. But the evil tales
of early eighteenth-century malice have been accepted
by Macaulay, who, in belittling Marlborough, has
converted into grave defects qualities which the
Duchess would have had posterity regard as corol
laries of her hero's surpassing greatness. Dr. Stuart
Reid has dealt in this book with a charge, accepted
by Macaulay, of meanness made effective by treason,
and has shown how slender is the foundation for it.
I do not here propose to examine all the counts in the
indictment against Marlborough, and I have no desire
to pass judgment without having tested the evidence.
Still, the Duke's character would not have been
attacked had there not been something in his conduct
that gave colour to the accusations. That Marl
borough saved money is true, though it must be
remembered, to his credit, that he never stooped to
corrupt gains. What I would ask is whether he was
really the selfish miser that his enemies represented
him. As I read him, he worked for his house, not
for himself, and was inspired, as I have suggested
above, by a wish to enable his descendants to support
worthily their heritage of his fame.
As for his alleged jealousy of other officers, it
would not accord with my conception of his cha
racter if he had been altogether free from some
such feeling in the eariy stages of his career. Marl
borough was determined that, when the hour called
for the man, he should be that man; and the
ground of his determination was the wholly sound
conviction that no one could adequately take his
place. In the light of after-events it is easy to say
that such genius as his must have found its own level,

INTRODUCTION xxix
even if there had at first been half a dozen generals
of the capacity of Louis's Marshals in higher com
mands than his own. The test of war would have
revealed both them and him. But such criticism is
not quite fair to its subject. Marlborough knew that
he was great, but he could not anticipate the full
measure of his greatness. Only experience could
show that; and with experience Marlborough's con
fidence in his star increased, so that in the end, when
the strain of war had begun to tell upon his health,
and in reflective moods he was genuinely anxious for
peace, he was nevertheless serenely ready for the
supreme hazard of a march on Paris. But the Marl
borough of 1692 could not have the self-confidence
of the Marlborough of 1 7 1 2 ; and it is especially easy
to understand his jealousy of William III., the one
Protestant general who was capable of undertaking
a campaign against Louis XIV. He knew enough of
William to foresee with what patience he would wear
away the elan of the French King's armies and ex
haust the vigour of his generals. He could forecast
the ultimate success of this plan of cautious obstinacy,
and could anticipate posterity's verdict that no other
policy was feasible under the circumstances ; and all
the while he felt it in him to achieve a sweeping triumph
of whose mere possibility the world would never dream
unless he were given his chance.
The reading of the great soldier's character here set
forth is, I grant, somewhat paradoxical. The con
ception of an individual as an instrument of Provi
dence acting under an inspiration which he cannot
explain, but which he reverently follows, though
familiar enough as giving the key to the character
of a saint, appears strained when applied to a general.
Generalship, it may be objected, is a practical art
usually revealed in a rapid synthesis of data. I can
only reply that Marlborough's generalship was not of

xxx INTRODUCTION
that order. The best-trained mind may make a
mistake, but Marlborough made none. That is why
we credit him with genius. To attempt to account
for genius by resolving it into elements found in an
ordinary character is not to explain it, but to explain
it away. I cannot myself see anything impossible
in the idea that genius should be inexphcable to the
mind of him who owns it ; and I could illustrate my
point from the case of artists, and especially of inter
pretative artists, whose powers have apparently
quite failed to influence their characters as exhibited
in ordinary social intercourse. To the objection that
a great soldier is primarily a great soldier, and that
his military qualities reveal themselves in all his other
actions, I can fairly reply that Marlborough at the
head of an army was a different being from Marl
borough in politics or in private life — a fact well known
to his friends, his enemies, and himself. In sum I
would submit that an extraordinary man must remain
extraordinary under analysis, and that human nature
is an amazing thing to whose characteristics the
epithet " impossible " must never be applied. With
that I commend my estimate to the indulgence of
my readers, begging them only to forget, in criticizing
it, that they have ever read Macaulay.
Whatever may be thought of Mariborough as a
soldier, there is no difficulty in forming a judgment of
his quality as a politician. He had neither the firm
ness nor the variety of character that makes for
success in politics. I have suggested that his con
ception of himself as the custodian of a wonderful
trust helped to give the romantic colour to his tem
perament displayed in his relations with his wife.
He was equally romantic in his political -views; and
here his upbringing strengthened his natural ten
dency. ^He came of a Royalist stock which feared
God and honoured the King, and even regarded the

INTRODUCTION xxxi
two parts of the precept as different facets of the same
truth. That is why Marlborough hesitated so long
in the supreme crisis of 1688. He stood at a parting
of the ways, and in the end he decided to fear God at
the cost of dishonouring the King. The issue was one
over which the mere soldier, burning to cut a way to
power by his sword, would never have hesitated.
To such a man it would have been decisive that, where
as his services were indispensable to James, William
was himself a very capable commander. But this
aspect of the question never cost Marlborough a
thought. The struggle for him was between his duty
to his religion, in which he had never yet wavered,
ancl his respect for the traditions of his family. His
father had spent his last penny in the King's service,
and was so proud of his losses that he perpetuated
their memory in the motto of his house. Was Sir
Winston Churchill's son to betray the son of King
Charles ? Or was the Protestant, whose place in the
confidence of a Roman Catholic King had gone far
to appease the fears of his countrymen, finally to
prove false to his faith ? That was the issue as Marl
borough saw it ; and history could afford to be merciful
to one who decided wrongly when confronted by so
hideous a dilemma. But Marlborough, after thinking
it all out with the calm sagacity that was his dis
tinguishing quality in politics, resolved to 1^ the greater
duty prevail:
The decision which he took was one of the weightiest
in our history. It is too readily assumed — and here
again we may trace the influence of the great Whig
historian — that, when William was invited to land
in England, the sands of the Stuarts had run out of
the glass, and that the country had finally made up
its mind. The events of the quarter of a century
between the dethronement of James and the death
of Anne prove the contrary. They prove that, in

xxxii INTRODUCTION
spite of the exasperation against James, there was
among Englishmen a very real attachment to the
dynasty, f The Stuart cause in England collapsed, in
fact, for lack of a leader. In 1688 Mariborough
was the only possible leader; and from a conviction,
in which he never wavered, of the supreme value of
religious liberty, he refused to lead . For this England
still owes him her thanks :> Happily for her, as well
as for himself, he did not seek his Blenheim on the
Boyne. Macaulay, however, is so far from acknow
ledging this debt that he founds upon Marlborough's
conduct in 1688 a charge of the blackest ingratitude.
His view, if I understand him aright, is that, even in
the weightiest issues, the individual is bound by his
own past, and that nothing can excuse disregard of
personal ties. It is true enough that in all ordinary
circumstances a man should stand by his friends ; yet
history abounds with instances of men who have
won the approval of posterity because they broke
with life-long associations for the sake of some greater
national end. In this particular case we may refute
Macaulay with the paradox which follows from his
own assertions. It would have been an evil day for
England had Marlborough actually taken the decision
which Macaulay considers it was his duty to take.
The chances are that, backed as he would have been
by his own troops, by the King's adherents, and by
the wealth and influence of Louis XIV., he would
have overwhelmed the hostile combination which
William had formed, and would have gone down to
history as a sinister figure who had riveted on his
countrymen a faith to which he did not himself
subscribe. Let Whig historians discuss ethics as
they will, Protestant England is Marlborough's final
and enduring vindication.
The point has been taken that, by his subsequent
intrigues with St. Germains, Marlborough undid the

INTRODUCTION xxxiii
merit of his previous service to Protestantism, and
forfeited his claim to be regarded as a true patriot.
It is an anachronistic point . The Revolution was not
regarded as a final settlement even by the men who
brought it about ; and when it became apparent that
it would involve the accession of the House of
Hanover — an event regarded by the Convention
Parliament as a distant possibility — the restoration
of the Stuarts became not only practicable, but
desirable. After all, there was something to be said
for a dynasty which, with all its faults, was at least
national and not alien. There were many besides
Marlborough who were prepared to consider the
accession of the Old Pretender. Indeed, if adhesion
to the letter of the Act of Settlement is to be treated,
in conformity with the Whiggish theory, as the test
of loyalty, then Anne herself must be suspected of
treason. But Marlborough never lost his grip of the
point that England could not endure a Roman
Catholic King. He had suffered too much in arriving
at this belief ever to think of its abandonment; and,
when once he was fully satisfied that James's son was
firm in his attachment to Rome, he openly placed all
his influence and prestige at the disposal of the
Hanoverians. In all this he was a disinterested servant
of his country. On the other hand, he was un
doubtedly relieved to obtain a pardon from St. Ger
mains. Though he never went back on his decision
of 1688, though he never really regretted it, it was
reached in defiance of his instincts. The choice '\
between his faith and his King had necessarily left a
sore memory; and it was for the sake of his peace of
mind that, without in any way compromising his
country, he sought for pardon and rejoiced when he
obtained it.
Marlborough was at least consistent in that his heart
was always firm to the Stuarts. The King's daughters

xxxiv INTRODUCTION
might replace the King as objects of allegiance, but
not the King's sons-in-law. Prince George accepted
what Mariborough regarded as his proper position,
and with him he was on the best of terms. But
Wilham III. he regarded as an interloper who owed
his title to the fact that Mary would not become Queen
unless it were given him; and, though he was not
wanting in outward respect, in the privacy of Mrs.
Morley's circle he, too, may have referred to his
Sovereign as Caliban. But it was his good-fortune
that, when his services were most needed, there was
at the head of the State one whom he could serve with
true devotion. To Marlborough, who was a Tory by
instinct, co-operating with Whigs because there was
no other way, it meant everything that Anne was
Queen by right. The Duchess, on the other hand,
regarded her as Queen by necessity, and became a
Whig by logic.
It may be said — Macaulay would possibly have said
it if his " History " had been carried farther — that,
though some excuse can be made for the Duchess in
that she did not allow the Queen's Tory prejudices
to weigh with her against her ideas of the nation's
needs, there is no excuse for Marlborough, who grasped
at power at the price of working with men with whose
political principles he disagreed. The criticism mis
reads Marlborough's mind. The notion that party
could be a final division in politics was abhorrent to him.
It was helpful enough in its place, no doubt ; but when
the Queen called on men to unite in her service, party
feehng must be laid aside . ( He had no patience with
the doctrine, upon which the party system is founded,
that the Sovereign reigns but does not govern. In his
view it was the Queen's proper business to govern,
assisted by the advice of the ablest statesmen in her
realm. Whig and Tory alike. At the Cabinet meetings
on Sunday afternoons their various opinions could be

INTRODUCTION xxxv
stated in the Sovereign's presence. Then the Queen
would decide, and all would naturally accept her
decision. Who could contradict the Queen? Marl
borough's ideal of a Council of Elder Statesmen was
partially realized in the earlier half of her reign, though
even then Godolphin was more of a Prime Minister
and Anne more of a constitutional monarch, as we
now understand the terms, than the Duke would have
cared to admit. But these, at any rate, were his
happy days.)
In his attitude towards the Crown, Marlborough was
in reaction against the fanatical royalism of the
previous generation. He served a Sovereign whose
blood gave her the right to rule in England, but who,
nevertheless, owed her throne to the staunchness of her
Protestantism. It was for the same reasons that the
average Englishman of a century and a half before had
accepted Elizabeth; and, like the Elizabethans, Marl
borough turned necessity into an ideal. In the true
Elizabethan spirit he cast a glory about Anne, treating
her like a being apart. This was the truth to which
Macaulay penetrated, and is the secret of his un
measured hatred of Marlborough. He saw that, of all
the men living in 1688, Marlborough alone both believed
in a practicable form of absolutism and had the
capacity which might have maintained it. He saw
that, if the Duke had finally had his way, there would
have been no constitutional government as the Whigs
understood it — no party system, no Reform Bill. It
did not seem possible to Macaulay that one whose views
were, in his judgment, so evil could be anything but
evil all through; and he set himself to blacken Marl
borough's character with the same motive and with
something of the same success as the early Tudor
chroniclers who vilified the memory of Richard III.
It is our business to make a more dispassionate
judgment .

xxxvi INTRODUCTION
We must admit that Mariborough 's political ideas
were doomed from the first. It was the tragedy of
his life that he had to abandon the King who, under
happier conditions, might have put them into practice.
Anne never so much as contemplated the attempt.
The shadow of power as shown by a rigid etiquette was
enough for her; and if Mariborough ever expounded to
her his conception of her functions as Sovereign, she
was probably shrewd enough to smile. But what we
have to note is that, though Mariborough acted upon
his principles whenever he could, he always knew just
when to stop. As he abandoned James II., so he
established George I.; and he must have understood
that in both instances his conduct was weakening
monarchy as he conceived it. Nevertheless, he did
the thing which, as he saw, must needs be done. Test
him by the unbending rules of logic, and he is no out
standing figure as a politician. But politics is not an
exact science, and perhaps it is fair to say that political
greatness consists in knowing just when it becomes
unsafe to push a principle home. Marlborough always
knew that ; and, for the rest, the political game did not
appeal to him. He was fully content to leave it to his
wife, although aware that her views were not his own.
Relying on her, he never made a political decision until
he was driven to it.'* We see in him a man who with
difficulty and reluctance did the right thing, making
uneasy but very workable compromises between cir
cumstances and ideals, at an epoch of crisis when rigid
insistence on any strict political theory was certain to
mislead. There is nothing heroic about him in this
aspect ; but neither is there anything ignoble.
It was well that Marlborough trusted his wife so
completely in political affairs, for she was not the
woman to endure contradiction, even from him, when
once she was convinced that her judgment was sound .
She had the quality, so invaluable in a politician, of

INTRODUCTION xxxvii
strength of character; indeed, had it been a little less
marked, she would appear a more sympathetic figure.
Her temperament, as revealed in her writings and
conduct, is sometimes so harsh as to be repellent, but
in the end its firmness attracts . Like all strong natures ,
she developed early ; and her main qualities stand out
cleariy enough in the little collection of notes which
she preserved in memory of her courtship . All through
her life she knew her own mind, and, having once made
it up, regarded it as a weakness to listen to objections.
Her clear-sighted determination first won her the
confidence of the shy Princess Anne; but Anne, too,
could be obstinate on occasion, and when the two wills
clashed there was no hope of compromise. The final
breach was as natural, in its way, as the long friend
ship.
f The Duchess was a woman of business with a taste
for politics. Her sex compelled her to exercise power
as favourite, and not as Minister; but her authority
was never wielded after the selfish, capricious wont of
favourites. In all but name she was a member of the
Government, and when the Government changed its
political colour her position became impossible. If
she did not surrender it without demur, that was
because its loss involved the collapse of an old friend
ship as well as the abandonment of power. Her final
interview with the Queen was a protest against personal
injustice, free from any touch of political intrigue).
She was not an ambitious woman, though, when a high
position became hers, she discharged its functions
almost as a matter of course, and with the satisfaction
that capacity always feels in its own manifestations.
But, however much she may have rejoiced in the
exercise of her conspicuous qualities of honesty,
truthfulness, and clearness of thought, it is her due to
remember that she owed her greatness to a friend
ship based upon disinterested affection, and formed

xxxviu INTRODUCTION
in days when the future seemed to have nothing but
obscurity in store for Princess Anne; and that, when
once she had fallen from power, she made no attempt
to recover her lost glories. For the last thirty years
of her life she watched political affairs with character
istic shrewdness, expressing her opinions as boldly as
she formed them, and showing by her bequest to
William Pitt that to the end of her days she retained
her sure judgment of men.
Her vision was clear. Royalty had no glamour for
her, as it had for her husband ; and for this reason she
was a Progressive in politics. Her experience had
taught her that Kings were the slaves of passion, and
Queens of sentiment, whereas government required
to be in strong hands. To her the choice seemed to
be whether a favourite or a group of party men should
rule in England, and, with her customary sanity, she
decided in favour of rule by party. She could hardly
have foreseen the lines on which the Cabinet system
was to develop, though her antipathy to Queen
Caroline in later years is evidence that she appreciated
the true drift of events, and was opposed to any new
attempt to concentrate power in the irresponsible
hands of the Sovereign. But in her great days she
probably made no attempt to work out the philosophy
of her political position. Her outlook was eminently
practical; she worked with the politicians instead of
intriguing against them in the interests of the Throne,
because she knew herself to be dealing with men who
were thoroughly capable of transacting State business.
It is characteristic of her that the one charge which
really rankled was the charge of financial incapacity
or worse. It is equally characteristic that she was
able to rebut it in detail by publishing her accounts.
Shortly after her dismissal from the Queen's service
her wounded pride prompted her to write an indignant
vindication which her friends, happily, dissuaded her

INTRODUCTION xxxix
from publishing. Thirty years later she put together
a very different apologia, which was the sensation of
its day, though the prejudiced condemnation of
Macaulay has now dismissed it to undeserved oblivion.
It is as remarkable a work as any woman ever wrote,
and, considering that its author was over eighty when
she wrote it, its clearness, conciseness, and point, compel
as much astonishment as admiration. But its out
standing quahty is its fairness; and historians have
rightly paid the Duchess the compliment of accepting
as authentic her account of her final breach with the
Queen. It would have been easy for her to make a
contemptible figure out of a Queen who was weak even
in her obstinacy. But even in that closing scene, when
Anne could do nothing but repeat the one sentence,
" You asked for no answer, and I give you none," which
summed up her attitude, there is a royal air about her.
The parties to the quarrel seem to meet on equal terms,
though the Queen had, in fact, no advantage except
her rank. The Duchess's reputation both for capacity
and fair-mindedness is established by this account.
Perhaps, too, through long dwelling upon her husband's
memory, she had come to look back upon events
through his eyes. At any rate, in the closing decade
of her life she seems rather to have forgotten the Anne
on whom she was on terms of intimate friendship, and
to have remembered the Queen graciously conferring
unexampled honours on the greatest of her subjects.
Certainly it is the Queen whom Marlborough revered,
and not the Mrs. Morley with whom Mrs. Freeman
exchanged domestic confidences, whose statue the
Duchess had set up at Blenheim as a part of her
memorial to her husband.
The relations of the old Duchess with her children
and grandchildren do not make up an attractive story.
It cannot be claimed for her that she ever accepted the
principle of give and take so essential to a happy

xl INTRODUCTION
family life; and in this regard even her husband's
pleas were unable to soften her autocratic temper.
But here, too, something may be said in her defence.
Her family did not treat her with the deference shown
her by all the world, her Sovereign and her husband
not excepted. She, on the other hand, felt most of
them to be her inferiors, and was perhaps a little dis
appointed that her own talents had not been trans
mitted to them in more abundant measure. Where
she detected ability she allowed it a good deal of
licence; and to her grandson, Jack Spencer, in par
ticular, she permitted a freedom of speech such as she
never tolerated from anyone else. It must be remem
bered, too, that hers was a dominating character, which
for the last thirty years of her life lacked scope for
action, and therefore asserted itself violently in the
narrow field left open to it. But in the last resort it
is not as a mother, nor even as a wife, that she must
be judged. She belongs to history. No woman not
of royal rank has ever held before, or is ever likely to
hold again, such a position as was hers during the
critical years of the early eighteenth century, when the
map of Europe and the constitution of England were
in the making. It is to her eternal credit that she
used her power honestly, consistently, and with a single
eye to her country's best interests.
A perverse literary destiny has pursued John
Churchill. It was his widow's desire that his Life should
be worthily written ; but, as Dr. Stuart Reid records, her
judgment of men, usually so unerring, was at fault in her
choice of a biographer. But at least she made of the
Life of Marlborough one of the most fascinating might-
have-beens of literary history. Bolingbroke, Voltaire,
Steele, Viscount Molesworth, and Lord Chesterfield,
were the men to whom, at one time or another, she
thought of entrusting, and in one case actually en
trusted, the Duke's papers. Those who take delight in

INTRODUCTION xli
intellectual parody might amuse themselves by sketch
ing out one of the central chapters of the biography as
it might have been if written first by Voltaire and then
by Chesterfield, with the Duchess's own critical annota
tions in each case. The exercise would at least serve
to bring out the wide variety of judgment possible
upon undisputed matters of fact.
Unhappily for Marlborough's fame, not one of these
five projected biographies was even begun. On the
other hand, his enemies were not backward in using
their literary arts against him. The evil tradition
established by Swift 's biting pen has been strengthened
by the polite disdain of Horace Walpole, and con
firmed by the vindictive prejudice of Macaulay. The
adverse balance has hitherto awaited complete
redress; and historical students will be grateful to
Dr. Stuart Reid for his careful survey of the period
and his painstaking investigation of material a con
siderable part of which escaped even the vigilant eye
of Dr. Coxe. His book is a new and independent
presentment of both the Duke and the Duchess and I
commend it to my readers, believing that they will find
in it both a glorious romance of human life and a
moving epic passage in our country's history.
* * * * *
The harsh fate which clouded the domestic happi
ness of John and Sarah with overwhelming grief for
the loss of their two sons ironically decreed that their
vast possessions should descend through the daughter
named after their benefactress, the Queen. Charles
Spencer, upon whom the family estates eventually
devolved, was the son and grandson of First Ministers.
The twenty-fourth of his line, he brought the tradition
of statecraft to a house built to commemorate mili
tary achievement; and the compound name of his
descendants is emblematic of the union of the two
qualities. It may be that his rollicking spirit would

xlii INTRODUCTION
have preferred the simple delights of the chase at
Althorp to the responsibility of administering the
nation's magnificent gift to its victorious hero. But
he accepted his duty, and his descendants have striven
to act in his spirit. Blenheim, as they have main
tained it, is the most splendid relic of the age of Anne,
and there is no building in Europe, except Versailles,
which so perfectly preserves its original atmosphere,
and so adequately enshrines the memory of the man
for whom and for whose victory it was called into
being. It may be that the time will come when
democracy, in the nation's name, will try to recall the
nation's gift. Meanwhile, on behalf of the family
to whom this trust was committed, I offer my tribute
of gratitude to the memory of The Queen by whose
hand it was bestowed. MARLBOROUGH.

Blenheim,
April 1 8, 1914.

CONTENTS
PAGE
author's PREFACE - - V
INTRODUCTION. BY THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH, K.G. XIII
CHAPTER I. EARLY DAYS OF SARAH JENNINGS - - I
II. COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE - - - 13
HI. THE BEGINNINGS OF POWER - - 32
IV. THE CHURCHILLS AND THE REVOLUTION - 45
V. WILLIAM III. AND THE MARLBOROUGHS 62
VI. MRS. MORLEY AND MRS. FREEMAN - 79
VII. THE MARLBOROUGHS IN THE NEW REIGN - lOI
VIII. A CONFLICT OF TEMPERAMENTS - 1 25
IX. MISTRESS ABIGAIL HILL - - - 1 42
X. MARLBOROUGH'S CROWDED YEARS - - I54
XI. THE MARCH TO BLENHEIM - - I68
XII. "'twas a GLORIOUS VICTORY" - - 188
XIII. THE GRATITUDE OF THE QUEEN AND THE NATION 210
XIV. THE PROUDEST YEAR IN THE DUCHESS'S LIFE - 225
XV. THE FLOWING TIDE OF VICTORY - - 246
XVI. NEW FORCES IN COURT AND CABINET - 264
XVII. THE YEAR OF MALPLAQUET - 283
XVIII. THE HISTORIC QUARREL . - - . 305
XIX. THE FALL OF GODOLPHIN - - 328
XX. THE PLOT THICKENS AND MARLBOROUGH FALLS 345
XXI. MARLBOROUGH OUT OF THE SADDLE 365
XXII. THE LAST YEARS OF MARLBOROUGH - - 389
XXIII. THE DUCHESS AND HER DAUGHTERS 4I5
XXIV. SARAH IN OLD AGE - - 439
XXV. IN DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS 464
INDEX 501
xliii

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

John, Duke of Marlborough - - - Frontispiece
From the picture by Kneller at Blenheim (photogravure).
John Churchill, Marquis of Blandford - To face p. 124
From the picture by Kneller at Blenheim.
The Royal Manor House of Woodstock
From an old print circa 1700.
Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough - ,
From the picture by Kneller at Blenheim (photogravure).
Blenheim Palace - - . ^
From a lithograph.
The Duke of Marlborough, and Charles,
Third Earl of Sunderland
From a miniature at Blenheim.

214
264
378
406

PLANS OF BATTLES.

Blenheim Ramillies
Oudenarde Malplaquet

PAGE 241
297

xliv

JOHN AND SARAH
DUKE AND DUCHESS OF
MARLBOROUGH CHAPTER I
EARLY DAYS OF SARAH JENNINGS
England was alive with rejoicing in 1660. It was
the dawn of a new era. Charles II., ever plausible
and even then diplomatic, had come to terms with the
Convention Parliament. He had issued at Breda an
amnesty which safeguarded the life, liberty, and
property of all but a few of his future subjects— the
men who were not easily forgiven. He had promised
liberty of conscience to all whose views did not dis
turb the peace of the realm ; he had left to Parliament
the settlement of all outstanding claims to landed
estates ; and he had pledged himself to the payment
of arrears to General Monk's army, which had brought
about the Restoration. The Roundheads had lost
their power. The Cavaliers were in ascendancy.
The mood of the nation had changed. The austere
rule of the Puritans was over, and Cromwell's master
ful authority had not long survived. The Restora
tion, though not universally popular, was an accom
plished fact. Charles landed at Dover on the 25th of
May, 1660. The royal progress to London was not
merely stately in itself, but was a perfect triumph.
The King entered the capital four days later, and the
exile of the House of Stuart was ended amid a flourish
of trumpets and the cheers and illuminations of the
citizens.

2 EARLY DAYS OF SARAH JENNINGS [Ch. I
Twenty miles away from London, at Sandridge,
near the ancient town of St. Albans, a week later, a
child was born who was destined to play a great part
in the last reign of that illustrious but ill-fated
House. There seemed small likelihood just then
that the daughter of a country squire, who had
fought for the Royalists during the Civil War and
impoverished himself in consequence, would ever
rise to a high position in the State. But it is the
unexpected that happens in life, and the great career
of this child of Richard Jennings and Frances his
wife— born on the Sth of June, 1660, amid neither
lowly nor exalted surroundings — did not falsify such
an assertion.
The Jennings family had flourished on their own
land for many generations, and from the reign of
Henry VIII. had been people of consequence in
the county of Hertford. John Jenyns — for so the
name was then spelt — Sarah's grandfather, was a
prosperous country gentleman when the days of the
Tudors were ended, and James I. succeeded Eliza
beth. The worthy squire built himself a spacious
mansion in 1610, called Water End House, Sandridge.
He was High-Sheriff of Herts in 1625, was made a
Knight of the Bath by James, sat in the Long Parlia
ment in the reign of Charles I., and, when England
was divided into two hostile camps at the outbreak
of the Civil War, took sides with the Royalists, and
raised troops for the defence of the Throne.
His son, Richard Jennings, was also a Member of
Parliament, in the last years of Charies I.'s reign, and,
when the Commonwealth had become a memory, was
elected again in 1661, and held that position until
his death in 1668. He married, in 1643, Frances,
daughter of Sir Gifford Thornhurst, a baronet in the
county of Kent. Richard Jennings was twenty-four
and his ^ride eighteen at the time of the marriage,

1661-64] " LA BELLE JENNYNS " 3
which took place in London at the Church of St.
Martin 's-in-the-Fields. Five children were born of
this union. Two of them were sons, John and Ralph,
but, as both died without issue, the family property
fell to the daughters Frances, Barbara, and Sarah.
Barbara wedded Edward Griffith, Esquire, of St.
Albans, and died at the age of twenty-six in 1678.
There is a monument to her in the Abbey Church of
that city. Her only child died in the following year,
and, in consequence, the family patrimony was
divided equally between Frances and Sarah.
James, Duke of York, brother of Charles II.,
married, in the year of Sarah Jennings' birth. Lady
Anne Hyde, daughter of the Earl of Clarendon, by
whom he had two daughters, both of whom in due
course came to the throne — Mary, who reigned con
jointly with her husband William III., and Queen
Anne, who succeeded in her own right, and was the
last Sovereign of the House of Stuart. Mary was
born in 1662, and Anne in 1664, and in the intervening
year the first association of the Jennings family with
the Court began with the appointment of Frances,
afterwards Duchess of Tyrconnel, as Maid of Honour
to the Duchess of York. The Restoration brought
many Cavaliers in search of preferment, either for
themselves or for their children, to Court, who had
fought for the Royal Cause during the Civil War.
Richard Jennings was already in Pariiament, and
sought nothing for himself, but he was proud to place
his daughter in the household of the Duchess of York.
She was a lively, high-spirited girl of fifteen, who
lives in the pages of Grammont as " La belle Jennyns."
That lively chronicler, who was nothing if not gallant,
said she looked like " Aurora, the Goddess of Spring."
Honore Courtin, French Ambassador at St. James's,
declared that Frances Jennings was the most beau
tiful young lady in England. Presently he came to

4 EARLY DAYS OF SARAH JENNINGS [Ch. I
know her well, for the young Marquis de Berni, son
of Hugues de Lionne, Foreign Secretary to Louis
XIV., came over to England as his guest. The lad
was only nineteen; he was shy, embarrassed, and had
seen httle of the world. It was thought that he might
acquire some polish at the English Court, especially
with the Ambassador as guide, philosopher, and
friend. The young Marquis was bewitched by the
fair Maid of Honour. Courtin leaves us in no doubt
of that, for he says :
" The Marquis has been very well received by one
of the finest girls in England, Mademoiselle Genins of
the household of the Duchess of York. She is small,
but with a fine figure, a splendid complexion. The
hair — such as you remember Madame de Longueville's
was — brilliant, keen eyes, and the whitest and
smoothest skin I ever saw. The Duchess, who is
generally severe in such things, finds the two so well
suited that she is the first to favour them. The
Queen-Mother, the King, and all the Court act ac
cordingly. People laugh, but I assure you the thing
goes on well."^
It was a boy-and-girl attachment, which came to
nothing. The Marquis de Berni was soon recalled
by his father to France, and Frances Jennings had
too many ardent admirers to make much ado about
his departure.
By a strange coincidence, at this time a certain
West-Country squire, who had also given a good
account of himself in the Civil War, was knighted,
and so became Sir Winston Churchill. As his estates
had become impoverished in the cause of Charles I.,
he was appointed comptroller of the Board of Green
Cloth. Soon afterwards his daughter Arabella be
came another Maid of Honour to the Duchess of
1 Jusserand, " A French Ambassador at the Court of Charles
II.." pp. 153-155-

1666-68] THE RESTORATION COURT 5
York, and was thus brought into close association
with Frances Jennings.
Sir Winston had a handsome young son, who, at
the time when Frances Jennings first appeared at
Whitehall, was a boy of thirteen at St. Paul's school.
John Churchill, though a lad of shining parts, was not
conspicuous for his love of learning, and probably was
not much distressed when the school was burnt down
in the Great Fire of London in 1666. A year later,
when he was scarcely seventeen, he also found a place
at Court, as page to the Duke of York ; shortly
after he had entered the army, his sister Arabella
caught the fancy of James. The Duke was almost
as susceptible to the charms of the ladies as his
brother Charles II. Frances Jennings, and afterwards
her sister Sarah had good reason to know this, though
they both declined his advances — the latter with a
characteristic touch of disdain.
Frances Jennings, as merry a Maid of Honour as
ever graced Whitehall, though she walked in slippery
places and had some lively escapades, kept her self-
respect, and with it that of her unwelcome admirers.
" What mad freaks," wrote Secretary Pepys in his
inimitable Diary, " the Maids of Honour at Court
have ! That Mistress Jennings, one of the Duchess's
Maids, the other day dressed herself like an orange
wench, and went up and down and cried oranges,
till, falling down, her frail shoes were discovered, and
she put to a great deal of shame." ^
The beautiful girl, so beautiful that she was one of
the reigning belles of the Restoration, escaped from
the Court by her marriage with Captain Sir George
Hamilton of the King's Guards, the brother of another
Maid of Honour. He was also the brother of Anthony
Hamilton, who wrote the De Grammont Memoirs.
Sir George subsequently served under Turenne, rose
'¦ February 21, 1664-65.

6 EARLY DAYS OF SARAH JENNINGS [Ch. I
to be a Major-General in the French Army, and was
killed in action in 1676. She remained a widow for
three years, and then married Colonel, or, as he was
then called, " Lying Dick Talbot." On the accession
of James II., he was made Duke of Tyrconnel, and
in the last year of that uneasy reign, Viceroy of
Ireland. Richard Jennings died in 1668, and was buried,
like others of the family, in the Abbey Church of
St. Albans. No one mourned him more sincerely than
his youngest daughter Sarah, who, in truth, was the
spoilt darling of his old age. She was a child of eight
at the time, and, when the shadow of death fell on
the old home at Sandridge, the little girl was quick
to realize that life for her was altered. Her mother,
somehow, never counted for much with her, perhaps
because they were too much alike in temper and will.
Mistress Jennings by this time was becoming un
easy about the lively escapades of her pretty daughter
at Court, and perhaps wishful to see a little of the
great world herself, eagerly accepted the offer, which
was made to her on the death of her husband, of apart
ments at St. James's Palace.
So it came to pass that Sarah for the space of four
years was left in the charge of trusty servants in the
old house. It was not an ideal arrangement, for the
dependents who surrounded her worshipped the saucy
merry child, and allowed her to do pretty much as
she liked. She received little education in the bookish
sense, but grew well versed in that practical house
hold lore which girls in the seventeenth century had
not learnt to despise. It is easy to picture her
romping about the roomy old house with its mul-
lioned windows and open staircase, a pretty child-
despot, of warm temper and high spirit, whom no
one ventured to curb, and who lived in a dream
world, dashed at times with a touch of discontent

1668-70] A FORLORN LITTLE PRINCESS 7
when her thoughts turned to her sister Frances, and
all the glitter of Whitehall, with its drawing-rooms
and its balls.
Poor little Cinderella ! It was assuredly hard to
be shut up in that great house by herself, even though,
on rare occasions, the dull monotony of life was
broken by a flying visit to Court, where she met
another neglected child, the shy Princess Anne. The
Duke of York was too busy amusing himself to
take more than a languid interest in his motherless
daughters Mary and Anne, and though their sur
roundings were those of their rank, their childhood
was almost as lonely as that of Sarah herself. The
Princess Anne, unlike her sister, was timid and dis
trustful. She did not easily make friends, and was
not sufficiently attractive to be more than tolerated
in the gay, boisterous Court of Charles II., with its
crowd of great ladies of doubtful reputation.
But Sarah Jennings caught her fancy with her ready
laugh, her fearless bearing, her breezy, frolicsome
temper. It was a case of love at first sight, the love of
a timid, forlorn little Princess, altogether in leading-
strings, for a girl five years older than herself, who held
her head high, and did not seem to care a jot for
anybody. So the two played together on those rare
occasions when Mistress Jennings, with a touch of
womanly compunction, brought Sarah back to White
hall after one or other of her not too frequent visits
to see how her household at St. Albans was comporting
itself. Once, so tradition runs, the little Princess
Anne herself came thither, and, after running about
the fields, madcap fashion with Sarah, went back
sorrowfully to Whitehall with envy in her heart for
the unchartered liberty of Cinderella.
AU things come, so runs the saying, to those
who wait, and when the Duke of York, tired
of single blessedness, made a second adventure in

8 EARLY DAYS OF SARAH JENNINGS [Ch. I
matrimony by wedding that pretty Papist, Princess
Mary of Modena, who was little more than a girl, the
gates of opportunity opened suddenly to Sarah
Jennings. Mary of Modena, only daughter of Duke
Alfonso IV., was only two years older than Sarah
Jennings, whilst the Duke was a man of forty. She
had been brought up in strict seclusion, was deeply
religious, and, if she had followed her own inclination,
it was the Cloister, and not the Court, that would
have claimed her. But Louis XIV. was anxious, in
his own fashion, for the conversion of England to the
Roman Catholic Church, and quite as anxious also
to bring the nation into acquiescence with the
ambitious schemes of France.
Chailes II. was subservient enough; nothing mat
tered much, not even the honour of England, to that
easy-going monarch of lax scruples, so long as his own
pleasures were undisturbed. But James, Duke of
York, was fashioned of less pliable clay; he was en
dowed with a stiff and obstinate temper, and Louis
XIV. was uneasy as to what might happen when he
came to the throne on his brother's death. Under
these circumstances it came to pass that Mary of
Modena, in 1673, was compelled to give her hand,
as a mere girl of fifteen, to this cold, disillusioned,
and headstrong Prince.
The Duke of York did not stand well with the
English, people. He was stubborn, morose, bigoted,
and altogether destitute of the saving grace of
humour which distinguished his light-hearted brother
Charies. The young Duchess of York had, in conse
quence, to make her own welcome, which was a task
all the more difficult as she took the religion in which
she had been brought up seriously. She was a kind
stepmother to the daughters of James. Presently
Sarah Jennings, the friend and confidante of the
Princsss Anne, crossed her path. The young Duchess

1670-73] THE DUCHESS OF YORK 9
took an instinctive liking to the vivacious girl, who
had just entered her teens, and so it happened that
Mistress Sarah Jennings was appointed one of the
new Maids of Honour to the Duchess of York, with
the modest salary of twenty pounds a year. She
had her shapely foot on the ladder now, and she
determined to mount it, for, although only a girl of
thirteen, she had a will of her own.
The marriage of the Duke of York to Mary of
Modena cannot, even by a stretch of courtesy, be
called an affair of the heart. The Duke was mature,
suspicious, disillusioned. He did not parade his
vices as openly as Charles II., but he was just as
dissolute. Mary Beatrix was young, eager, innocent,
and radiantly beautiful. It was hoped that her
" sweet carriage," to borrow the quaint phrase of the
period, would charm even the sullen Puritans, who,
though coerced at the Restoration, were anything
but a negligible quantity in the public life of the
nation. Princesses in those days were moved about the
chessboard of Europe like so many pawns ; their own
inclinations were calmly set aside if they stood in the
way of international politics. The marriage was in
reality one of the results of the secret treaty made at
Dover in 1670 between Charles II. and Louis XIV.
By that treaty Charles became the pensioner of France.
He pledged himself to make profession of the Romail
Catholic religion and to join his armies to those of
Louis in order to shatter the power of the United Prov
inces, and in every way, by land or sea, to uphold the
rights of the House of Bourbon to the monarchy of
Spain. Louis, in return, pledged himself to the pay
ment of a large annual sum to Charles, and also under
took to uphold his throne if ever it was placed in
jeopardy by the rebellion of his subjects.
The majority of men, to their credit, do not change

lo EARLY DAYS OF SARAH JENNINGS [Ch. I
their religion lighUy; indeed, the better they are the
more they hesitate to take so momentous a step. But
Charies was of an accommodating temper, and was
without convictions — it was a mere matter of slipping
out of one coat into another. In his gratitude to Louis
for relief from financial embarrassment, he was ready
to go to Mass at once, and brave pubhc opinion. But
Louis X IV . checked his impulsive ardour . N o monarch
ever kept himself better informed, through his am
bassadors, of the real sentiments of other nations.
He knew therefore that it would be the height of folly
for the King of England just then to flout the religious
instincts of his subjects; so he told Charles to go to
work more cautiously, and to continue to pay outward
respect to the Protestant faith by attendance at the
services of the Church of England. Charles, so long
as weighty affairs of State were not unduly pressed
upon him, was the most pliant of men. He took the
Communion in public, though it was within common
knowledge that his sympathies were with Rome.
Religious scruples counted for nothing with a man
like Charles ; they lay in a region which made no
appeal to him. But his leanings, such as they were,
were determined by the wish to stand well with
France. He was at heart a Roman CathoHc of the
easy, careless type, and he would have stood revealed
as such if policy had not suggested dissimulation. It
was only when that showy life of hypocrisy was flicker
ing out at Whitehall that Father Huddleston, at the
instance of the Duke of York, was hurriedly brought
to the sick chamber in order to receive the dying king
into the Roman Church.
The Duke of York was an avowed Roman Catholic
long before his marriage withMary of Modena. She only
came to strengthen his hands, and to make him popu
lar, if possible, by her beauty and charm. The English
people knew nothing about the secret article in the

1673] SARAH IN ATTENDANCE 1 1
Treaty of Dover as to the King's religion and the pay
ment of £200,000 a year to his privy purse, which
made the treaty acceptable to the extravagant Charies.
Hence, it came about that the children of his brother
James, the Princess Mary and the Princess Anne,
against the wishes of their own father, were brought
up by the King's command as Protestants. It
threw the nation off its guard when Mary and Anne,
who stood in the direct line of succession to the
throne, received, in accordance with the Law, a
strictly Protestant education, and were duly con
firmed, in 1666, by a bishop of the Church of England.
Probably Charles imagined, if he ever allowed his
thoughts to wander so far, that it would be an easy
matter for them to change their religion when the
occasion arose. It is more likely, however, that he
believed that the chance of their succession was a
remote contingency, in view of James's marriage with
Mary of Modena ; otherwise, the King would not
have consented to the union, in 1677, of the Princess
Mary of York with William of Orange.
Mistress Sarah Jennings was for the space of ten
years attached to the household of the Duchess of
York, and as her beauty ripened, she became one of
the most attractive Maids of Honour at the Court.
She captured the homage of many admirers; it was
even rumoured that the Duke of York himself, from
whom she instinctively recoiled, paid her marked
and significant attention, charmed by her gay repartee
and high spirit, quite as much perhaps as by her fair
face. But though she was merry and free of speech,
she could bridle up on occasion, and no one dared to
take a hberty with her. So she remained, high in the
favour of Mary of Modena, deep in the confidence of
the Princess Anne — a maiden, not forlorn, set in the
splendour of the Court, yet fancy-free.
Sarah was in no hurry to be matched, and, to do her

12 EARLY DAYS OF SARAH JENNINGS [Ch.i
justice, in spite of her mother's misgivings, she was
quite able to take care of herself. Youth is apt to
be self-confident, and to scorn advice, and it came
about that between the lively Maid of Honour and
her anxious mother sharp words passed. The opinion
was expressed on the one side, that it was high time
to beat a retreat to St. Albans, and on the other, that
the Court was much too delightful a place to be
lightly abandoned. Sarah was not to be intimidated.
She did not like to be watched. She told her mother
that unless she left her lodgings in St. James's, she
herself would run away. She carried her point; her
indignant parent vanished from the scene, and Sarah
was left to follow her own inclinations, which, to her
credit, were innocent enough.

CHAPTER II
COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE
Fortune did not smile, even at the Restoration, upon
the Churchihs, in spite of the sacrifices Sir Winston
had made during the Civil War. The official appoint
ments which he obtained were not lucrative, whilst
his own patrimony was impoverished ; and so it came
to pass, that when he died an old man in 1688, the httle
he had to leave was barely enough for the modest needs
of his widow. Sir Winston had twelve children, and
though seven of them died young, it is small wonder
that all he could do for those that survived was to
give them, as best he might, a start in life. ArabeUa
was his eldest child, and the only one of his daughters
who grew to womanhood, and she became, as already
stated, a Maid of Honour.
His four sons served their country in one capacity
or another. John and Charles entered the army,
and whilst the first became the most illustrious soldier
of his day, his younger brother bore the brunt of much
hard fighting in the War of the Spanish Succession,
and died with the rank of Lieutenant-General in 1715,
leaving a reputation which would have counted for
more on the page of history if it had not been eclipsed
by the splendour of Marlborough's military achieve
ments. George entered the navy when the Duke of
York was Lord High Admiral, apparently, through
the influence of his sister Arabella. He was in
13

14 COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE [Ch. n
command of a man-of-war at the Revolution, and
his ship was the first to come to the help of William
of Orange in 1688. He afterwards saw some hard
fighting at Beachy Head and at Cherbourg, and rose
to the rank of Admiral. After he quitted the sea at
the beginning of Queen Anne's reign, he was practi
cally supreme at the Admiralty, for six eventful years
under Prince George of Denmark. He never stood
high in the regard of the Queen, who, in truth, did not
like him, though Prince George placed great reliance
on his judgment. George Churchill died at the age
of fifty-eight in 17 10 — a year which witnessed the
turning-point in Marlborough's fortunes.
Theobald, the youngest member of the family, was
of serious bent and bookish tastes. He was edu
cated at Queen's College, Oxford, took Orders, and
was Chaplain to the Royal Dragoons in 1684, when
John Churchill was Colonel of that regiment. He
died, however, in the following year at the eariy age
of twenty- two.
John Churchill did not long remain a page in the
household of the Duke of York. The high-spirited,
handsome, and ambitious lad was in attendance on
His Royal Highness on all ceremonial occasions, and
few things pleased James more than to put the
Guards through their drill in Hyde Park. John
Churchill had quick eyes and a retentive memory, and
he quickly learned, as he stood at his royal master's
side, the details of such parades. The lad's enthusiasm
betrayed itself to the Duke. One day he turned, half
amused, to his page and asked him what he would like
to be . " A soldier ," was the quick response . He took
his master by storm by asking there and then for a com
mission in the King's regiment of Foot Guards, which
at that moment was under review. His bold request
was granted, and so in September, 1667, Ensign John
Churchill, at the age of seventeen, obtained his com-

1673-77] ENSIGN CHURCHILL 15
mission in His Majesty's Army. It was the first step
on a ladder which carried him higher than almost any
other soldier who has ever climbed to glory. Macaulay,
in his " History " (vol. i., p. 224, ed. 1871), leads the
reader to suppose that Churchill owed his appoint
ment to the intrigue between his sister Arabella
and the Duke of York. On the contrary, he had
received his first commission a year before the liaison
began. Ensign Churchill, between seventeen and twenty,
cut a handsome figure at the Court. He danced well,
was adroit in compliment, and quick in repartee. His
good looks and easy bearing made him a favourite,
especially with the ladies.
He was sent to Tangier in 1670, a place which had
become an appanage to the Crown on the marriage
of Charles II. with Catherine of Braganza. Anyhow,
it was in Tangier — the place was relinquished by
England in 1683 because of its vile climate and the
expense of keeping a garrison there — that the young
soldier first drew his sword in the sharp conflicts
which continually arose between the English troops,
under Colonel Kirke, and the turbulent and aggres
sive Moors who disputed their authority. Tangier,
in the reign of Charles II ., was a sort of training-ground
to which young officers were sent to win their spurs,
and Ensign Churchill was assuredly better employed
in warding off invaders than in dangling about
the Court. He displayed no lack of daring in re
pelling the Moors, who had made many attempts
to storm this fortified seaport, and it was at Tangier
that he learnt his first lessons in the science of
strategy. He came back to England a manly, sunburnt young
officer early in 1671 , and resumed his place at Court in
attendance on his old master the Duke of York.
Grammont describes him as looking idle and elegant.

i6 COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE [Ch. n
He was tafl, slim, well-proportioned, with a shapely,
well-poised head, luxuriant fair hair, a sensitive, finely
chisehed face, a firm mouth, and keen blue eyes,
which were rendered still more attractive by arched
and boldly marked eyebrows. One of his contem
poraries, who did not at all like him as a man, was
forced to admit that John Churchill had manners
which no one could resist, irrespective of rank or sex.
He was genial though not talkative, and possessed the
art of ingratiating himself with everyone whom he
addressed. Churchill, at twenty-one, was already a
finished courtier, quick to see and to seize all the
opportunities of advancement that came in his way,
and with stories to tell of military adventures as far
afield as the wild coast of Morocco.
Barbara Villiers, Countess of Castlemaine, was just
then at the height of her power. Charles II. was
absolutely under the spell of her beauty, but she was
by no means equally devoted to him, though he had
just created her Duchess of Cleveland. She was a
woman who followed her fancy wherever it led her,
and her endless intrigues were the gossip of the
Court. The Duchess, who was the most unprin
cipled of the King's mistresses, and, if Lely's por
trait of her is to be trusted, also the most beautiful,
fell violently in love with John Churchill. The
intrigue, which followed quickly, came to the know
ledge of the King, and probably was the direct
cause of Churchill being ordered forthwith to join
the English contingent of 6,000 men, under the
Duke of Monmouth, who was serving with the French
army in Flanders.
Louis XIV. was determined, not merely to humble
the pride of the Low Countries, but to annex them to
the Crown of France, and it was in the campaign of
1672, known as the Second Dutch War, that Churchill,
with the rank of Captain, first drew his sword in the

1677] CHURCHILL AND TURENNE 17
battles of Europe, His quality as a soldier stood
revealed in the siege of Nimeguen, and was suffi
ciently marked to win the praise of Turenne, one of
the greatest Marshals of France at that time, who was
in command of the army in Holland. Turenne was
the most brilliant strategist in Europe, and owed his
first step on the ladder of fortune to that consummate
judge of men. Cardinal Richelieu. He was one of the
best, as well as one of the bravest, men who ever
led troops into action for Louis XIV. Quick in de
cision, resourceful in emergency, he came to the front
by the magic of his sword, and, in an age when com
passion did not rule high, he was humane to the
wounded, and would even empty his transport
waggons rather than leave the rank and file, who had
done their best for the honour of France, to die un
heeded on the field of battle.
At Maestricht as well as at Nimeguen, Churchill,
whom Turenne called " le bel Anglais," won dis
tinction, and in a desperate assault, in which he was
wounded for the first time, supported Monmouth,
who afterwards presented him to Charies II. with the
words, " I owe my life to his bravery."^ Turenne
predicted, what he did not live to see, that Churchill
would prove a great soldier. His satisfaction at his
valour and ability would perhaps have been dashed
if he could have foreseen that his young English officer
was destined to humihate the proud armies of France.
If Churchill had a master in the art of war, it was
Turenne ; he studied the great soldier's tactics, and his
own wonderful strategic marches were modelled, like
those of Von Moltke in a later age, on Turenne 's swift
handling of men. In due course ChurchiU 's ability
became known to Louis XIV., and — it seems a strange
irony — the King, whose power he was destined to
^ Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," voL i., p. 5
(ed. Bohn).

iS COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE [Ch.ii
shatter, appointed him on the 3rd of April, 1674, a
Colonel in the French army. In the brunt of the fighting
in the Battle of Entzheim and on the Rhine, ChurchiU
bore his part between the years 1674 and 1677. I^^
February, 1678, Charles II. appointed him Colonel
of a regiment of foot in the English army, and in
doing so the King declared that it was a mark of his
" just confidence " in the young soldier's " courage,
loyalty, and good conduct." He had spent the
winters of those years, when there was no fighting
possible, in his old place at the English Court.
It was probably when he was dangling a free foot
at Whitehall in i6y6-yj that he first met Sarah
Jennings, a young lady with " a fury temper and a
fairy face," who was in close attendance upon the
Duchess of York. At a ball at Whitehall Colonel
John Churchill fell in love with the imperious
girl of sixteen, who two years later became his wife.
The courtship was uneasy, for Sarah Jennings even
then was exacting and quick to take offence. It was
a case of love at first sight with Churchill, but no
siege which he ever conducted in Flanders was so
difficult as that of this girl's heart. She was radi
antly happy at Court. She had hosts of admirers.
Many billets-doux came into her fair hands when she
was a Maid of Honour, only to be dismissed with
silent disdain. When she was provoked to reply, it
was with characteristic vehemence, as this note
reveals, a copy of which, written by herself, is at
Blenheim: " Your impertinent reflexions of my fine
shape would provoke me extremely but that you are
misarable, so I am revenged." She possessed the art
of holding her admirers at bay, which in itself did her
credit, since the perils of a pretty Maid at the lax
Court of Whitehall were not slight. She was in no
hurry to wed, and if she did so there was no reason that
she should marry an almost penniless young officer.

1678] LOVE LETTERS 19
Her own people were opposed to such a match, and so
was Sir Winston ChurchiU.^ It was perfectly plain
to everyone that, with her beauty and vivacity, the
young Maid of Honour could marry into the peerage
if thus minded. It was equally clear that Colonel
John Churchill, the most handsome man of his time,
with his stately bearing, his adroit compliments, and
his growing reputation as a soldier, might have done
likewise. Both Sarah Jennings and John Churchill had strong
wills. They had, equally, great force as well as
charm of character; there was little to choose be
tween them on the score of personal ambition.
Moreover, Sarah's fan was quite as effectual, in its
way, as Churchill's sword, and though she probably,
in her own fashion, returned his affection from the
first, it was long before she would admit as much even
to herself. The consequence was that she led him a
dance; and if he had not possessed, in William of
Orange's words, the warmest heart as well as the
coldest head in Europe, he would have turned on his
heel and relinquished the pursuit of so disdainful a
lady. As it was, the more ardent he grew in the
avowal of his love, the more capricious and cold
became his fair tormentor. It is impossible to resist
the conclusion that she played with him in the sheer
wantonness of power, like an angler, who knows that
the fish at the end of the line, however it may struggle,
cannot escape.
Many of the letters which Churchill wrote to Sarah
Jennings are still in existence among the archives
at Blenheim, and a few — ten in all — of her replies.
Churchill's letters — some of them are imperfect, and
others are mere notes humbly asking for an assigna
tion — are alive with passion, though more than two
centuries have passed. Those of Sarah, on the con-
1 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," voL i., p. 8.

20 COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE [Ch.ii
trary, are for the most part ahve with scorn, for
surely never did a woman flout her lover more.
Both packets carry autograph endorsements, written
in the lonely, disiUusioned old age of the Duchess.
Her own contributions to this strangely unequal
correspondence are endorsed, " Some coppys of my
letters to Mr ChurchiU." The other packet is in
scribed, " My letters to Mr Churchill before I was
married." Then foUows a request that Grace Ridley,
her chief woman in waiting, should be given the
letters in order that she might " burn without read
ing " them. There is another pathetic endorsement
which states that the Duchess had herself read over
the love letters of her youth in the year 1736, and
then follows, in the trembling hand of extreme old
age, the words which she wrote the year before she
died: " Read over in 1743, desiring to burn them»
but I could not doe it." So they have come down
to us, since Grace Ridley either never saw them or
feared to commit them to the flames.
Nobody cared much about spelling in those days ;
indeed, the art of orthography had scarcely emerged
from the experimental stage, and a great many
people, especially if they were lovers writing in hot
haste, were not less careless as to dates. A few were
evidently written shortly after they were secretly
married^ and one is inscribed : " I believe I was married
when this letter was writt, but it was not known to
any but the Duchess (of York)." Another — ^it is a
mere fragment — has evidently strayed into the col
lection from a later period, and cannot have been
written eariier than 1689, since it runs :
" Wherever you are, whilst I have life, my soul
shall follow you, my ever dear Lord Marl, and
wherever I am I should only kill the time wishing
for night that I may sleep and hope th* next day to
hear from you."

1678] THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE 21
Churchill was created Eari of Marlborough in 1689,
and it seems hkely that this tender message was
written to him when he was in charge of the English
troops in Flanders that year. He kept that letter,
but, in obedience to Sarah's desire, and also perhaps
as a measure of precaution — for she was strangely
unguarded and outspoken about public affairs — the
great soldier destroyed, as soon as he had read, nearly
all the letters which he received from his wife during
his campaigns. He seems to have destroyed her
letters even during his courtship, and smaU wonder,
if most of them were couched in the terms of the few
that remain.
She followed a more excellent way, for her scorn
of him was all on the surface. No woman with any
claim to a heart could have failed to put such mis
sives under lock and key. There is scarcely a hint
on either side of the splendid Court, in which both of
them even then played so briUiant a part ; for like
lovers in all ages, they narrowed the worid down to
themselves. He says nothing of his military aspira
tions ; she is quite silent about the homage she met at
Whitehall and the ogling glances of the Duke of York.
He protests his affection in terms which might have
moved a stone. She bridles with contempt, and
affects not to believe a word of it.
He writes : " My soull, I goe with the heaviest hart
than ever man did, for by all that is good I love you
with all my hart, and I am share that as long as I
live you shall have no just reason to believe the con
trary. If you are unkind, I love so well that I cannot
live, for you are my life, my soull, my all that I hold
dear in this world ; therefore do not make so ungrat-
fuU a returne as not to writt. If you have charety
you will not only writt, but you will writt kindly, for
it is on you that depends the quiett of my soull. Had
I fittinge wordes to express my love , it would not then
be in your power to refuse what I beg, with tears in

22 COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE [Ch. n
my eyes, that you would love me as I, by heavens,
doe you."
She was relentless, and so we find her writing :
" If it were true that you have that passion for me,
which you say you have, you would find out some
way to make yourself hapy. It is in you power,
therefore press me no more to see you, since 'tis
what I cannot in honour allow of, and if I have done
too much, be so just to consider who was the cause
of it."
He was far too much in love to take a rebuff,
though it is plain that he winced at her coldness :
" Yours last night found me soe sicke that I thogte
I should have died, and I have now so exssessive a
headeake that I should not stire out all day but that
the Dut has sent me word that the Duke will see me
this afternoon, so thate att night I shall have the
happiness to see you in the drawenige roome. I
cannot remember what itt is I sayde to you that you
take so ill. Ah, my soull, did you love so well as I,
you could never have refused my letter so barbar
ously as you did, for if reason had bead you doe it,
love would never have permitted itt. But I will
complain no more of it, but hope time and the truth
of my love will make you love better."
He writes again when relations between them were
beginning to be strained for reasons which will
presently be shown :
" To showe you how unreasonable you are in
accusing me, I dare swaire you yourself will owne
that your going from me in the Dutchess' drawing-
room did show as mutche contempte as was possible.
I may grive at it, but I will no more complain when
you do it for I supose tis what pleases your youmer
[humour]. I can't imagine what you ment by your
saying I lafed at you at the Duke's side, for I was so fare
from that, had it not bene for shame, I could have cried,
and for being in hast to go to the Parke after you went,
I stoode nere a quarter of an hour I belive without
knoweing what I did, although attjWhitehall you told

1678] COURTING A REBUFF 23
me I should not come yett, I walked twice to the
Duke's bakestaires, but ther was no Mrs Mowdie
and when I went to my lady Duchess' I would not go
the saine way they did, but came again downe the
bakestaires, and when I went away I did not go in
my cheire, but made it follow me, because I would
see if ther was anny light in your chamber, but I saw
none. Could you see my heart you would not be so
cruell as to say I do not love you, for by aU that is
good I love you and only you. If I may have the
hapyness of seeing you tonight pray let me knowe
and believe that I am never truly pleased than when
I am with you."
But the lady was cold, and, though ChurchiU did
not know it, he was courting a rebuff. He com
plains that she had beaten a retreat :
" It was unkind of you to goe away last night sence
you knew that I camme for noe other purpose but to
have the joye of seeing you, but I will not belive it was
for want of love, for you are all goodness, the thought
of which makes me love you above my own soull.
If you shall be in the draweing-roome tonight, send
me word att what hour, so that I may order itt soe
to be ther att the same time. I am now in my
chamber, and will stay ther as long as I can in hopes
I may hear from you."
Sarah had her own reasons for leaving the drawing-
room when Churchill entered. There was another
lady in the case, and she was jealous. Sir Winston
Churchill looked coldly at his son's courtship of the
girl who, on contemporary evidence, was the pret
tiest of the Duchess's Maids of Honour. He wanted
his clever, handsome son to make a better match,
and he showed him how he might do so if he would
consent to turn his thoughts to Catherine, only child
and heiress of Sir John Sedley. She could not hold
a candle to Sarah Jennings in point of good looks,
but she had wit and was wealthy. Churchill wavered.
He knew the value of money ; indeed, he was always

24 COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE [Ch.ii
fond of it ; and Sarah was quick to detect his change
of attitude, and began to suspect he was playing with
her. She grew furious, not only because she felt
herself slighted, but also because she felt for the first
time how much she loved him. Instantly she took
the high hand with her lover :
" As for seeing you I am resolved I never will in
private nor in publick if I could help it. As for the
last I fear it will be some time before I can order
soe as to be out of your way of seeing me. But surely
you must confess that you have been the falsest
creature upon earth to me. I must own that I
beheve that I shall suffer a great deal of trouble,
but I will bear it, and give God thanks, though too
late I see my error."
There is a touch of pathos in that letter, for it reveals
a wounded heart through all her anger. She looked
forward to a " great deal of trouble," but that did not
alter her determination. She would not be trifled
with, even if she had to renounce the most attractive
courtier at Whitehall. She thought of flying to Paris
to her sister. Lady Hamilton,^ to get out of the way
of the " falsest creature upon Earth," and probably
she would have done so at the peril of her position at
Court if her lover had not surrendered at discretion.
He protested that his " heart was redy to breake "
because of her " unkind, indiferant letter." He
loved her, he added, to distraction, and would do so
as long as he lived ; but " if you command me death,
I will dye." If he had hesitated before, he was
thoroughly in earnest now, and all thoughts of plain
Catherine Sedley and the fortune she would bring
were thrown to the winds. His letters make this
plain :
" Itt is not reasonable that you should have a
doute, but that I love you above all expression,
* Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. i,, p 9.

1678] MISUNDERSTANDINGS 25
which by Heaven I doe. Itt is not possible to lett
you see your power more than my obedience to your
commands of leaving you, when my tyrant hart
rakes me to make me disobaye. But itt were much
better it should breake then to displease you. I will
not, derest, aske or hope to hear from you, unless
your charety pittys me, and will so fare plead for
me as to tell you that a man dyeing for you maye
hope that you will be soe kind as to make a distinc
tion betwixt him and the rest of his sex. I doe love
and adore you with all my harte and soull soe much
that by all that is good I doe and ever will be better
pleased with your hapyness than my one. ... I
will not dare to expecte more favour than you shall
think fitt to give but could you ever love me I think
the hapyness would be so greatt that it would make
me imortall."
Sarah kept her affections well in leash. She was
incredulous and scornful:
" I am as little satisfied with this letre as I have
been with many others, for I said all you will say is
only to amaze me and to make me think you have a
passion for me, when in reality ther is no such thing.
You have reason to think it Strang that I write to
you after my last, when I professed that I would
never write or speak to you more ; but as you know
how much kindnesses I had from you, you can't
wonder or blame me if I trj^ you once more to hear
what you can say for your justification; but this I
must warn you of, that you don't hold (designs) as
you have don allways, and to keep me from answer
ing of you, and yourself from saying what I expect
from you, for if you goe on in that manner I will
leave you that moment and never hear you speak
more whilst I have life. Therefore pray consicfer if
with honour to me and satisfaction to yourself I can
see you ; for if it is only to repeat those things which
you said so often I shall think you the worst of men
and the most ungratefuU, and 'tis to no purpose to
imagin that I will be made rediculous in the world
when it is in your power to make me otherwise."

26 COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE [Ch.ii
Churchill seems at this point to have been so much
in despair that he tried to find an ally in Mistress
Mowdie, a waiting-woman at the elbow of his fair
enslaver :
" Your mistresses usidge to me is so barbarus that
shure she must be the worest woman in the worid
or she could not be thus ill-natured. I have sent a
letter which I disier you wiU give her. Itt is very
reasonable for her to take itt, because itt wiU be then
in her power never to be trobled with me more if she
pleases. I doe love her with aU my soull, but will
not treble her, for if I cannot have her love I shall
despise her pitty. For the sake of what she has
already done lett her read my letter and answer itt,
and not use me like footemen."
The notes which follow show that Mistress Sarah
still kept him at a distance, and trifled with his pro
fessions of love :
" I would have been mutch kinder in you, if you
had been pleased to have been soe good natured to
have found time to have writ to me yesterday,
especially sence you are resolved not to apeare when
I might see you. But I am resolved to take nothing
ille but to be your slave as long as I live, and soe to
think all things well that you doe."
That was abject enough — a veritable surrender at
discretion. Apparently the lady, when he entered the drawing-
room again, took refuge in flight. He writes :
' ' When I left my father last night a purpose to com
and speake with you I did not belive that you would
have been soe unkind as to have gone a way the
minit I caime in feareing that I might else have spoake
to you, which indeed I should have been very glad
to have done. I beg you will give me leave to see
you this night att what hour you please. Pray let
me hear from you and if you doe not think me im
pertinent for askeing I should be glade to know what
maid you goe away:"

1678] A SCORNFUL LETTER 27
The reason why she went away is plain enough.
Catherine Sedley, she imagined, still stood between
them. In other words, she thought that her lover
had two strings to his bow, and, though she was
receiving a good deal of attention herself from other
gallants, she disdained to alter her attitude to
Churchill until her suspicions were set at rest. He
seems to have bombarded her with letters to very
little purpose, and the more he protested his affec
tion, the less was she inchned to believe him. He
thought that, if she would grant him an interview,
it would not be difficult to convince her that, in
spite of Sir Winston, he had definitely renounced
all pretensions to the hand of the ugly heiress. But
Sarah, though she was dying to know the truth, con
tinued to hold him at arm's length, and could not
restrain her pen, which she continued to dip in
scornful ink :
" I have don nothing to deserve such a kind of
letter as you have writ to me, and therefore I don't
know what answer to give, but I find that you have
a very ill opinion of me, and therefore I cannot help
being angray with myself for having had so good a
one of you, for if I had as little love as yourself, I
have been told enough about you to make me hate
you, and then I believe I should be more hapy than
I am like to be now. However if you can be so well
contented never to see me, as I think you can by
what you say, I will believe you that I have other
people, and after you are satisfied that I have not
break my word you shall have it in your power to see
me or not ; and if you are contented without it I shall
be extremely pleased."
It is almost a wonder, after the stinging words
with which that letter closes, that he pursued her
farther. All things are possible, however, to one
hopelessly head- over-ears in love; and, though he
must have winced, he caught like a drowning man at

28 COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE [CH.n
a straw, and braved the ordeal of an interview, so
petulantly conceded. If he was so eloquent on paper,
it is easy to imagine he was resistless in speech
in pleading a cause that was so bound up with his
happiness. He asked a week to set her lingering
fears at rest, and apparently gained it ; and after that,
though her mood on occasion was fickle, their court
ship, no longer vexed by parental interference and
tittle-tattle, though still somewhat uneasy, escaped
the danger zone, and followed — afar off, perhaps
— conventional lines. They were not free to do
exactly as they pleased, for Mistress Jennings was
in close attendance upon the Duchess of York, and
Colonel Churchill had to study the whims of the
Duke. They kept their engagement dark for reasons
which seemed sufficient to themselves, and did not
reveal to the world the relations in which they stood
to each other. Mary of Modena was in the secret, and,
from occult allusions in other letters, it is clear that
she did her best to advance the interests of the hvely
Maid of Honour, who never concealed, and perhaps
at times paraded, her sturdy attachment to the
Protestant faith. The distractions and late hours of
the Court taxed the strength of Mistress Sarah, and
possibly the tender passion had something to do
with her ailments, as well as with the " excessive
headeakes " to which her lover more than once
alludes in his letters. The lady's pretty gift of
sarcasm — it grew pronounced in later years — ^was
already in evidence :
" At four o'clock I would see you, but that would
hinder you from seeing the play, which I fear would
be a great affliction to you and increase the pain in
your head which would be out of anybody's power
to ease till the next new play. Therefore pray con
sider, and without any compliment to me send word

1678] CHURCHILL'S ANXIETIES 29
if you can come to me without any prejudice to your
health." He writes :
"I was last night at the balle in hopes to have
siene what I love above my own soull, but I was not
soe hapy for I could see you nowhere, soe that I did
not stay above an hour. I would have writt sooner,
but I was afraid you went to bed so laite itt would
disturb you. Pray see which of those two pupies
you like best and that kepe. ... If you give itt
warme milke itt will not dye. Pray let me hear from
you and at what time you will be so kind as to lett
me com to-night. Pray if you have nothing to doe,
lett 8 be the laitest, for I never am truUy hapy but
when I am with you."
Churchill seems to have had a lingering fear that
family opposition — this time on the part of the lady's
friends — might stiU divide them, and this drew from
her the note which follows :
" If your intentions are honourable and what I
have reason to expect, you need not fear my sister's
coming can make any change in me, or that it is in
the power of anyone to alter me but yourself, and I
am at this time satisfied that you will never doe
anything out of reason, which you must doe if you
ever are unjust to me."
They met at Court, they met at the Opera, and
Mary of Modena, who followed the courtship with
amused eyes, put no obstacle in the way of less
guarded interviews. Churchill was so much enam
oured that his health suffered ; he declared that he
was going off in a consumption, a confession which
made his friends smile, for he looked in the pink of
condition. Like all lovers, he was tenderly solicitous
about Mistress Sarah's health. So we find him warn
ing her not to imperil it :
" I hope you was soe wise as to value your one
helth before your duty to the Dutchess, so that you
did not walk with her att five this morning."

30 COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE [Ch.H
Mary of Modena disconcerted the Court on occasion
by going abroad in the early morning, a habit which
was embarrassing to Maids of Honour, tired out with
the late hours which were customary, even when
Charles II. was King. ChurchUl would go night after
night to the Opera, in the hope of catching a ghmpse
of his enchantress ; and his letters make it plain that
he often went in vain, for Mary of Modena, though
fond of amusements, was a capricious Princess, and
apt to change her plans at a moment's notice.
There is no need to add any more protests of
affection, nor is it necessary to add any more of
Mistress Sarah's notes in reply, through which the
east wind blew quite as much as the south. Let
it be remembered, however, in justice to her, that
she seems only to have copied her own notes when she
was nettled, and that Churchill, who was then and
always compliant to her whims, burnt her letters,
and amongst them, doubtless, many that were in a
tender strain. He loved her from first to last with
passionate devotion, and she was worthy of the
devotion she inspired, in spite of her petulant, gain
saying moods and, on occasion, her needlessly brusque
and uncompromising speech.
There is no exact record of their marriage, which
took place privately in the presence of Mary of
Modena in the spring of 1678.^ But so secret were
the nuptials that no one at the moment seems to have
suspected they had taken place. Colonel Churchill
was sent as an Envoy to the Prince of Orange shortly
afterwards, and there is a letter at Blenheim addressed
to his wife under her maiden name. Mary of Modena,
who was the soul of kindness, made substantial
presents to the bride. Shortly after the ceremony
Churchill took his young wife to his old home in
1 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," voL i., p. 9.

1678] THE MARRIAGE 31
Dorsetshire, and there she remained, whilst he was
in waiting on the Duke of York in Holland.
Her last days at Court had been troubled by a poor
relation. This was Edward Griffith, of St. Albans,
who had married her sister Barbara. This lady died
in the year of Sarah's marriage, leaving but one child,
who survived her only a few months. Meanwhile
Edward Griffith, in spite of his sister-in-law's aversion
to him, was ambitious to gain a footing at Court.
Mistress Sarah gives an amusing picture of him
dancing attendance on her at Whitehall, and declares
that she is more weary of the man than of anything
in the world :
" He has learnt French ever since my sister dyed,
and thinks thar is nobody understands more nor
pronounces it better than himself. I am in amaze
ment every time I see him how my poor sister could
have such a passion for him. Then he is soe ill-bred,
and fancies himself such a wit and makes such a
noise from morning to night that, as my mother
says, he turns my head, I beleeve I had not had his
company but that he wants money. I cannot imagin
how he will doe to live, being of a humor that makes
him uncapable of anything but spending. I confess
I have not much concern for him and all I desire is
that he may not spind all at St Albans without pay
ing the interest which he will doe if he is not pre
vented I do really beleeve, and then the poor child
will be undon."-^
The allusion is to the small sum which Barbara
Griffith had left in trust for her little girl; but the
" poor child " died the year after her mother, ,and
Edward Griffith, by persistently hanging on to his
sister-in-law, ultimately became secretary to Prince
George of Denmark, and Comptroller of the Board
of Green Cloth in the reign of Queen Anne.
'¦ Blenheim Papers.

CHAPTER III
THE BEGINNINGS OF POWER
The great world had not stood stiU in the years when
John Churchill was winning his spurs in the Low
Countries, and Sarah Jennings was engaged in the
conquest of hearts at Whitehall. Churchill first set
foot in Flanders in 1672. That year was an eventful
one in the lives of two of the monarchs whom he
afterwards served. It witnessed the invasion of
Holland by France, and the proclamation of WUliam
of Orange, as Stadtholder, at the age of twenty-two.
It was the year, also, when the Duke of York was
publicly received into the Roman Catholic Church,
of which he had secretly been an adherent for some
time. The accession of William of Orange to power
meant the advent of a new personal force, not only in
the councils of Holland, but in the affairs of Europe.
The open avowal of Roman Catholicism by the Duke
of York, which was followed, almost within twelve
months, by his marriage to the Roman Catholic
Princess Mary of Modena, imperilled the Protestant
Succession in England, and led to the passing of the
Test Act in 1673, which forced the King's brother to
relinquish the post of Lord High Admiral.
The Princess Mary and the Princess Anne, the
daughters of James, Duke of York, by his first
marriage, stood in direct succession to the throne, and
were therefore, by the express command of Charles II.,
brought up in the Protestant faith. The Duke of
York, who in his own fashion was a sincere Roman
32

1679] SIDNEY GODOLPHIN 33
Catholic, did not relish this, but was compelled to
acquiesce, and his submission was rendered less difficult
by his small concern for either of his daughters.
They both in consequence fell under the influence of
Dr. Henry Compton, Bishop of London, who was as
ardent and aggressive a Protestant as their father was
a Roman Catholic. England just then was aiding
and abetting France in the war with Holland, but
peace was concluded in 1674. Three years later, at
the instance of Charles II., the hand of the Princess
Mary, a mere girl of fifteen, was given in marriage to
a man whom her father both feared and detested,
William of Orange, the bold, taciturn, ungainly-
looking Prince whom the Maids of Honour at White
hall nicknamed the " Dutch Monster."
There were two other marriages that concerned
John ChurchiU and Sarah Jennings more closely than
the marriage of the Princess Mary. The first was
that of Sidney Godolphin, Groom of the Bedchamber
to the King, with Mistress Blague, Maid of Honour to
Catherine of Braganza. They were married in 1675,
and their courtship, like that of John Churchill, was
encouraged by the vivacious Mary of Modena, who
was in truth somewhat of a matchmaker. Godolphin
was one of the earliest and most constant of
Churchill's friends, and his young wife, who was
renowned for her wit and beauty and goodness, was
a friend of Sarah Jennings. She lived only a few
months after Sarah's marriage, though she lives for
aU time in the pages of John Evelyn. The other
marriage, in 1679, was that of Sarah's sister, Frances
Lady Hamilton, with Dick Talbot, who afterwards
became Earl and, eventually, titular Duke of Tyr
connel. Churchill, a few months after his marriage in 1678,
was sent by Charles II. on a mission to WiUiam of
Orange, for the King at that time professed to be
3

34 BEGINNINGS OF POWER [Ch. m
anxious to renew the Triple Alliance. The outcome
of these negotiations was that England sent troops
to support Holland against France, and Churchill
was appointed to the command of a brigade. But
the Peace of Nimeguen warded off hostilities, and he
returned to England to watch events and to resume
attendance on the Duke of York, who by this time
was perhaps the most unpopular man in the country.
The proceedings in Parliament reflected the temper
of the nation. In the autumn of 1678 an Act had
been passed for " Disabling Papists from sitting in
either House of Pariiament," and only by two votes
was an exception made in favour of the Duke of York.
In the spring of the following year — it is significant
that a General Election had taken place in the
interval — the House of Commons, believing that both
the religion and the liberties of the country would
be imperilled by the Duke of York's accession, intro
duced the Exclusion Bill, which, if it had become
law, would have annulled his claims to the throne.
It passed the Commons in 1680, but the Lords threw
out the measure, and the King, taking his courage in
both hands, declared that he would veto any repe
tition of a similar proposal.
The nation had set its heart on the Duke of Mon
mouth, and an elaborate attempt was made to prove
that Charles had been secretly married to Lucy
Walters. Meanwhile the Duke of York had been
ordered abroad by the King in 1679, and took up
his residence at The Hague. Colonel Churchill and
his bride went to Holland in attendance. Charles
saw that his brother's presence at Court increased
the resentment of the people. The Duke of York
was haughty, suspicious, shifty; he distrusted nearly
everyone; but Churchill, young as he was, somehow
possessed his confidence to a singular degree. The
Duke knew that he had given the young officer his

1679] DUKE OF YORK AT THE HAGUE 35
first chance in life; he recognized not merely his
charm as a man, but his ability as a soldier, and did
everything in his power to attach him to himself, in
view of all that might happen, as the King's health
was already uncertain. Churchill on his part was
not unmindful of what he owed the Duke, though he
saw clearly enough that his arrogant temper and his
uncompromising attitude on religion were likely to
wreck his career.
The Duke quickly grew restless at The Hague, for
he had nothing in common with William of Orange,
who seized the opportunity to study the character of
his father-in-law and also that of Churchill. William
was a shrewd judge of men ; he knew what was happen
ing in England, and had already a wide grasp of
affairs, though for the moment he thought it politic
to cloak and dissemble all that was in his mind.
Suddenly Charles fell ill, and James, in the winter of
1679, seized the opportunity to come to Whitehall.
Churchill, who had accompanied him to England,
was sent by Charles on a mission to the French
Court ; for the King, in spite of his parade of friend
ship with Holland, was still in secret league with
Louis XIV. The Duke, once in England, was anxious
to remain, but his unpopularity was at its height, and
Charles, piqued and in perplexity, sent him across
the Tweed to administer the affairs of Scotland.
ChurchUl, having fulfilled his mission in Paris,
foUowed his master to Scotland, reaching Edinburgh
in December, 1679. The Duke beguiled his enforced
retirement from Whitehall by hunting, playing
biUiards, and learning a game which was new to him,
and which he called " goffe." Mary of Modena, at
Edinburgh, found diversion in plays, balls, and card-
parties, and life went pleasantly enough with young
Mrs. ChurchUl in a round of entertainments and
receptions.

36 BEGINNINGS OF POWER [Ch. HI
The relations between the royal brothers were not
strained, though Charles always played for his own
hand, and was beyond all else a man of the world.
He saw the wisdom of keeping his brother at arm's
length, or at any rate hoodwinking the nation into
thinking that he did so. But the Duke was graciously
allowed to come on an occasional visit to the English
Court, and ChurchUl always accompanied him. It
was on one such occasion, in 1682, that John Churchill,
on the recommendation of the Duke of York, was
created Baron Churchill of Aymouth, in the Scottish
peerage.^ In the foUowing year the Princess Anne married
Prince George of Denmark, an event which gave a
dramatic turn to the fortunes of the newly-ennobled
Lady ChurchUl, who was still in the bloom of her
youth, for she was not yet three-and-twenty. The
Princess Anne was uneasy in the company of her
father. He was not the man to inspire affection,
even in his own children. Between them lay the
barrier of religion, and the Duke was annoyed at his
own inability to weaken his daughter's allegiance to
Protestantism, even though he called to his aid Mary
of Modena, to whom Anne was more attached.
Bishop Compton had done his work well. The
Princess Anne was already — and ever afterwards
remained — a loyal, if somewhat narrow-minded, ad
herent of the Church of England .
AU the influences of the Court ran the other way.
The King would have thrown off the mask, and
avowed himself a Roman Catholic, if he had not had
to reckon with the Protestant temper of his subjects.
As it was, he faced both ways. The Duke of York
was a Roman Catholic of harsh and persecuting
instincts, who, whilst punctilious in the observance
of the rites of the Church, went his own way, though
' Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. i., p. 15.

i683] AN ARDENT YOUNG PROTESTANT 37
not so openly, in pursuit of pleasure. It is remarkable
that so young a Princess as Anne, with the example
of her father and uncle continually before her, should
have been, with all her short-comings, and they were
many, a sincerely religious Protestant . Lady Churchill,
who was henceforth to play a great part in the de
velopment of her character, as well as in the story of
the reign, was also an ardent Protestant, though her
attachment to the Church was more political than
religious. Religion from first to last never entered
deeply into her life. The clergy represented to her a
sort of moral police, and she liked them best when they
were complacent to people of quality, and reserved
their stern admonitions for the lower orders . She was
an individualist of the most uncompromising type,
and allowed no man, whether priest or prelate, to
claim ascendancy over her. Her religion was entirely
her own concern, though it must be admitted that in
certain moods her attitude was one of revolt, and her
energetic utterances were frankly pagan.
At three-and-twenty most people do not take
religion seriously, and Lady Churchill, who did not
set up either as a saint or an idealist, was too bent on
pleasure in a perfectly legitimate fashion, and too
ambitious in the political sense, to trouble her head
with problems of conscience or with questions of
faith. But she had even then the passion for liberty,
ahke in religion and in politics ; and if she believed
anything, it was that the Whigs were the best
champions of both. The Princess Anne only partially
shared Lady Churchill's political enthusiasm, but
they were of one mind in rehgion, even though the
one took matters of faith more seriously than the
other. In all this Lady ChurchUl was in complete agree
ment with her lord. He was more ardently attached,
however, than she to the Church of England ; and

38 BEGINNINGS OF POWER [Ch. ill
though the Duke of York laboured hard for his con
version, the one point on which he absolutely refused
to follow his master was submission to the Church
of Rome. Churchill, by temperament and con
viction, was a religious man. There were times in
his hfe when religious motives and authority appear
to have been relaxed. But looking at his career
broadly, in the light of the age in which he lived, and
of the temptations to which he was exposed, it is
impossible to resist the conclusion that he was a
high-principled man in a sense which was not common
in that age.
If the Princess Anne's loyalty to the Protestant
Church is remarkable, in view of the surroundings of
her youth, not less surprising is the confidence which
the Duke of York, as a perfervid Catholic, reposed in
Churchill, who was emphatically an Anglican of the
school which had the least sympathy with Rome.
George of Denmark was a weak, amiable, and shallow
Prince, but a Protestant; the Princess Anne, in her
marriage with him, was not therefore ruffled by the
religious question.
Mary of Modena was so far childless, and the
Princess Anne, whose succession to the throne was
by no means a remote contingency, received a revenue
in accordance with her rank. Her first request — it
was addressed to Mary of Modena — ^was that her
stepmother would release Lady Churchill from her
service. The Duchess consented, and thus began one
of the most memorable chapters in English history.
Appointed Lady of the Bedchamber to the Princess
of Denmark in 1683, Lady Churchill identified herself
from the outset with the fortunes of her mistress.
Anne, like other people devoid of any real strength
of character, had a touch of obstinacy. She was
prosaic, well-intentioned, a great stickler for etiquette,
narrow-minded but warm-hearted, and she possessed

PRINCESS ANNE AND LADY CHURCHILL 39
a lively conscience and a keen sense of public duty,
both of which qualities were lacking in Charles II.
and the Duke of York. She did not give her confi
dence easily, but when given it was without stint,
and, being weak and vacillating in many directions,
she was glad to lean on so resolute and capable a
woman as Lady Churchill, who rapidly acquired
ascendancy over her through sheer force of character.
Here the latter's own words may be cited :
" The beginning of the Princess's kindness for me
had a much earlier date than my entrance into her
service. My promotion to this honour was wholly
owing to impressions she had before received to my
advantage; we had used to play together when she
was a child, and she even then expressed a particular
fondness for me. This inclination increased with our
years. I was often at Court, and the Princess always
distinguished me, by the pleasure she took to honour
me, preferably to others, with her conversation and
confidence."^ It was natural that Anne, chilled by the Countess
of Clarendon, who " looked like a mad woman and
talked like a scholar,"^ should seize the opportunity
of her marriage to beg her father to allow her to add
to her household the lively, sympathetic, outspoken
friend of her girlhood.
Lady ChurchiU never talked like a scholar, even if
some of her critics were inclined to think there were
occasions when she acted like a mad woman. Even
that charge cannot be laid against her until her long
and honourable association with Anne, as Princess
and Queen, had been broken by backstair intrigue,
and was drawing to its troubled and dramatic close.
She had radiant spirits, clean-cut convictions, generous
impulses, a real grasp of public affairs, even at that
time, a quick temper, and, what is vastly inconvenient
in a Court, a passion for calling a spade a spade.
' "Account of the Conduct of the Dowager - Duchess of
Marlborough," pp. 9, 10. (London, 1742.) ^ Ibid., p. 10.

40 BEGINNINGS OF POWER [Ch. ill
" Young as I was," was her confession, written in
old age, " when I first became high favourite I laid
it down for a maxim that flattery was falsehood to
my trust, and that I did not deserve so much favour if
I could not venture the loss of it by speaking the
truth." '^ '
Royal personages, with rare exceptions, do not
suffer the word of admonition, unless it is discreetly
accompanied by compliments, which rob it of its
sting. Lady Churchill was not given to compliments.
She was sincere and devoted, but she did not mince
her words. She flouted the notion that- subjects
should be " awfully obedient " — the phrase is her
own — and servants, even of Kings and Princes,
" blindly obsequious." In other words, she magnified
her office from the start, and was too much inclined to
play the part of the candid friend.
The riotous reign of Charles was drawing to a
close. He had sown his wild-oats, and was beginning
to reap the harvest in broken health. No one could
tell what would happen ; and if Monmouth's rebeUion
had not been crushed with the help of Marlborough's
sword, the course of English history might have been
altered. A non-committal policy was in the air;
statesmen were playing a waiting ^ame, and mean
while the Princess of Denmark, with her little retinue,
was living in the shade, wellnigh a negligible quantity.
Prince George of Denmark was a man of thirty
when he married the Princess Anne, a girl of eighteen,
on the i8th of July, 1683. He was a Lutheran, and
brother of the reigning King, Christian V. He was
a harmless, shallow, well-intentioned, self-indulgent
Prince, though free from the vices of Charles and
James. If Anne had been free to follow her heart,
she would probably have married the Earl of Mul-
grave, for whom as a girl she had a great predilection.
' Blenheim Papers.

i683] GEORGE OF DENMARK 41
That, of course, was out of the question, and the first
serious proposal for her hand was made by Prince
George of Hanover, afterwards George I. His pre
tensions were quickly dismissed, and, when George of
Denmark afterwards came upon the scene, Charles IL,
swift to see that such a marriage would please the
Protestant temper of the people, declared that he
considered it " very suitable." The Duke of York,
who had to bow to the King's will, made it plain that
he was not too well pleased. He did not oppose it,
but contented himself by saying that he had " little
encouragement in the conduct of the Prince of Orange
to marry another daughter in the same interest."
Both the royal brothers believed that the marriage
would please the nation, and were pleased at the
public rejoicings.
Prince George had a handsome, vacant face,
homely, rather awkward manners, spoke French with
a bad accent, and carried himself with no distinction.
He came to England with a reputation for valour, but
he never had the opportunity of showing whether he
deserved it. He was the father of many children,
all of whom died young, though one of them, the
bright and promising little Duke of Gloucester, lived
long enough to cheer the lonely closing years of
WiUiam III., and to be regarded by the English
people as the hope of the nation. Prince George
himself lived fifteen years in England, and never
awakened a particle of enthusiasm.
Charles II. was a shrewd judge of men, and he
quickly took the measure of his niece's husband. " I
have tried Prince George sober, and I have tried him
drunk," was the King's cynical verdict, " and drunk
or sober there is nothing in him." But he had many
points in common with the Princess Anne. He
shared her fondness for good living, her punctilious
regard for etiquette, and, though not her equal in

42 BEGINNINGS OF POWER [Ch. m
sagacity, he at least looked at life in the same practical,
unimaginative way. Moreover, as a husband he was
affectionate and attentive; and, as he had little
ambition except to be amused in directions that did
not strain the loyalty of his wife, hfe went very well
with him, both when Anne was Princess and when she
was Queen. He died in 1 708, one of the most glorious
years of her short but splendid reign ; and if the nation
did not mourn him much, the Queen did, and so did
the Churchihs, whom to the end of his hfe he steadily
supported amid all the intrigues of the Court.
In 1683 Colonel Lord Churchill, who was just then
on active service at home and abroad, was well pleased
that his young wife should be chosen by the Princess
of Denmark as Lady of the Bedchamber; indeed, he
was supposed to have exerted himself to have obtained
that appointment for her. It kept her in touch with
the Court, and therefore at the centre of affairs, whilst
it shielded her, as a young married woman, from some
of its temptations ; for the quiet household of the
Princess at the Cockpit differed widely, though it
was only on the other side of the street, from the
wild licence of Whitehall . There was nothing briUiant
in the prospects of the Princess when Lady Churchill
entered her service. Charies was still on the throne,
and though her father, the Duke of York, stood next
in succession, he was so unpopular that many people
wondered whether he would ever succeed to the
crown. The Princess of Orange stood next, and, as
she was young and vigorous, no one imagined that her
union with William would be childless.
The Princess Anne had seen comparatively little
of the worid, but as a child she had been under the
charge of her grandmother, Queen Henrietta Maria,
in France, and shortly before her marriage had been
invited by her sister to The Hague, and had shared
her father's exile in Brussels for a brief period.

1684] DEATH OF CHARLES II. 43
That exhausted her knowledge of Europe, though
doubtless Prince George tried to interest her in
Denmark. The royal household, when Lady ChurchiU entered
it, was, on her own showing, " oddly composed."
She alone represented the unfettered choice of the
Princess, and the ruling spirit was the Countess of
Clarendon, wife of Henry Hyde, second Earl, and
aunt by marriage to the Princess. This lady was
not at all to Anne's mind, and, though unable to
dismiss her, she grew restive. The Countess, on the
score of her years and her relationship, was inclined
to magnify her office, and Anne resented her inter
minable harangues. But changes were in the air,
for before two years were over Charles II. suddenly
fell ill, to the consternation of the Court, and died
on the morning of the 6th of February, 1685, and the
Duke of York, at the age of fifty-two, came to the
throne as James II.
It was a matter of surprise that his reign began so
quietly; but England, though it did not love him,
was not in the mood for revolt. He had the good
sense to conciliate his subjects by an adroit and
reassuring speech, in the course of which he declared
that he would maintain the existing order in Church
and State, and ridiculed the notion that he was fond
of arbitrary power. The people, though not with
out misgivings, took him at his word. Anyhow,
they reasoned, since the King was comparatively old,
that the reign would not be long; and as his young
Catholic consort had now been married twelve years,
and was childless, there was no reason to think that
the Protestant Succession was imperilled, since both
of James's daughters by Anne Hyde were wedded to
Princes of the Protestant faith. The people had, in
truth, set their heart upon Mary, Princess of Orange,
and, though they knew little of her strong, resourceful

44 BEGINNINGS OF POWER [Ch. m
husband, they reahzed that so long as she lived the
common welfare was secure.
One of the minor results of the new reign was that
the King promptly sent his brother-in-law to Ire
land as Lord Lieutenant, an act which relieved the
Princess of Denmark of the uneasy presence in her
household of the Countess of Clarendon.
" The Princess," states Lady Churchill, " received
a sensible joy from this event; not only as it released
her from a person very disagreeable to her, but as
it gave her an opportunity of promoting me to be
first Lady of the Bedchamber; which she immedi
ately did, with a satisfaction to herself which was
not to be concealed."^
It was in this way that, from 1685 onwards, Sarah,
Lady Churchill, became the ruling spirit in the
household of Anne, alike in the shadowed years of
her life as Princess and the splendid years of her
life as Queen. Lady Marlborough's fortunes ad
vanced with those of her royal mistress, and she
retained her great position for exactly a quarter of
a century. ' " Account of the Conduct of the Dowager-Duchess of
Marlborough," p. 15.

CHAPTER IV
THE CHURCHILLS AND THE REVOLUTION
The reign of James II., short though it was, was
long enough to tax the patience and loyalty of his
subjects to the breaking-point. The King played his
cards uncommonly badly ; and if he had deliberately
set out to thwart the wishes of his people, he could
not have succeeded better, though he desired to pro
pitiate them in his own fashion Nobody was
righteous overmuch in those days. The Puritan
fervour, which was not satisfied without an appeal
to the sword in the days of Charles I., had long since
spent its force. But the nation was Protestant,
and sensitive, moreover, in regard to its political
rights. James was a Papist, open and unabashed,
and, like all converts, inclined to overdo his part.
He was an autocrat also in the political sphere, of
harsh and unaccommodating temper.
" Never fear for me, James; no one will kill me
to make you King," was the jocular remark of
Charles II. when his brother thought he was running
needless risks. Charles knew perfectly well that,
though he tried the allegiance of his people in more
directions than one, they liked him, and that his hfe
was secure, against even the most cracked-brain
assassin, through the unpopularity of the Duke of
York. To kill Charles to make James King would be to
get out of the frying-pan into the fire, and reahzing
this, in his easy, nonchalant manner, the merry
monarch drank the cup of pleasure to the last, un-
45

46 THE REVOLUTION [Ch. IV
ruffled and unmolested, and died as he had lived,
though not without a secret surrender to Rome.
James had most of his brother's vices, and scarcely
any of his virtues. Even his children feared him
and kept out of his way. The Princess of Orange
was glad that the sea divided her from her father,
and the Princess of Denmark made it perfectly
clear that she preferred her quiet life at the Cockpit
to the splendour of WhitehaU. As the Princess of
Orange had no chUdren, and the new Queen, Mary
of Modena, was so far in the same case, courtiers
who took long views suddenly became interested in
Anne. It was not a remote contingency, even when
James began to reign, that this demure, home-loving
Princess, though treated cavalierly by her father,
might come to the throne. But the great bulk of
the nation did not look so far; they had set their
heart on the accession, in due time, of Mary; and,
though there was a sharp division of opinion con
cerning her strong, taciturn consort, the common
notion was that he would play a subsidiary part when
his fair and vivacious wife came to the throne.
The knowledge that James II. did not exactly
love his son-in-law told in William's favour, for
nobody loved the King, though many people feared
him. Moreover, all calculations might be upset, for
Mary of Modena might still have a child, though,
as the reign ran its short, uneasy course, that grew
unlikely. William of Orange kept a keen eye on
English affairs; he was bound to do so, for Mary
was next in succession. Moreover, he was a long
headed man, conscious of his own powers, and of
great ambition, and not the Prince, when the occa
sion arose, to drop into the insignificant position of
his easy brother-in-law, George of Denmark. He had
already made up his mind that if he came to England
it would be on other terms.

1688] INSECURITY OF JAMES II. 47
It was once said of James II. that he was the only
Stuart who did not know how to be gracious. He
lacked the charm, the ability, and the tact, of Charles ;
and though he gave more attention to affairs of
State, and threw more conscience into the dis
charge of the duties of the Crown, he never won the
confidence of either the classes or the masses. It is
certain he did not understand the hold which the
Church of England had upon his subjects, and,
living in a little clique of courtiers and priests, who
flattered him to the top of his bent, he had no idea
of the passionate and half- fanatical fear of Rome which
filled the public mind. If the King had listened
to the counsels of the old Roman Catholic nobility
of England, instead of to Father Petre and perfervid
new converts to Rome in high places, a more moderate
policy would have been adopted. As it was, James
set everybody by the ears, and prepared the way for
his own downfall. There is no need to dwell upon the
measures which brought it about — his harsh treat
ment of the popular favourite Monmouth, the
Declaration of Indulgence, the trial and acquittal of
the Seven Bishops who refused to read that manifesto,
and other mistakes scarcely less glaring, which
brought the nation to the verge of revolt.
Affairs grew suddenly critical in the summer of
1688, when certain great nobles, and other men of
light and leading in the land, petitioned William of
Orange to bring over an army and secure the liberties
of the English people. The Prince took time to
consider so extraordinary an appeal. It reached him
in the beginning of July, but before September was
ended he issued his famous Declaration. In it he
drew up an indictment of his father-in-law's con
duct on the throne, and ended by declaring that, as
consort of Mary, he was coming with an army, not
of invasion, but to uphold the rights of Pariiament,

48 THE REVOLUTION [Ch. IV
by whose free and unfettered decision, whatever that
might be, he would abide.
James, weak and petulant, was astounded at such
tidings. He watched the weathercock, which still
exists on the roof of Whitehall, with anxious eyes,
and, gaining a brief respite by the wind, which did
not favour the Dutch, made a few concessions in
haste, which came too late. A child had been born
that summer, on the loth of June, to Mary of Modena
— the child who lives in history as the Old Pre
tender, though he was the legitimate son of the
reigning King. The autumn was full of wild alarm,
plot and counterplot, subterfuge and irresolution;
but on the 5th of November William of Orange, with
his trusty Dutch troops, landed at Torbay. A month
later James secretly sent the Queen and her infant
abroad, WiUiam of Orange meanwhile steadily ad
vancing on London, amid the growing plaudits of
the people; and before the year was out the King
had taken refuge in ignominous flight, and William
of Orange had already summoned the Convention
Pariiament, which drew up the Declaration of Rights
and brought him to the throne on equal terms with
Mary. Churchill's position amid the strife and tumult of
the times was embarrassing. He had been created
an English peer, with the title of Baron ChurchiU
of Sandridge, in the county of Herts, at the accession
of James II. He stood almost to the last at the
side of the King, though with ever-deepening mis
givings. The King had treated him with marked
distinction. ChurchiU had followed his fortunes as
Duke of York, and had been admitted to his con
fidence to a degree that was rare with James. It is
certain that Churchill would never have treated an
enemy driven to bay and craving mercy as James
treated Monmouth, and his master's cruel and vin-

1688] WILLIAM OF ORANGE 49
dictive attitude on that occasion made him wince.
He dishked the attempt of the King to bring the
Prince of Denmark over to Roman Catholicism, and
was annoyed when overtures in the same direction
were made to himself.
Churchill could not forget that his father had been
loyal to Charles I., and had suffered in the Civil
Wars, whilst his own sympathies and sword had
been given without stint to the House of Stuart.
He was a convinced Anglican in religion, opposed
equally, as men put it in those days, to all Popish
and Puritan innovations. In politics he was identi
fied for the greater part of his life with the Tory
party. Both circumstances need to be borne in
mind in any attempt to estimate his conduct. But
during the reign of James he stood outside politics,
until the last critical weeks, when he induced the
Princess of Denmark to surrender her rights so far
as to consent that William of Orange, if he accepted
the crown, should reign for life even if his wife re
mained childless, or even, as actually happened,
died before him. ChurchiU knew better than any
other man in England the temper of William. He
realized that the Prince would never accept the
throne unless his rights were fully safeguarded.
William of Orange already stood revealed as the
most capable and ambitious Prince in Europe. Great
schemes were revolving in that powerful mind, and
amongst them the determination to measure swords
with Louis XIV.
Churchill has been blamed not a little for his
desertion of James II., and yet it is not difficult to
understand what it was that impelled him to part
company with the King. He was not unmindful of
the marked consideration he had always received from
James, from the days when he was a page at Whitehall
to the beginning of the reign, when he had been created 4

50 THE REVOLUTION [Ch.IV
an English peer, crushed Monmouth's rebelhon, and
was rewarded with the coveted posts of Major-
General and Colonel of the 3rd Horse Guards. But
he had followed the King's public policy with grave
misgivings, and every year convinced him that if it
was pursued much longer, in the same high-handed
manner, the best interests of the nation would be
imperilled. The best interests of the nation to
Churchill, soldier though he was, meant the loyalty
of the people to the Throne and the stability of the
Protestant religion. Even as early as the period
when he was sent on a special mission to France, to
thank Louis XIV. for the subsidy which James
received shortly after his accession, Churchill, when
in Paris, told Lord Galway: "If the King should
attempt to change our religion and constitution, I
will instantly quit his service."^
Probably the last straw with Churchill was the
Declaration of Indulgence, which was issued by the
King in May, 1688. Even then he did not desert
James; on the contrary, he remained at his side, in
command of the troops at Salisbury, until William
of Orange had actually landed in England. Then he
accepted the logic of accomplished events, and to
have done otherwise would have been to plunge the
nation in civil war. He had used every argument,
long before this, to convince the King that the course
he was pursuing was fatal, and it was only when he
was forced to recognize that further expostulation
was useless that he parted company with the monarch,
who seemed bent on the ruin of the nation.
Lady Churchill throughout the crisis was in close
attendance on the Princess of Denmark. As soon
as tidings came that Wilham of Orange had landed,
the King hastened to Salisbury, accompanied by
1 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," voL i., p. 16.

1688] ARRIVAL OF WILLIAM 51
Prince George, to place himself at the head of his
troops. Anne's position was supremely difficult.
Her affection for her father had been alienated quite
as much by his persistent attempts to win her to
Roman Catholicism as by his habitual coldness. On
the other hand, in spite of her ardent attachment to
Protestantism, she did not altogether trust, and it
is certain that she did not personally like, her brother-
in-law, who had come as its avowed champion. Her
pride, moreover, had been ruffled by the fact that
the Prince of Orange had come with other rights
than those of her sister's husband, and that she
herself had been persuaded by Lord Churchill to
consent to this stipulation. Lady Churchill knew less
of William than her husband did. James II. had
always treated her well, though she had resented
the attempts made by her brother-in-law. Lord
Tyrconnel, to enlist her aid to make the Princess
comply with her father's wishes.
She was as much opposed as ChurchiU to the
King's Popish proclivities, and she felt more keenly
than he the forced surrender of Anne to William's
claims. Moreover, she disliked even more than her
mistress this cold, resolute, taciturn Prince, who had
come to England by virtue of his wife's position as
heir to the throne, and was not the man, as she
rightly conjectured, if once established on it, to
show much consideration for the feelings of others.
It was at this juncture, with WUliam of Orange on the
march, and James II. at the head of a disaffected
army, that tidings came to the Cockpit that Prince
George of Denmark had galloped off to join the
standard of the coming King. The news quickly
foUowed that James II. , driven to desperation, was
returning to London. " This put the Princess,"
states Lady Churchill, " into a great fright. She
sent for me, told me her distress," and declared that

52 THE REVOLUTION [Ch. IV
" rather than see her father she would jump out of
the window."^
Absolutely unnerved by the dramatic turn of
events, the Princess, though she had in reality
nothing to fear, determined on sudden flight.
Perhaps she thought that, in view of her husband's
desertion, she might be sent to the Tower; and Lady
Churchill not improbably thought the same, as her
lord also had put spurs to his horse to meet WiUiam.
They both knew full well the relentless and vindictive
temper of James — perhaps the most imperious of all
the Stuarts — and neither of them cared to brave his
displeasure. The Princess accordingly left the Cock
pit at dead of night, in a hackney-coach, accom
panied by Lady Churchill and Lady Fitzharding,
under the care of the Bishop of London and the Earl
of Dorset. They rested till morning under the
Bishop's roof, and took a coach next day to the
country-seat of Lord Dorset.
Here Lady ChurchiU may be left to tell the rest
of the adventure :
" From thence we went to the Earl of Northamp
ton's, and from thence to Nottingham, where the
country gathered about the Princess; nor did she
think herself safe till she saw herself surrounded by
the Prince of Orange's friends."^
WhUst at Nottingham, to cheer the Princess in
her suspense, a banquet was held in her honour.
The hosts were the noblemen and officers assembled
in the town, and Anne went, accompanied only by
Lady Churchill and Lady Fitzharding. CoUey Cib-
ber, the famous actor, then a mere youth of seven
teen, was serving in the Earl of Devonshire's levy,
which had been raised for the help of William of
1 "Account of the Conduct of the Dowager - Duchess of
Marlborough," p. i6.
- Ibid., p. 17.

1688] CHURCHILL JOINS WILLIAM III. 53
Orange. Many years afterwards, when he wrote his
autobiography, quaintly entitled " An Apology for
the Life of CoUey Cibber, Comedian," he did not
forget those stirring days or that night of the ban
quet. It seems that there was a lack of waiters, and
this young recruit to the standard of WiUiam was in
consequence present at that entertainment in this
humble capacity:
" The post assigned me was to observe what the
Lady Churchill might call for. Being so near the
table, you may naturally ask me what I heard, what
passed in conversation at it, which I should certainly
tell you had I attended to above two words that
were uttered there, and those were, ' Some wine and
water.' These I remember because they came from
the fair guest, whom I took so much pleasure to
wait upon. Except at that single sound, all my
senses were collected into my eyes, which during the
whole entertainment wanted no better amusement
than of stealing now and again the delight of gazing
on the fair object so near me. If so clear an emana
tion of beauty, such a commanding grace of aspect,
struck me into a regard that had something softer
in it than the most profound respect, I cannot see
why I may not, without offence, remember it."
Lady Churchill's beautiful face, even though it was
clouded at the moment by anxiety for her lord and
concern for a Princess in distress, was responsible for
a conquest which she never knew. A mere straw,
perhaps, on the splendid stream of her life, but not to
be tossed aside on that account, since it shows how
in her least conscious moments the charm of her
personality told on others. She was a woman of
eighty, " a great-grandmother without grey hairs,"
to borrow his own words, when CoUey Cibber recalled
that memory of his youth. -^
The ostensible cause of Lord ChurchiU 's desertion
of James was the King's determination, against his
^ Colley Gibber's "Apology." London, 1740.

54 THE REVOLUTION [Ch. iv
advice, to return to his capital. There can be no
question that it cost ChurchiU a sharp struggle to
part with his old master. All the traditions and all
the memories of his Ufe were of a kind to make him
hesitate. ChurchiU had been trained in a household
the maxim of which was, " Fear God, honour the
King," and now, as he explained, in the touching
letter which he wrote to James on the night of
the 24th of November, 1688, when he left the
camp, the claims of religion and liberty seemed to
offer him no alternative. He could not uphold the
King against his own conscience, nor could he place
his sword at James's disposal, when he knew that that
meant civil war — a civil war, moreover, in which
he would be compelled to fight for the estabUsh
ment in England of the Roman Catholic Church, to
which all his life he was opposed. He acknowledges
in this letter his personal indebtedness to the King.
He declares that he cannot expect any advantages
comparable to those which he was losing under any
other ruler, and he asks James to " place a charitable
interpretation on his actions," since he was doing
violence to his own inclinations, a course to which
he was compelled by the " inviolable dictates of my
conscience."-'^ It is said that it was the Bishop of Ely who finally
decided Churchill to join Prince of Orange, and
that he did so by warning him that at such a crisis
the claims of religion were paramount. All human
motives are more or less mixed, and it is idle, therefore,
to submit to remorseless analysis those which actuated
Churchill. Anyhow, the die was cast on the side of
the Protestant faith and the liberty of the subject.
The King read that letter with a heavy heart. It
is clear that " James felt that Churchill's Protes-
' See letter in Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough,"
vol. i., p. 22.

1688] WILLIAM ENTERS LONDON 55
tantism was invincible."^ He knew the value of
Churchill's sword. He realized that when it was
carried to WiUiam's camp the tide of fortune had
turned. He saw, as the tidings spread, that the
troops who were still under his standard were
dispirited, restless, and even ripe for revolt.
A few weeks later it was plain to everybody that all
was lost. James himself could no longer blind his
eyes to the fact, and so, on the 17th of December, he
left London under an armed escort, and within a week
quitted the shores of England for ever.
Lady Churchill, in those anxious days which fol
lowed her husband's desertion of James, had good
reason to be glad that she was at Nottingham with
the troops which had been raised to support William
of Orange. She feared, and probably with justice,
for she knew the King's vindictive temper, that she
would be sent to the Tower if James, smarting with
resentment, could lay hands upon her.
Two days after the King's departure from London,
the Princess of Denmark, vastly relieved by the
absence of her angry father, returned to her apart
ments at Whitehall, and Lady Churchill came with
her. Within a week, William, at the head of a mixed
army of Dutch and English troops, entered the
capital, and on the 1 3th of February, 1689, the heralds
proclaimed the accession of the Prince and Princess of
Orange to the throne, under the style and title of
William and Mary. This was brought about by the
Convention Parliament, and became valid by the
acceptance by the new rulers of the memorable
Declaration of Rights. William, though he had suc
ceeded by reason of Mary's claims as next in suc
cession, was virtually supreme from the first. He
proceeded to reward his adherents, and, amongst the
1 " Life of John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough," by Viscount
Wolseley. London, 1894. VI. i., chap, xliv., p. 387.

56 THE REVOLUTION [Ch. IV
rest, Churchill, who was created Earl of Marlborough
in 1689. The Princess of Denmark, who was heir-
apparent to the throne, was given apartments in St.
James's Palace, and Lady Marlborough accompanied
her thither.
In the summer of the year which witnessed the
accession of Wilham and Mary, a son was born to
the Princess of Denmark, who, in compliment to the
King, was called William. He was created Duke of
Gloucester, and for years afterwards opinion in
England was divided as to whether the son of the
Princess of Denmark at the Court of St. James, or the
son of Mary of Modena at that of St. Germains, would
eventually succeed to the throne.
James II . had many devoted adherents in the realm,
and even those who were not of their number had
always to reckon that he might regain his throne with
the help of the arms of France. William cared little
for the strife of political parties in England. But
he remodelled the army, and, seeing a storm was
approaching, appointed Marlborough Lieutenant-
General of the Forces. One motive which had swayed
him in coming to England was the determination
to humble the power of France, and one of the
first acts of his reign was to declare war against
Louis XIV.
William, from the days of his youth, had been more
or less in arms against France. He knew too well
that it was the ambition of Louis to seize the Spanish
Netherlands, the Palatine, and the duchy of Lorraine,
so as to push the already broad frontiers of France
to the banks of the Rhine. He was not possessed by
an overmastering desire to exchange Holland for
England, or the rank of Stadtholder amongst his own
people for that of monarch over subjects of an alien
race, whom he little understood and whose allegiance
was doubtful. He accepted the crown in order to

1689] THE STRUGGLE WITH FRANCE 57
enlist England in the confederation which he had
already brought about to resist the military aggres
sions of France. He saw that, if England joined
forces with Spain, Holland, and Austria, such a
coalition would prove, not merely formidable, but
resistless. He did not count on the fact that three-
fourths of the Irish people were opposed to his
accession, or that Tyrconnel was posing as the
champion of the Irish Catholics, and had an army of
100,000 men prepared to take the field on behalf of
James. 1 1 is impossible here to sketch the reign of WiUiam III.
even in outline. The dramatic events which marked
it may be broadly divided into the military struggles
which culminated in the Peace of Ryswick in 1697,
and the events which led to the War of the Spanish
Succession^that great, protracted, crowning struggle
with France which William planned, though death
claimed him before actual hostilities began. William
was one of the least impulsive of men, and it is clear
that he would not have declared war on France in
1689 if his hand had not been forced, not only by the
manner in which James had been received at the
French Court, but by the men and money which
Louis XIV. at once placed at his disposal for the
invasion of Ireland. If William had been the most
pacific of men, that was both an insult and a menace
which could not be overlooked. He would have
preferred to wait for the clash of arms which he
knew was inevitable, until he knew more of the
temper of the English people, and had gathered the
reins of government more firmly into his hands. As
it was, he had no alternative but to take up the gage
of battle.
James II. had devoted adherents in Scotland as well
as in Ireland, and William had to reckon with Graham
of Claverhouse north of the Tweed, as well as with

58 THE REVOLUTION [Ch. iv
Tyrconnel across the Irish Channel. The struggle
was short and sharp in Scotland, but it was long
and bitter in Ireland. The Highland revolt was
crushed in June. Meanwhile James had landed
in Ireland, conveyed thither by a French fleet, and
with officers, arms, and a rich war-chest, provided
by Louis XIV. The Irish rallied to his standard, and
the rebellion was ultimately quelled after mUitary
operations which lasted for eighteen months, and
culminated in WiUiam's victory at the Battle of the
Boyne on the ist of July, 1690.
In the fighting in Ireland Marlborough's sword was
called into play, as well as in the campaign in
Flanders, which quickly followed the declaration of
war with France. Hostilities in the Low Countries
were not brought to an end until William forced the
surrender of Namur in the autumn of 1695, one result
of which was the Peace of Ryswick, which wrested
from France all conquests made since the Treaty of
Nimeguen in 1678, and compelled Louis publicly to
acknowledge William as King of England, and the
Princess Anne as his successor.
The closing years of the reign were marked by the
Partition Treaties, the Act of Settlement, the death
of James II. in 1701, which was immediately followed
— in open violation of the Treaty of Ryswick — by
the proclamation of his son by Louis as James III.,
an act which brought the nation to the verge of war,
and proved an uneasy burden to Marlborough after
William's sudden death.
Lady Marlborough declared that, at the time of
James's jeopardy and William's advent as Defender
of the Faith, she thought of nothing but playing at
cards. She must have been more simple than the
world is prepared to credit, if she believed, as she
afterwards affirmed, that William of Orange had
merely come to compel James to reason, and that

1690] WILLIAM III. AND CHURCHILL 59
he meant to leave the country as soon as order was
established. That is an incredible statement, for she
knew the mind of her lord, and he in the summer of
1688 was already making overtures to WiUiam. It is
more easy to believe that, looking back at events,
her recollections of the tumult of those times was
coloured by the mortal antipathy to the " Dutch
Monster," which quickly took possession of her when
William began to treat both herself and her husband
cavalierly. William recognized the military genius of Marl
borough, and was quick to detect that he was not
only a consummate soldier, but an adroit diplomatist.
He used him as he used other men, for the service
of the State, though without yielding his own
authority by a hair's breadth. But it is probable that,
if William had lived through the War of the Spanish
Succession, he would either have had to give Marl
borough a free hand, or the latter would have com
passed his downfall. Marlborough was restless under
William. By his desertion of James, he had broken
with the only King to whom he was bound to be
loyal by the traditions of his life. No man knew
how long the reign of William would last, or when
his authority would be shattered. He seemed to
represent, to soldiers and statesmen alike, an uneasy
compromise, and, almost to the last days of the
reign, endless were the intrigues between the Court
of St. Germains and prominent men in England, who
were chilled by William's cold attitude and the
practical working of the principles established at the
Revolution. Marlborough knew that William, at least, dis
trusted him, and the fact that he was conscious there
was ground for such an attitude did not render his
position more easy. He was aware, moreover, that
Queen Mary, on whose judgment in all that related

6o THE REVOLUTION [Ch. iv
to his new kingdom William relied, did not mend
matters. It was Queen Mary who brought about
his dismissal in 1692, and subsequent removal to the
Tower, and her death, therefore, two years later,
naturally occasioned no sorrow to a man whom she
had thwarted.
Queen Mary's relations with Lady Churchill at
the beginning of the reign were cordial. They could
scarcely have been otherwise, since, writing from
Holland a few months before her accession, she had
expressed the hope that her sister and Lady Churchill
would never part, and in a letter to the latter had
declared :
" Your friendship makes my sister as dear to you
as to me, and I am persuaded we shall ever agree in
our care for her, as I believe she and I should in our
kindness for you, were we near enough to renew our
acquaintance."^ It appears that certain tattlers at the Court of
Whitehall, who saw how events were shaping, sought
to prejudice the Princess of Orange against Lady
Churchill. This led the Princess of Denmark to
write to her sister :
" Sorry people have taken great pains to give you
so ill a character of Lady Churchill. I believe there
is nobody in the world has better tokens of religion
than she has. I am sure she is not strict as some are,
nor does she keep such a bustle with religion, which I
confess I think ne'er the worse, for one sees so many
saints devils that if you be a good Christian the less
stir one make it is better in my opinion. As for her
moral principles, it is impossible to have better, and
without that, all the lifting up of hands and eyes, (and)
going to Church will prove but a very lame devotion."^
The Princess further assures her sister that Lady
Churchill " abhors " the Church of Rome, and is never
* Blenheim Papers. 2 /j^y

1690] CHURCHILL'S RELIGIOUS VIEWS 6i
likely in that respect to change. Then follows a
significant passage about Churchill, to the effect that
he is a very faithful servant to the King, but, in
spite of this, the Princess is confident that, rather
than change his religion, he wUl relinquish all his
appointments. The letter reveals not only Anne's
opinion of the Churchills when the reign of James was
drawing to its disastrous close, but shows incidentally
that she must have discussed with them quite freely
the coming storm, which they saw was inevitable if
the King pursued the course, on which he seemed
bent, to the bitter end.

CHAPTER V
WILLIAM III. AND THE MARLBOROUGHS
The accession of William and Mary brought many
dangers, and not least to the Princess of Denmark.
The Queen was childless, and by the Revolution
settlement her sister, failing any direct heir, stood
next in succession to the throne. WUliam 's health,
even then, was uncertain; he was troubled with sharp
attacks of asthma, and the English climate did not
suit him. He peevishly declared that he could not live
either at Whitehall or St. James's, since the air of the
town choked him. Windsor was not much to his
taste, and hence he lived for the most part at Hampton
Court or at Kensington Palace, though not until he
had indulged his passion for bricks and mortar in
both places. Even in the season the King was a
recluse, and the people were inclined to contrast the
old gaiety and splendour of Whitehall with its present
silent and for the most part deserted condition. But
they took comfort, for it looked uncommonly as if
Queen Mary might ere long reign alone. She was
much younger than William — full of vivacity and the
zest of life, and in perfect health. Probably if
William had been a widower in 1688 he would never
have come to the throne, for it was Mary's claims
which made the new reign acceptable to the rank
and file of the people. If she, though dead, had left
a child, William might still have succeeded ; but if he
had done so under such conditions, the chances are
that he would soon have outlived his welcome.
62

1690] "THE INCOMPARABLE PRINCESS" 63
The people adored Mary. She was called the " In
comparable Princess," and she possessed, what Anne
lacked, personal beauty and the magic charm of her
race. So long as Mary was at his side, notwithstand
ing sullen Jacobites and the endless political intrigues
in which they were engaged, William had little to
fear — though fear, in truth, was foreign to the man.
Mary had accepted, not without natural regret, but
as inevitable, the disallowance of her father's rights.
She had done so in part because of her ardent attach
ment to Protestantism, and in part because of her
deep and unalterable loyalty to William, and her
belief that he alone could restore order to a distracted
realm. She had been perfectly happy in Holland,
and had not cherished any ambition to change her
lot; but when it came without any seeking on her
part, she rose at once with dignity to the uneasy
burden of the crown.
William was a soldier, a statesman, and above all
else a man of vision. He had not brought about the
Grand Alliance for nothing; he saw that, with the
authority of England at his back, he could fulfil his
ambition, which was to arrest the menacing power
of France to Europe. Queen Mary, to borrow Lady
Marlborough's words, " mightily caressed " the lady
who stood so high in the regard of her sister, the
Princess of Denmark, and was, moreover, the wife of
the most brUhant soldier in England. The King, and
Marlborough in his service, were much abroad fighting,
now in Ireland and now in Flanders. It is related
that William on one of these occasions turned to
the Prince of Vaudemont, one of his most trusted
commanders in HoUand, and asked his opinion of the
English generals whom the fortunes of war had
brought across the sea. The reply was: " Kirke has
fire, Laneir thought, Mackay skill, Colchester bravery,
but there is something inexpressible in the Earl of

64 WILLIAM AND THE MARLBOROUGHS [Ch.V
Marlborough. All their virtues seem to be united in
his single person. If I can read what is written in
his face, no subject of your Majesty can ever attain
such a height of military glory as that to which this
combination of perfections must raise him." WiUiam
was startled, but replied with a smile: " I believe
the Earl of Marlborough will do his part to verify
your prediction."^
Long before the reign began — as far back, indeed,
as the year in which Charles II. died— the relations
between the Princess Anne and Lady Marlborough
were of a kind which never before or since existed at
Court. The Princess, then recently wedded, and but
twenty years of age, deliberately set aside all considera
tions of rank, and insisted that her Lady-in- Waiting
should waive all ceremony in her presence, since she
regarded her as her most confidential friend. Lady
Marlborough's account of what happened and the
reasons which led to it may be cited :
" She grew weary to be treated by me with the
form and ceremony due to her rank; nor could she
bear from me the sound of words which implied in
them distance and superiority. It was this turn of
mind which made her one day propose to me th^t,
whenever I should happen to be absent from her, we
might in all our letters write ourselves by feigned
names, such as would impart nothing of distinction
of rank between us. Morley and Freeman were the
names her fancy hit upon, and she left me to choose
by which of them I should be called. My frank, open
temper led me to fix upon Freeman, and so the
Princess took the other, and from this time ' Mrs.
Morley ' and ' Mrs. Freeman ' began to converse as
equals, made so by affection and friendship."^
In order to complete this sentimental compact,
and at the same time to make up a quartette. Prince
^ Blenheim Letters; and see Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of
Marlborough," vol. i., p. 32.
- Ibid., vol. i., p. 16.

I690] MRS. MORLEY AND MRS. FREEMAN 65
George, with becoming grace, good-humouredly ac
cepted the role of Mr. Morley, whilst Lord Marl
borough became known in the esoteric circle as Mr.
Freeman. It is believed that Anne borrowed these names from
a book which she read in her girlhood, and which
extolled the virtues of friendship. It is piquant to
think that plain Mr. and Mrs. Morley was the dis
guise chosen for Prince George and no less illustrious
a lady than the Queen's sister. Mr. Freeman was
scarcely an appropriate name to bestow on a man
who in matters domestic was then and always defer
ential to his wife. But Mrs. Freeman suited Lady
Marlborough to a nicety, since she was as inde
pendent a woman as ever lived. Anne disliked, as
she put it, to be called " your Highness " at every
word — at least by the Lady of the Bedchamber to
whom she had taken so violent a fancy.
" Be as free with me as one friend ought to be with
another," were her words. " You can never give me
any greater proof of your friendship than in telling
me your mind freely in all things, which I do beg you
to do."^
Anne, both as Princess and Queen, was a stickler
for etiquette. She expected to be approached by
other people, however exalted, with all due ceremony,
and she did not conceal her displeasure if the most
powerful men in the land inadvertently forgot her
rank for a moment. But all this was set aside with
Lady Marlborough, and even if they had been sisters
there could not have been less constraint in their
intercourse. It is amusing to think how implicitly
the Princess was taken at her word when she stipu
lated that Lady Marlborough should always speak
her mind freely. It was her foible to do that, and to
1 Blenheim Letters; and see Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of
Marlborough," vol. i., p. 16. 5

66 WILLIAM AND THE MARLBOROUGHS [Ch. v
do it at times in the most sudden and disconcerting
way, and Anne must often have winced when Sarah
in the letter and spirit played the part of candid friend
without misgiving. As time went on, Sarah told her
her mind with a vengeance; but for a long term of
years they were devoted to each other. As must
always happen in such circumstances, the strong
nature ruled the weak, and, since love is blind, did so
half unconsciously, and, assuredly, without challenge.
This could not have come about unless there had
been much in common between them in more im
portant directions than the love of scandal over a
dish of tea, or a game of cards when the wax candles
were lighted and the curtains drawn. Neither of
them cared a jot for the vanished splendour of the
Court of Charles. They were not prudes, but Lady
Castlemaine, the Duchess of Portsmouth, and other
fair women of doubtful reputation, were not to their
mind. On the other hand, they disliked the folly of
extremes quite as much, and did not relish in the
reign of James — ^whom they both knew to be little better
than the late King in morals — seeing Whitehall shorn
of its glories, and filled with melancholy priests. They
were of one mind as to the folly of the King, though
they dared not express it except in whispered confi
dences, when James rode roughshod over the liberties
of his subjects and made the Revolution inevitable.
They both disliked the Prince of Orange, and all
the more because he never took trouble to pay
compliments ; and as his reign proceeded their dislike
deepened into animosity, for William was not merely
taciturn, but maladroit.
Anne took religion seriously, and Sarah took it as
a matter of course. Both shrank in horror from
Roman Catholicism. Sarah was not a whit less
Protestant than Anne; where they differed — it made
no difference in their friendship — was in their in-

1690] " MISTRESS FREEMAN " 67
terpretation of it. Anne was a devout Protestant
according to her lights, whereas political rather than
religious motives determined Sarah's adhesion to
the creed in which she had been brought up. Anne
was a lover of the quiet life. Nothing pleased
her better than to pursue the even tenor of
her way. She was not in any sense adventurous.
Her instincts, her temperament, her training, con
firmed her allegiance to the Church of England. At
the same time she was not righteous overmuch, and
she certainly did not fast like Mary of Modena. She
was the sort of woman who could have been matched
in every county in her kingdom — sensible, home-
loving, unimaginative, possessed of religion rather
than possessed by it.
Sarah magnified the right of private judgment
without always making it honourable. She did not
care a snap of the fingers for the clergy, though she
had some devoted friends amongst them. She was
devoid of ghostly apprehensions, shaped her creed
for herself — it was quite as much pagan as Christian —
and in the main lived up to it, defying other people
to set her right on points of conscience, or in any
other way. Mrs. Freeman was as fond of the sun
shine as Mrs. Morley of the shade, and, though
secretly in revolt against the tame, humdrum routine
of Anne's household, she had the good sense to humour
the Princess to the top of her bent, though with
mocking merriment.
They were both happily married. Anne regarded
her dull, good-tempered, submissive consort as a
paragon amongst Princes. Sarah was proud that she
had the undivided homage of the most adroit courtier
and the greatest soldier in the land — a man of genius
to whom all things were possible, if not under WUham,
then at no distant day. The Princess and Lady
Marlborough were in agreement in regard to the

68 WILLIAM AND THE MARLBOROUGHS [Ch. v
monarch whom they derided one day as Caliban,
and the next as the " Dutch Monster." " Manners
maketh man," as the old motto runs, and the King
lacked them, and smaU-talk as well. The two ladies
did not like his looks. He seemed to them hipped
and moody. They did not appreciate his phlegmatic
Dutch soldiers and courtiers ; they thought he might
have unbent occasionally — in spite of his asthma —
and gone to the play, but he was never seen at the
theatre during his reign, though he was not exactly
a saint. Another bond of sympathy was that young children
were springing up around them, though in Anne's
case, with one exception, they faded away almost as
soon as they were born. Marlborough, even before
he was advanced to an earldom, had built himself a
country-seat, and at St. Albans, because his wife's
childhood had been spent there. It was called
Holywell House, and was a spacious and picturesque
mansion with a fine garden, with trout for the table
in the stream which ran through it. He loved the
place. His letters from abroad, written amidst shot
and shell, show it, and there most of his children
were born. He thought, in the midst of his great
campaigns, of the pears and peaches which were
ripening on the sunny brick walls of his gardens, and
he wished himself in its peaceful seclusion, with the
woman he loved at his side.
Eight children were born to John ChurchiU and
Sarah, his wife. Three of them died in infancy.
Their only surviving son, who bore his father's name,
and afterwards became Marquis of Blandford, had
two sisters older than himself and two younger, all
of whom married into the peerage. The eldest was
Henrietta, born in 1681, who married Lord Rialton,
son of the Earl of Godolphin, and succeeded, on her
father's death, as Duchess of Marlborough. The

1690] LADY MARLBOROUGH'S DAUGHTERS 69
second, Anne, born in 1685, married Lord Spencer,
afterwards third Earl of Sunderland. Her second
son, Charles, fifth Earl of Sunderland, became Duke
of Marlborough on the death of his aunt Henrietta
in 1733, and in that branch of the family the title
has descended. Anne received her name in honour
of the Princess of Denmark, who was her godmother.
The third daughter, Elizabeth, born in 1687, married
Scroop Egerton, Earl, and afterwards Duke, of
Bridgewater ; whilst Mary, the youngest, named after
her godmother the Queen, married Lord Monthermer,
who soon afterwards became Duke of Montague.
Two of the daughters of Marlborough, therefore,
became Duchesses, and the other two died Countesses,
for a dukedom was not conferred on Lord Egerton
until after the death of his wife. Anne, Countess of
Sunderland, through whom the existing dukedom is
derived, and Elizabeth, Countess of Bridgewater, died
in their father's lifetime; the first in 1716, and the
second in 1714. Neither Lady Anne nor Lady
Elizabeth, though their portraits adorn its walls,
ever lived at Blenheim; whilst as for Lord Blandford,
his life had run its short course before the great
battle was fought of which that historic house is
so stately a memorial. The Duchess of Montague
was the only child of that large family who survived
her mother.
All of them were endowed with good looks. Eliza
beth, Countess of Bridgewater, and Mary, Duchess of
Montague, were extremely beautiful women. Anne,
Countess of Sunderland, was also singularly attractive,
and had what her mother lacked, the ornament of a
meek and quiet spirit. She was the peacemaker of
the family. Marlborough was always a kind and
indulgent father, and no blow that fell upon him,
after the loss of his son and heir, the Marquis of
Blandford — a youth of exceptional promise — ^wounded

70 WILLIAM AND THE MARLBOROUGHS [Ch.V
him more than the death, at six-and-twenty, of Eliza
beth, Countess of Bridgewater, whom he idolized, and
who bore the name of his mother. He was abroad at
the time, and the stars in their courses seemed fighting
against him, for he had crosses enough in 1714.
Henrietta, Countess of Godolphin, and afterwards
Duchess of Marlborough in her own right, possessed
her mother's temper without her good looks or her
shining gifts.
But in the reign of William and Mary they were all
pretty children, full of high spirits. They passed
their childhood, not amid the ceremonials of the
Court, but in happy freedom at Holywell House,
St. Albans, or at a cottage nearer town on Barnes
Common, within more easy reach of their affectionate,
but always imperious, mother. The Princess of
Denmark took a lively interest in Lady Marlborough's
children, especially in her own demure little namesake
and the handsome, high-spirited boy, who ran the
chance of being spoilt by his four sisters, a peril which
he escaped when in due course he was sent to Eton.
Prince George of Denmark, from his first coming to
England, to his death at Kensington in 1708, was
always on easy and confidential terms with the
Marlboroughs . He was well disposed to William at
the beginning of the reign ; but the King, who had
no patience with weak men, even if they were good-
natured, treated him with scarcely veiled contempt,
and quite needlessly gave him ground for personal
resentment, an attitude which constant intercourse
with Lady Marlborough was not likely to lessen.
She on her part h.ad more enemies than she knew,
for haughty manners, when linked to sarcastic speech
and self-assertion, provoke resentment, which, though
hidden, is none the less dangerous on that account.
She had to reckon even at this time with one open
foe in the person of the Earl of Rochester.

I690] THE EARL OF ROCHESTER 71
The brother-in-law of James II., Rochester had
filled the high place of Lord Treasurer, a post from
which he was dismissed because of his refusal to
change his religion at the King's bidding. At the
Revolution he came into favour again, and adopted
an almost paternal attitude towards Mary and Anne.
He had little difficulty with his niece, the Queen, but
the Princess of Denmark by no means relished his
somewhat dictatorial attitude. Lady Marlborough
was cordially disliked by Rochester. He had opposed
her first appointment in Anne's household, and did
his best, on more than one occasion, to bring
about her dismissal. He felt that, if her strong
personality were out of the way, Anne as well as Mary
would be as wax in his hands. But he played his
cards too openly, and, instead of detaching his niece
from her favourite, succeeded in drawing them more
closely together, winning in the process the hostility
of both.
Rochester was both ambitious and far-seeing. He
ingratiated himself with WiUiam, and at the same
time was not blind to the chance of Anne's succession.
His hostility to Lady Marlborough — he had good
reason to recognize it before he died — went far to
wreck his career, for when she shaped the whispers
of a throne they were not too kindly so far as she
was concerned. Even in the reign of James,
Rochester had offended Anne by teUing the King
that she was too extravagant, and he made matters
worse at the beginning of William's reign by his
churlish attitude over the settlement of £50,000 a
year, which was then made upon her, as well as by a
subsequent attempt to remove Lady Marlborough
from her entourage. " My only fault," states the
latter, " was being my Lord Marlborough's wife; a
fault which I could neither excuse, extenuate, or
repent of." In Rochester's eyes that was not her only

72 WILLIAM AND THE MARLBOROUGHS [Ch. v
fault, for she stood between him and the authority,
as uncle, which he claimed over Anne.
Far more important in its issues than Rochester's
hostUity was the coldness which, partly because of
it, sprang up between Mary and Anne. Family
quarrels are not pleasant to recount, and there is
no need here to dwell in detail on the unhappy
differences which divided the two sisters. It is
easy to lay the blame on Lady Marlborough, as
some have done. She never excelled as a peace
maker, but, in truth, the reason of the discord,
though she took violent sides when it arose, was due
to a conflict of temperaments. Mary, beyond all
else, was the loyal wife of William, and she rather
outdid the part, though he was none too loyal to her.
She was a childless woman, and it seemed just then
as if the succession would eventually pass to Anne's
son, the youthful Duke of Gloucester. Mary was
impressionable, vivacious, easy of speech, fond of
admiration. Anne was silent, lethargic, moody — a
woman of few words but quiet determination, who
had grown sensitive to any affront since she had
detected the King's cavalier treatment of her husband.
Her position was curiously isolated. William and
Mary went their own way, and the Court went with
them, whilst Anne and her Danish consort lived
chiefly in dull retirement.
William was parsimonious in money affairs; at all
events, his generosity did not extend beyond his
Dutch soldiers and courtiers. He did not relish the
movement which was made in Parliament to increase
his sister-in-law's allowance after the birth of the
Duke of Gloucester. He believed in the power of the
purse, and wished to keep the Princess and her
husband in leading-strings, and not to make them
independent of the favour of the Crown. Anne was
his wife's sister, and that was all. She on her part

1690] THE KING AND PRINCE GEORGE 73
resented the Queen's attitude over the question of the
Settlement. Mary had asked her why the project
had been raised, and Anne had rephed that her friends
thought it was desirable that her position should be
assured. To this the Queen replied, with an im
perious air: " Pray, what friends have you but the
King and myself?" Anne was undemonstrative and
remained silent, but she never forgot the affront.
Other mortifications quickly followed. The King
made it plain that he did not wish for the services
of Prince George either by land or by sea. The
Prince thought it his duty to accompany William to
Ireland, when he went to crush the Rebellion; but,
though he remained through the whole campaign, the
King took no more notice of him than if he had been
a " page of the backstairs." He was not deficient
either in courage or devotion to his adopted country,
and of this he gave another proof when William set
out for Flanders. He asked the King's permission
to serve him as a volunteer at sea and without any
command. The King said nothing to this, but bade
him farewell. Prince George thought silence meant
consent, and made preparations which were noised
abroad. Whereupon the Queen sent positive instruc
tions forbidding him to carry out his purpose. It
was humiliating to stand so near the throne at so
critical a time, to be eager for its defence, and yet to
be ignored as a negligible quantity.
Lady Marlborough always maintained that the
position at this time became so embarrassing that she
proposed more than once to retire from Anne's house
hold. The Princess would not listen for a moment
to such a proposal, and declared she would rather live
in a cottage than " reign Empress of the world "
without her dear Mrs. Freeman.
Meanwhile the Court did not conceal its displeasure.
If Lady Marlborough had been as much of a self-

74 WILLIAM AND THE MARLBOROUGHS [Ch. v
seeker as is commonly represented, she would have
wavered in her allegiance to the Princess ; for Queen
Mary opened negotiations with her on more than one
occasion in order to bring her sister to reason, and
it was only after the failure of such overtures that
her attitude hardened. Marlborough's position at
this time was other than easy. Wilham resented his
plain speech about the marked favour shown in
England to the Dutch soldiers and courtiers who had
followed the fortunes of their master at the Revolu
tion. He was serving in Flanders when the Battle
of the Boyne was fought. He had felt a reluctance
which did him credit to take the field against his
old Sovereign, to whom in truth he was warmly
attached. It was not, therefore, until James, crushed
and discredited, had quitted the shores of Ireland
that Marlborough went thither to complete the
subjugation of the country by the capture of Cork
and Kinsale. The fact that he was Tyrconnel's
brother-in-law raised suspicions, and the conduct
of his own brother, then Captain, and afterwards
Admiral, Churchill, in receiving unlawful convoy
money— an accusation which was fully proved — did
not lessen his embarrassments.
William as early as 1690 had already lost to some
extent the good-will of the nation. His dry manners,
his foreign bodyguard, his apparently studied in
difference to public opinion, and even the fact that he
never was seen at the theatre, told against him. He
could scarcely speak the English language, and was
careless, to the point of ostentation, of the suscepti
bilities of his subj ects . Charles 1 1 . was a gallant , punc
tiliously courteous to all ladies, though conspicuously
in the toils of the beauties of his Court. James II. had
dignified manners, though he was seldom agreeable.
WiUiam III., though he could turn a compliment on
occasion, was usuaUy so taciturn, so distant, and so

I69I] THE ROYAL SISTERS 75
absolutely a preoccupied man of affairs, that the
ladies of his Court had to dissemble and cloke their
disdain. The outcome of it all was that William,
having quelled the Irish, came back to London to
find his English subjects curiously restless. Jacobite
plots again became rife, for there were a good many
people in the land who looked wistfully to St.
Germains, and regarded the Revolution as a doubtful
blessing. The coolness between Mary and Anne became more
pronounced when the Queen began to pay marked
attention to the little Duke of Gloucester, sending
him toys and trinkets, and at the same time making
it plain that, while she was delighted to have the
child at the palace, she was otherwise minded in
regard to Anne. One day in the winter of 1691 the
Princess received an anonymous letter. The writer
hinted that she was watched, and that she was at the
Cockpit in the position of " an honourable prisoner,
and in the hands of the Dutch guards." He added:
" If you do not part with Lord Marlborough's lady
of yourself, you will be obliged to it." This curious
missive ended with a prediction which the Princess
dismissed as idle at the time, but which quickly
proved true: " Lord Marlborough will be confined as
soon as the Parliament is up."^ In January, 1692, the
blow fell. Marlborough, who had been with the King
that morning without perceiving anything unusual
in his manner, received a sudden visit from Lord
Nottingham, who said that he had His Majesty's
commands to demand all his commissions, since the
King had no more use for his services. Bishop
Burnet's comment may be cited :
" It seemed some letter was intercepted that gave
suspicion; it is certain that Marlborough thought he
' Blenheim Papers.

y6 WILLIAM AND THE MARLBOROUGHS [Ch.V
was too little considered, and that he had upon
many occasions censured the King's conduct and
reflected on the Dutch." ^
The truth was that, whUst WiUiam had been in
Flanders arranging for a concerted plan of campaign
against France, a number of the most distinguished
men in England had put their heads together and
opened negotiations with St. Germains. Godolphin
and Halifax, Sunderland, Caermarthen, and Shrews
bury, were imphcated, as well as Marlborough, and
even the Princess Anne wrote a letter in which
she expressed contrition, and assured James of her
" duty and submission." Extenuation of such
treachery is impossible, and that Lady Marlborough
was cognizant of it is clear from Marlborough's
assurance to James that she would bring back the
Princess to her allegiance. William had managed
badly to bring matters to such a pass. If he had
treated those about him, from the Princess down
wards, with ordinary consideration, the movement
in favour of James would never have come to a head.
As it was, suspicion fell chiefly on Marlborough, and
on the 5 th of May he was sent to the Tower on a
more serious charge than that which had led to his
dismissal. A certain disreputable clergyman named
Robert Young, imprisoned for fraud at that time in
Newgate, concocted a document containing a scheme
for the restoration of James, and had the audacity
to append forged signatures of Marlborough, Corn-
bury, Salisbury, Archbishop Sancroft, and Dr. Sprat,
Bishop of Rochester, to it. So cleverly was this done
that the paper was accepted as authentic, and it was
not until the miscreant was actually confronted by
one of his victims that the forgery was detected.
Meanwhile they had all been sent to prison, and
1 See detailed account in " History of His Own Times,"
book V. (published 1723-1734).

1692] MARLBOROUGH IN PRISON yj
when the charge was proved to be false they were all
liberated except Marlborough, who was kept a
prisoner for two months, and then admitted to bail,
the reason being the suspicion created by the inter
cepted letter.
Lady Marlborough elected to share her husband's
captivity. She knew that the charge against him
was absolutely false, and that, though he had opened
communications with St. Germains, he was not guilty,
any more than the others who had been set free, of
conspiring, as Young had stated, for the restoration
of James II. She wrote to the Princess when the
crisis arose, vindicating her husband, and Anne's con
sternation comes to light in her reply :
" I must give dear Mrs. Freeman ten thousand
thanks for her two kind letters and assure her 'tis
not necessary to make excuses for the length. Could
you but imagine how very welcome they are to me,
I am sure you would not do it. I hear Lord Marlboro'
is sent to Ye Tower, and tho' I am certain they have
nothing against him and expected by your letter it
would be so, yet I was struck when I was told it, for
methinks it is a dismal thing to have one's friends
sent to that place. I have a thousand mellenchoUy
thoughts and can't help fearing they should hinder
you from coming to me, though how they could do
that without making you a prisoner to, I cannot
imagine. I am just now told by pretty good hands
that as soon as the wind turns westerly there will be
guards set upon the Prince and me. If you hear
there is any such thing designed and 'tis easy to you,
prey let me see you before the wind changes, for
afterwards one does not know whether they will let
one have any opportunitys of speaking to one another.
But let them do what they please nothing shall ever
vex me so I can have the satisfaction of seeing dear
Mrs. Freeman. I sweare I could live on bread and
water between four walls with her without repineing,
for as long as you continue kind nothing can ever be
a reall mortification to your faithful Mrs. Morley,
who wishes she may never have a moment's happiness

78 WILLIAM AND THE MARLBOROUGHS [Ch. v
in this world or the next, if ever she proves false to
you."i AU epistles, written in terms of extravagant attach
ment, used to be called by Lady Marlborough " letters
of protestation," no matter who wrote them. Mrs.
Morley, though staid and undemonstrative enough
to most people, wrote with a headlong, impetuous pen
whenever she addressed Mrs. Freeman. She set no
bounds to her ardent expressions of devotion; in
fact, she protested too much, and from her own lips,
in the light of her subsequent conduct, comes her
condemnation.
^ Blenheim Papers; and see Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of
Marlborough," vol. i., p. 38.

CHAPTER VI
MRS. MORLEY AND MRS. FREEMAN
Whilst Marlborough was still a prisoner in the Tower,
his youngest son, a little child named Charles, died.
Lady Marlborough, stunned by this new blow, and
reluctant to draw the Princess more under the dis
pleasure of the Court, again proposed to retire from
Anne's service; and evidently, from the letter which
follows, she hinted that such a separation would be
an advantage to Mrs. Morley. But Anne was de
termined, at all hazards to herself, not to countenance
such a proposal :
" You must give me leave, once more, to beg you
will never mention so cruel a thing again, for it
pierces to my very heart and soul, and, for God's
sake, be assured, besides the acting a base ungrateful
part towards you (which is a thing I abhor), I am fully
persuaded I shou'd be the meanest, pittifulest wretch
on earth if I did not retire from such ministers."^
The Princess appears to have plucked up courage
to write to Queen Mary on the subject of Marl
borough's imprisonment, and she states that she en
trusted her letter to the Bishop of Worcester, who
promised to present it, and to do what lay in his
power to further its request.
Sarah was not in attendance at the moment, so
Anne writes :
" I told the Bishop you had desir'd you might go
from me, and that I had as often conjur'd you not
1 Blenheim Papers.
79

8o MRS. MORLEY AND MRS. FREEMAN [Ch. vi
to do it, and I have repeated the same thing over and
over again to-day, for you can easily imagine, I wUl
never neglect anything that can be of service to you.
I beg you again, for Christ Jesus sake, that you
wou'd never think of parting with your faithful Mrs
Morley, for be assur'd, if you shou'd ever do so cruel
a thing as to leave me, from that moment I shall
never enjoy one quiet hour, and shou'd you do it
without asking me consent (which if I ever give you,
may I never see the face of Heaven) I will shut my
self e up, and never see any of the world more, but
live where I may be forgotten by human kind."^
This impassioned missive ends with the assurance
that Mrs. Morley has " read and kiss'd " Mrs. Free
man's last " dear kind letter over and over." It also
tells her — which perhaps was not unnecessary, since
Mrs. Freeman always called a spade a spade, and
did not mince her opinions about anybody, and
therefore must sometimes have cherished misgivings
after her written words were beyond recall — that
" she need never be in pain " about her confidences.
" I take such care of them, 'tis not possible any
accident can happen that they shou'd be seen by
anybody."^ Queen Mary had already made it plain that she
was bent on forcing the Princess and Lady Marl
borough apart; but she wished the act to appear as
if it had been brought about with her sister's con
currence. Here the letter which the Princess sent to
the Queen by the Bishop of Worcester may be cited.
The opening sentence will be clear when it is stated
that the Princess had just recovered from child-bed
after an illness which at one time seemed critical.
" Sion,
" May 2oth {1692).
" I have now, God be thank'd, recover'd my
strength vyell enough to go abroad. And, though my
duty and inclination would both lead me to wait upon
* Blenheim Papers. ^ Ibid.

i692] PRINCESS ANNE AND QUEEN MARY 8i
your Majesty, as soon as I am able to do it, yet of
late I have had the misfortune of being so much
under your Majesty's displeasure, as to apprehend
there may be hard constructions made upon anything
I may either do or not do, with the most respectful
intentions, and I am in doubt whether the same
arguments, that have prevailed with your Majesty
to forbid people from showing their usual respects to
me, may not be carried so much farther as not to
permit me to pay my duty to you. That, I acknow
ledge, would be a great increase of affliction to me ;
and nothing but your Majesty's own command shall
ever willingly make me submit to it, for, whatever
reason I may think in my own mind, I have to com
plain of being hardly used, yet I will strive to hide
it as much as possible. And, though I will not pre
tend to live at the Cockpit, unless you would be so
kind as to make it easy to me, yet wherever I am I
will endeavour always to give the constant marks of
duty and respect which I have in my heart for your
Majesty, as becomes your Majesty's very affectunate
sister and servant, " Anne."i
The Queen's reply was haughty as well as cold :
" Whitehall,
" May ye 20th (1692).
" I have received yours by the Bishop of Worcester,
and have very httle to say to it, since you cannot
but know, that, as I never love compliments, so now
they will not serve. 'Tis none of my fault, we live
at this distance, and I have endeavoured to show my
willingness to do otherwise, and I will do no more.
Don't give yourself any unnecessary trouble, for, be
assured, 'tis not words can make us live together as
we ought. You know what was required of you, and
I now tell you, if you doubted it before, that I cannot
change my mind, but expect to be complied with, or
you must not wonder if I doubt your kindness. You
can give no other marks of it that can satisfy me.
1 "Account of the Conduct of the Dowager - Duchess of
Marlborough." pp. 76, 77' 6

82 MRS. MORLEY AND MRS. FREEMAN [Ch. vi
Nor can I put any other construction upon your
actions than what all the world must do that sees
them. These things don't hinder me being very glad
to hear you are so well, and wishing you may continue
so, and that you may yet, while it is in your power,
oblige me to be your affectionate sister, " Marie R."^
Anne could be led, but neither then nor at any
other period of her life could she be coerced. She
keenly resented this harsh and peremptory reply,
which she justly describes as an " arbitrary letter."
She received it at the moment when London was
filled with rejoicings over the defeat of the French
fleet off La Hogue. Such tidings placed her in
a dilemma. Under ordinary circumstances. Prince
George and herself would have hastened to the Court
to congratulate William and Mary on the victory, as
in duty bound. Even as matters stood, it would
have been politic to do so ; but, smarting under
such a rebuff, as Anne explained to Lady Marl
borough, " neither of us thought there was any
necessity." They had ample reason for resentment. The
guards were beginning to grow careless in making
them the usual salute, and the ladies of the Court
were giving the Princess the cold shoulder. Anne
felt, as she put it, that her sister was picking a quarrel,
and small wonder if she resented such treatment.
Her own words at that juncture reveal how much she
winced :
" Sure never any body was used so by a sister ! I
thank God I have nothing to reproach myself withal
in this business, but, the more I think of all that has
passed, the better I am satisfied. If I had done
otherwise I should have deserved to be the scorn of
* " Account of the Conduct of the Dowager-Duchess of
Marlborough," pp. 78, 79.

1692] THE QUEEN IS DEFIED 83
the world, and to be trampled upon as much as my
enemies would have me."^
She felt that she was not being treated with or
dinary consideration, and so exclaimed with heat:
" My dear Mrs. Freeman, never believe that your
faithful Mrs. Morley will ever submit. She can wait
with patience for a sunshine day, and if she does not
live to see it, yet she hopes England will flourish
again." She was indignant at Lord Marlborough's
imprisonment, and declared that she often kissed the
Act of Habeas Corpus. She knew, as she put it,
that Lord Marlborough had friends, and that they
would not sit still whilst he languished in captivity.
Meanwhile her own position and that of Prince
George were embarrassing, as this passage from a
letter to Lady Marlborough reveals :
" I can't end this without telling you that the
guards in St. James' Park did not stand to their
arms, either when the Prince went or came. I can't
believe it was their Dutch breeding alone, but Dutch
orders that made them do it, because they never
omitted it before, and they could not pretend to be
surprised, at least not when the Prince came away,
for he says the coaches were at the Cockpit near an
hour." 2
The Queen's letter had driven the Princess to bay.
She felt that, unless she was to part with self-respect,
she must make a stand against such shghts. She
even went so far as to declare that neither WiUiam
nor Mary would have placed " any other of their
subjects " in such a position. She added that, if she
had felt any inchnation to part with Mrs. Freeman,
she was now determined to " keep her, in spite ofl
their teeth," and, if necessary, was prepared to go
1 " Account of the Conduct of the Dowager-Duchess of
Marlborough," p. 81.
2 Blenheim Papers.

84 MRS. MORLEY AND MRS. FREEMAN [Ch. VI
to the " utmost verge of the earth, rather than live
with such monsters."^ She determined no longer to
dance attendance on the Court, and so she writes
from Sion House :
" Being now at hberty to go where I please, by the
Queen's refusing to see me, I am mightily inclined to
go tomorrow after dinner to ye Cockpit, and from
thence privately in a chair to see you. Sometime
next week, I believe, it will be time for me to go to
London to make an end of that visit to Berkeley
House."2 This last allusion needs explanation. The Cockpit
was no longer possible, because of the displeasure of
the Court. Sion House was at best only a temporary
retreat, and hence, in the summer of 1692, the Prince
and Princess of Denmark took up their residence at
Berkeley House, which stood on the site of Devon
shire House in Piccadilly, and this remained their
abode until the last years of William's reign, when
Kensington Palace was granted to them.
Queen Mary was obdurate, the Princess of Den
mark was indignant ; and as for Lady Marlborough,
she had one day what she called the spleen, and the
next the vapours. Her husband was in the Tower,
her son was dead, she was in disgrace. Life had
grown suddenly bitter. Presently her indomitable
spirit reasserted itself. She would show Queen Mary
that she could stiU carry her head high. So when
Mrs. Morley felt it incumbent, for the sake of appear
ances, to go to Court, and wished Mrs. Freeman to
bear her company through the ordeal, the latter,
nothing loth, went in attendance. Instantly,
matters came to a crisis. The Queen reahzed that
Mrs. Morley and Mrs. Freeman had set her at defiance.
There could be no longer any question of half-
measures. A stormy interview foUowed, and the
' Blenheim Papers, 2 jy^

1692] PRINCESS ANNE SLIGHTED 85
Princess was told in peremptory terms that she must
at once dismiss Lady Marlborough. But Mary had
met her match. She could drive her sister from the
Cockpit, but she was powerless to drive Mrs. Morley
and Mrs. Freeman apart; nor was the King's uncon
cealed displeasure of more avail . The Queen and the 7
Princess parted in anger, never to meet again, '
Though Berkeley House and Kensington Palace
were only a mile or two apart. Prince George of
Denmark might have been living in his native country,
for all the attention he received from the King. His
only fault was that he was William's brother-in-law,
and that Queen Mary had quarrelled with the Prin
cess Anne. James II. nicknamed his son-in-law
" Est-il possible?" when he put spurs to his horse
at Salisbury, after all his protestations of loyalty.
The sobriquet clung to him, for the Prince's habitual
mood, whatever happened, seemed to be one of sur
prise. Prince George was a genial, harmless man,
distinguished only by his devotion to his wife and
his fondness for good living. If WiUiam had treated
him with the consideration due to his rank, instead
of thwarting his modest ambitions at every turn,
there is reason to think that he would have rendered,
to the point of his capacity — ^which, after all, was not
so slight as is usually supposed — excellent service to
the Crown. He figures on the page of history as
little more than a shadow, though it cannot be
ignored that in the earlier years of Anne's reign he
played the difficult part of Prince Consort with ad
mirable discretion. During the Irish RebeUion, in
which he narrowly missed losing his life, his services
were never mentioned in the Gazette, and his desire
for service in the war in Flanders was refused.
After the quarrel between Mary and Anne, Prince
George's position was rendered the more difficult by the
attention paid by the Court to the Duke of Gloucester.

86 MRS. MORLEY AND MRS. FREEMAN [Ch. vi
Both the King and Queen were attached to the child,
who was a boy of singular promise , and heir-presumptive
to the throne. They sent continually from Kensington
for the child, and the presents which William and Mary
lavished on the boy were duly chronicled in print.
The lad had a fine martial spirit, and, to the King's
amusement, used to review a small band of miniature
soldiers in the gardens of Kensington. He was quick
witted, and, though he knew nothing of the strained
relations of the Prince and Princess with the Court,
he once turned to Queen Mary with the awkward
question: " My mamma once had guards as well as
you: why has she not them now ?" Before the em
barrassed Queen could answer, a noisy drum began
to beat, and the King turned to the surprised soldier
and gave him two guineas. He made his youthful
namesake shortly afterwards a Knight of the Garter.
The Princess Anne naturally, under the circumstances,
scarcely appreciated such compliments, though she
was too sensible not to conceal her resentment.
Left to herself, Anne went her own way, lead
ing a quiet life at Berkeley House, marked by little
ceremony, and accepting, without more ado, her new
position as a person not acceptable at Court. But
she had to endure many petty affronts, which she
took with more composure than Lady Marlborough,
who grew angry not a little at the slights shown to
her mistress. The sentry was not allowed to stand
at Anne's gate; the clergy at St. James's Church,
Piccadilly, where she attended, were informed that
they need no longer follow the usual custom of pla
cing the text of their sermons on her cushion. When
the Princess went into the country, no escort was
granted. When her carriage passed through pro
vincial towns, all local addresses were forbidden, and
the usual honours paid on the occasion of the presence
of royalty were by command of the Court denied, a

1692] PRINCESS ANNE AT BATH 87
proceeding all the more extraordinary since the
Princess stood next in succession to the throne.
After Marlborough's grudging release from the
Tower, where he had been imprisoned on an accusa
tion which was proved to be false, the Princess was
the first to drive to his house at St. Albans to con
gratulate him. In the following summer Lady Marl
borough accompanied her to Bath, where Anne, who
was already suffering from gout, went to take the
waters. She was popular everywhere but at Court,
and all the more so because she was a perfervid
Protestant. The tidings of her disgrace had appar
ently not travelled to that city, and she was received
with public rejoicings; but Mary, who was supreme
in the absence of the King abroad, at once caused
one of the Ministers about her to write to the Mayor
to abstain from all ceremony. The letter is curious,
and, since it is short, it may be cited :
" Sir, " The Queen has been informed that yourself
and your brethren have attended the Princess with
the same respect and ceremony as have been usually
pay'd to the Royal family. Perhaps you may not
have heard what occasion Her Majesty has had to be
displeased with the Princess, and therefore I am
commanded to acquaint you that you are not for the
future to pay Her Highness any such respect or cere
mony without leave from Her Majesty, who does not
doubt of receiving from you and your brethren this
public mark of your duty. I am your most humble
servant, " Nottingham."^
Lady Marlborough was probably right in thinking
that the Queen's uncle. Lord Rochester, prompted
this missive. He was as much opposed to her as
1 "Account of the Conduct of the Dowager - Duchess of
Marlborough, pp. 97, 98.

88 MRS. MORLEY AND MRS. FREEMAN [Ch. vi
WiUiam's Dutch favourite, the Earl of Portland,
was to Marlborough. Lady Marlborough always
believed that the latter was responsible for her
husband's dismissal from office, and aU the more
since the King did nothing without his intimate ad
vice. The Princess regarded this affront with merri
ment; but Lady Marlborough was inclined to look
upon it as a fresh reason why she should retire
— a proposal which Anne would not entertain. If
Mary thought that such treatment would bring her
sister to heel, she was mightily mistaken, as the
following letter shows :
" Dear Mrs. Freeman must give me leave to ask
her if anything has happened to make her uneasy.
I thought she looked to-night as if she had the spleen,
and I can't help being in pain whenever I see her so.
I fancied yesterday, when the Mayor failed in the
ceremony of going to church with me, that he was
commanded not to do it. I think 'tis a thing to be
laughed at. And if they imagine to vex me or gain
upon me by such sort of usage, they will be mightily
disappointed. And I hope these foolish things they
do will every day show people more and more what
they are, and that they truly deserve the name your
faithful IVIoriey has given them."^
Anne waxed vehement in denunciation of those at
Court, whom she bitterly described as " insolent
Dutch " and " mercenary Englishmen." She de
clared that there was no misery she would not readily
suffer rather than part with Mrs. Freeman, and added,
" I do sware I would sooner be torn in pieces than
alter my resolution. "^ Her loyalty to the Marl-
boroughs found other expression than words.
Lord Marlborough, dismissed from all his offices,
was scarcely in a position to support his rank; but
he took his reverse of fortune calmly, and spent his
1 "Account of the Conduct of the Dowager - Duchess of
Marlborough," p. 99.
2 Blenheim Papers.

1692] MARLBOROUGH AT ST. ALBANS 89
time cultivating his garden at St. Albans, solaced by
the company of his happy children, to whom he was
always passionately attached. His wife was more
than ever anxious to rejoin him in that pleasant re
treat. She felt, moreover, that if she remained in
attendance, after matters had been carried so far,
Anne's allowance, in the existing temper of the Court,
might be reduced. The letter which follows makes it
clear that the Princess herself was not without such
misgivings. It was written when Lady Marlborough
was at St. Albans:
" I really long to know how my dear Mrs. Freeman
got home, and, now I have this opportunity of wri
ting, she must give me leave to tell her that, if ever she
should be so cruel as to leave her faithful Mrs. Morley,
she will rob her of aU the joy and quiet of her hfe;
for if that day should come, I could never enjoy a
happy minute, and I swear to you I would shut
myself up and never see a creature I You may easily
see all this would have come upon me, if you had not
been. If you do but remember what the Queen said
to me the night before your lord was turned out of
aU; then she began to pick quarrels, and if they
should take off twenty or thirty thousand pounds,
have I not lived on as little before ? When I was
first married we had but twenty — it is true the King
(James II.) was so kind as to pay my debts — and if
it should come to that again, what retrenchment is
there in my family I would not willingly make, and
be glad of that pretence to do it.
" Never fancy, my dear Mrs. Freeman, if what you
fear should happen, that you are the occasion; no, I
am very well satisfied, and so is the Prince too. It
would have been so, however, for Caliban is capable
of doing nothing but injustice. Therefore, rest satis
fied, you are no ways the cause, and let me beg once
more, for God's sake, that you will never mention
parting more — no, nor so much as think of it. If you
should ever leave me, be assured, it would break
your faithful Mrs. Morley's heart." ^
' "Account of the Conduct of the Dowager - Duchess of
Marlborough," pp. 82, 83.

90 MRS. MORLEY AND MRS. FREEMAN [Ch. vi
So matters went on, until the dark days before
Christmas in 1694, when Queen Mary, stUl cherishing
her resentment against her sister, fell ill.
The Queen's Ulness was not at first regarded
seriously. She had suffered a shock by the sudden
death of Archbishop Tillotson, who was struck down
by paralysis whilst conducting a reUgious service at
WhitehaU. The Queen was greatly attached to this
prelate, who was a great preacher and a wise coun
sellor, and his tragic death greatly distressed her.
Pestilence just then was raging in London. Small
pox, even at the end of the seventeenth century,
baffled medical skiU, and was regarded with mortal
apprehension. The Queen's illness was declared by
the doctor in attendance to be measles, but in a
day or two the symptoms grew worse. Dr. Radcliffe,
the first physician of the day, was hurriedly sum
moned, and the moment he saw the patient he pro
nounced the malady to be smallpox.
The Princess Anne just then was in delicate health,
but as soon as she heard of the Queen's illness she
sent one of her ladies with a message of sympathy,
and the request that she might be allowed to visit
her. The King was watching by his wife's bed at
Kensington, in an agony of fear, when the message
was delivered. He sent word that the Princess might
expect a reply on the morrow . Next day, accordingly.
Lady Derby, who was in close attendance, wrote a
civil letter of thanks at the command of the King and
Queen, intimating that, as quiet was essential, they
hoped the Princess would defer her proposed visit.
The letter ended with a personal postscript from
Lady Derby, in which she " presented her humble
duty " to Anne. As soon as Lady Marlborough read
the letter, she felt instinctively that the Queen was
not likely to recover. The letter, so she puts it,
"made me conclude more than if the College of

1694] DEATH OF QUEEN MARY 91
Physicians had told me that the disease was
mortal." Every day the Princess sent to inquire, and on one
occasion Lady Fitzharding was ushered into the
sick-room, and expressed warmly Anne's sympathy
with her sister. The Queen made no reply except \
to utter the cold and laconic reply " Thanks."^ Mary
seems to have known, even when everyone about her
professed to think the danger slight, that the end was
approaching ; for at an early stage of her iUness she
sat far into the night, looking through the papers in
her bureau and throwing them into the fire. She
might then have, surely, made some overtures to
Anne, her only near relative in the kingdom. Her
haughty spirit prevailed, and she was silent.
The Queen died on the 28th of December, 1694.
William, only a few minutes before, broken with
grief, and almost unconscious, was led out of the
room. Her death came as a great surprise, as well
as a great sorrow, to the nation. The people mourned
for Queen Mary in a more deep and universal sense
than ever they had done for Charles II. Many
thought that she would survive the King, who was
not only considerably older, but had long been a
valetudinarian. Not a few deemed that she would
in that case marry again, and that a child might be
born to her, and would succeed to the throne. But
at the age of thirty-three the curtain fell, and the
light of WiUiam's life went suddenly out, in a grief
that was so inconsolable as to make the courtiers
tremble for the King's reason.
It was Lord Sunderland who brought about the
reconcUiation between William and Anne ; but even
he might not have succeeded — for Lord Portland
opposed it on the plea that it would reflect on the
Queen's memory — if the heartbroken King had not
1 Blenheim Papers.

92 MRS. MORLEY AND MRS. FREEMAN [Ch.vi
fixed his hopes on the young Duke of Gloucester, an
attachment which was known to no one more fully
than Lord Somers, who stood high in the King's
confidence. The child who seemed destined to be
King of England was the living link between the
desolate Court at Kensington and Berkeley House.
Anne knew that the King had been devotedly
attached to her sister, and she felt all a woman's
quick sympathy with him in his loneliness and grief.
She was, in truth, always keenly alive to the havoc
wrought by death, and her warm heart invariably
responded to such appeals. She wrote, expressing
her " sincere and hearty sorrow for His Majesty's
affliction," and added that she was " as much touched
by his misfortune as if she had not been so unhappy
as to incur her sister's displeasure."
William was sitting alone, nursing his grief, when
Lord Somers came into his presence, and after a
long silence ventured to express the hope that, in
the presence of so great a calamity, all coldness
between His Majesty and the Princess Anne might
now cease. The King was too unmanned at the
moment to say more than: " My lord, do what you
will; I can think of no business."^ Somers retired
with that reply, not without doubt as to its meaning.
The King's Dutch favourite, the Earl of Portland,
proved anything but a peacemaker at that crisis ; and
if William, who thought more of his advice as a rule
than that of any other man, had listened to his
words, reconciliation would have been impossible.
But WiUiam's better nature asserted itself. He
recognized, moreover, that Anne now stood in im
mediate succession to the throne. So he sent her a
gracious message, and, when she waited upon him,
told her that henceforth St. James's Palace was at
her disposal.
' Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. i., p. 42.

1694] WILLIAM AND LADY MARLBOROUGH 93
Instantly the tide turned, and now, states Lady
Marlborough, " it being pubhcly known that the
quarrel was made up, nothing was to be seen but
crowds of people of all sorts flocking to Berkeley
House to pay their respects to the Prince and Princess.
One night at a reception a certain half-witted peer
forced a smile to the sad face of Anne by exclaiming :
" I hope your Highness will remember that I came
to wait upon you when none of this company did."
When the misunderstanding with the Princess had
ceased, the King treated Lady Marlborough with
extraordinary civility, but she never altered her
opinion of him. Her own words may be cited : "After
the reconcilement (with Anne), upon any occasion
when I happened to be in his way, he was as civil
to me as was possible, and the first time he saw me,
which was not long after the quarrel was made up,
I was waiting upon the Princess as she stood at a
drawing-room at St. James's, on one morning he came
there to Church. After he had taken the Princess by
the hand, he let it go to come back as far as the door
in the presence chamber, to the table in the drawing-
room, to do me honour. I stood at as much distance
as I could, for fear he or anyone else should think I
came on any account but to wait upon the Princess,
having taken great pains till then to avoid all places
where the King was, and I believe I should have con
tinued it but that my Lord Sunderland persuaded me
from it."^ Once His Majesty asked her how she liked
Lady Albemarle's English. She, as the wife of his most
confidential friend among the Dutch courtiers, stood
high in the King's favour. Before Lady Marlborough
had time to reply, he added brusquely: " Tell me,
and don't flatter her." Lady Marlborough was indig
nant, for she prided herself on never flattering any
body. " I felt my face grow very hot, and wished
1 Blenheim Papers.

94 MRS. MORLEY AND MRS. FREEMAN [Ch. vi
mightily that I might have had the hberty to have
asked His Majesty why he should think I should
flatter my Lady Albemarle, since I should never
flatter him."^ Scarcely any saying of note has come
down to us from the lips of Wilham III. "He spoke
seldom," was Bishop Burnet's testimony, " and then
with a disgusting dryness."
WiUiam's mood presently hardened. He treated
the Princess henceforth with formal civility, but that
was all. He made no attempt to win her regard,
and sometimes, even, acted towards her with a lack
of respect, keeping her waiting when she came to
have audience with him, sometimes for the space
of an hour, and making no apology for a slight which
" causes some discourse in town."
In the following autumn William returned to
England in triumph after the surrender of Namur,
and Anne wrote him a warm letter of congratula
tion, which he did not take the trouble even to
acknowledge. Lady Mariborough bridled up at this,
but it must not be forgotten, even though the act
was churlish, that the King was always taciturn,
and had a great aversion to compliments. Mean
while Anne had taken up her residence at St. James's,
and her inseparable companion. Lady Marlborough,
went with her. Shortly afterwards the Palace of
Whitehall was destroyed by fire, and William's last
years were spent at Windsor, or at his favourite place
of retreat, Hampton Court.
Marlborough was now taken back into favour,
though William never really trusted him. It was
said that he was the only man whom the King really
feared. He was appointed Governor to the young
Duke of Gloucester, a post which he held in con
junction with Bishop Burnet. The prelate's duties
were quite clear: he was to superintend the Prince's
* Blenheim Papers.

1694] THE DUKE OF GLOUCESTER 95
education. Burnet interpreted his instructions too
literally, and overweighted the delicate and highly-
strung boy with learning, ancient and modern.
Marlborough asked the King what it was expected
that he should do, and William replied, with a
courtliness which was uncommon to him: " My
lord, teach him but to be what you are, and my
nephew cannot want accomplishments."^ Anne's
opinion of her sole heir deserves to be quoted:
" Though I love him well, I can't brag of his beauty."
It would have been better for the young Duke if
he had been more in the open air in Marlborough's
company. But the Bishop, who was cordially disliked
by the Princess Anne, was determined to turn him
into a prodigy of learning. The Duke of Gloucester
had a quick, bright mind, charming manners, and a
submissive spirit. The Bishop had an autocratic
temper, and was wishful that the boy should excel.
His poor little pupil made a valiant attempt, under
his guidance, to master jurisprudence, constitutional
history, the evolution of law, the intricacies of the
feudal system, and a score of other subjects, and the
outcome was that he died in 1 700, at the age of eleven .
Lady Marlborough loved the boy, and her hopes for
her own son were pinned to him.
The death of the Duke of Gloucester, the only
child of the Princess Anne, rendered the Act of
Settlement imperative. It became law in 1701, and
by its provisions the crown, after Anne, passed to the
Electress Sophia of Hanover and her Protestant
descendants. The occasion was seized to insert a
clause forbidding the Sovereign to leave England
without consent of Parliament — a significant tribute
to the discontent caused by William's prolonged
sojourns abroad.
As the year 1701 proceeded, tidings came of the
1 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. i., p. 48.

96 MRS. MORLEY AND MRS. FREEMAN [Ch. vi
death of James II., and on its heels the knowledge
that Louis XIV., in spite of his pledge at the Peace
of Ryswick, had publicly proclaimed the Stuart prince
— known in history as the Old Pretender — as the
legitimate King of England, under the style and title
of James III. WiUiam's health was rapidly failing,
but, ill as he was, this supreme affront not merely
called forth his indignation, but put new life into
him, and for the first time in his reign the nation
was at his back. It was a challenge to England
which could not be ignored. A new Pariiament was
summoned, and the Whigs, with a great majority,
came back to power, eager to uphold the Protestant
Succession. The nation was determined that the
Act of Settlement should not be set at defiance at the
bidding of a foreign autocrat.
William stood ready to measure swords with
Louis XIV. He appointed Marlborough Commander-
in-Chief, and preparations were pushed forward for
the struggle. But on the 20th of February, 1702, the
King's horse stumbled on a molehill. The shock,
even more than the injury of the fall, was greater than
William could withstand, and on the 8th of March
the intrepid, if wounded, spirit of William III. passed
away. The " sunshiny day," which the Princess Anne
had predicted when her own fortunes were lowest,
was beginning to dawn, even though the nation
realized that with the death of William III. it had
lost its far-sighted and sagacious ruler.
England sprang to arms to baffle Louis XIV.'s
ambitious scheme, and the War of the Spanish
Succession, with its critical vicissitudes and crowning
victories, and its vast expenditure of blood and
money, was the outstanding event in the glorious
annals of the new reign. It is impossible to under
stand either the political or the military events
of this epoch without tracing in broad outline the

1698] THE SPANISH SUCCESSION ^-j
baffled negotiations which led to the appeal to the
sword. It was clear to all Europe in the summer of 1698
that the days of Charles 1 1 . of Spain were numbered .
He was childless, and this raised the question of the
succession. There were rival claimants, but the
most powerful were Princes of the reigning houses
of France and Germany. Louis XIV. had married,
in 1659, the Infanta Maria Theresa, daughter of
Philip IV., and sister of the monarch whose life was
drawing to a close ; but both she and her husband had
solemnly renounced all claims to the Spanish throne
at that time. If blood, however, was to count, the
claims of France were paramount ; but if they were
disallowed, the Emperor Leopold I . of Austria, nephew
of Philip IV., stood next, and his claims were not
set aside by any formal act of renunciation. The
other possible heir was Joseph, Electoral Prince of
Bavaria, grandson of Philip IV. 's youngest daughter.
The situation was so critical in the summer of
1698 that both Louis XIV. and Leopold I. recognized
that it would be highly impolitic under any circum
stances to press their own claims ; but neither of
them at first abandoned them. Louis renounced his
rights in favour of his youngest grandson, Philip,
Duke of Anjou, and Leopold, passing over his
immediate heir, named his younger son, the Archduke
Charles. They then mutually agreed that neither
the one Prince nor the other should actuaUy succeed
to the throne of Spain. But in both cases compen
sation was to be given. The Duke of Anjou was to
succeed to the Spanish possessions in Naples and
Sicily; the Archduke Charles was to obtain Milan.
This made the way plain for the third claimant, the
young Prince of Bavaria, whose accession would not
disturb the balance of power.
The problem was briefly this : If the Duke of Anjou
7

98 MRS. MORLEY AND MRS. FREEMAN [Ch. vi
succeeded, France and Spain would be united. If,
on the contrary, the Archduke Charles succeeded,
Austria and Spain would be joined. Hence the First
Partition Treaty, which was drawn up secretly, but
with the knowledge and full approval of William III.,
in the actual lifetime of the reigning King of Spain,
who was not consulted in the matter.
But the ink was scarcely dry upon the parchment,
when the unexpected happened. The young Prince
of Bavaria was carried off by smallpox in February,
1699, and this untoward event threw the whole
scheme into confusion, and rendered imperative the
Second Partition Treaty of 1700. This document,
drawn up in October of that year, decreed that
the Archduke Charies of Austria was to succeed to
the greater part of the Spanish dominions, including
the Indies and the Netherlands; the Duke of Anjou
was to receive Guipuscoa in the North of Spain,
and the Two Sicilies, together with Milan, which was
to be exchanged for the duchy of Lorraine. But
Charles II. of Spain, though his illness was mortal,
was still alive. He heard on his death-bed, and with
indignation, of the proposed dismemberment of his
kingdom, and his last act was to draw up a will,
bequeathing all his dominions to the Duke of Anjou.
He died in November, 1700, and Louis XIV., with
cynical audacity, instantly tore up the Partition
Treaty, and claimed the throne of Spain for his grand
son, in accordance with the terms of the last will of
Charles II., exclaiming: " II n'y a plus de Pyrenees !"
William III., if his hands had not been tied, would
at once have challenged this breach of faith. But the
Tories were in power in England, and were clamorous
that the nation should not be involved in a foreign
war. They had compelled the King, after the Peace
of Ryswick, not only to dismiss his Dutch troops, but
also to put the English army on a peace footing ; and

1701] THE GRAND ALLIANCE 99
so, greatly though he disliked it, he was forced to
recognize the Duke of Anjou as King of Spain. "It
grieves me to the soul," were his words, " that almost
everyone rejoices that France has preferred the will
to the treaty." Louis XIV. knew the temper of the
English people perfectly well; his secret agents kept
him informed of the Jacobite plots, as well as of the
strain on the financial resources of the country, and
the growing unpopularity of the King, who was far
too much in Holland to please his English subjects.
He therefore thought that, as the Spanish Nether
lands had passed to his grandson, France could force
the Dutch to recognize the validity of the will of
Charles II. by seizing the fortresses on the frontier.
So he sent an army to the Netherlands to take
possession of these strongholds in the name of his
grandson, and to hold them until the rights of the
new Spanish King were acknowledged by the Dutch.
Public opinion at once changed, and on the 7th of
September, 1701, William formed the Grand AUiance
of England, Holland, and Germany, the object of
which was to snatch the Low Countries from the
hands of France, and to hold them as a barrier State
to shield Holland from Louis XIV. It also sought to
restore the balance of power by winning the Spanish
dominions in Italy for Leopold I. This compact
became more powerful in the beginning of the follow
ing year, when the new kingdom of Prussia threw in
its lot with the Grand Alliance, a step which was
foUowed in 1703 by the accession of Portugal, and by
the changed attitude of the Duke of Savoy.
James II. died at St. Germains ten days after the
Grand AUiance was signed, on the 6th of Septem
ber, 1 701, and Louis XIV., though pledged up to the
hilt by the Peace of Ryswick not to challenge
WiUiam's rights to the throne of England, at once
pubhcly recognized the heir of St. Germains as

TOO MRS. MORLEY AND MRS. FREEMAN [Ch. vi
James III. of England. This crowning insult was not
to be borne. William's position instantly changed.
His temper changed asweU. The nation stood solidly
behind him. The War of the Spanish Succession
was inevitable. Through the folly of Louis XIV.,
WiUiam of Orange suddenly reached the got^l cC bis
ambition, which was to humble the power of France.
His health was failing fast, but he pushed forward
the preparations for the struggle, and in his last
hours he relied on the sword of Marlborough to
carry forward, under his sister-in-law and successor,
the war which had been forced upon the Grand
Alliance. Such was the position of affairs when
WiUiam III., by that strange irony which so often
defeats human ambition, died, at the age o.r fifty-
two, at Kensington Palace, on Sunday, the 8th of
March, 1702. Albemarle came back from Holland
the day before William passed away, and bending
over his dying master told him cheering news. But
the King was too ill to pay much heed, and
merely whispered in reply : " Je tire vers ma
fin." It is significant that the King recommended
Marlborough on his death-bed to the Princess who
was to succeed him, as " the most proper person in
all her dominions to conduct her armies or preside in
her councils," describing him, in so many words, as
" a man of cool head and a warm heart, fit to en
counter the genius of France and strangle her designs
of swallowing Europe." WiUiam was hailed on his
accession to the English throne as the Protestant
Deliverer. He died with the knowledge that Europe
regarded him as the protagonist in the struggle of
the Confederation against France.

CHAPTER VII
THE MARLBOROUGHS IN THE NEW REIGN
The brief but brilliant reign of Queen Anne began and
ended on a Sunday; but it does not stand in history as
a reign of peace. It was illustrious in war. It was
memorable in politics. It was classic in letters. It
was an age of remarkable men and wonderful achieve
ments. Those achievements, ahke in the world of
action and in the world of thought, have turned its
annals into one of the most splendid chapters in the
history of the nation.
The whole course of Anne's reign was alive with
movement and colour. Dramatic and far-reaching
incidents marked it. It witnessed the rise of many
great reputations, which to this day cast their spell
over the imagination of the world. It witnessed the
union of England and Scotland, and gave Great
Britain an unassailable position in the councils of
Europe. The light of genius shines in its records in
a manner which was only matched in the splendid
reign of Elizabeth. The Stuart dynasty, like the
Tudor, ended in a blaze of glory. It was an age
which was dazzled with the sword of Marlborough
and the satire of Swift, and to which the poetry of
Pope, Congreve, and Prior, and the prose of Defoe,
Addison, and Steele, lent distinction. It had soldiers
and sailors like Peterborough and Rooke — men
whose gallant deeds would have given them a com
manding place in any epoch which was not dominated
by the superlative triumphs of the hero of Blenheim.
lOI

I02 THE NEW REIGN [Ch.vh
The reign, in its art and architecture, recalls the
renown which Sir Christopher Wren won by his
churches. Sir John Vanbrugh by his palaces, and Sir
Godfrey Kneller by his pictures. It could boast of
its Ulustrious master of science. Sir Isaac Newton,
and of the great light in philosophy which was extin
guished too early in its annals by the death of John
Locke. It had statesmen who left an abiding mark
on national affairs, hke Godolphin, Hahfax, Sunder-
and, Somers, Bolingbroke, and Harley. There was
scarcely a direction in which intellect did not assert
itself in the service of the State.
Best of all, as the reign ran its course, civil and
religious liberty were broadened, social conditions
were ameliorated, and the growth of a new public
opinion, hostile to oppression and generous towards
all that makes a nation free and enlightened, asserted
itself, sometimes in spite of, and sometimes because
of, the tumult of the times. Short as the difference,
in point of time, which divided them, there could
scarcely be a more vivid contrast than that which is
presented ahke in the field of action and of thought by
the reign of James 1 1 . — brief, broken, and baffled — and
that of his daughter. Queen Anne, which swept onward
like a river, gaining depth and breadth as it flowed.
Queen Anne was a woman of thirty-seven on that
dull Sunday in March, 1702, which brought her to
the throne. She possessed the obstinacy, but not the
charm, of the Stuarts. She had convictions, and on
occasion the courage of them. Her life was blame
less, but her outlook was narrow. She was incapable
of appreciating the great intellectual movement of
her reign. She would have made an excellent wife for
a country squire, and have played the part of Lady
Bountiful to perfection; for she had a warm heart
and an open hand, and no lack of common-sense, and,
within limits, a shrewd judgment. But she was

17021 THE ACCESSION OF ANNE 103
not a distinguished woman, apart from her rank.
She had no imagination and no humour, and these
are the qualities beyond all others which lend dis
tinction to character. All through her reign she
lived in immediate and often in singularly petty
affairs; she had no grasp of the great problems at
issue, whether domestic or foreign, though she was
as keen as a hawk on points of etiquette and cere
mony. Her conduct was determined by two fixed ideas.
One was that the Church of England must be main
tained at all hazards. The other was that the Whigs
were not to be trusted, and were little better than
veiled Republicans. Queen Anne, in short, was a
good woman, in the ordinary acceptance of the term,
who had been placed by circumstances in what was
at once an exalted and a difficult position. She
honestly tried, according to her lights — they were
the reverse of brilliant — to live up to her position.
But she did not shine in the personal sense, and her
glory, such as it was, was simply the reflected light
of the great men who served her with passionate
devotion. She possessed, what none of the Stuarts
lacked, an instinct — the perception of quahty in men ;
and so long as she gave them her confidence, and
with it a more or less free hand, the interests of her
kingdom at home and abroad were secure. Like all
people, however, of small minds, Anne was quick to
take offence, and when she took it was too apt to
hug it to her bosom. She seldom acted on her own
initiative, for she was the reverse of self-rehant ; and
when she did so, in the majority of cases, she went
wrong. Her glory consists in the opportunity which
her reign gave to people of far greater force of
character to shape the affairs of State.
She carried herself weU on all occasions of cere
mony, for, though not beautiful, she was comely.

I04 THE NEW REIGN [Ch.vii
displayed a happy union of dignity and simplicity,
and possessed a singularly musical voice. The nation
trusted her, and not without reason ; but from first to
last she scarcely trusted herself, except when her
temper was aroused or her prejudices were assailed —
circumstances under which she became headstrong
and implacable.
Anne was haunted aU through her reign by secret
misgivings concerning her treatment of her dead
father, and the pretensions of the young half-
brother whom she had never seen — ^the Prince whom
Louis had proclaimed, amid a premature blare of
trumpets, as James III. of England. Lady Marl
borough knew perfectly that " James III.," as the
Jacobites called the Pretender, was the real son of
the late King, as her sister. Lady Tyrconnel, was
present at his birth, on the loth of June, 1688.^ But
Anne, though she had acquiesced in the coming of
WiUiam and Mary as a political necessity, was never
quite easy in her own mind, especially after the
absurd Warming-Pan Plot had been refuted. Out
wardly she bowed with a good grace to the Act of
Settlement, though she did not relish the advent of
the Elector of Hanover as her successor. If she had
lived another six months — so great were her sym
pathies with her own family in her closing days — the
House of Hanover might never have come to the
throne .
The Queen's first speech from the throne touched
the right note. She claimed to be " entirely English."
It was a welcome announcement, for William had
been ostentatiously Dutch, her young brother in
exile was practically French, and the House of Han
over, which was looming on the horizon, was German
to its finger-tips. Many important questions were
in the air, but Queen Anne, in her initial address to
' Blenheim Papers.

1702] MARLBOROUGH'S DIFFICULTIES 105
the nation, seized on the two which were most
pressing. One related to home policy, and the
other to foreign. The first was to bring about the
union of England with Scotland, which WiUiam had
recommended to Parliament within a few days of his
death; the other was to encourage the Allies of
England to " reduce the exorbitant power of France,"
which was also one of the unfulfilled purposes of
William. The policy which ruled the State in the
reign of Anne was determined by that programme.
Both parts of it were accomplished. The Union of
England and Scotland became law in 1707. Marl
borough's victories, on which an imperfect seal was
set by the Treaty of Utrecht in 171 3, gave the
coup de grace to the pretensions of France. The last
was the most urgent, and it accordingly came first.
Marlborough had felt the death of James II. keenly.
He was always a strong adherent of the House of
Stuart, and in his secret heart had never relished the
advent of William of Orange, even when driven by
the peril to the Protestant Faith to lend his support
to the Revolution of 1688. It is probable that in
his eyes William represented at best the inevitable,
and he never quite forgave the King his imprison
ment in the Tower, and the tardy amends which were
made to him when the accusations levelled at him
were proved to be false. In the closing months of
the King's reign Marlborough was in dejection.
WiUiam kept him in Holland, when Marlborough
thought his place was in England, since critical times
were at hand. He knew perfectly well that there
was a Whig plot afoot, the aim of which was to pass
over the right of the Princess Anne to the throne in
favour of the Elector of Hanover. He was aware,
also, that the motive which prompted it was mingled
fear and jealousy of himself. He declared that he
would oppose such a scheme to the uttermost, and

io6 THE NEW REIGN [Ch.vii
exclaimed, with a vehemence which from his lips
was not common: " By God, if ever they attempt
it, we shall walk over their bellies !"
Louis XIV. flattered himself that the Grand Alli
ance would come to nothing on the death of William.
In March, 1702, he was therefore in the mood of a
man who imagines that Providence has suddenly
interposed on his behalf. He breathed freely when
the tidings came; a great load was off his shoulders.
The man of all others who withstood him and threat
ened to foil his ambitious schemes had gone to his
account. But the Whig plot collapsed. Anne was
crowned on St. George's Day, the 23rd of April, 1702,
amid the rejoicings of the people.
Anne was so crippled with gout on the day of the
coronation that she could scarcely support the cere
mony. After that long and solemn ordeal the Queen
attended the banquet in Westminster Hall. She
arrived in her sedan-chair at St. James's Palace in
the evening, greatly exhausted. Prince George of
Denmark, who was in high spirits, was in no mood
for retiring. At length the Lord Chamberlain ven
tured to draw his attention to Her Majesty's weari
ness, and hinted that it might be as well if he pro
posed retirement. " I propose !" exclaimed the
Prince. " I cannot; I am Her Majesty's subject,
and have sworn homage to her to-day. I shall do
naught but what she commands me." The Queen
was equal to the occasion, and replied, with a smile:
" Then, as that is the case, and I am very tired,
I do command you, George, to come to bed."^
So the great day ended for the Queen, though
London was ablaze with illuminations and the
people were cheering half the night in the streets.
Anne's scruples about the succession had been set
at rest by the death of her father a few months earlier.
' Blenheim Papers.

1702] WAR IS DECLARED 107
So far as her brother, the young Prince at St. Ger
mains, was concerned^ Anne at this time had a lingering
doubt about his legitimacy, and that rendered her
own course more clear. " She told me," states the
Duchess, " that she was not sure the Prince of Wales
was her brother, and that it was not practicable for
him to come here without ruin to religion and the
country."^ The Grand Alliance held good. Louis had not
reckoned with Marlborough, and before a short month
had run its course England declared war with France,
on the 4th of May, 1 702 .
The accession of Anne not merely changed Marl
borough's fortunes, but gave him instantly a position
of unique ascendancy. He was fifty-two, the age at
which William had died, when the great work of his
life dawned suddenly upon him. Lady Marlborough,
ten years younger, stood on the steps of the throne,
and her influence with the new Queen was para
mount. They still addressed each other in count
less letters as " Dear Mrs. Morley " and " Dear Mrs.
Freeman," and were kissing kind. 'Queen Anne, in
truth, reigned over all her subjects save one, and that
was Mrs. Freeman, who, on the principle that char
acter and will count, reigned over her. Anne in her
hands was as pliable as wax, for as yet nothing had
occurred to ruffle their relationships.
The whole nation felt that the great emergency
of the war could only be met by Marlborough. He
was the strong man armed, who came to the front
by virtue of his military genius, as well as by the
confidence which the Queen reposed in him, and who
honoured him with her trust when his fortunes were
at their lowest ebb and all seemed against him. He
was given the supreme command, and the Order of
the Garter was conferred upon him. Lady Marl-
¦ ' Blenheim Papers.

io8 THE NEW REIGN [Ch.vii
borough was appointed Mistress of the Robes, and,
odd as the title sounds for a woman. Groom of the
Stole. She was also made Ranger of Windsor Park,
in succession to William's favourite, the Earl of
Portland, and the Old Lodge in Windsor Park was
given her by the Queen y because years before she had
once admired the house and the beauty of its situation.
Marlborough pressed forward the preparations for
the war which had dropped from WiUiam's dying hands,
and, with 40,000 troops, embarked for Holland in the
summer of 1702. He crossed the Meuse in July, and
in the autumn took, in quick succession, Venloo,
Ruremonde, and Liege. The result of the campaign
was that Marlborough was master of the Meuse up to
the great town of Liege, which surrendered, after a
short siege, on the 29th of October, when hostUities
ceased for the winter. He had driven the French
back, and had made a wedge the apex of which
was Liege, and the base the Rhine, which cut them
off from the lower valley of that river, and so guarded
the Dutch frontier at one of the most dangerous points
of attack. All through the hot days of that anxious
summer Marlborough was continually on the march,
engaged, as he told the surly Dutch deputies
when he crossed the Meuse in July, in delivering
Holland from its " troublesome neighbours." He
had no leisure for personal correspondence — a cir
cumstance which piqued the Duchess. All he could
do was to snatch a moment for a hasty note to her
on the 29th of May, 1 702 :
" I do assure you upon my soul," he writes, " that
I had much rather that the whole world should go wrong
than that you should be uneasy, for the quiet of my
life depends only on your kindness." ^
It is strange to find a man who was as patient
* Blenheim Papers.

1702] THE CAMPAIGN OF 1702 109
as he was brave making apologies for his temper to
his exacting wife :
" My temper may make you and myself sometimes
very uaeasy, but when I am alone and I find you
kind, if you knew the true quiet I have in my mind,
you would then be convinced of my being entirely
yours, and that it is in no other oower in this world
to make me happy out yourself." '¦
At a later stage of the campaign, when he was
following the French army, which had retreated across
the Meuse, and was trying to inspire tbe Hanoverians
and Prussians in other parts of the theatre cf war with
his own energy, he writes again, on the 6th of July :
" We have now very hot weather, which I hope
will ripen the fruit at St. Albans. When you are
there pray think how happy I should be, to be out of
this crowd and walking alone with you. No ambi
tion can make amends for my being from you. . . .
I am on horseback or answering letters all day long,
for besides the business of the army I have letters
from the Hague and all places where Her Majesty
has Ministers, so that if it were not for my zeal for
her service I should certainly desert."^
Sometimes Lady Marlborough capitulated only after
a siege more troublesome and protracted than that of
Lidge, and then her husband had to qualify his ardent
expressions : " Nothing can equal the happiness of
my being with you when you are kind." In one of
his letters, written on the 23rd of July, 1702, he says:
" The French having by their march of yesterday
abandoned the Meuse, we shall for some time have
rest, so that you will be sure to hear regularly from
me. You say nothing to me how the election went
at St. Albans, nor how my garden is, which I have
not forgotten."^
'¦ Blenheim Papers.
2 Coxe. " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. i., p. 90.
3 Blenheim Papers.

IIO THE NEW REIGN [Ch.vii
How much that rest was needed is clear from what he
tells her of a typical day in his life : " Up at five o'clock
in the morning to spend twelve hours in the saddle,"
with despatches to send which kept him pen in
hand far into the night. She replied in depressed
mood on the 31st of July, giving a bad account of her
health, and going on petulantly to hint that perhaps
her letters might be unnecessary, since he had not
time to read them. Lord Marlborough's answer is dated
the loth of August, 1702. He urges her to consult a
doctor, and advises " fisick," and says that bleeding
might relieve ; ' ' for I believe that a great deal of
your illness comes from having a great quantity of
blood." Then he turns to what she had said about
the neglect of her letters, and does so in a sentence
which reveals in a flash the character of the man :
" I do assure you that your letters are so welcome
to me that, if they should come in the time I was
expecting the enemy to charge me, I could not forbear
reading them."^
On Marlborough's return to London at the close
of the year, he received the thanks of Parliament
for " retrieving " — so the phrase ran — the honour of
the Enghsh nation. In his reply he modestly turned
the compliment by declaring that his successes were
due to His Majesty's happy conduct and the bravery
of his troops.
Marlborough was nearly captured by the enemy
at the close of the campaign. He was sailing down
the Meuse from Maestricht, when the French stopped
the boat and searched it. He only escaped recog
nition by the prompt action of an English soldier,
who slipped into his hand, when the French were
demanding to know who he was, an old passport
which in the confusion and darkness was not ques-
' Blenheim Papers.

1702] THE EARL OF ATHLONE iii
tioned. One of the most common charges brought
against Marlborough is that of parsimony. He was
not extravagant; at times he was, for a man of his
rank, almost frugal in his habits; but the charge of
inordinate avarice was the slander of his enemies.
He gave the man who had saved him £50 a year,
and that, of course, represented a much larger
sum than it does to-day. ?
The Earl of Athlone, one of the bravest and most
skilful of WiUiam's Dutch soldiers, was the first to
recognize Marlborough's ability in these rapid military
operations. " The success of this campaign is solely due to this
incomparable chief, since I confess that I, serving as
second in command, opposed in all circumstances
Lord Marlborough's opinions and proposals."^
Athlone gained his title in the Irish Rebellion, and
was at William's side at the Battle of the Boyne.
He was Marlborough's lieutenant at the beginning
of the War of the Spanish Succession, but died
before Blenheim was fought. It was this rapid and
successful campaign which brought Marlborough the
dukedom. Marlborough, though flattered by the proposed
honour, declared that his position would make it
difficult for him to sustain the dignity of such rank.
He thought moreover that, as the War of the
Spanish Succession was just beginning, such a dis
tinction might very well be reserved until peace had
been concluded. But Antoine Heinsius, Grand Pen
sionary of Holland, was of another opinion. Hein
sius maintained that Marlborough ought to be made
a Duke at once, " since it would be no other than
an act of justice on the part of the Queen, and doe
her good with all the Princes abroad." Marl-
^ Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. i., p. 100.

112 THE NEW REIGN [Ch.vii
borough, in an unpubhshed letter, describes the argu
ment between them :
" I urged upon him^the trouble it might bring upon
the Queen by severall famiUys pressing to have the
same tytle. He made me for answer that it would not
have that effect, if it were done now, since it was
visable to all the world it was done as a reward for
the good services of this campaigne, soe that it would
concern noe body but myself, but if were done upon
a long deliberation, those famiUys might expect to be
considered. The last thing I urged to him, and
which is very true, was that I should make a worse
figure in England for being a Duke than as I am, tiU
I had an estate for itt. He sayd the Queen's kind
ness was such that I need not doubt a fortune, and
that whatever was done at this time for my fortune
as well as tytle wou'd be without envy, since all the
people were pleased with what I had done. He
farther urged to mee that it was not reasonable to
expect ever to have soe much success in any other
campagne as in this, soe that he ended in beging mee
(to accept it) for the good of the Comon Cause, the
Queen's service, and my own sake."^
If Marlborough had waited until the end of the
war, he never would have received the dukedom, for
his enemies had compassed his downfall. Heinsius,
on the other hand, was curiously mistaken in think
ing that his friend was not likely to have " soe much
success in any other campagne." Marlborough was
only on the threshold of his splendid triumphs as a
soldier. The great battles which crushed the ascend
ancy of France, made England glorious, and altered
the balance of power in Europe, were still to be added
to the proud list of his victories.
Lady Marlborough urged delay. She realized that
the Queen's offer as it stood, though gracious, was a
barren honour. But the Queen would take no denial.
Her letter — it is dated " St. James's Palace, Thursday,
' Blenheim Papers.

I702] CREATED DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH 113
October 22 " — could not well have been more com-
pHmentary :
I have had this evening the satisfaction of my
dear Mrs. Freeman's of yesterday, for which I give
you many thankes, and though I think it is a long
long time since I saw you, I do not desire you to
come one minute sooner to towne than it is easy to
you but will waite with patience for the happy hour,
and only beg when you doe come, you will send for a
coach, and not make use of a chaise. Lord Treasurer
intends to send you a coppy of the Address from the
House of Lords wh. is to be given me to-morrow, and
that gives me an opportunity of mentioning a thing
that I did not intend to do yet. It is very uneasy
to your poor unfortunate faithfuU Morley to think
she has so very little in her power to shew how truly
sensible I am of my Lord Marlbrough's kindness,
especially at a time when he deserves all that a Rich
Crowne would give, but since there is nothing else
at this time, I hope you will give me leave as soon as
he comes to make him a Duke. I know, my dear
Mrs. Freeman does not care for anything of that kind,
nor am I satisfied with it because it does not enough
express the value I have for Mr. Freeman, nor nothing
ever can how passionately I am yours, my dear Mrs.
Freeman."^ I
The original document is at Blenheim, and is en
dorsed in the Duchess's autograph in her old age :
" Queen's Letter when she made Lord Marlb. a Duke."
Her own written comments on this mark of the
Queen's favour are also in existence. They were
evidently -written years afterwards, and perhaps only
a sentence or two need be quoted. The paper is
undated :
" I believe there are very few in the world that did
not believe me very much pleased with the increase
of honour the Queen gave Lord Marlborough when
he commanded the Army at Her coming to the
Crown. Perhaps 'tis ridiculous — at least that so
few people will believe — that I would not mention it
but to those that I could show the original letters to,
1 Blenheim Papers.

114 THE NEW REIGN [Ch.vii
and if there be any truth in a mortal it was so uneasy
to me that when I read the letter first upon it, I let
it drop out of my hand, and was for some minutes
like one that had received the news of a death of one
of their dear friends. I was so easy for anything of
that kind, having before, all that was of any use by
which 'tis plain I have no great taste for grandeur. 'j;
She adds that all she saw in it was a matter of pre
cedence, or, as she puts it quaintly, a mere " going in
at a door, and when a rule is settled, I like as well to
follow five hundred as one."-^
Meanwhile, Marlborough lost no time in his acknow
ledgments of so great a mark of approval. Writing
to Lady Marlborough from The Hague on the 2nd of
November, he says :
" You know I am very ill at compliments, but I
have a heart full of gratitude : therefore pray say all
you can to the .Queen for her extraordinary goodness
to me. As you have let me have your thoughts as
to the Dukedom, you shall have mine in short, since
I shall have the happiness of being with you so soon,
when I may advise with you at large on this matter.
But be assured that I shall have a mind to nothing,
but as it may be easy to you. I do agree with you
that we ought not to wish for a greater title, till we
have a better estate. Your other objection is also
very just, that this promotion might bring great
solicitations upon the Queen, which I am sure I
would not give occasion for. The Queen's goodness
in being desirous to establish my family, answers the
first, since that may be done this winter; for I agree
with you, that it should be done before the title. "^
At length all difficulties were removed by the
Queen's generosity, and the great soldier was duly
created Duke of Marlborough in December, 1702.
At home, Godolphin, on the recommendation of
Marlborough, was appointed Lord High Treasurer on
the 6th of May, 1702, and he became the head of a
combined Ministry of Tories and Whigs. He stood
^ Blenheim Papers.
2 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. i., p. 102.

I702] MARLBOROUGH'S FRIEND AT COURT 115
high in Anne's personal regard, and came to power,
at the age of fifty-seven, with a reputation at once
for ability and intrigue. He had been Master of the
Robes in the reign of Charles 1 1., and that witty
monarch had said: " Sidney Godolphin is never in
the way, and never out of the way." He played a
difficult part in the reign of James II., and was one
of his last adherents. He was Lord Chamberlain to
Mary of Modena, and was credited with a Platonic
attachrrient to her, with whom he constantly corre
sponded when she was in exile. At first he was
anything but persona grata at the Court of
William III., and was implicated in Sir John Fen-
wick's Jacobite conspiracy, but in 1700 he was re
called to William's councils, in spite of the good
reason which he had given for previous distrust.
Godolphin was the confidential ally of Marlborough,
and the latter was quick to see — personal friendship
apart — that, if military operations were to be pur
sued with energy abroad, it was imperative that a
strong man should be at the Treasury to provide the
sinews of war. Godolphin was a consummate man
of business. He possessed a singularly level head,
and was an acknowledged master of finance. Marl
borough, in spite of his personal charm and a certain
expansiveness of speech, which was in reality strictly
guarded, was not a man of many friends.
Voltaire declared that Marlborough was equally
qualified for the field and for the Cabinet, and that
he did as much mischief to France by the wisdom of
his head as by the power of his sword. He lays stress
on the Duke's instinctive discernment of character,
and says that he could discover men's designs by their
looks and gestures. Lord Chesterfield says that,
notwithstanding his gentleness, no man living was
more conscious of his position than the Duke, nor
maintained his dignity better. He possessed extra-

ii6 THE NEW REIGN [Ch.vii
ordinary patience, and used himself to say : " Patience
wiU overcome aU things." Lord Chesterfield as
serted that Marlborough could deny a request with
so much grace that men often left his presence so de
lighted with their reception as to forget their chagrin.
He carried himself with the ease of perfect breeding. He
always listened attentively to whatever was said to him .
At Court, as well as in camp, the magic of his per
sonality prevailed. Obstacles of all kinds vanished
from his path, for he had an extraordinary power of
appeal, as well as knowledge of men; but he seldom
revealed himself, and even his most trusted subor
dinates in war knew but little of his plans, and often
had to move in the dark. Godolphin alone was his
bosom friend. He knew more of his mind than any
one else; but on critical occasions it sometimes
happened that did not amount to much, for Marl
borough fell back on silence whenever he was about
to strike a decisive blow. Godolphin used to say
that he always knew when great tidings were coming
from abroad, because the Duke's last letter, though
vague, was written in high spirits.
Godolphin was a sort of father confessor to the
Duchess. She held him in high regard, turned to
him in all sorts of difficulties, and often bowed to his
advice when her temper was least accommodating.
He was not merely a master of finance ; he was adroit
in the use of the oiled feather. If Marlborough learnt
the art of war, as is commonly supposed, from
Turenne, the Duchess assuredly conquered the mys
teries of finance as the apt pupil of Godolphin. The
Duke never lost a battle, however desperate; the
Duchess was never tripped up by her public accounts,
however complicated. Godolphin initiated her into
her duties as Mistress of the Robes, and when the
Duke was abroad the Lord Treasurer was the only
man in the kingdom who had any real influence with

1702] THE DUKE'S DAUGHTERS 117
her. He was an astute, wary, dispassionate states
man, worthy to stand at the helm of affairs, and,
though his personal character was not exalted, his
financial integrity was unassailable. There is truth
in the assertion that the Ministry of which Godolphin
and Marlborough were the leading spirits was " one
of the most glorious in English history."^ One reason
why the Duchess placed implicit confidence in Godol
phin was his unfaltering loyalty to the Duke ; another
was the common bond, which by this time had arisen,
between them through the marriage of their children.
Lady Henrietta Churchill, eldest daughter of the
Duke and Duchess, married Lord Rialton, only son
of the Earl of Godolphin, in 1698, at the age of eigh
teen. She possessed the good looks of the family,
but was perhaps not as beautiful as her sisters. She
was endowed with her mother's high temper and
strong will, though she did not share either her sense
of duty or her shrewd common-sense. It was not a
great marriage, for Godolphin was always a poor man,
and Marlborough, apart from the fact that he had a
large family to provide for, and had fixed his ambition
on his son, was by no means affluent. He gave his
daughter a marriage portion of £5,000, and the
Princess of Denmark, always open-handed, though
sometimes not generous in her judgments, insisted
on adding a like sum. She would have made her gift
£10,000 if Mrs. Freeman would have allowed her.
All the daughters of Marlborough married young.
Lady Anne was only seventeen, but was so sedate in
bearing that she looked older, when, in 1700, she
became the bride of Lord Spencer, son and heir of
another of her father's old friends, Robert, second
Earl of Sunderland . Lord Spencer's mother was Lady
Dorothea Sidney, who, before her marriage to Lord
1 Lecky's "History of England in the Eighteenth Century,"
vol. i., p. 48.

ii8 THE NEW REIGN [Ch.vii
Sunderland, had been the " Saccharissa " of Waller's
impassioned verse. Marlborough, though he had a
great regard for Lord and Lady Sunderland, was
averse to the match. Lord Spencer was a widower,
and moreover a pronounced Whig; whilst the great
soldier's political sympathies, so far as he revealed
them, were with the Tories. The Duchess, however,
was bent on the marriage, and in matters domestic
she always had her own way. She sympathized, even
more than she thought it advisable to show, with
Lord Spencer's views ; and as Lord Godolphin, who
certainly did not share them, threw his influence into
the same scale, the Duke gave his consent.
He might well have hesitated. Lady Anne, who
was as good as she was beautiful, was little more than
a child, and was certain to lack no suitors of equal
or more exalted rank. Marlborough delighted in her
society. She was the most dutiful of daughters and
the sunshine of his home, and he was in no haste to
be deprived of her bright presence. Her loveliness
had already taken many hearts by storm, and had
even found its way into print. Addison makes a
graceful allusion to her charm : ' ' There is a brave
soldier's daughter in town that by her eye has been
the death of more than ever her father made fly before
him." She adopted the views of her husband with
so much ardour that she became known in society as
the " Little Whig," and was a reigning toast at polit
ical banquets.
Lady Elizabeth Churchill, third daughter of the
Duke and Duchess, was almost cruelly young — a girl
of fifteen — when she followed the example of her
sisters. Her hand was sought in marriage by Scroop
Egerton, the fourth Earl of Bridgewater, and they
were married in 1702. He was Master of the Horse
to Prince George of Denmark, and on the accession
of George I. was created first Duke of Bridgewater.

I702] A TOUCH OF PATHOS 119
Her mother cared more for Lady Bridgewater than
any of her other daughters, perhaps because she was
the most submissive. She was universally beloved,
and, according to the Duchess, had a perfect mind
and many accomplishments. She died at twenty-six,
as the reign of Anne was ending.
The Princess Anne was as generous to her as to her
sister. She wrote, when the wedding was at hand :
" My Lord Bridgewater being in haste to be married,
I cannot any longer delay telling my dear Mrs. Freeman
what I have intended a great while, that I hope she
will now give me leave to do what I had a mind to
do when dear Lady Harriet was married. Let me
speak to Lord Treasurer about it, when I see him, that
your poor unfortunate faithful Morley may not be
any occasion of delay to other people's happiness."^
The use of the word " unfortunate " in Anne's
description of herself has in it a touch of pathos.
After the death of her son, the Duke of Gloucester,
she always so described herself in her letters to
Mrs. Freeman. The Princess again proposed a gift of
£10,000; half that sum was accepted, and Marl
borough, as in the case of Lady Harriet, added a like
amount. The Duchess's only remaining daughter was Lady
Mary. She was the most beautiful of the ChurchiU
sisters, and held a pecuhar place in the Duke's affec
tion. His letters from abroad contain tender allusions
to her. In appearance she resembled her father, and
in her moods of tempestuous gainsaying her mother.
The Duchess never seems to have understood either
of her daughters who inherited her own temperament.
With Lady Henrietta and Lady Mary she was almost
as constantly at war as the Duke was with the French,
though, unlike him, she was not always victorious.
As a further mark of her favour. Her Majesty
' Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. i., p. 1 1 1.

I20 THE NEW REIGN [Ch.vii
appointed Lady Sunderland and Lady Monthermer
Ladies-in- Waiting. These alliances heightened the
influence of the Duchess, and also, if that were possi
ble, of the Duke. But midway between the mar
riages of Lady Elizabeth and Lady Mary he was
called to endure a supreme and irrevocable loss in
the death of the Marquis of Blandford. The only
sorrow he ever occasioned his father came then; it
destroyed for Marlborough the dream of his life.
The Marquis of Blandford was educated at Eton,
and he afterwards proceeded to King's College, Cam
bridge, where he was placed under the care of Mr.
Francis Hare. He was a youth of unusual promise,
amiable, quick-witted, and high - principled . It
seemed as if a great career was before him. There is
a portrait of him painted by Sir Godfrey Kneller.
It depicts him as a handsome lad of manly bearing,
with good features and fine eyes. He was like the
Duchess rather than the Duke, and she was passion
ately devoted to him. When he was a child he was
much in the company of the young Duke of Gloucester,
and his mother cherished the hope that they would
grow up together and become life-long friends. But
neither of them was destined to live to manhood.
After the Duke of Gloucester's death, Marlborough's
son was sent to the University, and was frequently
the guest of Lord Godolphin, who had an establish
ment at Newmarket. That statesman took an almost
paternal interest in the youth, and there are letters
of his at Blenheim, written to the Duchess, which
reveal his impressions of her son.
Godolphin speaks of him as " very tractable and
good-humoured," pays a handsome compliment to
his good looks, and adds:
" I assure you, without flattery and partiality,
that Blandford is not only the best-natured and most
agreeable, but the most free-thinking and reasonable

I702] THE MARQUIS OF BLANDFORD 121
creature that one can imagine for his age. He has
twenty pretty questions and requests, but I will not
trouble you with pictures until I have the honour of
seeing you."^
There is also a letter from Blandford himself,
written to the Duke in the summer of 1 702 :
I would have writ to my mama, but that by
what she said to me in her letter I am afraid she will
never thoroughly forgive me, which has grieved me
so much that I cannot tell how to write tUl I have
some hopes of being friends with my dear mama.
Hoping my dear papa will be so kind as to intercede
for me with mama, and be persuaded that nobody
can be more heartily sorry for having done amiss
than your dutyfuU son Blandford." ^
The nature of his offence — probably some boyish
escapade — is not known ; but that simple letter reveals
his sensitive nature, and incidentally the haughty
temper of the Duchess. It was written in the last
summer of his short life. Soon after he went back
to Cambridge in the autumn of 1702, an outbreak of
smallpox filled both the town and the University with
alarm. Towards the close of the Michaelmas term,
Blandford, who was not looking well, was invited to
Newmarket by Lord Godolphin, to be out of the way
of the epidemic. The Duchess by this time was full
of concern about him. She proposed that he should
return home. But Lord Godolphin reassured her.
Travel in those days was difficult, and the youth was
better in the bracing air of Newmarket.
" What you write," so runs Lord Godolphin 's reply,
" is extremely just and reasonable, and, though the
smallpox has been in the town, yet he, going into no
house but mine, will, I hope, be more defended from
it by air and riding, without violent exercise, than he
could probably be anywhere else."^
1 Blenheim Papers. ^ Ibid. ^ Ibid.

122 THE NEW REIGN [Ch.vh
After Christmas, Blandford went to King's College,
to the care of Dr. Hare ; but early in January he
sickened, and it soon became plain that his malady
was the dreaded disease. The Duchess hastened to
Cambridge, and, not content with local medical
advice, immediately sent to London, as fast as mes
sages could go, for further skill. Queen Anne, who
was attached to her dead son's playmate, at once sent
her own physicians in the royal coaches.
The disease ran its course, and the patient steadily
grew weaker, in spite of all that skill and care could
do for him. Marlborough had remained behind,
anxiously alert and restless for tidings. His messages
to his wife show how great was the strain :
" I am so troubled at the sad condition this poor
child seems to be in that I know not what to do.
I pray God to give you some comfort in this great
affliction. If you think anything under Heaven can
be done, pray let me know it, or if you think my
coming can be of the least use, let me know it. I beg
I may hear as often as 'tis possible, for I have no
thought but what is at Cambridge."-^
Later in the same day he wrote again, evidently
after the arrival of a letter the reverse of reassuring :
" I hope the doctors were with you early this
morning. If we must be so unhappy as to lose this
poor child, I pray God enable us both to behave
ourselves with that resignation which we ought to do.
If this uneasiness which I lie under should last long,
I think I could not live. For God's sake, if there be
any hopes of recovering, let me know it."^
When that letter arrived there were no hopes.
The need for perfect quietude was over; the youth,
who had made a valiant struggle for his life, was
^ Blenheim Papers. See also Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of
Marlborough," vol. i., p. 107.
2 Blenheim Papers.

1702] A CRUSHING BLOW 123
dying. The Duke was summoned, and on the day
he left Queen Anne wrote to the Duchess :
I am extream glad that the Duke of Marl : is gon
to my dear Mrs. Freeman, and I writt this to desire
you would keep him with you till you are easy about
dear Lord Blandford — Christ Jesus grant he may do
well and preserve you and yours from all sad acci-
dents."! The Duke arrived only in time to witness the end,
on the morning of Saturday, the 20th of February,
1704. When the blow fell, the Queen's sympathy
found swift expression :
I writt this morning with a pretty good heart to
my dear Mrs. Freeman, and now I do it with as
heavy a one, having seen a dismal account of dear
Lord Blandford and with it an excuse to me, which
was not at all necessary to your poor unfortunate
faithful Morley, who is far too sensible of your con
dition to expect a letter. Chryst Jesus comfort and
support you under this terrible affliction, and it is
His mercy alone that can do it."^
Lord Blandford was buried in the beautiful chapel
of King's College, and his stately monument records
the passionate grief of his parents. He was only
seventeen, but, though so young, was already eager
to buckle on a sword and follow his father to the war.
The Duchess would have none of it, and bade him wait.
Dr. Hare from that time onwards became one of
the closest friends of the Duke. He made him
Chaplain-General to the Forces in Flanders, and he
was present in that capacity at the Battle of Blen
heim. When Marlborough's star was declining, it
was Dr. Hare who answered Swift's bitter accusations,
set forth in the famous pamphlet, " The Conduct
of the Allies." He ultimately became Bishop of
Chichester, and long outlived the Duke. It was his
' Blenheim Papers. ^ Ibid.

124 THE NEW REIGN [Ch.vh
ambition to write the history of Marlborough's cam
paigns; but though he left considerable material in
manuscript, his purpose, unhappily, was never ful
fiUed. He died in 1740, four years before the mother
of his old pupil.
The Duchess always treated him with marked
respect. He was a frequent guest both at the Old
Lodge, Windsor, and at Blenheim, and he was almost
the only man who had the courage, in her hard, dis
illusioned old age, to tell her the truth.
All things in the public sense were going well with
the Marlboroughs when the terrible blow of Lord
Blandford 's death befell them. The Duke stood on
the threshold of his great victories; the Duchess,
secure in the affection of the Queen, was on the
threshold of her unique ascendancy at Court. The
flowing tide was with them, but this bolt from the
blue plunged them at once into the extremity of
grief. Queen Anne, who knew only too well the
bitterness of the loss of an only son, did everything
in her power, with womanly tenderness, to alleviate
their grief. It opened her own wounds afresh, and
the two women wept together in the fellowship of
common loss. The Duchess seemed inconsolable.
It almost looked as if she must lose her reason, so
great were her paroxysms of weeping. When this
tempest of tears had at last spent its force, she dressed
herself meanly in black, and, so attired, haunted the
cloisters of Westminster Abbey, sitting on the stone
seats there, with downcast head so as not to court
observation. Her only wish was to be left alone,
and no words of consolation appealed to her. The
Duke felt the loss of his son quite as keenly, but he
bowed to the inscrutable will of Providence, and,
summoning his great powers of self-command, ad
dressed himself to the supreme responsibilities of his
position.

JOHN CHURCHILL. MARQUIS OF BLANDFORD.
Fniiii a iiictiiiT by Kneller.

CHAPTER VIII
A CONFLICT OF TEMPERAMENTS
The position of the Duchess of Marlborough in the
new reign stands unrivalled in the annals of the
English Court. Mrs. Freeman could do no wrong;
the Queen adored her ; she shaped the whispers of the
Throne. The world was at her feet; statesmen and
diplomatists paid her marked attention and ran to
open doors for her; great ladies at Kensington and
Windsor, who had flaunted her in the days of William
and Mary, were eager to catch her glance, and flat
tered if she stopped for a moment in the drawing-
room to exchange civilities with them. Everyone
recognized that she was not merely Mistress of the
Robes, but virtually Mistress of Queen Anne. She
held in her hands all kinds of preferment, and was the
one lady in the land whom it was impossible to ignore
in any attempt to gain royal favour.
The Duchess had great qualities — qualities which
have been overshadowed unduly by her blazing
indiscretions. The world is always eager to seize
upon the weak aspects of a great reputation, and
Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, has had scant justice
done to her on the page of history. Half-truths in
any judgment of character are always more difficult
to refute than actual falsehoods, and she has suffered
accordingly. She has been represented as a scheming,
hard, masterful woman, implacable and selfish to the
last degree. There is just enough truth in that
125

126 A CONFLICT OF TEMPERAMENTS [Ch.VIH
indictment to make it plausible, and many writers,
who did not relish either her personal ascendancy or
her pohtics, have found her guilty of high crimes and
misdemeanours which for the most part only existed
in their lively imaginations, and have done so with
the aid of all the resources of malice and rhetoric.
The world's judgment, in consequence, has been
coerced into the acceptance of such a verdict, and in
process of time it has been allowed to pass with
scarcely a challenge. It is idle to deny that the
Duchess was hard and remorseless, and the logic of
facts compels the admission that she was implacable.
But she was not an intriguing woman in the usual
acceptation of the term ; and if she had been as selfish
as is commonly supposed — all men are selfish more
or less — there would not stand to her credit as many
generous deeds as can readily be cited.
What are the great qualities that can be urged on
her behalf ? The answer to that can be stated in a
few words. The Duchess of Marlborough was strictly
honest in a notoriously venal age. It was customary
in the days of the Stuarts to accept bribes from people
who were ambitious of official preferment. She de
clared that she disdained to follow the usual practice.
She made that statement in print when there were
people alive who could have shamed her if it were
untrue, and, though she had many bitter enemies,
it was not contradicted. Queen Anne herself towards
the end of her reign, when evil tongues had divided
them, made it plain that, whatever the faults of the
Duchess in her eyes might be, she was at least faithful
to the high trust reposed in her. She had a keen
sense of public duty, not only in such a direction, but
in all, and she never spared herself in the discharge
of it.
There were many flatterers about the Court, but
it never occurred to the most censorious of her critics

1702] CHARACTER OF THE DUCHESS 127
to accuse the Duchess of such a fault. Her tempta
tion — she yielded to it too often for her own advan
tage — lay in exactly the opposite direction. She
possessed courage to the point of audacity, and shrewd
common-sense, and both were always at the service
of the Crown. She was also endowed to a con
spicuous degree with force and discrimination of
character — qualities which were certainly needed in
the reign of Anne, since the Queen was deficient in
both respects. Historians have descanted on the
haughty temper of the Duchess, but have said next
to nothing about her warm heart or the provocation
she encountered. When such writers have spoken of
her independence of judgment and self-reliance, they
have borrowed examples from her more defiant
moods, forgetful that such traits came also into play
under less dramatic conditions.
The Duchess knew her own capacity; she had
mentally pitted herself against the people around
her, notably the Duchess of Somerset, Her Grace
of Shrewsbury, and Lady Fitzharding. Mrs. Freeman
had brains, and was a woman of the world, well
versed in its affairs. Her great weakness lay in
headlong and impetuous speech, in mortal antipathies
— which if she had been more selfish and calculating
she would have concealed — and in faults of tempera
ment, which made havoc of her peace and brought
about her undoing, and in the end that of the Duke.
She had infinite tact in small matters, but it failed
her on critical occasions, and tact — more is the pity
of it — is at times of greater account than talent.
She was so strong, so self-possessed, so conscious of
her powers, that she made enemies by a haughty
glance, a gesture of impatience, a hasty word. To
wards the close of her life, the Duchess said that
she " hated herself" because she had once misjudged
one of the statesmen of Anne's reign. That statesman

128 A CONFLICT OF TEMPERAMENTS [Ch.viii
was Nottingham. She allowed herself great hberty
of utterance, and was too clever herself to realize
the manner in which she made stupid people wince.
Conscious that she was steering a straightforward
course, she never made allowance for those whose
conduct was crooked, but cultivated, on the contrary,
a candour of speech that to others was disconcerting
and galling, and which at times was as uncalled for
as it was exasperating.
But, when all this is admitted, the Duchess was
more than the loyal and devoted servant of Queen
Anne; she was the jealous and vigilant defender of
the Protestant Succession. The cause of civil and
religious liberty in England at that epoch owes a
debt to her which has never been properly acknow
ledged. As for the rest, she steadied the hand which
held the sceptre in the most dramatic years of a reign
which was fraught with great issues.
There is a famous picture at Blenheim which repre
sents the Duchess of Marlborough and Lady Fitz
harding playing a game of chance . It is by Sir Godfrey
Kneller, and is a brilliant example of that master's
art. The Duchess, in the full bloom of her loveliness,
is sitting in a graceful and negligent attitude studying
her cards. One wonders how the painter came to
portray her in that pose. She has come down to
posterity, on his glowing canvas, in critical and
thoughtful mood : she is evidently counting the cost
before she throws her card. She has come down to
posterity on the page of history in a different light —
as a bold and impetuous player in the game of life,
who seldom studied the cards or counted the cost,
and was sometimes defiant even of the rules of the
game. The Duchess of Marlborough had many shining
quahties, and, when she liked, she was bewitching.
But patience was not her strong point; generosity

1702] ASCENDANCY OF THE TORIES 129
of judgment was her " strange work," and the orna
ment of a meek and quiet spirit was denied her. She
was a great woman, more forceful and quite as illus
trious as any in English history ; but her place in the
national annals would have been still more command
ing if she had been less intent on dominating others,
and more eager to rule her own imperious spirit.
The rest of the story will fail in the telling if this
judgment of her character, in its lights and shadows
alike, is not amply proved by the qualities yet to be
recorded in the crowded years of her ascendancy,
as well as in the tumult of her shadowed but indomit
able old age, when she was at war with herself and
the world.
Government by great families was a reality in the
reign of Anne, and the alliances which the daughters
of the Duchess made added to her power in the State.
This might have told for more than it did if she,
conscious of her strength, had not gone absolutely
her own way. The first Ministry of the new reign
was largely the creation of the Duke and herself, and
yet it represented a compromise. The Tories held
the balance of power, for Marlborough, though
never a strong party man, had been trained in that
way of thinking, and so had Queen Anne. Godolphin,
who was at that time a moderate Tory, though he
ultimately became a Whig, was Lord Treasurer, a
post which won him the lasting resentment of the
Queen's uncle, Lord Rochester, who flattered himself
— ^in spite of his harsh treatment of Anne in earlier
years — that he was entitled to take the direction of
affairs. Nottingham, like Rochester, was a pro
nounced Tory. Neither of them would have been
admitted in the Queen's councils if the Duchess
could have had her way; for she, unlike the Duke,
was already veering towards the Whigs, and her
conversion to that party, in due time, came about,
9

130 A CONFLICT OF TEMPERAMENTS [Ch.VIH
partly through force of conviction, and partly by the
influence of her son-in-law. Lord Sunderland, who
was not less extreme in his views than Rochester.
The latter would have excluded the Whigs from aU
offices, small and great. Marlborough and Godolphin,
who then and always were of one mind, would not
entertain such a proposal, and carried their point in
spite of Rochester's expostulations.
The Duchess gives a list of the Tories who thus
came to power, and her comment is significant :
" These were men who had all a wonderful zeal for
the Church, a sort of public merit that eclipsed all
others in the eyes of the Queen. I am firmly
persuaded that notwithstanding her extraordinary
affection for me, and the entire devotion which her
Lord Marlborough and my Lord Godolphin had for
many years shown in her service, they would not
have had so great a share of her favour and confidence
if they had not been reckoned in the number of the
Tories."^ The Throne is supposed to have no politics ; but
Queen Anne, perhaps because she was a woman, took
sides. She distrusted the Whigs; they had brought
her grandfather, Charles I., to the scaffold, she argued,
and had been the chief actors in the Revolution, and
in the limitations of the power of the Sovereign con
tained in the BUI of Rights. She looked at them
askance because, though the peers who led them
were Churchmen, so many of the rank and file of the
party were Dissenters, and for people who frequented
conventicles and were given to noisy declamations
Queen Anne had scant toleration. Her soul was
divided between Mrs. Freeman and the Church of
England ; and if the first was her sworn ally, the latter,
she maintained, was the bulwark of her throne.
1 " Account of the Conduct of the Dowager-Duchess of
Marlborough," p. 125.

1702] ANNE'S CHURCH PRINCIPLES 131
The only question on which any difference of
opinion arose in those days between Mrs. Morley and
Mrs. Freeman was the religious question. Anne was
the loyal daughter of the Church, perfervid, resolute
in defence of its claims, scrupulously decorous in all
the outward observances of the rehgion to which, to
do her simple justice, she had been a sincere adherent
from girlhood. The Duchess was inclined to smile
at the Queen's scruples. She was in revolt against
the authority of the clergy. She thought they were
all very well in their way, but to do them reverence
was not to her mind. She was, in truth, an emanci
pated woman, in a sense which is common enough
now, but was rare then. Her conduct was irre
proachable — no stone can be cast at her in that
respect; but her freedom of speech about the cloth
was often disconcerting, and sometimes appalling;
and the Queen resented it more than the Duchess
suspected. Anne regarded Dissenters as factious people who
ought not to be countenanced, and looked with un
concealed repugnance upon the proceedings in Parlia
ment for the relief of their religious disabilities.
Mrs. Freeman thought that the word Church was
used by people who cared very little about that
institution. She declared it seemed to her like a
" spell to enchant weak minds." She thought that
folks who had the bad taste to frequent conventicles
ought not to be placed under the harrow on that
account. Mrs. Morley, to her credit, was generous
to both Church and State. She founded Queen
Anne's Bounty, for the benefit of poor clergy, at a
sacrifice of £16,000 a year to her personal revenue,
and out of her Civil List she gave, at the beginning
of her reign, £100,000 to ease the public burden of the
war. Religion apart, Mrs. Morley and Mrs. Freeman were

132 A CONFLICT OF TEMPERAMENTS [Ch. vm
not of one mind in regard to politics, though as yet
the divergence of view was not pronounced. Party
government, though in process of evolution, was not
yet clearly estabhshed, and the Queen's first Ministry,
though the Tories were in ascendancy in it, contained
statesmen of Whig proclivities, and this was the more
remarkable as party feeling ran high in the country.
The Tories were altogether to the mind of Mrs.
Morley; the Whigs were more after the heart of
Mrs. Freeman than she cared at the moment to admit.
The old saying that every man is in philosophy,
whether consciously or unconsciously, a disciple of
Plato or of Aristotle merely throws into relief a
fundamental distinction in human nature. The same
idea is apparent in politics. The Tory, broadly
speaking, stands for the principle of authority, whilst
the Whig represents the principle of liberty. The
peril of the one is precedent, hardening into super
stition; the snare of the other is revolt, culminating
in licence.
Mrs. Morley was all for authority, not untouched
with prejudice; Mrs. Freeman would not have been
herself if she had not pinned her faith to liberty,
only with her the term too often meant audacious
self-assertion. The Tories in the reign of Queen
Anne stood for the now exploded claims of Divine
Right. They held the view that the Sovereign
should not merely reign, but govern ; and though they
had acquiesced in the Revolution of 1688 — driven
to it by the remorseless logic of James II.'s high
handed folly — they did not relish it. The majority
of the Tory party were adherents of the House of
Stuart — perfervid Jacobites who looked with alarm
at the probability of the accession of the House of
Brunswick. They were the Church party, and were
all hostile to Dissenters ; but some of the high Tories
were Roman Catholics, and therefore out of touch

1702] WHIGS AND TORIES 133
with the majority of their party, who dreaded the
claims of Rome.
The Whigs were almost exclusively Protestant in
religion, and vigorously upheld the Act of Settle
ment, which blocked the path of the Pretender as a
Catholic Prince. They gloried in the English Revolu
tion, which they had been chiefly instrumental in
bringing about, and looked upon the Bill of Rights
as the charter which had secured the liberty of the
nation. They held that the Sovereign reigned for
the good of his subjects ; that he derived his authority
from them; and that, if he abused it, it was in their
power to deprive him of it. Unlike the Tories, the
Whigs accepted with complacency, though not with
overpassing enthusiasm, the prospect of a change of
dynasty at the Queen's death.
Marlborough cannot be described as a party man.
His sympathies were with the Tories on most ques
tions of Home Govemment, especially at the begin
ning of the reign ; they were always with the Church ,
and for the most with the claims of the Stuarts. But
he shared with the Whigs a passion for liberty, and
his policy abroad was more in accordance with their
views than with the Tories', a process which was
hastened, as time went on, by their support of the war.
He always, however, tried to steer clear of party
entanglements, and was never tired of saying that he
stood for the Queen in the affairs of the realm, and for
the common cause abroad, or, in other words, the
Grand Alliance, which sought to crush the inordinate
ambition of Louis XIV.
The Duchess, on the contrary, was a keen partisan.
The instinct of revolt was in her blood, so she leaned
to the Whigs. She upheld the Queen's authority
so long as it did not make too great demands on her
own, and, though a Protestant — free-thinking and
disillusioned in regard to all ecclesiastical pretensions

134 A CONFLICT OF TEMPERAMENTS [Ch.VHI
— she was neither as attached to the Church nor as
prefervid in its defence as her illustrious husband.
The Duke possessed the romantic temperament. He
had imagination and a warm heart. The Duchess
prided herself on her common-sense, took short views,
and was, beyond aU else, practical. The fixed articles
of her creed were belief in herself and pride in the
character and achievements of the Duke. As for
that great soldier, the Duchess was the lodestar of
his life, and his overmastering desire was to live,
as he put it, in quiet with her, though not until he
had humbled by force of arms what Queen Anne had
rightly called the " exorbitant power " of France.
Nothing is more attractive in Marlborough's char
acter than his invincible patience. Scarcely a petu
lant sentence has come down to us from his lips, yet
few men were ever subjected to so great a strain. The
Duchess, in spite of her love for him, was always
exacting, and often unreasonable. Her grievances,
real or imaginary, were endless, and the Duke, with
all the tremendous responsibilities of the war upon
him, had to soothe her complaints and to make
elaborate protestations of affection, which a more
reasonable woman would have taken for granted at
such a crisis. It is clear that Marlborough often
appealed to Godolphin to induce her to moderate
her moods. Sometimes he told the Duchess herself
that she would do well to consult that statesman on
questions which it was impossible for him to determine
amidst shot and shell. The marvel is that Marl
borough remained cool, collected, imperturbable,
habitually good-tempered and courteous, when his
plans wellnigh miscarried through the stupidity of
the Dutch Deputies in the camp, and the spleen of
the Duchess at the Court.
On both sides of the sea Marlborough was sore let
and hindered. He had to contend with jealousy and

1703] THE DUKE'S RETICENCE 135
interference abroad, and the woman who loved him,
and whom in turn he adored with chivalrous devotion,
did not spare him when her mood was ruffled by other
people. Yet he watched for her letters with the eager
ness of a lover, and declared that he would stay a
battle if a courier brought one of them, rather than
ride into action without tidings from home.
He recognized her great qualities, and not least her
unalterable devotion to himself, which never waned
nor even faltered. He knew her faults of tempera
ment, he had ample experience of her fits of temper,
but he was not blind to the deep underlying tender
ness which she seemed to reserve for himself alone.
He trusted her implicitly, and left all his private
affairs in her hands, not even interfering in the manage
ment of their children, except to act the part of
a peacemaker; but just because she was so open and
impulsive, and so little inclined to weigh her words,
he kept her out of all intimate matters relating to the
war. His letters from the front tell her in broad
outline about his military operations, when they had
taken shape, but never disclose his plans. It would
be difficult to find a single instance in which he con
sulted her in such directions, or even asked for her
opinion . The reason for such reticence was twofold —
the indiscretion of the Duchess, and the fear that his
letters in transit might pass, as sometimes happened,
into the hands of the enemy.
Godolphin knew more of his mind — far more of it,
in fact — than the most trusted officers at his side.
Yet even the statesman in whom he placed implicit
confidence was often left in the dark — for the clue
to the official cipher, though often changed, might
at the most critical moment be discovered by one or
other of the foreign spies, whom Marlborough feared
far more than his open foes. All through the War
of the Spanish Succession the Duke kept his own

136 A CONFLICT OF TEMPERAMENTS [Ch.VIH
counsel ; and when the officers next in command tried
to draw him he dismissed their diplomatic questions
with a non-committal smile or a good-natured shrug
of the shoulders. In nothing was Marlborough more
remarkable than in mastery of himself. AU the
complicated plans of his campaigns were held rigidly
in his own keeping. No man was acquainted with
his schemes until he issued his orders, or even knew
which way the troops were to marcji. The secret
of far-reaching military movements, which were not
concerned with the welfare of England alone, but with
that of Europe as well, was in the keeping only of that
cool, astute, consummate brain. Yet he never seemed
worried, never lost his temper, and was, as has been well
said, as calm and nonchalant at the cannon's mouth as
at the door of the Queen's drawing-room. The proof
of all this will incidentally appear as the story unfolds
itself, though it must be borne in mind this is not
primarily an account of Marlborough's campaigns,
but rather a study of the Duke's character and of that
of the great woman who, with all her faults, and in
spite of the cheap cynicism that has been levelled
at her indiscretions, was worthy to be his wife.
In 1702-03, the period which is now under review,
Marlborough's great victories were for the most part
unachieved. The battles which established his re
nown beyond all challenge — Blenheim, RamiUies,
Oudenarde, Malplaquet — were still unfought. But
he had accepted the dukedom in deference to the
Queen and the diplomatic reasons for so doing ad
vanced by Heinsius ; at the same time he made it
plain that he would have preferred to wait for so
great an honour until victory had crowned his arms
all along the line.
If the Tories were in power in the House of Commons,
the Whigs were in a preponderance in the House of
Lords. This spelt embarrassment, for the Whig peers

1703] ROBERT HARLEY 137
were jealous of Mariborough 's preferment; and as
they were intent on the Hanoverian succession, they
looked at him askance, and feared what direction he
might take in the event of Anne's death. But the
Whigs as a party were in favour of the war, whilst
the Tories at best were half-hearted in the matter.
They did not rehsh hostihties with France, even
though they had been driven to acquiesce in them;
and the more extreme amongst them, who were called
in the jargon of the day the High Fhers, stiU looked
to St. Germains, and pinned their faith to the young
Prince, whom Louis XIV. styled James III.
The most notable men in the House of Commons
on the Tory side were Robert Harley — who had the
post of Speaker from 1701 to 1705 — and Henry
St. John. They both afterwards rose to the peerage
— Hariey as Earl of Oxford, and St. John as Viscount
Bolingbroke. Both at the outset of their career were
indebted to Marlborough, who was quick to recognize
their ability and to advance their prospects. Their
characteristics wiU appear in due course. The one
was an astute, scheming man of business, destitute
of fine scruples ; the other was a versatile and accom
phshed man of genius, ambitious and unprincipled.
They paid great court to the Duchess, and were effu
sive in their compliments to Marlborough, though in
the end, notwithstanding all that he had done for
them, they both turned against him, and proved his
implacable foes. At this stage of their career they
were close friends, but later on they quarrelled, and
Bolingbroke had more to do with Harley's dismissal
in 1 714 than any other statesman.
It is curious to recall how families were divided by
political faction in the reign of Anne. It is not neces
sary to go farther than the Churchills for a case in
point. Marlborough was a Tory — with limitations
and misgivings; the Duchess was to all intents a

138 A CONFLICT OF TEMPERAMENTS [Ch.VIH
Whig. The Duke himself was eventually drawn to
that party. His brother. Admiral Churchill, was an
uncompromising and singularly indiscreet Tory; his
son-in-law. Lord Sunderland, was an equally indis
creet and uncompromising Whig; whilst Lady Tyr
connel, sister of the Duchess, was a Jacobite open
and unabashed, often in residence at the exiled Court,
and always in correspondence with it. All this did
not ease the Duke's position, especially in the years
when he was abroad fighting his battles; for one
member of the family or another was continually
getting into hot water — a proceeding which was
assuredly not to his advantage.
The Duchess meanwhile, installed in unique su
premacy at Court, held undivided sway over the
Queen. Men called her Viceroy Sarah, and not
without reason. She was constantly at Anne's side
— more constantly, in truth, than she cared. The
Queen never seemed happy if she were out of her
sight, whether at Windsor, Kensington, or St. James's,
and Anne's powers of talk — she was never a brilliant
conversationalist — ^were soon exhausted. She was
content with the latest gossip and interminable games
of cards. Sometimes the Queen would relapse into
long silence, and when that mood was on her not
even ombre or whist had any attractions. Mrs.
Morley listened uneasily when Mrs. Freeman extolled
the virtues of the Whigs. Mrs. Freeman tried to
conceal her apathy by a languid show of interest
when Mrs. Morley expressed the fear that the Church
was in danger. Even in matters of State, Queen
Anne's mind moved slowly; she often betrayed a
curious inability to arrive at a decision. She would
hesitate and postpone when the business in hand was
of a kind to brook no delay. The Duchess, always
impetuous and outspoken, sometimes cut further
controversy short by exclaiming, " Lord, madame !

1703] THE QUEEN AND HER COURT 139
it must be so;"^ and the Queen would abandon her
scruples. Her Court was filled with people of rank in whom
she placed httle confidence, in spite of their cere
monial bows and expressions of homage. The mem
bers of her own household, in confidential asides to
Mrs. Freeman, were sometimes the subject of sharp
criticism by the Queen. The Duke of Somerset was
Master of the Horse, and it was in allusion to some
thing which he had done that had ruffled her that
Anne made the following reflection :
It is very troublesome to have anything to doe
with these great men, but one must have patience,
which is the only remedy for everything. The un
reasonableness, impertinance, and brutality that one
sees in all sorts of people every day makes me more
sensible of the great blessing God Almighty has given
me in three such friends as your dear selfe, Mr. Free
man, and Mr. Montgomery (Lord Godolphin) — a
happiness I believe nobody in my sphere ever enjoyed
before, and which I will always value as I ought, but
never can express the true sense I have of it, though
to my last moment I shall make it my endeavour.
The Prince and your humble servant desire you would
give our service to the Duke of Marlborough."^
The Duchess all her life had a passion for maxims
and aphorisms, especially if they represented the
wisdom of antiquity, and she had the trick of enforcing
her arguments by appeals to such writers. Some
times her reading — it was never either wide or deep —
drew a mild rebuke from the Queen :
" I hope when you have some spare minutes to
looke on Seneca, you will bestow some of them when
writing to your faithful Mrs. Morley though there be
no news for a word from my dear Mrs. Freeman and
an account of her concerns is more welcome to me
than all the world can afford besides."^
1 Blenheim Papers. ^ Ibid. ' Ibid.

I40 A CONFLICT OF TEMPERAMENTS [Ch. vill
The Duchess admitted that her temper and notions
differed in many respects from those of the Queen.
She added that Her Majesty,
" far from being displeased with me from openly
speaking my sentiments, sometimes expressed a de
sire and even added a command that I should con
tinue to do so, promising never to be offended but
to love me all the better for my frankness." ^
Such a protestation was all very well when the
wind was in the south, but when it shifted it was for
gotten, and a meaning was read into the most chance
expressions of the Duchess that was never intended.
Queen Anne, though an indulgent, was a jealous
mistress. In the old days, Mrs. Freeman, not yet en
nobled, had waited upon her, so to speak, hand and
foot, in a manner that could hardly be expected from
a Duchess and the wife of the greatest man in the
realm. Mrs. Freeman wanted a little more liberty.
Her horizon was not bounded by the four walls of the
Queen's closet, and she had many friends of whom
Anne knew nothing, and some were not of a rank to
make them welcome at Court . She loved to go abroad
on her own account, and not always in attendance.
Her daughters made claims upon her, and her house
and gardens at St. Albans had attractions to a woman
who, with all her social gifts, liked occasionally to
follow her own tastes in retirement. But Mrs.
Morley proved exacting, and had not sufficient
imagination to realize such demands or aspirations.
If Mrs. Freeman took the air, and made a call which
detained her till the curtains were drawn and the wax
candles hghted, Mrs. Morley felt hurt.
Prince George was heavy company. He was a sort
of suppressed personage of exalted rank, and he must
often have wished himself back at Copenhagen. His
ambitions had been foiled in his wife's reign, as well
' Blenheim Papers.

1703] RISE OF ABIGAIL HILL 141
as in that of his father-in-law, and his health was
depressed. He was a gourmet, with a fondness for
high play as well as dainty dishes, and he lost heavily
at cards. Mrs. Freeman always declared that the
Prince treated both the Duke and herself with con
sideration, but she could not forbear smiling at his
odd habits : '' The Prince used to employ himself
agreeably all day either in standing upon a stairhead
or looking out of a window, making malicious remarks
on the passers-by." Anne, she adds, used to " grow
uneasy at the figure His Highness cut in that princely
amusement." ^
Mrs. Morley, even when taciturn and moody, dis
liked solitude, and, what is more, was partial to the
company of no one except Mrs. Freeman. That way
came the possibility of misunderstanding — Mrs. Free
man's desire to go her own way occasionally, and Mrs.
Morley's desire to have her always at her side. It
gave an opportunity which a third person took ad
vantage of — Abigail Hill, a sly and demure Woman-
in- Waiting, whom Mrs. Freeman deemed of no account,
but whom she had introduced into the Queen's house
hold, and of whom she afterwards said: " I took her
from a broom." ^
* Blenheim Papers. ^ Ibid.

CHAPTER IX
MISTRESS ABIGAIL HILL
Abigail Hill, whom the Duchess of Marlborough
" took from a broom," would never have been heard
of but for such good fortune. Her childhood was
spent in obscurity and poverty. She was the daughter
of a London merchant who had made shipwreck of
his affairs. He was powerless to provide for his chil
dren, who were growing up neglected in a home that
was not merely shadowed, but imperilled by financial
reverses. Abigail Hill and her sister Mary, penniless
girls of narrow understanding and slight education,
possessed neither beauty nor wit — nor, indeed, any
thing else which was likely to shield them from sinking
into the dull ranks of hopeless penury.
The whole family was in desperate straits when
Lady Marlborough, in the reign of William, heard of
their miserable plight. Up to that time she had not
been aware of the existence of the Hills, much less
that they could urge the claim of relationship. One
day she was told that she had an aunt in the city who
had married an Anabaptist named Francis Hill, a
merchant, unsuccessful in business, who had become
bankrupt. The HiUs were old, they were in actual
want, their sons were in rags, and their daughters
had no prospects beyond domestic service. Her
sympathies were quickly awakened; she sent for
Mrs. Hill and gave her money. Shortly afterwards
the friendless children were thrown on the world
by the death of both parents. 142

1704] ABIGAIL HILL'S FAMILY 143
Lady Marlborough was determined to give them a
start in life. Whatever faults may be laid to her
charge, it can never be said that she was callous in
the presence of distress. Quick sympathy marked
all stages of her career in such matters, whether
her method of dispensing her bounty was con
siderate or autocratic. As soon as she heard, there
fore, of the forlorn position of her young cousins,
being a practical woman, she was not content with a
mere dole, but took steps to put them in the way
of earning an honest livelihood. The eldest boy was
old enough to be placed out at once, so she persuaded
Lord Godolphin to give him a small appointment in
the Customs; and when financial security for the lad's
conduct was required, she arranged the matter. The
other brother. Jack Hill, was a little fellow whom she
clothed and sent to school at St. Albans. When he
grew old enough, she found him a place as page in
the household of Prince George, which gave her the
opportunity of watching his conduct. Her kindness
to the youth did not end there ; for when Lord Marl
borough became Governor of the young Duke of
Gloucester, she never rested until she persuaded her
husband to appoint Jack Hill to the post of Groom
of the Bedchamber. He afterwards entered the
army. Here it is possible to cite her own words :
" Though my Lord Marlborough always said that
Jack HUl was good for nothing, yet to oblige me he
made him his aide-de-camp and afterwards gave him
a regiment." ^
Gratitude is the most short-lived of aU the virtues,
and the Duchess, chilled in old age by its absence,
may be left to end the story :
" When Mr. Harley thought it useful to attack the
Duke of Marlborough in Pariiament (in 171 2), this
1 " Account of the Conduct of the Dowager-Duchess of
Marlborough," p. 180.

144 ABIGAIL HILL [Ch. IX
honest Jack HUl, this once ragged boy whom I
clothed, happened to be sick in bed, but was neverthe
less persuaded by his sister (Mrs. Masham) to get up
. . . and go to the House and vote against the
Duke."i The girls of the family were even more helpless
than their brothers, but Lady Marlborough proved
equal to a fourfold appeal for compassion. A place
was found for Mary Hill in the Duke of Gloucester's
household, and when the young Prince died she re
tired with an adequate pension. The other sister,
Abigail, a frightened-looking, dejected girl, duU, taci
turn, and of a foreboding temper, she took from sheer
pity under her own roof at St. Albans. At length,
in 1704, when her fortunes were at their height and
her ascendancy at Court unbounded, she prevailed on
Queen Anne to accept the servibes of her young kins
woman as one of the Women of the Bedchamber. It
was thus directly through the influence of the Duchess,
when Mistress of the Robes, that Abigail Hill, though
in a subordinate capacity, entered the Household.
At first all went well. Abigail was apparently
passionately devoted to the Duchess. She was meek,
demure, deferential almost to the point of servility —
the sort of person whose whole bearing suggests an
unspoken apology for existence. But no change of
fortune could dispel her melancholy. She was hope
lessly depressed, and seemed quite out of place at
Court. She was, in truth, the kind of woman whose
presence in a drawing-room might have occasioned
lifted eyebrows if good breeding did not preclude any
sign of surprise. Stress has been laid on her ante
cedents because they show conclusively that she
would never have emerged from obscurity if she had
not been the kinswoman of the Duchess of Marl-
1 "Account of the Conduct of the Dowager - Duchess of
Marlborough," p. 181.

1703] THE DUCHESS AND THE HILLS 145
borough. At no other Court in the world would such
a woman have had the least chance of grasping power
and place except at the Court of St. James's, and then
only whilst Anne was Queen.
The Duchess of Marlborough was haughty, im
perious, and of a jealous temperament ; she kept other
ladies of rank on a more or less distant footing with
the Queen. This was all very well so long as her own
influence was paramount, but when it began to de
cline — Anne was human, curiously dependent and
lonely — it paved the way for Abigail Hill, who was
always within call. She was apparently the soul of
discretion, and gradually won the Queen's confidence.
Meanwhile the Duchess, who seldom did anything by
halves, never dreaming that such a creature could be
other than she seemed, took pity on her solitude at
Court, and extended attentions to her which softened
her lot and drew from her renewed protestations of
gratitude. The Duchess even took her cousin abroad
when she went to entertainments. Abigail was so
docile, so helpless, such a model of all the submissive
virtues, that the Duchess was completely off her
guard, and treated her with the indulgence which a
strong, self-rehant nature so often displays to the
weak. It is significant that the first warning she
received about Abigail Hill came from no less a person
than the Queen. It was the fashion in those days,
especially when great ladies dipped their quills in ink,
merely to place the day of the week at the head of
them — ^Tuesday, Thursday, or Sunday, as the case
might be. They were careless about the day of the
month, much less the particular year in which they
wrote. Queen Anne and the Duchess, in the ordinary
freedom of brisk correspondence, were not exceptions
to this rule, though both of them on occasion could be
punctihous in such directions.
Soon after Abigail Hill's introduction to Court, the
10

146 ABIGAIL HILL [Ch.IX
Queen, having observed the attentions which the
Duchess was bestowing upon her, took the oppor
tunity to write in the following strain when her
favourite lady was just returning from a flying visit
to her children at St. Albans :
" Dear Mrs. Freeman hates writing so much I fear,
though she should stay away two or three days, she
would hardly let me hear from her, and therefore for
my own sake I must write to get a line or two. I
fancy now you are in town you will be tempted to see
the Opera, which I should not wonder at, for I should
be so too, if I were able to stir, but when that will be
God knows, for my feavor is not quite gone, and
I am still so lame I cannot go without limping. I
hope Mrs. Freeman has no thoughts of going to the
Opera with Mrs. Hill, and will have a care of engaging
herself too much in her company, for if you give way
to that it is a thing that will insensibly grow upon
you. Therefore give me leave once more to beg for
your own sake, as well as poor Mrs. Morley's, that
you would have as little to do with that enchantress
as 'tis possible, and pray pardon me for saying this."-^
There is a touch of jealousy in the letter. Mrs.
Morley was beginning to be a martyr to gout, and what
she resented was, not that Mrs. Freeman should show
herself at the play, but that she go there in the com
pany of so obscure a person as Abigail Hill. Possibly
Mrs. Morley thought that the " shuffling httle wretch,"
as other people were beginning to call this particular
Woman-in- Waiting, was not merely being lifted out
of her place in the palace and in the public eye, but
also was coming between herself and Mrs. Freeman.
The term " enchantress " is significant. It shows
that the Queen recognized in the smooth-tongued,
demure woman, who dropped her eyes and ran to
open doors, certain wheedling propensities which
made confidences dangerous. The Duchess, on the
contrary, always open as the day — too often a cloudy
* Blenheim Papers.

1703] ABIGAIL HILL AT COURT 147
and stormy day, perhaps — smiled at such fears.
Abigail Hill was never an enchantress to her. She
did not dream that a woman whom she had befriended
from childhood was other than the soul of devotion
that she professed to be. It seemed absurd to take
her seriously, in view of her humble antecedents, her
dependent position, her mean capacity, though it
pleased her to treat her with kindness. No harm
could possibly come of giving a poor waiting-woman
a little pleasure, and so Mrs. Morley's warning was
impulsively dismissed as quite needless.
Both Mrs. Morley and Mrs. Freeman were just then
in the dark as to Abigail Hill's real character, though
the former showed herself more shrewd in its inter
pretation; and this was probably due to Prince
George, who more than shared Mrs. Morley's surprise
that Mrs. Freeman should make so much of the poor
creature. What is clear at the moment — for to pursue
the story farther at this stage would be to ignore other
factors in the problem — is that Mrs. Morley, soon
after the introduction of Abigail Hill to her presence,
came to the conclusion that Mrs. Freeman was ill-
advised to make so much of her kinswoman, and so
wrote her well-intentioned warning against the " en
chantress " to whose wiles she herself afterwards suc
cumbed. It is also not less clear that Mrs. Freeman
treated the matter with amused disdain, and had not
the least suspicion that there was some reason why
she should not in her own careless, impulsive fashion
continue to treat her cousin with a certain degree of
famiUarity. But whilst Abigail HiU was still in this
subordinate position, and as much at the beck and
call of Mrs. Freeman as Mrs. Morley, other influences
were coming into play.
The first hint of the cloud of misunderstanding
which too soon darkened the skies occurs in a letter
from the Duke. It was written from abroad imme-

148 ABIGAIL HILL [Ch. ix
diately before his journey to Vienna, and bears date
the 2 2nd of September, 1 70 5 . The Duchess apparently
had written to him in querulous mood. She had
dropped a hint that Abigail HUl was not quite what
she had supposed. He dismisses the matter briefly,
and counsels patience:
" You must think as httle as you can of it, for a
Court can never be without envy or malice, and
everybody in this world must have troubles, but you
and I ought not to repine."-^
The Duchess seems to have followed his advice, as
well she might, for at this time she had nothing to
ruffle her. The alienation which ultimately took
place between the Queen and the Duchess was already
in process before Abigail Hill was anything more than
an insignificant Woman-in- Waiting. She would have
been powerless if political controversy had not risen
between them. Even then she would not have gained
the Queen's ear, if the Duchess, nettled at what she
regarded as Anne's obstinacy, had not absented her
self for long periods from the Court. Lady Sunder
land warned her mother that in doing so she was
making a mistake, and that the town drew its own
conclusions. The Duke always held that the Queen
was at the mercy of her immediate surroundings, and
Lord Godolphin was of the same opinion. But the
Duchess threw such considerations to the wind, and,
when she had what she called " the spleen," insisted
on taking her own way in defiance of prudence.
Between the years 1705 and 1707 sharp differences
of opinion sprang up between the Queen and the
Duchess, which had nothing whatever to do with
Abigail, whom both regarded at this time as a mere
puppet. The rock of offence was Religion. The
stone of stumbhng was Politics., They were drifting,
Blenheim Papers.

1703] THE RIFT WITHIN THE LUTE 149
from lack of sympathy, into misunderstanding; but
they would never have come to the point of an open
quarrel if Mrs. Morley had possessed humour or Mrs.
Freeman discretion. Queen Anne, on the Duchess's
own showing, was neither a fool nor a hypocrite. Her
mind moved slowly, and was not alert, and she had
an instinctive distrust of new ideas. Her interest in
the great literary movement of her reign was languid ;
nor did art make much appeal to her. But the
Duchess admits that the Queen was " rehgious with
out any affectation, and certainly meant to do every
thing that was just." She was a stickler for eti
quette, laid great stress on ceremonies, and, like all
people of narrow mental outlook, attached too much
importance to trifles. She did not live in the realm
of ideas, but took short views, and was at the mercy
of whatever facts possessed her mind at the moment.
Tenacious of her own opinions, she was apt to grow
sullen and obstinate when they were controverted,
and took refuge in silence when confronted by logic
which she was powerless to refute. She was a good
wife and mother, frugal but not parsimonious in
private expenditure; generous, and even lavish, in
public benefactions and rewards. She gave her sub
jects an example of dignified simplicity in high places,
and, though naturally of an indolent temperament,
cannot be accused of any dereliction in public duty.
Her chief weakness was fondness for the pleasures of
the table, both in meat and drink — indulgences which
brought on the malady which shortened her days.
The Queen's outlook on life was controlled by two
fixed ideas, as already indicated. One was that the Tories
were the bulwark of the Crown; the other, that the
Church of England was not merely the only security
for religion and morality, but for law and order in
the realm. The Tories maintained the Divine right of
Kings, and Queen Anne was a Stuart. It is true that

I50 ABIGAIL HILL [Ch. ix
they had accepted the Revolution of 1688, but they
were not reconciled to it; and when James II. by
his own folly went into exile, they still boasted their
loyalty to the " King over the water." The reign of
WUliam III. strained their allegiance to the Revolu
tion Settlement, and it was with relief that they wel
comed the accession of Anne as a daughter of the
House of Stuart. That was the attitude taken up
by the majority of the Tories in the new reign, but
a powerful minority, styled zealous Jacobites, and
perfervid Roman Catholics, were secretly plotting
for the Queen's half-brother, whom they already
styled James III. This movement, which ran like
a stream underground as long as Anne lived, broke
forth after her death, in the Jacobite risings of 171 5
and 1745. Meanwhile the Tories, broadly speaking,
put the authority of the Crown before everything
else; whilst the Whigs laid stress on the privileges of
Parliament secured at the Revolution. They believed
that the Crown is above all parties.
High Tories, like Rochester and Nottingham, were
confirmed in office when Anne came to the throne;
but when they could not work amicably with moderate
Tories like Godolphin and Marlborough, their places
were filled by Harley and St. John, both of whom
owed their preferment to the Duke, who saw their
merit and trusted their discretion. Constitutional
theories as to the authority of the Crown apart, the
Tories appealed to the Queen because they were the
Church party. They stood for its defence against
Romanists on the one hand, and Nonconformists on
the other. They repudiated the authority of the
Vatican. They resented the pretensions of Geneva.
They were prepared to defend at aU hazards the Prot
estant cause, which in the country had its centre in
Canterbury, and in the capital at Lambeth. The
Queen was sincerely attached to the rites and doc-

1703] ATTITUDE OF THE TORIES 151
trines of the Established Church, in which she had
been brought up. She dehghted in the society of
courtly Bishops and Deans, and Dr. Sharp, Arch
bishop of York, a high-principled prelate, was in
reality, though not of course in name, keeper of Her
Majesty's conscience. Anne called Dr. Sharp her
" father confessor."
The Duchess, like Marlborough, began life, as
has already been shown, with Tory proclivities,
though she professed little interest in party cries.
Great matters of State were, in her early married
life, she declared, a matter of indifference to
her. But her attitude changed in the reign of
William, and as long as it lasted, partly because of
her mortal antipathy to the King, she was a Tory,
though with misgivings. The marriage of her
daughter. Lady Anne, to Charles Spencer in 1700 — a
match which was brought about by Lord Godolphin,
and to which the Duke at first was strongly opposed —
drew her into association with the Whigs. The
Duke's scruples in regard to the marriage were only
banished when the Earl of Sunderland assured him
that his son would be " governed in everything pubhc
and private by him."
Charles Spencer had sat for five years in the House
of Commons, where he was recognized as one of the
most pronounced and ambitious of the Whigs. He
made a parade of Repubhcanism, declared that he
would refuse the title of Lord, and hoped to see the
day when there would not be a peer in England. But
in the year in which he married Lady Anne he dropped
these ridiculous assertions, and before twelve months ;
were out succeeded his father as third Earl of Sunder
land. One of his first acts as a peer was to vote
against the annuity to Prince George of Denmark — a
step which greatly incensed the Duchess. But he
had a wheedling manner and lively wit, audacity of

152 ABIGAIL HILL [Ch.IX
speech, and a handsome face, and quite early in the
new reign the Mistress of the Robes took him back
into favour. Lord Sunderland's gay banter, con
tempt for authority, and unconventional manners,
attracted the Duchess, and gradually she was drawn
to the Whigs, partly by her own temperament, but not
a little by her lively son-in-law's oracular deliverances.
That way came a sharp division of opinion between
the Sovereign and herself. The Queen thought
Sunderland feather-brained and dangerous, and did
not forget that he had cast his vote against Prince
George. There were wrangles in the royal closet,
in consequence, over the Occasional Conformity Bill,
a harsh enactment against Dissenters, which the
Tories supported and the Whigs as stoutly opposed.
There were wrangles, also, concerning the cry which
was rising in the country, " The Church is in danger "
— a subject which moved the Queen's fears, though
the Duchess openly derided it. The latter declared
that Her Majesty was ignorant of everything but
what the parsons had taught her; and since Her
Grace had a knack — to borrow her own words — of
" tumbhng out aU that was in her mind," the poor
Queen, who could not argue, but could be obdurate,
was in an evil case.
If the Duchess cared little for politics in early life,
she cared next to nothing for rehgion, except as a
sort of vigilant society for keeping the lower classes
in order. She had fashioned a rough creed of her
own, not very deep, assuredly not soaring, but one
which satisfied her and to which she was loyal. She
was a hard woman of the worid, who thought for
herself and was contemptuous of authority. She
would have defended with her last breath the claims
of Seneca against those of the most saintly Christian
apologist. She believed in morality, she held fast by
duty, and, for the rest, she had no patience with enthu-

1703] THE QUEEN AND THE DUCHESS 153
siasm, and was not enamoured of self-sacrifice. Pride
ruled her will; and if her virtues were heroic, they
could scarcely be called Christian. She, in common
with Anne, was not averse to the society of the
clergy, but only on terms of perfect equahty. The
Queen took her spiritual directions, and was done
with doubt; it was a case of unconditional surrender.
The Duchess, on the contrary, drew only to the com
pany of men like Bishop Burnet, Dr. Benjamin
Hoadley, and Dr. Samuel Clarke, who were not
righteous overmuch, and were assuredly not inclined
to gird at a fair rationalist in high places. These
three accomplished scholars stood themselves on the
verge of heresy, and therefore were not disconcerted
by the most startling harangues on religion. But it
was otherwise with the Queen, who felt, when the
Duchess, in her more unguarded moods, rattled on
such high themes, as if the ground were slipping from
underneath her feet.

CHAPTER X
MARLBOROUGH'S CROWDED YEARS
In the early years of the reign, when the ascendancy
of the Duchess at Court was unbounded and no cloud
had as yet arisen between Mrs. Morley and Mrs.
Freeman, the Duke of Marlborough, in supreme com
mand abroad, was covering himself with glory in
battles which rank with the greatest military achieve
ments of the world.
Whatever view may be held of Marlborough as a
statesman, no conflict of opinion is possible concern
ing his claims as a soldier. His consummate handling
of men in the protracted and arduous War of the
Spanish Succession is the best commentary on his
military genius. The obstacles which confronted
him, not at one stage of the war, but from first to
last, were enough to daunt any but a born leader of
men. Marlborough had to reckon with the jealousy
and strife of faction in England, the suUenness and
stupidity of foreign Princes in the field, and the mis
chievous and ignorant interference of the Dutch
Deputies, who, to his annoyance, accompanied him
to the theatre of war. He had also to measure swords
with the most illustrious Marshals of France, who
stood at the head of troops which, in all the wars of
Louis XIV., had never been defeated. The majority
of the English soldiers under his command were raw
and ill-disciplined. His army had been recruited
almost at haphazard; it contained numbers of men
who had been released from gaol on condition that
154

1703] MARLBOROUGH AS A SOLDIER 155
they enUsted. It is true that the soldiers whom the
Allies of England provided were less open to suspicion
on the score of character; but they were more sluggish,
and, at the outset, not alert at the word of com
mand. Yet out of such unpromising material Marl
borough, by his patience, his tact, his consideration,
and the magic of his personality, created an army
which, so long as he was in command, was invincible.
When the war began, half the parishes in England
were relieved of the presence of men guilty of crime
or hovering on the verge of it; when it ended, wise
discipline had turned the veterans who came back
into manly and law-abiding citizens. Many victories
stand to the credit of Mariborough, but perhaps none
of them was more remarkable than the transformation
of his lawless troops into brave soldiers and heroes
of the rank and file. His secret lay in his implicit
confidence in his men — a confidence which was re
warded in the strain of battle by a devotion which
never faltered. It is easy to seize on the weak aspects
of a great reputation. Historians and moralists have
often laid stress on the foibles of Marlborough ; but it
stands to his credit that he never needlessly threw
the life of a single trooper away, and no soldier
worthy to carry a sword has ever felt other than
shame in the presence of his detractors. His military
genius, by common consent, has given him the fore
most place in the splendid succession of men in
supreme command who have upheld the lofty tradi
tions of the British army and done battle in defence
of the Crown. Prince Eugene in his own days, the
Duke of Wellington a century later, and Lord Roberts
in our own time, are representatives of this consensus
of competent opinion. It was the last-named who said
that Marlborough's superb military genius was linked
to an almost unparalleled evenness of temper, and a
regard for his troops which earned for him a devotion

156 MARLBOROUGH'S CROWDED YEARS [Ch.x
scarcely less than that which the Tenth Legion felt
for Caesar or the Old Guard for Napoleon.^
Again and again Marlborough was confronted by
circumstances so untoward that victory seemed well
nigh impossible. Yet he never besieged a city which
he did not capture, or forced a battle in which he was
not victorious. It is easy to say that genius, when
it rises to such heights, breaks all barriers down and
is irresistible. But even Marlborough could not have
snatched success in some of his perilous hazards if he
had not been able to summon at will the finest
qualities of his men, and to infuse them with his own
chivalry. The most critical schemes in war will mis
carry if loyalty to the leader is not unflinching, or if
the word of command, though it may lead to certain
death, is not implicitly obeyed. This was in part
the secret of Marlborough's power — the absolute trust
which he inspired through all ranks of the army.
In the years 1703-07, when the authority of the
Duchess was still unchallenged at the Court of Queen
Anne, Marlborough was constantly abroad fighting
against the arms of France. Two great victories fell
to him within that period, and both of them rank
among the decisive battles of the world. Their names
are inscribed in the annals of famous regiments, proud
to carry aloft to-day the banners which bear the
magic words " Blenheim " and " RamiUies."
It is aside from the purpose of these pages to re
count the story with minuteness — thrilling and dra
matic though it be — of Marlborough's campaigns.
This book is primarily concerned, not with the warfare
he accomplished, but with the woman he worshipped;
and yet, in broad outline, it is impossible to ignore
his achievements on the arduous march and in the
tumult of battle, since she was ever in his thought,
^ Introduction to " From Cromwell to Wellington — Twelve
Soldiers." Essays edited by Professor H. Spenser Wilkinson.

1703] THE CAMPAIGN OF 1703 157
and the letters which he sent her would be uninteUi
gible without at least some account of the stir and
strain under which they were written. It is therefore
scarcely necessary to trace the complicated and far-
reaching operations of the War of the Spanish Suc
cession in the years under review, since it is with
Marlborough in the personal sense that this chapter
is concerned. The successes which marked the open
ing campaign of 1702 have been already described,
and there is no need to linger over that which followed
in 1703, since the bold plans which Marlborough
had formed for the conduct of the war for the most
part miscarried during his second campaign, owing to
the inefficiency, and at times insubordination, of the
Dutch generals, and the meddlesome interference of
the Field Deputies, who were still allowed to accom
pany him to the front. Athlone and Saarbruck, both
of whom, though testy and opinionated, were capable
soldiers, had by this time died ; and the command of
the Dutch had passed to Overkirk, Slangenberg, and
Opdam — officers bound by old traditions, and desti
tute of the skill either to cope with the sudden emer
gencies of war, or to forecast the movements in the
field of the foremost Marshals of France, whom Louis
in alarm had placed in command.
If Marlborough had been properly supported by
the Allies in the campaign of 1703, he could have
brought the war even then within sight of the end.
On two occasions in 1 703 the French seemed to have
delivered themselves into his hands, but through the
hesitation or blunders of the Dutch his projects mis
carried at the critical moment. The siege of isolated
fortresses or towns was not at all to his mind ; he was
eager to deliever a crushing blow in a pitched battle.
But the Dutch commanders did not like to risk a
pitched battle, and even when Marlborough threw his
army with incredible celerity across Boufflers' line of

158 MARLBOROUGH'S CROWDED YEARS [Ch.x
retreat to the Demer, and a great victory was morally
certain, the Field Deputies interposed, and dechned
to allow him to give battle.
His letters to the Duchess, written in hot haste
during the progress of the campaign of 1703, reveal
his swiftly changing moods. His troubles are made
plain by a letter from The Hague. He writes
(January 21):
" All things in Germany go as wrong as possible,
and the people here grow every day more and more in
want of money, for which almost everything that
should be done stands still, and the consequence of
which must be fatal if we should not have good success
this campaign."^
A few days later (February i) he writes again,
declaring that the disputes in the English Parliament
" have a very ill effect here." Matters in Germany
were at the moment at a standstill.
" My only hope is that we have a just cause, and
that God Almighty will enable us some way or other
to secure the liberties of Europe."^
Three days later he speaks of having " no quiet,"
and declares that he is " extremely out of heart " at
what he calls the ill prospect of the war :
" In all the other campaigns, I had an opinion of
being able to do something for the good of the common
cause, but in this I have no other hopes but that some
lucky accident may enable me to do good."^
In a letter from Cologne on the loth of April he
writes :
" I have had the spleen very much since I came to
this place, but I hope I shall be easier when we have
everything ready for the attack on Bonn. There is
nothing I would not venture to be one hour with you.
I fancy that would cure me of all my uneasiness, for
1 Blenheim Papers. " Ibid. =" Ibid.

1703] THE DUKE AT BONN 159
believe me, my dear soul, nothing makes me bear
being in the world but my gratitude to the Queen,
and the hope of having it in my power, in a little
time, to live happily with you."^
Ten days later he writes again from the camp before
Bonn: If you had not positively desired that I should
always burn your letters, I should have been very
glad to have kept your letter of the ninth ; it was so
very kind, and particularly on the subject of our living
quietly together, till which happy times comes I am
sure I cannot be contented. I wish I could recall
twenty years past, (and) I do assure you for no other
reason that I might have longer time and be the better
able to convince you how truly sensible I am at this
time of your kindness, which is the only real comfort
of my life."
Then the sense of duty asserts itself, and so he adds :
" I ought in the first place as long as I am in the
world to consider the Queen's service, and next not
to give occasion to my enemies to find fault. "^
In a letter written three days later, he makes it
plain that the artillery which had delayed the siege
had at last arrived. He tells the Duchess that he
thinks that in three weeks he will be the master of
Bonn. He describes his quarters, which were on the
summit of a wooded hill overlooking the town, and
he adds that, as he rests on his bed in his tent, he
listens in the darkness to the nightingales, and, re
membering that the Duchess loves the thrilling song
of those birds, wishes that he could send them to her.
The spleen apart, it is clear that the Duke, harassed
with anxiety, was far from well. He complains of
the gout and " excessive headaches."
When Bonn capitulated, on the 15th of May, the
Duke did not let the grass grow under his feet. He
1 Blenheim Papers. ^ Ibid.

i6o MARLBOROUGH'S CROWDED YEARS [Ch.x
marched at once to join the army on the Meuse, for
he StiU hoped to induce the Dutch to advance on
Antwerp. He speaks of being in the saddle from
midnight till four o'clock the next afternoon, and,
after a short rest, marching again the same day. His
next letter was from the camp of Thys, the 20th of
May, and it is so quaint that it must be given as it
stands :
" The only thing I bought from Bon was a bord
that whistled very finely — it was the Elector's bord
and I intended it for Mis Mary. My Lord Albemarle
coming into my tent after I was a bed last night, his
dog killed it, soe that I have nothing now but to lett
Lady Mary know my good intentions, and that my
Lord Albemarle says that he wiU give mee another
bord for it, which she shal have. Our march yester
day brought me soe near to the ffrench, that if it had
not been for a little brooke it wou'd have been a
very uneasy day."^
The Duchess had told him that the Queen was in a
despondent mood. He says, in reply, that if Her
Majesty has a retum of the vapours he would suggest
that the Court should go to Bath. He envies the
Duchess when she tells him that she has no news,
and no concern but that of furnishing Windsor Lodge.
He was receiving disconcerting tidings at the time,
and the whole burden of the war was on his shoulders.
She had reported that there was political unrest in
England. The Duke's comment was that there is
nothing more certain than that both Whigs and
Tories would be tyrants if they were let alone. In a
letter from the camp at Thys, which bears date the
2 7th of May, the Duke says :
' ' I think you are very happy in having Lady Mary
with you. I should esteem myself so if she could
sometimes be an hour with me. The greatest ease
I now have is sometimes sitting for an hour in my
^ Blenheim Papers.

I703] AT VORSELAUR i6i
chair alone and thinking of the happiness I may yet
have of living quietly with you, which, upon my soul,
is the greatest that I propose to myself in this world.
I find by my Lord Treasurer's last letter that if we
should succeed here in some things which we take to
be very great (the design on Antwerp) it would not
be thought so in England. As for myself, I am not
much concerned, having no ambition but that of
living with you, and whilst I am in the world en
deavouring to lessen the power of France, which is the
best return I can make to the Queen for all her good
ness. If I am satisfied that the methods taken here
are the best to attain that end, I shall not much value
popularity."^ A few days later, when the army halted again, on
the 7th of June, he asks the Duchess to send him a
portrait of the Queen by Sir Godfrey Kneller :
" It is for the Princess Sophia, I mean the Elec
tress of Hanover, who has desired my Lord Raby to
let me know that she would take it very kindly if I
would send her a picture of the Queen. "^
He had just sent the Duchess some fine horses for
her carriage, but had forgotten to tell her that they
had not been shod. He wants her to attend to this
as soon as they arrive, or else the hard Enghsh roads
will spoil their feet :
" They are reckoned the best sort of horses for
service, so if they are weU used they will last a long
while, and I beheve you will think them very hand
some."^ He tells the Duchess, in two letters written from
the camp at Vorselaur early in July, that, whilst he
would naturally like to possess the esteem of his
countrymen, he will not feel much concerned if they
accuse him unjustly. He states that he is determined
to do nothing but what he thinks is for the good of
the army. England, he declares, has so many un
reasonable people that he wants to stand aloof from
1 Blenheim Papers. ^ Ibid. = Ibid.

1 62 MARLBOROUGH'S CROWDED YEARS [Ch.x
political faction. He is not inclined to be mixed up
with the politics of either party, and adds that he
will be in no way surprised if, in consequence of such
an attitude, he finds himself ill used. He cannot
comment on much that the Duchess had told him,
because he has not the cipher, and " all the truths
are not to be spoken." He warns her to be guarded
in her letters, since if they fell into other hands they
would " create you a great many enemies."^
Nottingham, though Secretary of State, was op
posed to the war. He stood high in the favour of the
Queen, and did his best to undermine the authority
of Godolphin, whom he hoped to supplant. It
seemed in the summer of 1703 that the Ministry
might at any moment fall to pieces, and Godolphin,
harassed by intrigues in his own Cabinet, did not
spare the Duke, who had difficulties enough in the
field, the story of his political misfortunes. AU the
associations of Marlborough had hitherto been with
the Tories, but when Nottingham, Rochester, and
Mr. Secretary Hedges, seemed bent on the overthrow
of the Coalition Government under Godolphin, he
grew impatient, especially when he heard that a cry
was rising in the land that he was prolonging the
war for his own advantage. The Whigs, moreover,
were beginning to pay him court, knowing full well
that the Duchess was rapidly becoming one of their
most zealous partisans; and when his loyalty to
Godolphin led him to meet their advances coldly, he
found himself the target for both parties. The
Whigs, though in favour of the war, demanded more
authority in the Cabinet as the price of their support
of Marlborough's spirited foreign policy, and Godol
phin, wellnigh driven to bay repeatedly, told the Duke
that he was coming to the conclusion that he must
resign, since he could not obtain the support of either
^ Blenheim Papers.

1703] THE DUCHESS AND POLITICS 163
party. Marlborough felt like a man in danger of
falling between two stools. His attitude of detach
ment exasperated the Whigs, whilst the Tories as
sailed his conduct of the war.
The Duchess at this crisis rendered Marlborough's
position more difficult by bombarding the Queen with
complaints about the Tories, and scarcely more judi
cious eulogiums of their political opponents. She even
read extracts from her husband's letters to Queen
Anne, and made them the text for angry comments
of her own. In one of these letters, Marlborough —
wearied with wrangles with the Dutch, who check
mated his mihtary plans and with political intrigues
at the Court of St. James's, which he was powerless
to control — had expressed the wish to throw up his
command. He meant the letter for the Duchess alone,
but she promptly read the crucial sentence in it to
the Queen, and dropped at the same time the hint
that Lord Godolphin and herself were much of the
same mind.
The Queen was startled, and, as soon as she had
had time to grasp the significance of such an intima
tion, wrote to the Duchess :
" The thought that both my dear Mrs. Freeman
and Mr. Freeman seem to have of retiring give me no
small uneasiness, and therefore I must say something
on that subject. It is no wonder at all that people
in your posts should be weary of the world who are
so continually troubled with all the hurry and im
pertinence of it. But give me leave to say you
should a little consider your faithful friends and poor
country, which must be ruined if ever you put your
melancholy thoughts in execution. As for your poor
unfortunate faithful Morley, she could not bear it;
for it ever you should forsake me, I would have
nothing more to do with the world but make another
abdication. What is a crown when the support of
it is gone ? I will never forsake your dear self, Mr.
Freeman, or Mr. Montgomery (Lord Godolphin), but

1 64 MARLBOROUGH'S CROWDED YEARS [Ch. x
will always be your constant and faithful friend. We
four must never part till death mows us down with
his impartial hand."^
Marlborough, always chivalrous, was touched by
the Queen's goodness, and declared that, after such
an assurance, he was prepared to meet the vexations
of pubhc life so long as Her Majesty deemed his ser
vices of any avail. Unfortunately, the Duchess, less
generous in temperament, interpreted the warm
hearted letter in a different way. She was quick to
see that the Queen was annoyed with Nottingham
and those who sided with him, and seems to have
jumped to the conclusion that Anne, with a little
more pressure, would come over to her own opinion
about the Whigs. She therefore renewed, in season
and out, her attacks on the Tories, only, however, to
be met with the chilling response that the Whigs were
not to Her Majesty's mind, since they held political
theories which were as dangerous to the Crown as to
the Church. The Queen might dislike Nottingham
and the demands of the more violent Tories, but she
was not prepared on that account to relinquish her
conviction that the more moderate men of his party
were the bulwark of the Throne.
The Duchess was persuaded at this time that the
Tories were actively plotting against the Queen, and
she railed against them in her letters to the Duke.
He told her that he could not by any means " allow
that they were against the Queen," and added that,
in his opinion. Her Majesty might make use of men
of all parties " to the true interest of England." He
said that that meant the Protestant Succession, for
which he was prepared to venture his " last drop of
blood." He deplored that the Duchess and himself
should differ so much in opinion, but added that he
was firmly resolved " never to assist any Jacobite
^ Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. i., p. 132.

1703J THE DUKE AND POLITICS 165
whatsoever, nor any Tory who was in favour of per
secution." He assured the Duchess that he would do
anything in the world to make her mind easy that did
not mean, in his judgment, ruin to the Queen. Marl
borough was clearly depressed in the autumn of 1 703 .
He did not think he was adequately supported, in the
conduct of the war, by pubhc opinion in England.
The attempt of the Duchess to drive him into the
camp of the Whigs was not to his mind, even though
he was forced to admit that they, far more than the
Tories, were in favour of a spirited foreign policy.
He was stung, moreover, by the cheap sneers with
which he was assailed, in what he called " barbarous
lampoons," which his enemies duly placed under his
eye. Beyond all else, he was chagrined by the failure
of his attempts to strike a decisive blow against
France, and the knowledge that he would have done
so on two, if not three, separate occasions that year,
and had only been prevented by the folly of the
Dutch, reduced him for the moment almost to despair.
He saw quite clearly that the campaign had ended
rather to the advantage of the French than to the
Allies, and he knew that Louis XIV. was resolved on
a bold stroke, which, if successful, would carry the
French army to the gates of Vienna, and bring Europe
to his feet.
It was clear that the Duke was so disheartened that
he had serious thoughts of throwing up his command .
He said proudly, " All political parties are alike," and
added that his ambition was to do only what was for
the interest of the Queen and England. As for the
rest, he was not in the humour to covet the position
of a favourite of either Whigs or Tories. He had
come to the conclusion that the war would either
drag on or end disastrously if it were not instantly
pursued with spirit. He knew enough of what was
passing at Versailles to be aware that France meant

1 66 MARLBOROUGH'S CROWDED YEARS [Ch.x
in the next campaign to confront the Allies with its
most renowned Marshals at the head of reinforced
armies. He did not dread the struggle, but saw that,
if he was to be victorious, both political parties in
England must cease from wrangling, and give him
their undivided support — at all events, as long as the
crisis lasted. He could not but see that the Duchess
paraded her hostility to the Tories at a most inoppor
tune moment, and it was this more than anything
else, perhaps, that made the strong man armed give
utterance so often to a passionate longing for peace.
But he saw, also, that France must triumph, and the
affairs, not of England and Holland alone, but of
Europe, must be thrown into hopeless confusion, if
at this juncture divided counsels prevailed either in
the Cabinet or in the field.
On his return to England the Duke therefore in
sisted upon the formation of a Ministry upon which
he could count for support. He had come to the
parting of the ways . He was willing to put his sword
in the scabbard if England were not at his back. He
was willing to use it to some purpose if the nation
rallied to his side. Happily for Marlborough's re
nown and the glory of England, the Queen rose to
the occasion, and the situation was saved. Notting
ham and other violent Tories were dismissed from the
Ministry; Robert Harley, who at that time posed as
the Duke's friend, and Henry St. John — afterward
Lord Bolingbroke — a young statesman whose fortunes
Marlborough had always sought to promote, became
respectively Secretary of State and Secretary of War.
Godolphin, the one man whom the Duke absolutely
trusted, retained his position as Lord Treasurer.
These appointments, though they strengthened the
Duke's hands, were not approved of by either his
son-in-law. Lord Sunderland, or the Duchess. The
former took the view that the Whigs had been shghted
by the admission of Harley and St. John to the

1703] THE DUKE AND PRINCE EUGENE 167
Cabinet, and the Duchess, who at the time was very
much under the influence of Lord Sunderland, railed
against them. She dishked Harley because of his
smooth tongue and air of mystery; she distrusted
St. John, and detected, under his debonair manners
and great show of candour, scheming and boundless
ambition. It would have been well for the Duke if he had
listened to her request not to place implicit confidence
in either of them. He thought the Duchess, however,
quite mistaken when she protested that they were
doubtful friends, if not dangerous enemies. He knew
that they were both men of ability eager to shine in
the service of the State, and, since — unlike the Duchess
— suspicion of others was not his weakness, did his
best to laugh away her fears. He could think of
nothing but the conduct of the war, and, knowing
that both Harley and St. John were on the side of its
bold renewal, he was content with their assurances of
fidelity; yet subsequent events were to prove that
the Duchess had taken the true measure of both men.
The Duke spent the winter in England in bringing
over, not merely the Cabinet, but Pariiament, to his
views. He needed both men and money, and in
November the House of Commons responded with un
wonted alacrity to his demands, and, to his great
satisfaction, did so without insisting on the disclcsure
of the plan of campaign. He was therefore able to
reorganize the army, and greatly to augment it as a
fighting force by reinforcements, which he lost no
time in sending to Flanders. When asked awkward
questions, the Duke airily spoke of impending mili
tary operations on the Moselle. Neither the Queen
nor Lord Godolphin knew ajl that was in his mind,
and the Duchess was still more in the dark. There
was only one man who knew his secret, and that was
Prince Eugene of Savoy, the most chivalrous and
capable soldier in the service of the Empire.

CHAPTER XI
THE MARCH TO BLENHEIM
The position of the Duchess of Marlborough as the
power behind the Throne in England was recognized
in every Court in Europe before the Duke had won
the first of his great battles. Ambassadors and
Envoys to the English Court found that they had to
reckon with the imperious Mistress of the Robes, on
whose judgment Queen Anne rehed, even more than
on that of the statesmen who were responsible for
the government of the nation. Nowhere was the
ascendancy of the Duchess better known than at
Versailles. Madame de Maintenon was alive to it,
and so were the statesmen and courtiers who sur
rounded Louis XIV. The same impression concern
ing her prevailed at the Imperial Court of Vienna.
The Emperor Leopold I., long before Marlborough's
military genius saved the throne by the Battle of
Blenheim, was well aware that there stood by the side
of his ally. Queen Anne, a woman of splendid gifts
and almost boundless ambition.
The Archduke Charles of Austria, younger son of
Leopold, was proclaimed King of Spain at Vienna in
1703, and on his progress to take possession of his
throne he arrived at Dusseldorf in October of that
year, at the very moment when Marlborough was
arranging the winter-quarters of his army. Charles
at once received the Duke in private audience, and
treated him with marked distinction. Marlborough
proffered the congratulations of Queen Anne, and,
168

1703] THE ARCHDUKE CHARLES 169
bowing with courtly grace, added: " I have just had
the honour of putting your Majesty in possession of
Limburg." Charles replied: " I hope to be yet more
indebted to your valour;" and, taking from his side
a sword richly set with diamonds, he presented it to the
Duke, with the gracious words: " I am not ashamed
to own that I am a poor Prince, having no other in
heritance than my cloak and my sword. The latter
may be of use to your Grace, and I hope you will not
esteem it the less because I have worn it." The Duke
kissed the hilt, and answered: " It acquires an addi
tional value in my eyes because your Majesty has
condescended to wear it. It will always remind me
of your just right to the Spanish crown, and of my
obligation to hazard my life and all that is dear to me in
rendering you the greatest Prince of Christendom."^
A month later Charles landed in England to pay
his respects to the Queen, and the Duke, who had
returned from The Hague a day or two earlier, received
the Queen's commands to meet His Majesty at Ports
mouth and conduct him to Windsor. Whilst there
the King showed the appreciation felt at the Court
of Vienna for the Duchess by taking from his own
finger a ring of great value and presenting it to the
Mistress of the Robes. Two days later, but not
before he had honoured the Duke and Duchess by
accepting their hospitality, Charles embarked for
Lisbon to take possession of the throne of Spain. He
was ruler of that country until 1709, when the death
of his brother, Joseph I., recalled him to Austria as
the Emperor Charles VI.
In the spring of 1704, the Duke, after a flying visit
to The Hague, finally quitted England to resume the
war, with the knowledge that it was no longer to be
a matter of sieges, but pitched battles, which would
1 " Life of John, Duke of Marlborough," by Thomas Lediard
(1736).

I70 THE MARCH TO BLENHEIM [Ch. xi
determine the fate of Europe. He left Harwich on
the 19th of April with his brother, General Churchill,
the Earl of Orkney, and other officers in high com
mand. But he saUed from that little seaport ruffled
and depressed, for the Duchess had a fit of the spleen,
and at the last moment placed in his hand an angry
letter. He read it as he crossed the sea, and his own
mood grew reckless. It seemed to him just then as
if the best thing that could happen to him would be
to die in the service of his country. But a day or
two later, when he arrived at The Hague, though his
wife's undeserved reproaches still rankled in his mind,
he dismissed them at the caU of duty. ResponsibUities
vast and complicated confronted him, and he there
fore brought his indomitable will and his cool, alert
intellect, as well as his patriotism, his patience, and
his skill, to the solution of the problem. That
problem was twofold: it demanded the resources of
diplomacy as well as those of military genius. He
had to humour and conciliate the States-General on
the one hand, and on the other to prove himself a
more consummate master of strategy than even the
most illustrious of all the Marshals of France.
His first difficulty was with the Dutch, whose states
men, with the solitary exception of Heinsius, were
timid, obstinate, and vacillating. They seemed to
care nothing about the fate of Austria so long as the
soil of Holland was free from invasion. The Dutch
generals were quarrelsome, jealous, and at cross-
purposes. They disliked Marlborough's position as
Commander-in-Chief, and preferred to settle down
for a leisurely siege rather than boldly to take the
offensive in a foreign country. Overkirk was the
most competent of them, but he sometimes threw the
Duke's plans into confusion by running where he was
not sent. Slangenberg was an opinionated man of
impossible temper, who a year later was dismissed

1704] THE DUTCH FIELD DEPUTIES 171
from the service. Opdam was scarcely less headstrong,
and had already suffered defeat at the hands of
Marshal Boufflers through his own incautious folly.
Athlone and Saarbruck, who were brave and capable
soldiers, had both recently died, or these men would
never have been in command. The Duke had also
to reckon with Prince Lewis of Baden, who was old,
stupid, timid, and, unhappily, exceedingly tenacious
of his rights as a reigning Prince. But Marlborough's
mortal antipathy was the Field Deputies. They
were a sort of Committee of Defence, appointed by
the States-General to accompany the troops to the
front. Although civilians, they obtruded their advice
on the Duke in season and out, sometimes absolutely
forbidding him to go into action, when, in their judg
ment, the chance of victory seemed remote. Once
the Duke was asked how it came about that Alex
ander the Great passed so swiftly from victory to
victory, whilst the siege of one or two towns was all
that there was to show in the present war for a year's
campaign. " Alexander the Great," Marlborough
instantly replied, " was never obstructed in his camp
by Field Deputies."^ He must have chuckled as he
made that response, for he carried in the breast of
his uniform vague secret instructions that he meant to
interpret liberally — instructions which meant deliver
ance from such meddlesome men.
Marlborough saw clearly that, if Austria was to be
saved from invasion and Vienna was not to be sacked,
he must leave the Dutch to protect the Low Countries
from any attack by Villeroy, whilst he measured
swords in Bavaria, which was now to be the theatre
of war, with the Elector and Marshal Marsin. The
Elector of Bavaria, France's only ally, had massed his
troops at Ulm, and Marsin was already there at
1 "Court and Society from Elizabeth to Anne, edited from the
Papers at Kimbolton by the Duke of Manchester," two vols.;
London, 1864; vol. ii., p. 20.

172 THE MARCH TO BLENHEIM [Ch. xi
the head of a French army. Tallard was hastily
preparing, with the finest army which Louis possessed,
to strike through the Black Forest to join him for
the concerted march on Vienna. France called every
available man to its standard in the winter of
1703-04, with the result that Louis XIV. had eight dis
tinct armies in the field in 1704. Louis was quick to
see the strategical importance of Bavaria, and so he
poured his troops to the help of the Elector, who was
impatient to cross the frontiers of Austria. It looked
in the spring of 1 704 as if the Holy Roman Empire
was to be shattered by the armies of France and
Bavaria. The plan of Louis was to crush the im
perial troops between cross-fires. The Elector, with
Tallard and Marsin, was to advance against Austria,
whilst Prince Rak6czy, at the head of the revolted
Hungarians, was to cut off their retreat . The position
of the Emperor was desperate, and ramparts were
hastily thrown up around Vienna — a sufficient proof
of the universal consternation .
Marlborough saw that he must strike at once, or all
his plans would miscarry; and therefore, whilst he
talked airily to the Dutch about a campaign on the
Moselle, he had made up his mind, with or without
their help, to march across Germany and give battle
to the Elector and Marsin before they could strike
the proposed blow on Vienna. The Dutch raised all
sorts of difficulties, even to the proposed campaign
on the MoseUe. They did not want to take the
aggressive ; they had the fear of Villeroy before their
eyes. It was only when Mariborough declared that
to the Moselle he would go, whether or not their
troops accompanied him, that they reluctantly gave
way. Whilst these negotiations were still proceed
ing, the Duke disclosed his real designs to Godol
phin for the first time in a letter from The Hague
written on the 29th of April :

1704] EUGENE AND HEINSIUS 173
By the next post, I shall be able to let you know
what resolutions I shall bring these people to, for I
have told them that I shall leave this place on Satur
day. My intentions are to march all the English to
Coblenz, and to declare there that I intend to com
mand on the Moselle, but when I come there, to write
to the States that I think it absolutely necessary for
saving the Empire to march with the troops under my
command to join those in Germany that are in Her
Majesty's and the Dutch pay. The army I propose
to have there will consist of upwards of 40,000 men.
What I now write, I beg may be known to nobody
but Her Majesty and the Prince."^
The only other men in his confidence were Prince
Eugene and the Dutch statesman Heinsius, on whose
loyalty he could absolutely depend.
Five days later the Duke's tact and patience tri
umphed; the States-General consented to the pro
posed campaign on the Moselle, and the English army,
with such Dutch regiments as could be spared, was
in motion for Coblenz; whilst Overkirk, with the
main body of the army of Holland, was left to protect
the Netherlands against any attack from Marshal
Villeroy. Just as the Duke set out, ajetter was put
into his hand from England which sent him forward
with a hght heart. The Duchess had relented, and
wrote to him in terms of warm endearment, and even
proposed to come and join him, which was, of course,
impossible. He took her former angry letter out of
his strong-box and burnt it, and, busy as he was with
the movement of the troops, wrote back the same
day teUing her that he " would keep the letter " she
had just sent him, so that he might have it in his
power to read on the march. He had misgivings at
the time that he would never see her again, so he
added that it would be found in his strong-box when
he was dead. " You have by this kindness preserved
Blenheim Papers.

1 74 THE MARCH TO BLENHEIM [Ch. xi
my quiet, and I believe my life, for till I had this letter
I had been very indifferent what should become of
myself."! France up to this time had not reckoned with the
genius of ]\iarlborough, either in council or in war.
He had besieged a few towns, but had fought no great
battle. Louis XIV. knew him as an alert, dashing
soldier, but he flattered himself that Marlborough was
no match for any of his own renowned Marshals. The
opinion at Versailles was that Marlborough had been
outwitted, and that Vienna was already at the mercy
of France. But the Duke and Prince Eugene had
not been idle in the winter. They had corresponded
by cipher, had concerted their plans, and had even
appointed the secret rendezvous, where their troops
were to assemble, hundreds of leagues away from
HoUand. The Duke, as he set out on that wonderful march,
told the Duchess that he would despatch a letter to
her from every place where the troops halted, and,
happily, a few of them have been preserved amongst
the archives of Blenheim. Several of them miscarried.
Just before the Battle of Blenheim the Duke had, as
he puts it, the " spleen," because five letters in suc
cession which he had written to the Duchess had
failed to reach her. " It would be a cruel thing if
instead of you having them, they shou'd goe to
France," he said to her in a sixth which safely
reached her.^ She could scarcely write to him, for
his movements were uncertain. He did not know
how long the march would last, or where it might
be necessary to rest the brave soldiers and tired
horses of an army that was passing through a
country that was quite unknown to him. Every day
he was riding forward with the cavalry to recon
noitre, leaving the infantry and artillery to follow as
' Blenheim Papers. ^ Ibid.

1704] THE ENGLISH AT COBLENZ 175
best they might. Villeroy was watching his move
ments, and, to throw him off his guard, Marlborough
first advanced to Bonn, which confirmed the French
in their belief about a campaign on the Moselle. But
he only halted a day, and then pushed on to Coblenz.
Prince Lewis of Baden was left to defend the fortified
lines on the right bank of the Rhine against Tallard,
who, however , gave him the slip, and, passing through
the Black Forest, hastened with all speed to join the
Elector. Before the Duke knew of this reverse, he
wrote to the Duchess from Maestricht, on the 4th of
May, 1704, just as he was starting for Coblenz:
" Your kindness has given me so much heart that
if the Germans can hinder the French from joining
more troops to the Elector of Bavaria till I get
thither, I do not doubt, with the blessing of God, but
we shall have good success, for the troops I carry with
me are very good, and will do whatever I will have
them. I do, from my soul, wish that we may have
good success for many reasons, but for none so much
as that I may end my days in happiness with you,
my dearest soul.''^
When the English army appeared before Coblenz,
the French, though puzzled, still believed that Marl
borough meant to give battle on the Moselle. In
reality he was gathering together his reinforcements
from various outposts on the Rhine, and doing so
with the utmost despatch. Then he went on to
Mayence, and did so for the same purpose, and the
French thought that he had changed his plans and
meant to attack Alsace. From the camp at Broaubach
he wrote on the i6th of May to the Duchess :
" If flattery could make me happy. Count Wratis-
law, that came to me yesterday, has said so much
from the Emperor that I am ashamed to repeat it to
you . But I hope the Queen wiU have the good effects
of it, for it is certain that if these troops I bring had
1 Blenheim Papers.

176 THE MARCH TO BLENHEIM [Ch. xi
not come to his assistance he would have run great
risk of losing his Crown, which he seems to be very
sensible of."
The Emperor Leopold doubtless gained his know
ledge of Marlborough's bold move from Prince Eugene,
and his gratitude knew no bounds. Two days later
the Duke reached Mayence, and from there he wrote :
" I have seen several very fine woods in my march
which I have wished at St. Albans or The Lodge (at
Windsor), for my thoughts are often there. "^
He did not linger at Mayence, but, marching out
of it suddenly, threw his army across the Neckar,
and advanced by forced marches through the duchy
of Wlirtemberg. Then, and only then, did it flash
upon the French that Marlborough meant to give
battle to the Elector at Ulm. The tidings were re
ceived with a shock of surprise at Versailles.
Louis XIV. had never dreamed that the Duke would
venture to carry his army so far afield. Even in
England the news was received with misgivings.
People shook their heads, and declared that Marl
borough must have lost his senses. He was bitterly
attacked ; and whilst some were for his impeachment
if he ever returned, others went so far as to say that
in that case he would deserve to lose his head. He
had plunged into the unknown, and the nation held
its breath in troubled and indignant suspense.
The chief officers of Marlborough's staff on that
hazardous march, which was to culminate three
months later in the victory of Blenheim, ought not
to be forgotten. They were all well-tried soldiers,
who had won distinction in the campaigns of Wil
liam III. Next to Marlborough in command was
his brother. General Charles Churchill, who had
served in Tangiers and fought at Sedgemoor. He
was in command of the whole body of the infantry.
* Blenheim Papers.

1704] MARLBOROUGH'S GENERALS 177
The four Lieutenant-Generals were John, Lord Cutts;
the Hon. Henry Lumley; George, Earl of Orkney;
and Richard Ingoldsby. Lord Cutts was one of the
most dashing officers in the Queen's service, the
leader of forlorn hopes in battle, where he seemed to
have a charmed life. His brother officers called him
" Salamander " Cutts, because he always came out
of the hottest fire unscathed. General Lumley,
brother of the Earl of Scarborough, was an old soldier
who had won distinction at the siege of Namur, and
was destined to play a brave part in all Marlborough's
great battles. George, Earl of Orkney, fought at the
Battle of the Boyne, was one of the most trusted and
capable soldiers of King William, and was present in
every general action and at most of the sieges under
Marlborough. General Ingoldsby had won renown
in the expedition to the French coast in 1692, as well
as at Namur. The Major-Generals were Cornelius
Wood, one of the best cavalry officers in Marl
borough's army (he was wounded at Schellenberg) ;
Henry Withers, who had seen active service in
Tangiers and Flanders; and the Hon. Charles Ross,
another cavalry officer, who had formerly been in
command of a picked regiment of dragoons.
Amongst the Brigadier-Generals — there were eight
of them on the Duke's staff — were General Webb,
who afterwards won a victory over the French at
Wynendael, for which he received the thanks of
Queen and Pariiament, and was wounded at Mal
plaquet; General Ross, who was in command of the
brigade which opened the attack at Blenheim, and
who fell gloriously leading the charge ; General Mere-
dyth, who was wounded both at Schellenberg and at
Oudenarde; and Lord John Hay (afterwards second
Marquis of Tweeddale, Colonel of the Scots Guards),
who distinguished himself at Schellenberg, Blenheim,
and Ramillies. Marlborough's chief Aides-de-Camp 12

178 THE MARCH TO BLENHEIM [Ch. XI
were Colonel Bringfield, who was killed at Ramillies;
Colonel Parke, the bearer of the hasty note which the
Duke wrote on horseback announcing the victory of
Blenheim ; Lord Tunbridge, son of the Earl of Roch
ford, who carried to Windsor the Duke's second and
more dehberate despatch about the battle; and
Colonel Panton, who served at Malplaquet.
The Duke's secretary was Adam Cardonnel, who
had held the post of Chief Clerk at the War Office
prior to the Blenheim campaign. Dr. Francis Hare,
who had been tutor to the Marquis of Blandford at
Cambridge, and was afterwards Bishop of Chichester,
was Chaplain-General, and was present in that
capacity at Schellenberg and Blenheim ; and he wrote
a " Journal " of his military experiences, which re
mains in manuscript at Blenheim. There were not
a few grey-haired officers in Marlborough's army —
regimental Colonels, Majors, and Captains, who had
stood fire again and again in stubbornly-contested
battles in previous reigns.
Marlborough's letters to the Duchess during the
anxious weeks of May and June, though they speak
now of torrential rain and now of fierce heat, give no
hint of the tremendous difficulties which beset him,
especially in the transport of artillery, ammunition,
and stores, along the ill-made and often steep roads
of Germany. He writes from the camp at Garbach,
near the little town of Heilbron, on the 28th of May,
expressing his pleasure at an autograph letter of the
Emperor which Count Wratislaw had just shown him:
" His Majesty commands the Count to assure me
that he is sensible of my having done all that is pos
sible for saving his country, and that he should be
glad to do anything that is in his power to show his
gratitude. If I have success my name here will not
die for some time, which is a pleasure to me, though
I should be ill used by my own country. These are
vain thoughts, but, my soul, I have no lasting happi-

1704] MARLBOROUGH'S MARCH 179
ness but when I think I am beloved of you and
what I am doing is for the Queen's honour and
glory."! He tells the Duchess that all sorts of people, from
the highest to the lowest, show him respect, and
make " all the acknowledgement imaginable for his
march." She need not be concerned about him, for
he has " all the agreeableness that this sort of life can
give." Then his thoughts turn to his home, and
he expresses his longing to be " quietly walking " in
the garden at St. Albans, or " riding in " your park.^
Three days later he writes to tell the Duchess that
he has just met Prince Eugene, and that on the
morrow he hopes to join forces with Prince Lewis of
Baden. Prince Eugene had been appointed in the
previous year to the supreme command of the Im
perial troops — a position to which he had risen by
his victories over Marshal Villeroy and the Due de
Vendome in the Italian campaigns of the War of the
Spanish Succession.
Marlborough, having crossed the winding Neckar
for the second time, was at Mindelheim, where he
halted three days in order that the infantry and
artillery which were struggling along execrable roads,
and had in consequence been left far behind in the
march, could come nearer to the cavalry, which, under
his own command, were leading the advance. Prince
Eugene was a man of forty when, leaving his head
quarters, he galloped across country with scarcely
any bodyguard, in order to meet Marlborough. They
met for the first time on the 30th of May, 1704.
French by birth, he would have been fighting for that
nation if Louis XIV. had not chUled his ardour by
refusing to give him a regiment. He had been trained
for the Church, and possibly that had something to
do with the King's refusal, which was probably due
' Blenheim Papers. ^ Ibid.

1 80 THE MARCH TO BLENHEIM [Ch. xi
to Madame de Maintenon's scruples. Eugene in
consequence entered the service of the Emperor
Leopold, and by dint of valour and skill won the rank
of a Field-Marshal at the age of thirty. Marlborough,
though he possessed, in Lord Chesterfield's words, a
charm which neither man nor woman could resist,
had, curiously, few close friendships. But he had
not been twelve hours in the company of Prince
Eugene before he recognized the noble character and
winning personal qualities of a soldier who was as
chivalrous as he was able. He gave instantly his
absolute confidence to the Prince, and through all the
storm and stress, the good report and evil, of the years
which followed, it was never betrayed. Marlborough
declared that he loved Prince Eugene as a brother, and
this personal attachment was returned without stint.
In a letter written (June 4) when the Prince
had been four days in camp at Ebersbach, Marl
borough tells the Duchess that Prince Eugene reminds
him a great deal of Lord Shrewsbury, with the
advantage of seeming franker .^ Eugene put the
Duke on his guard in relation to Prince Lewis of
Baden. The Prince told him, as they marched from Mindel
heim to Great Heppach, where the Duke reviewed
his cavalry next day, that he had never seen horse
men so weU equipped. " Money," he added, " of
which you have no want in England, can buy clothes
and accoutrements, but nothing can purchase the
spirit which I see in the looks of 3^0 ur men."^
It recalled to Marlborough the compliment which,
at an earlier stage of his march, the Elector of Treves
had paid him when he said that aU his officers looked
as if they were dressed for a baU. " My troops," he
now replied to the Prince, " are always animated
1 Blenheim Papers.
2 Hare's MS. Joumal, Blenheim.

1704] NEARING THE DANUBE 181
with zeal for the common cause, but they are now
inspired by your presence — ^we owe to you that spirit
which awakens your admiration." ^
The Duke's own spirits rose when Prince Eugene
told him that the Court of Vienna was filled already
with the praise of Queen Anne, and that his royal
mistress's health was drunk in every city of the land
as the saviour of the Empire. In telling the Duchess
of this, he adds :
I pray God we may have success, and then
Her Majesty's name will be ever glorious here, and
I shall have a prospect of ending my days happily
with you." 2
During the three days that Prince Eugene and Marl
borough were together they were joined by Prince
Lewis of Baden, who had brought his main army
thither after detaching a portion of it to protect the
Rhine. But news had already arrived in the camp
that Villeroy was hastening with his army to join
Tallard at Landau, in order to force the passage of
the river, and the Duke therefore urged Lewis to
return, and to leave Prince Eugene and himself to
direct operations on the Danube. But the Prince
stood stiffly on his rights and refused to go, and in
consequence, much to Marlborough's regret, it was
arranged that Prince Eugene should take command
on the Rhine, and that the command of the united
army should devolve on alternate days on the Duke
and Prince Lewis.
His next letter to the Duchess was written from
Langenau, near the Danube. On the way thither
he had effected a junction with the main body of
Lewis's army, and had received the gratifying tidings
that his own infantry and artillery, under General
Churchill, were rapidly approaching, in spite of the
* Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. i., p. 163.
2 Blenheim Papers.

1 82 THE MARCH TO BLENHEIM [Ch.XI
heavy rain— it had fallen steadily for six days —
which rendered the roads almost impassable :
" As I was never more sensible of heat in my life than
I was a fortnight ago, we have now the other extremity
of cold, for as I am now writing (it was the middle
of June) I am forced to have fire in a stove in my
chamber, but the poor men that have not such con
veniences I am afraid will very much suffer from
these continuous rains. As they do us no hurt here,
they do good to Prince Eugene on the Rhine, so we
must be contented with taking the bad with the good.
I think I should have more content of mind if Prince
Eugene were in the place of Prince Lewis. "^
He had taken the measure of the testy old German
Prince, and declared that he found that he needed to
be on his guard. The army had now reached a
mountainous country, and had to thread its way
through the narrow pass of Gieslingen — a march of
extreme difficulty. Dr. Hare, the Duke's chaplain,
states in his Journal that at this stage of Marl
borough's march all the surrounding country was
devastated by fire.
" The Duke ordered a stop to be put to it, in the
hope that the peasants would return to the villages
that were yet standing and reap the corn, which now
begun to shed as it stood. The cavalry had not great
occasion for it, because they had plenty of oats and
very good hay from the meadows lying near the
rivulets, which everywhere abound in this country.
His Grace also spared the woods, which are stately
and numerous, consisting entirely of tall fir-trees and
pinasters, without the mixture of any other wood."^
Meanwhile the Elector of Bavaria had advanced
from Ulm to a strongly entrenched camp, to await
the arrival of Tallard, and, in order to protect the
town of Donauwerth, had detached General D'Arco,
with a strong force of infantry and cavalry, to hold
' Blenheim Papers.
2 Hare's MS. Journal, Blenheim, p. 66.

1704] SCHELLENBERG 183
the Schellenberg, a thickly wooded and lofty hill,
just above the town of Donauwerth, commanding
the Danube. As Marlborough approached Donau
werth, the main body of his army came within a few
miles, and, in spite of the long march, the soldiers
looked alert and in excellent health. He wrote to
the Duchess from Giengen (June 13, 1704), just as he
was coming within striking distance of the Elector :
It is not only by yours but by others I find that
there are several people (in England) that would be
glad at my not having success in this undertaking.
I am very confident, without flattering myself, that
it is the only thing that was capable of saving us from
ruin, so that whatever the success shall be, I shall
have the inward satisfaction to know that I have
done all that was in my power, and that none can be
angry with me for the undertaking but such as wish
ill to their country and their religion, and with such
I am not desirous of friendship. "^
Marlborough arrived at the Schellenberg at the
close of a long day's march. The hill was strongly
fortified, his own troops were tired, and he would
have delayed the attack if the position had not been
critical. It was rendered so because the enemy were
making the place wellnigh impregnable. Moreover,
Prince Lewis would be in command on the morrow, and
the Duke knew that he would not go into action then.
It was this knowledge which made him exclaim :
" Every hour we lose will cost us a thousand men."^
Marlborough never appealed to his brave soldiers
in vain, and when he called them to storm the
heights of Schellenberg, weary as they were, they
instantly responded. Many of his soldiers were
young fellows who had never been under fire, but
they charged up the hill, only to be driven back with
' Blenheim Papers; also cited by Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke
of Marlborough," vol. i., p. 168.
2 Ibid p. 170.

1 84 THE MARCH TO BLENHEIM [Ch. xi
great slaughter. Quickly they rallied, and again
attempted to take it by storm, only once more to be
repulsed. The third charge was led by Prince Lewis
himself, eager to wipe out the stain of his own recent
defeat by Villeroy. This time the Bavarians gave
way, and the stronghold was captured (July 2, 1704).
It meant the passage of the Danube, and cleared the
road for the decisive victory of Blenheim.
Only the advance guard of Marlborough's army
was in action at Schellenberg, and when the attack
commenced under General Goor, a Dutch officer on
whom the Duke placed the utmost reliance, and who
fell mortally wounded, the Bavarians, apart from
their entrenched position, had the advantage in
numbers. It was only when the regiments of Prince
Lewis hastened up that the tide of battle was turned.
The Duke directed the movements of the troops, and,
though within range of the enemy's guns, escaped
unscathed. The fighting began shortly after six in
the evening, and lasted an hour and a half. Fifteen
hundred men were killed and four thousand wounded
on the side of the Allies, and the loss in officers was
unusually heavy. Thirteen thousand men had de
fended the hill, and not more than two thousand re
joined the Elector's army. They were not all killed
in action, but in their headong flight, pursued in the
darkness by Marlborough's cavalry, they crowded on
to a long wooden bridge which broke under their
weight, and many perished in the Danube. The
victors as well as the vanquished suffered on that
terrible July night, for rain fell heavily through the
whole course of it on wounded men, whom it was
impossible to succour before the dawn.
Next day the Duke despatched an official account
of the action to Mr. Secretary Harley, and, busy as
he was with the care of the wounded, found time —
though, as he said, he was so tired he could hardly

1704] OBERMERGEN 185
hold a pen — to write both to the Queen and to the
Duchess. I must humbly presume to inform your Majesty
that the success of our first attack on the enemy has
been equal to the justice of the cause your Majesty
has so graciously and zealously espoused. Mr.
Secretary Harley wUl have the honour to lay the
relation of yesterday's action before you. To which
I shall crave leave to add that our success is in
great measure owing to the particular blessing of God
and the unparalleled bravery of your troops . I shall
endeavour to improve the happy beginning of your
Majesty's glory and the benefit of your Majesty's
allies." !
His letter to the Duchess was written from the
camp at Obermergen (July 7, 1704):
" I think myself so happy in my dearest soul's love
that I know she will be better pleased with two lines
that I am well after the action we had yesterday
than volumes upon another occasion. It has pleased
God after a very obstinate defence to have given us
the victory by which we have ruined the best of the
Elector's foot, for there was very little horse. My
Lord Treasurer will let you see Mr. Secretary Harley's
letter, if you care to see about what the action was.
The English foot has suffered a good deal, but none
of your acquaintance are hurt, but Mr. Meredyth and
Major-General Wood, neither in danger. Now that
I have told you the good news I must tell the ill news,
which is that the Marshal Villeroy has promised the
Elector of Bavaria that he will send him, by the way
of the Black Forest, fifty battalions of foot and sixty
squadrons of horse, as he tells him in his letter, the
best troops of France, but I rely very much on the
assurances Prince Eugene gave me yesterday by his
Adjutant-General, that he would venture the whole
rather than suffer them to pass quickly as the last
did. I have given myself the honour of writing to
the Queen on this occasion. Let my dear children
know I am well. You may let the Lord Treasurer
* Coxe, I., 175.

1 86 THE MARCH TO BLENHEIM [Ch. Xl
know that I think the Enghsh have done so well that
the Cannon ought to fire for this victory. "^
Queen Anne, immediately on receiving the tidings
of victory, wrote from Kensington, congratulating
the Duke :
"May this campaign end as gloriously as it has
begun, and that you may have all the happiness your
own heart can desire is sincerely wished by her,
who is — " Affectionately yours,
"Anne R."^
The position of the Duchess was so powerful at
this period that Harley wished to ingratiate him
self with her. He wrote accordingly, as soon as
the Schellenberg despatch was in his hands, a letter
which reads curiously when regarded in the hght of
his subsequent treatment both of her and the Duke.
It has lingered until now amongst the Blenheim
Papers, but, since it reveals the man, it may be cited :
" fuly 17, 1704.
" Madam, " Though the advantage the public receives
from this great and glorious victory at Schellenburg
is enough to inspire everyone's heart with joy who
loves either the Queen or the nation, yet I must
profess I have a peculiar satisfaction — it enhances
the blessing to me by the hand that wrought it. I
should have had a share in common with the rest of
the nation, if another had performed it ; but when the
Duke of Marlborough is the author, when our de
liverance, I may call it, is owing to his courage and
his conduct, when the English honour is not only
retrieved, but carried to so great a height, I cannot
but receive an additional pleasure that it is done by
my Lord Duke. I hope your Grace will forgive this
' Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. i., p. 176.
^ Blenheim Papers.

1704] HARLEY'S LETTER 187
overflowing of joy as an instance of that sincerity and
duty wherewith I shall always endeavour to distin
guish myself. " Madam, your Grace's most humble and
most obedient servant,
" Robert Harley."^
The Duchess must have tossed her head when she
read that letter. She already knew that Mr. Secre
tary Harley, in spite of what she called his " fine
words," was not to be trusted.
' Blenheim Papers.

CHAPTER XII
" 'TWAS A GLORIOUS VICTORY "
Marlborough imagined that the Bavarians would
stoutly defend a town as strongly fortified as Donau
werth; but the Elector, who had watched from the
farther bank of the Lech the defeat of his troops at
Schellenberg, hastily fell back towards Augsburg,
where he massed his army, to await the arrival of
the advancing French reinforcements under Tallard.
Hence, without the loss of so much as another trooper,
the Duke two days after Schellenberg was in posses
sion of Donauwerth.
" We could not have taken this place in ten days,"
he wrote to the Duchess, " if the garrison had not been
frightened by the action they saw two days ago. In
truth, it is very plain that if Her Majesty's troops
had not been here, the Elector of Bavaria had now
been in Vienna. Since the action I have hardly had
time to sleep, for General Goor helped me in a great
many things which I am now forced to do myself." ^
Marlborough at once determined to carry the war
into the heart of the Elector's territory; but this was
not easy, for before him lay the Lech, deep, broad,
and rapid, and all the bridges across it had been de
stroyed by the enemy. General Cadogan, who held
the post of Quartermaster-General, threw pontoons
across the river at Gunderkingen, and on the 9th of
July the whole army crossed the Lech. The Bavarian
garrison at Neuburg, which had been left to defend
' Blenheim Papers.
188

1704] THE ELECTOR OF BAVARIA 189
the passage, were taken by surprise by this rapid
movement, and feU back on Ingoldstadt — a fortress
which was considered impregnable, and which com
manded the Danube.
Writing from his headquarters whilst the army was
slowly crossing the bridges, Marlborough told the
Duchess (July 9) :
I am extremely pleased to know that I have it
now in my power that the poor soldiers shall not
want bread. I have the great pleasure to find all the
officers wiUing to obey without knowing any other
reason than that it is my desire, which is very different
from what it was in Flanders, where I was obhged to
have the consent of a Council of War for everything
I undertook."^ The Elector, disconcerted at Marlborough's rapid
advance, showed signs of yielding. This is plain
from a letter which the Duke wrote to the Duchess
on the 1 6th of July from the camp of Burcheim :
" When I wrote my last there was a great deal
of reason to believe the Elector had resolved to
make his peace, but now all that matter is at an end,
he having told Count Wratislaw, by his secretary,
that it was not in his power to leave the French,
since they had given him assurances that the Mareschal
de Tallard should in less than ten days join him with
thirty-five thousand men. We are so advanced in
Bavaria that we cannot hinder their joining, but we
hope Prince Eugene will be able to do it, we having
lent four thousand horse to him."^
Marlborough, with the hope of bringing the Elector
to terms, but much against his personal inclinations,
now began to ravage the country, and villages and
towns on the road to Munich were destroyed by fire.
He would have attacked that city if Prince Lewis
had not blundered in failing to bring up the artillery.
Meanwhile Marshal Tallard, after a forced march
through the Black Forest, was approaching the
1 Blenheim Papers. ^ Ibid.

I90 " 'TWAS A GLORIOUS VICTORY " [Ch. xil
Elector's army at Augsburg; whilst Prince Eugene,
who had failed to arrest his progress, with 18,000
men was hastening to Hochstadt to get into
touch with Marlborough. The position of the Allies
was critical. If Prince Eugene advanced through
Bavaria, the Elector's army was almost certain to
cross the Danube and break the communication with
Franconia and Wlirtemberg. If Marlborough, on the
other hand, retraced his steps to join forces with
Eugene, the enemy would be in a position to force
them to abandon the whole country south of the
Danube. It was absolutely necessary that the fortress of
Ingoldstadt should be reduced, for whilst it held out
the Allies were in imminent jeopardy. The Duke
persuaded Prince Lewis of Baden to undertake the
siege, and this left him in supreme and unchallenged
command. He writes to the Duchess on the 10th of
August :
" Prince Lewis is marched with thirty squadrons
and twenty-four battalions to make the siege of
Ingoldstadt, and I have taken measures with Prince
Eugene for opposing the Elector and two Mareschals,
and as they marched yesterday towards the Danube,
I sent this morning early the Duke of Wlirtemberg
with twenty-eight squadrons, and my brother with
twenty battalions, to strengthen Prince Eugene's
army, and have assured him that if they pass the
Danube, I will join him with the rest of this army."^
Tallard had by this time reached the Elector, and
Prince Eugene and Marlborough, after endless diffi
culties, had brought their armies into touch on the
banks of the Danube. Two days later, on the 12th of
August, the artillery and baggage, for which the Duke
and Prince Eugene were waiting, came upon the
scene. The artillery arrived just in the nick of time,
for the French and Bavarians were drawn up in force
* Blenheim Papers.

1704] TALLARD'S UNCERTAINTY 191
near the little town of Hochstadt, and that day the
Duke and Prince Eugene, having gaUoped out to the
village of Dapfheim to reconnoitre, saw the enemy
hard at work making a fortified camp a few miles
away, across the little river Nebel. Tallard and his
army held the village of Blenheim and the ridge of
hills behind it. The Elector and Marsin occupied the
rising ground between the villages of Liitzingen and
Oberglau .
It is clear, from a letter written by Tallard to
Louis XIV. on the day that the Battle of Blenheim
was fought, that he had no idea, until Marlborough
ordered the attack, that an action was imminent:
" Our enemies are now in view and ranged as if
for action; but according to appearances they will
march further this day. The report is that they are
going to Nordlingen. If so, they will have to leave
us between them and the Danube, and they will find
it very hard to maintain the settlements they have
made in Bavaria."^
But Marlborough had gone as far as he meant on
the road to Vienna. He knew that Austria could
only be saved if he defeated the great army, which
had suddenly come within striking distance of his
own troops. He was aware also that Villeroy was
hastening to cut off his supplies from Franconia, and
that his position was desperate unless he snatched, at
all hazards, a decisive victory.
Late on the afternoon of the 12th of August some
of his principal officers came to Marlborough's head
quarters and requested an interview. They had wit
nessed the stir in the camp which had followed the
Duke's return from Dapfheim, and they ventured to
tell him that they thought an attack at that moment
was hazardous, since the French and Bavarians were
not merely in a strong position, but had already
1 " Campagnes de Tallard," t. ii., p. 140.

192 " 'TWAS A GLORIOUS VICTORY " [Ch. xil
fortified it, and were superior in numbers. The
Duke listened quietly and with the courtesy which
never deserted him. " I know the danger," he re
plied, " yet a battle is absolutely necessary, and I rely
on the bravery and discipline of the troops, which wiU
make amends for our disadvantages." ^
At sunset he gave orders that the army was to
march before daybreak, to cross the River Kessel in
the eariy morning, and advance with all speed to the
banks of the Nebel. All ranks received the command
with alacrity. Marlborough knew his men. He sat
for an hour alone in his tent that night thinking of
his home, the honour of England, and the fate of the
Empire, which he knew would be determined on the
morrow. Then he summoned his chaplain. Dr. Hare,
and received the Sacrament at his hands. He had
made up his mind to die or be victorious. After two
or three hours of sleep, he rose before daybreak in
order to settle with Prince Eugene the final arrange
ments for the approaching battle.
Meanwhile the English, marching in the dark,
crossed the Kessel before three in the morning, and
at six o'clock the advance guard came in sight of the
enemy. Tallard was taken by surprise; as Marl
borough expressed it, " he did not expect so early a
visit," but instantly drew up his forces in line and
prepared for action. The French and Bavarians
were 60,000 strong, and had ninety pieces of artil
lery. The Allies under Marlborough and Eugene
confronted them at Blenheim with 52,000 men and
sixty-six pieces of artillery. Mariborough, in supreme
command, was on the left, opposite Tallard. Prince
Eugene rode at the head of the right wing, and had
to reckon with the Elector and Marsin.
At seven o'clock the thick mist of that summer
morning, which had screened the advance of Marl-
1 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. i., p. 188.

I704) ATTACK ON BLENHEIM 193
borough's army from the French, suddenly lifted,
and the French, from the high ground which they
occupied on the other side of the Nebel, reahzed that
the enemy in force was scarcely more than a mile
away. Instantly the alarm was sounded, and with
wonderful celerity the order of battle was concerted.
The French-Bavarian lines stretched from Liitzingen
to Blenheim, a distance of between four and five miles.
The picked troops of France, 16,000 strong,, hastily took
up their position in the village of Blenheim, and drew
up palisades to fortify the place. Midway in the
marshy plain between the Nebel and the Danube was
the village of Oberglau, which formed the centre of
the French position, whilst stretching away to the left
was the high and wooded ground of Liitzingen, which
Marsin and the Bavarian Elector occupied. The
weakness of the French- Bavarian army was that the
lines were too extended, and that, whilst the right
wing at Blenheim was protected by the palisades and
the buildings of that place, and the left wing at
Liitzingen held a commanding position on high ground,
the centre of the army was drawn up too far from the
Nebel in order to avoid the marshes. Moreover,
whilst the enemy's troops were massed to right and
left, the centre at Oberglau was insufficiently pro
tected, in spite of the cavalry which Tallard posted
at that point to conceal the weakness of the infantry.
Marlborough was quick to see that there was room
for his troops to form across the Nebel, and his
engineers were quickly at work constructing pontoons.
His aim was to crush the right wing of the French
army at the village of Blenheim, and then, by a
cavalry charge, to attack the centre at Oberglau
whilst Prince Eugene threw his troops against the
Elector and Marsin at Liitzingen. General Cutts,
the most dashing officer in his army, was to open the
battle by storming the French position alf^Blenheim .
13

194 " 'TWAS A GLORIOUS VICTORY " [Ch. xil
Prince Eugene's army came up slowly. The ground
proved so treacherous that the artillery could not
advance except by a circuitous route, and Marl
borough had in consequence to wait all through the
long hours of the morning before giving battle. But
the time was not lost. The engineers strengthened
the stone bridge across the Nebel for the passage of
the artiUery, and threw five pontoon bridges across the
stream at as many strategic points. Whilst this was
in process the enemy was busily engaged in fortifying
Blenheim with additional palisades, and in making
the position which they held at Liitzingen almost
impregnable. Marlborough's cavalry and infantry were restless
at the delay. The French batteries had already
opened fire, and the English soldiers were straining
at the leash The Duke, having posted his artillerj',
ordered the chaplains to the front to read prayers.
" The English chaplains read the service at the head
of the English regiments. The Calvinistic chaplains
of the Dutch army poured forth their supplications
in front of their countrymen. In the meantime the
Danes might listen to their Lutheran ministers, and
Capuchines might encourage the Austrian squadrons
and pray to the Virgin for a blessing on the arms of
the Holy Roman Empire."^
The Duke declared that he thought he himself
prayed more before the battle than all the chaplains
in his army.
It was a mixed host which Marlborough led at
Blenheim, but they were all as one man in their
loyalty to their leader. As soon as this solemn
service was over, the Duke, on his white charger,
galloped along the lines with a smile and a word
of encouragement to each regiment in turn. He
1 Lord Macaulay. in an article published in the Edinburgh
Review, April, 1839.

1704]

PLAN OF BATTLE

195

196 " 'TWAS A GLORIOUS VICTORY " [Ch. xil
narrowly escaped death as he did so, for a shell
from the heights above the Nebel burst close to
him, and for a moment he was lost in a cloud of
dust. A thrill of consternation ran through the hues.
Had the Duke fallen before the battle had begun ?
was the thought which flashed through the minds of
the soldiers. But swiftly the red coat, slashed with
the Blue Ribbon of the Garter, was seen again. The
Duke was unhurt, and rode on with a smile, amid a
sigh of relief from his men.
Just as the hour of noon was striking, an Aide-de-
Camp from Prince Eugene was seen riding hard to
Marlborough's headquarters. He reined sharply and
gave the salute. The Prince was ready. Marl
borough sprang at once into his saddle. " Now,
gentlemen, to your posts !" he cried, and the battle
began. General Cutts led the way, crossing the Nebel
by the pontoons with the cavalry under a galling
fire. Then the infantry, under Brigadier Row,
followed at quick march to the attack on Blenheim.
Row's instructions were to storm the palisades. He
was to turn the French position at the point of the
bayonet. It was the first pitched battle in which that
weapon played a prominent part. The infantry were
to fire at close quarters, and then press forward with
fixed bayonets. When they came within thirty
paces of the palisades, they were met by a raking fire
which thinned their ranks. But Row, striding to
the front, struck the barrier with his sword, and the
regiments behind him fired and rushed forward,
trying in vain to break through the ambuscade. It
was a gallant but hopeless attempt. The enemy was
not merely in great force, but fought behind cover;
and the Enghsh line feU back in confusion, but not
before Row was mortaUy wounded. His place was
instantly filled by the next officer in command, who
was at once slain. The third to lead the troops shared

1704] A CHANGE OF ATTACK 197
the same fate, and the gallant men, thrown into con
fusion by a flank movement of the enemy, fell back,
pursued by the French cavalry, who had galloped
out of cover.
The situation was critical, and would have ended
in hopeless disaster if General Lumley, with five
squadrons of horse, had not come to the rescue,
Lumley's cavalry charged the French at the point of
the sword, and when they wavered and gave way —
following them too far in the ardour of battle — were
in turn driven back by the musketry fire from the
palisades . Encouraged by the success , Tallard pushed
forward his artillery until it commanded the bridges,
but not before Cutts had brought his second line across
the Nebel. Cutts and Brigadier Ferguson led the
second attack on Blenheim, and, in spite of shot and
shell, carried the outskirts of the village at the point
of the bayonet. But after much hard fighting and
charges, renewed again and again, they were forced
to fall back. The Duke, who was watching the
struggle, at once realized that Blenheim was so
strongly held and fortified that the right wing of the
French position could not, without a ruinous loss of
life, be carried by storm. He therefore ordered the
troops to take up a less exposed position, and at the
same time, by a ceaseless fire of platoons, to keep the
enemy on the alert.
The attack now shifted to the centre at Oberglau,
for the Duke had detected that that represented the
weak spot in the French lines. Marlborough accord
ingly determined to push his cavalry and some
battalions of infantry through the broken and marshy
ground which lay on his side of the Nebel, then to
cross the stream and carry the village of Oberglau,
where the French and Bavarian infantry was massed.
It was a hazardous thing to do, for the cavalry could
only advance in single file over the fascines and planks

198 " 'TWAS A GLORIOUS VICTORY " [Ch. xii
which formed the uneven and shppery path. But the
bridge was gained at last, and the troops, splashed
with mud, began at once to form in Une. Tallard at
this juncture made a fatal blunder. He ought to
have opened the attack the moment the troops began
to appear on his side of the Nebel, but for some
reason he hesitated, until Marlborough's regiments
were across the stream in sufficient numbers to give
a good account of themselves. The brunt of the
fighting fell at first on the infantry. They stood in
close squares, and had to meet the shock of the French
and Bavarian cavalry, which burst, with the sudden
violence of a tropical storm, upon them.
Tallard's horse, though led splendidly, could make
little impression upon them, though at one point in
the battle Marlborough's centre was broken, and the
Hanoverians under the Prince of Holstein, whom he
had hurled against the rocky heights of Oberglau,
were beaten back with great slaughter by the Irish
brigade of the French army, and the Prince was taken
prisoner. Mariborough at once sent to the rescue
of the defeated Hanoverians some fresh squadrons
of infantry and artillery, which had now come into
action, and forced the Irish brigade back into Ober
glau. Up to this point he had kept his cavalry in
reserve, but now — it was five o'clock on that fateful
summer afternoon — he gave the signal, and the
trumpets sounded for the decisive stroke. Eight
thousand horsemen in perfect order galloped to the
front, and behind them, as if by magic, the infantry
formed into battalions. Between the armies lay a
long grassy slope, and under cover of Oberglau the
French cavalry were drawn up in two lines, which
screened batteries of artillery and squares of infantry.
The French were in a strong position — just below the
crest of the hiU.
Marlborough ordered the cavalry to charge, and

1704] THE FRENCH CAVALRY HESITATE 199
rode to the front, cool as ever, to lead the way.
Spurring hard, with flashing swords they dashed
over the rising ground; but before they reached the
ridge the French artillery opened a deadly fire, and,
amid the booming and smoke of the guns, nothing
was to be seen for a few minutes, except nodding
plumes and the glitter of uplifted swords. The
French withstood gallantly the onslaught, and for
a few minutes no man could forecast the issue of
the deadly struggle. Tallard sent messages to Marsin
to bring up the cavalry, but he was hotly pressed in
another part of the field, and could not spare so much
as a troop. If they had pushed their advantage at
that moment, the tide would in all human probability
have turned in their favour. The AUies had met
with so hot a reception that they fell back sixty paces
in confusion. Tallard instantly saw his chance for a
counter-stroke. He ordered his cavalry to charge,
but they hesitated, when to hesitate was to be lost.
" Our cavalry did very ill," was the Marshal's bitter
comment, when after the battle he wrote to Louis XIV.
about the defeat. He spoke well. The momentary
vacillation of the French cavalry meant the loss of
all things. It gave time — a few moments are enough
in the crisis of battle — for Marlborough to renew the
attack. His men ralhed quickly, and galloping on
wards threw themselves suddenly in an even more
impetuous charge on TaUard's lines of horse and
infantry, flanked though they were with batteries of
artillery. The French quailed before this fierce re
newal of the battle; their ranks were broken by it;
the infantry were ridden down. Those that were not
sabred were hurled to right and left, whilst the cavalry,
turning their horses, fled panic-stricken towards the
banks of the Danube. Tallard was slow even then to
beheve that all was lost. The right wing of his army
was still holding the village of Blenheim, and they

200 " 'TWAS A GLORIOUS VICTORY " [Ch. xii
might be expected to give a good account of them
selves, for the regiments posted at that spot repre
sented the flower of the French forces. His aim was
to join them with what remained of the left wing of
the army. And gathering together the scattered
regiments that were stiU left on the field, he gallantly
sought to make his way to the beleaguered viUage
which has given its name to the historic battle. But
misfortune now seemed to dog his steps . He was near
sighted, and riding in the gathering gloom with a
smaU body-guard he mistook a German regiment for
a part of the French army. He galloped into their
midst, and his rank was detected by the star and
riband of the Order which he wore. The gallant
soldier had, in consequence, no alternative but to
hand his sword to the Prince of Hesse. His sur
render was quickly followed by that of almost the
whole of the French infantry, which were caught as in
a trap by Marlborough's advancing army. All that
remained was to force the capitulation of the brave
men entrenched behind the palisades of Blenheim.
Thirty squadrons, panic-stricken, fled towards the
Danube, whilst the flower of the French army, which
still held Blenheim, found themselves driven to bay
by a rapid movement of the Scots Greys and the
Queen's Regiment.
The French troops at Blenheim fought desperately,
even after they had been left in the lurch by their
own commander, de Clairambault, who, in despair,
turned his horse to the Danube, and was drowned
in attempting to cross the river. When night
fell Blenheim was in flames, and by the lurid
light of burning houses the troops imprisoned there,
again and again charged, in a desperate attempt
to break through the investing lines which Marl
borough had now drawn closely around the place.
The Duke was bringing the artiUery into action, when

1704] TALLARD'S MISTAKE 201
the enemy, in desperation, sought a parley. Marl
borough would listen to nothing but unconditional
surrender. The proud regiment of Navarre tore its
colours from the standard, and tossed them into
the flames that were raging on every hand. The
French at Blenheim had fought on in the vain hope
that Marsin and the Elector might yet come to their
rescue, but they reckoned without Prince Eugene,
and as the long twilight deepened into darkness,
realized that at last nothing could save them.
" Oh, que dira le Roi, que dira le Roi !" exclaimed
the officers, when at last they ordered twenty-four
battalions of infantry and four regiments of dragoons
to lay down their arms. They were the bravest
soldiers of France, and yet, through Tallard's blunder,
many of them had not fired a shot all through that
terrible day. One of the military maxims of the Duke
of Wellington was; " Never attempt to defend a
village that is not within reach of musketry." He
used to say that Tallard lost the Battle of Blenheim
because he sent troops into places beyond the reach
of muskets, and at the critical moment was not able
to get them back again .^ There had been rough
fighting throughout the day, on the wooded heights
round Liitzingen, between Prince Eugene and the
left wing of the French- Bavarian army under Marsin
and the Elector. The Prince had attempted to storm
the strong position of the enemy, not once or twice,
but four times, and in each case had been driven
back with great slaughter; and but for the Prussian
infantry, which stood like a rock, against which the
Bavarian cavalry dashed in vain hke waves of the
sea, the fortunes of battle in that quarter would have
gone hard. As it was. Prince Eugene, though power
less to capture Liitzingen, held his own and inflicted
1 Stanhope's " Conversations with the Duke of Wellington."
London, 1888, p. 109.

202 " 'TWAS A GLORIOUS VICTORY " [Ch. xii
heavy losses on the enemy. So the battle stood in
that quarter of the field until late in the afternoon,
when the cavalry on Marsin 's right, which was in
touch with Tallard's centre, began to fall back.
Prince Eugene, knew by this movement that Marl
borough had crushed Tallard's army, and, rallying his
troops, pushed his way fighting through the woods
and ravines toward Liitzingen, only to find, when
he arrived there, that the place was in flames, and
to see from the heights that Oberglau also was
burning, and that the Elector and Marsin were in full
retreat.
As night fell, Tallard's left wing scattered and fled
in disorder — some towards Hochstadt, others towards
Sonderheim. They were pressed hard by Marl
borough's cavalry, and the slaughter was terrible.
Many prisoners were made, whilst a confused mass
of cavalry and infantry were driven into the Danube
and were drowned. It was by the resistless shock of
a cavalry charge, led by Marlborough in person, that
the tide of battle was turned at Blenheim. The
infantry instantly followed the advantage up, and
the victory was won. Marlborough was seventeen
hours in the saddle on that fateful day. " Neither
his cool temper nor his presence of mind," de
clared Major Kane, who was at his side, " ever
deserted him. The Duke was in all places, wherever
his presence was requisite, without fear of danger, or
in the least hurry, giving his orders with all the calm
ness imaginable."^
As soon as the fate of the battle was no longer
doubtful, Marlborough, from his saddle, wrote the
pencilled note to the Duchess which is historic :
' " Narrative of Campaigns in the Reigns of William III. and
Queen Anne," by Brigadier-General Richard Kane. London,
' 745-

1704] THE DUKE'S DESPATCH 203
I have not time to say more, but to beg you will
give my duty to the Queen, and let her know her army
has had a glorious victory. M. lallard and two other
generals are in my coach, and I am following the rest.
The bearer, my aide-de-camp. Colonel Parke, will
give her an account of what has pass'd. I shall doe
it in a day or two by another more at large.
Marlborough." ^
On the morrow of the battle the Duke sent this
description of the fight, and it will be as well to give
it exactly as it was written :
" August 14, 1704. — Before the battaile was quite
done yesterday I writ to my dearest soull to lett her
know that I was well and that God had bless 'd Her
Maj'y* armes with as great a Victory as has ever been
known. For prisoners I have the Mareshall de
Tallard and the greatest parts of his General] Officers,
above 8,000 men and near 1,500 officers — in short
the Army of Mons"" de TaUard's which was that
which I fought with is quite ruined. That of the
Elector of Bavaria and the Mareshal de Marsin which
P. Eugene fought against, I am afraid has not had
much loss, for I can't find that he has many prisoners.
As soon as the Elector knew that Mons'' de Tallard
was like to be beaten, he march'd off, soe that I came
only time enough to see him retire. As all these
Prisoners are taken by the troupes I comand, it is
in my power to send as many of them to England as
Her Majesty should think for her honor and service.
My own opinion in this matter is that the Mareshall
de Tallard and the General Officers should be sent
or brought to her Maj'y when I come to England,
but shou'd all the officers be brought it wou'd be a
very great expence to her Maj'y, and I think the
honour is in having the Mareshall and such other
officers as Her Majesty pleases. But I shal doe in
this as in all things that which shall be most agreable
to Her. I am soe very much out of order with having
been 17 hours on horseback yesterday, and not having
been able to sleep above 3 hours last night, that I
can write to none of my friends. However I am soe
^ Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. i., p. 206.

204 " 'TWAS A GLORIOUS VICTORY " [Ch. xii
pleas'd with this action, that I can't end my letter
without being soe vain as to tell my dearest soull
that within the memory of man there has been noe
Victory soe great as this, and as I am sure you love
me soe intirely well, that you will be infinitely pleas'd
with what has been done — upon my account, as well
as the great benefitt the Publick will have, for had the
success of P. Eugene been equal to his merit, we shou'd
in that day's action have made an end of the warr."^
Neariy 5,000 men were killed and 7,500 wounded
on the side of the Allies. The French loss was
12,000 killed and 14,000 made prisoners, including
the Marshal in supreme command and 1,200 officers.
The wounded and missing on the French side brought
Tallard's losses at Blenheim to nearly 40,000 men.
Almost the whole of the cannon and baggage were
captured, and 300 standards and regimental flags.
Immediately after the battle, whilst the standards,
colours and cannon taken from the enemy were
being coUected and given into the care of Colonel
Blood, who was in command of the artillery, the
Duke's thoughts were with the vanquished Marshal
Tallard. He set out, accompanied by Prince Eugene
and a group of officers, for the quarters of the Prince
of Hesse, to whom Tallard had delivered his sword.
" L'illustre prisonnier fut transporte, avec deux
ou trois autres generaux, dans le carrosse de Marl
borough, au quartier du prince de Hesse, ou le
general anglois alia lui faire visite le lendemain. ' Je
suis fachd,' dit le due au marechal, ' qu'un si grand
malheur soit arrive a un guerrier pour qui j'ai la plus
haute estime.' ' Et moi,' repondit Tallard, ' je vous
felicite d 'avoir vaincu les meilleures troupes de
I'univers.' ' Permettez-moi,' lui repliqua le due, ' de
croire que les miennes sont les meilleures du monde,
puisqu'elles ont vaincu celles que vous regardez
comme telles.' " ^
' Blenheim Papers.
2 " Histoire de Jean Churchill, Due de Marlborough," written
at the command of Napoleon I. by the Abbe Dutems, t. ii.,
p. II. Paris, de I'lmprimerie Imperiale, 1808.

1704J TALLARD A PRISONER 205
Dr. Hare was in attendance, and he gives in his
manuscript " Journal " a description of the interview.
The Duke found Tallard " much dejected " at the
disaster, and in pain from a wound in one of his hands.
" His Grace desired to know how far it was in his
power to make him easy under his misfortune, offer
ing him at the same time the convenience of his
quarters and to take him thither in his coach. The
IVIarshal thankfully refused the offer, and said he did
not desire to stir until he might have his own equipage.
Whereupon his Grace immediately despatched one
of his own Trumpets to the Elector's army with a
passport for bringing it up to the Marshal. . . .
Tallard told the Duke that if his Grace had deferred
his visit (meaning his attack) a day longer, the
Elector and he would have waited upon his Grace
first; and the Duke asking him why they did not
on the 12th, when they were expected, the Marshal
answered that they were informed Prince Loewis of
Baden had joined his Grace with his army from before
Ingolstat, and that four prisoners which their
squadrons had made that day from our army told
them so, and though taken separately, one after
another, they all agreed in that intelligence. . . .
There were a great many of the French generals with
the Marshal, all of whom, crowding about his Grace,
admired his person, as well as his tender and generous
behaviour towards them. They had all something
to say for themselves, which his Grace and Prince
Eugene received with the greatest modesty and com
passion." Prince Eugene commended the conduct of the
Elector of Bavaria and the valour of his troops.
He said that they had bravely repulsed him again
and again, and there was not a squadron in his army
which, during the battle, had not charged " four times
at least."
Hare adds that the Duke remained with Marshal
Tallard for more than an hour, and then returned
to his own quarters, and gave the order to the army

2o6 " 'TWAS A GLORIOUS VICTORY " [Ch. xii
to march beyond Hochstadt as far as Stenheim. Then
he rode over the field of battle from right to left, and
looked at the dead of both French and Enghsh lying
on that hotly-contested field .^
Saint-Simon lays stress on Marlborough's kindness
to the prisoners, and his words deserve to be cited :
" He treated them all, even the humblest, with the
utmost attention, consideration, and politeness, and
with a modesty that did him even more honour
than his victory." ^
It was at this moment that the incident which
foUows occurred :
" Parmi les soldats prisonniers, le due en reconnut
un dont il avoit remarque et admire la bravoure
pendant Taction. ' Votre maitre,' lui dit-il, ' seroit
invincible, s'il avoit beaucoup de soldats comme vous.'
' Mon roi,' repondit modestement le prisonnier, ' ne
manque pas d'hommes comme moi; mais il manque
de generaux comme vous.' "^
How the Duke's strategy is regarded by a modern
military expert is seen in the words of General Sir
Frederick Maurice. He describes Marlborough's
dramatic action at this crisis as one of the " grandest
strokes of military genius." The Duke saw at a
flash that he must strike hard if he was to prevent
the destruction of the Austrian Empire by the armies
of Louis XIV. He accordingly determined to
" move secretly and with great rapidity along the
whole line of the Rhine, in order to join his forces with
those of Prince Eugene. Having joined him, he
inflicted a great defeat on the French at the Battle
of Blenheim, with the result that the Empire of
Austria was by that movement saved, and a blow
1 Hare's unpublished " Joumal," p. 105 et seq.
" " Memoirs of the Duke of Saint-Simon," vol. i., p. 289.
' " Histoire de Jean Churchill, duo de Marlborough." by the
Abbe Dutems, t. ii., p. 23. Paris, de I'lmprimerie Imperiale. 1808.

1704J NEWS OF BATTLE 207
was inflicted upon France from which she reeled, and
from which she hardly recovered during subsequent
campaigns." ^
" Marlborough was renowned for his brilliant hand
ling of cavalry on the field of battle. The promptitude
with which he changed his plan of attack, when he
found that he was unable to capture Blenheim, and
the vigour with which he carried out his scheme of
breaking the hostile centre, are equaUy worthy of
admiration." ^
The French army had a long and proud list of
victories to its credit in every part of Europe when
Marlborough broke the spell. Blenheim shattered
the pride of France. Louis XIV. received the cruel
news on the 21st of August by a courier sent by
Marshal VillerOy. His Majesty was informed that
Tallard's army had been practically destroyed, that
no one knew what had become of the Marshal himself,
or whether the Elector and Marsin had taken part in
the battle. The suspense at Versailles was terrible.
It lasted six days, and only ended when an officer,
taken prisoner at Blenheim and set free by Marl
borough, pledged to make all haste to Versailles,
arrived to tell the pitiful story. The tidings reached
the Court in the midst of rejoicings at the birth of
a great grandson of Louis XIV. The effect was
appalling. Every prominent family in France had
a relative who was either slain, wounded, or cap
tured. All refrained from telling the direful news to
the King, until Madame de Maintenon took upon
herself the unwelcome task. Meanwhile Colonel
Parke galloped across Europe in another mood, and,
crossing the Channel, lost not a moment and said not
a word until, late on a beautiful drowsy August after-
1 " Sir Frederick Maurice ; A Record of his Work and
Opinions." Edited by his son, Lieutenant-Colonel F. Maurice
(1913)- 2 "An Outline of Marlborough's Campaigns," by Captain
Maycock, D.S.O., p. 61. London, 1913-

2o8 " 'TWAS A GLORIOUS VICTORY " [Ch. xii
noon, he gained Windsor and sought immediate
audience. The letter he carried was addressed to the
Duchess. She, like Queen Anne and the whole nation,
was full of alarm and foreboding. Not a word had
been heard of the Duke's movements since the fight
at Schellenberg. All that was known was that the
Allies had pushed forward to the Danube. Schellen
berg was won in June, and now August was waning.
People went about the streets of London through
those long weeks of summer with strained and anxious
faces, and with the haunting fear of calamity. Some
blamed Marlborough for his recklessness in plunging
into the heart of Germany, when France, with a more
disciplined and superior force, was straining every
nerve to crush his attempt to save the Empire. The
boastful confidence of victory expressed at the French
Court chafed the Enghsh people; men feared in their
secret hearts that there was good reason for foreboding.
No one living to-day will ever know how great was
the strain just then on the nation's pride as well as its
patience. Colonel Parke, when he galloped up the Castle Hill
at Windsor, found that the Mistress of the Robes was
in attendance on the Queen. But his errand brooked
no delay, and all ceremony was waived. He was
ushered straight into the little turreted chamber,
high on the outer wall, which now forms part of the
Royal Library, and in which, in memory of that day,
his own portrait still hangs. It is called Queen
Anne's Closet, for the lofty rooms, now the main rooms
of the Library, were then Her Majesty's private
apartments. In that little chamber, scarcely more
than ten feet long or broad. Queen Anne was seated
with the Duchess, close to the windows which com
mand a splendid view of Eton. They were sitting
in animated talk beside the tea-urn when " Colonel
Parke, Aide-de-Camp to His Grace the Duke of Marl-

17041 COLONEL PARKE 209
borough," was announced. He was one of the most
distinguished-looking officers in the British Army —
almost as brave as " Salamander " Cutts, nearly as
handsome as the great soldier who had sent him.
Bending low in salute to the Queen, he handed the
crumpled letter he had carried so far to the Duchess.
She, as Marlborough designed it should be so, was the
first in all England to make known the tidings. It
meant glory and honour to Queen Anne. It meant
pride and exultation to the nation. To the Duchess
it meant instant deliverance from fear, and the high
sense that the man who worshipped her had achieved
a victory which would make his name immortal.
The Duke had won, in spite of all the croakers at
home, in spite of gloomy forebodings abroad, in spite
of superior numbers, a victory so splendid that to
search for its like is in vain, unless imagination
travels back through the tumult of centuries to
Cressy and Poictiers. The Queen, too elated for
words, was content for the moment to say that
Colonel Parke should receive the usual 500 guineas
bestowed on the bearer of tidings of victory. He,
with courtly grace, dropped on his knee, and begged
Her Majesty to bestow upon him instead her own
portrait. The Queen, with a smile, granted his
request. Next day he received Anne's miniature
set in diamonds, and with it 1,000 guineas. A
portrait of the gallant soldier was painted with the
miniature on his breast. He did not wear the
Queen's gift long, for he was killed in 1709, in a
street riot at Antigua, when Governor-General of the
Leeward Islands.

14

CHAPTER XIII
THE GRATITUDE OF THE QUEEN AND THE NATION
The Queen received the tidings of the Battle of Blen
heim on the 2 ist of August, and on the following day
wrote from Windsor to the Duke a letter which has
hitherto remained in manuscript :
" You will very easily believe that the good news
Colonel Parke brought me yesterday was very wel
come, but not more I do assure you, than hearing you
were well after so glorious a victory, which will not
only humble our enemies abroad, but contribute very
much to the putting a stop to the ill designs of those
at home. I will not give you any account of what
passes here, knowing you have it from other hands,
but end this with my sincere wishes that God Almighty
will continue His protection over you, and send you
safe home to the joy of your friends; none I am sure,
is more truly and without any compliments so than
your faithful servant, " Anne R."^
Prince George of Denmark — when Colonel Durel,
another of the Duke's Aides-de-Camp, arrived a few
days later at Windsor with a more detailed account
of the battle — wrote:
" I give you a thousand thanks for the great and
good news you send me, and assure you that nobody
can rejoice more sincerely with you than I do, not
only for the public good, but on your own particular
(account), being very sensible, after such disappoint
ments as you have met with this year, success must
be a double satisfaction to you. That you may never
'¦ Blenheim Papers.
210

1704] STATE THANKSGIVING 211
meet with any ill fortune, but always be attended
with good and make a glorious end of this campaign,
is most heartily wished by your very affectionate
friend " George."^
That letter also has never been published, and it
shows the high regard in which the Prince held Marl
borough. He always proved a firm friend both to
the Duke and the Duchess, and it was only after his
death, four years later, that Harley and Mrs. Masham
gained any real ascendancy at Court. If Prince
George of Denmark had remained at Queen Anne's
side, it is perfectly clear that the last four years of
the reign would have been different. It was his death,
in 1 708 , which gave the opportunity to the enemies of
the Duke and Duchess to triumph.
On the 7th of September, Queen Anne went in
state from St. James's Palace to St. Paul's, to a
solemn Thanksgiving Service for the success of her
arms, and on the way thither was greeted with
continuous acclamations. The Duchess, who sat by
her side, shared in the homage of the vast crowds
who lined the streets. Evelyn in his "Diary"
describes the scene as one of the " utmost pomp and
splendour." He tells us that the Queen's coach was
drawn by eight horses, and that the Duchess of Marl
borough alone was with her, dressed in " plain gar
ments," a sharp contrast to Her Majesty, who was
" covered with jewels." Marlborough, the people
felt, had raised the glory of England to a height never
before attained, and, though he had powerful enemies
even then, their mean voices were silenced for the
moment. Congratulations poured in upon the Court
from all parts of Europe. The Emperor Leopold,
whose empire had been saved by the battle, wrote
to the Queen in terms that were unusual for a man of
* Blenheim Papers.

212 THE NATION'S GRATITUDE [Ch. xiil
his phlegmatic temperament, and in his letter spoke
of Marlborough as " His Highness " — a graceful
allusion to the newly-conferred Princedom of Mindel
heim. The Queen instantly wrote to the Duke, stating that
it was her pleasure that he should accept any honour
which the Emperor might confer upon him, and so he
became, before that eventful year was ended. Prince
of Mindelheim in the Holy Roman Empire. Mean
while, whilst all the bells throughout the land were
ringing in celebration of his victory, and the artillery
was booming in the capital, the Duke was following
up his triumph in the field by the pursuit of the
enemy, who had withdrawn beyond the Rhine, and
before that memorable campaign was ended Landau
was retaken and Treves and Trarbach were captured.
Late in the autumn, when the troops were once more
in winter-quarters, after the long and difficult march
from Germany, the Duke went on a diplomatic mission
to Berlin. He was received by the King of Prussia
with marked distinction, and was loaded with costly
presents . But the most important result of his mission
was the promise from Prussia of a subsidiary call of
8,000 men for the relief of the Duke of Savoy. He
also persuaded Prussia to relinquish its claims to the
inheritance of King William III., a concession which
removed one of the outstanding grievances of the
Dutch. Then he went to The Hague, where he met
with the reception of a conqueror, and on the nth
of December embarked on one of the Royal yachts,
bringing with him Marshal Tallard and other illustrious
prisoners, as well as the standards and trophies
captured in battle. Four days later he landed in
England, and was received at once in audience by the
Queen at St. James's. Next day (December 15)
he received the congratulations of both Houses of
Parliament, and in his reply declared that his triumph

1705] MARLBOROUGH'S TRIUMPH 213
was due, next to the blessing of God, to the courage
of the officers and soldiers who had fought under his
orders . '
Marlborough's return to England was the signal for
an outbreak of enthusiasm even more wonderful than
that which had been evinced on Thanksgiving Day.
It found expression on the 3rd of January, 1705, when
the 128 standards he had captured were borne in
triumph from the Tower to Westminster Hall with
imposing mUitary honours. It has been said that
never since the defeat of the Spanish Armada had
there been more glad emotion in the streets of the
capital than when he rode in triumph, with the
colours he had captured, through its crowded and
decorated streets. The way lay through the Green
Park, and Queen Anne, well content to stand aside
at such an hour, watched its stately progress from the
windows of St. James's Palace.
Neither the Queen nor the nation was satisfied with
verbal acknowledgments, however ardent, of Marl
borough's unmatched services to England. On the 1 7th
of February, Her Majesty, in response to an address
from the House of Commons, begging the Throne to
devise proper means for perpetuating the memory of
the services of the Duke of Marlborough, informed the
House that it was her pleasure to bestow on his Grace
and bis heirs the interest of the Crown in the Manor
and Honour of Woodstock, and requested, accord
ingly, a grant of suppljr to dispose of the encumbrances
on that estate. A Bill for this purpose was at once
introduced. It passed through both Houses of Parlia
ment without opposition, and received the royal
sanction on the 14th of March. The only stipulation
imposed was that the Duke and his heirs should
present to the Crown, on each anniversary of the
victory, a standard emblazoned with the arms of
France. In further token of gratitude, Her Majesty

214 THE NATION'S GRATITUDE [Ch. xm
issued an order to the Board of Works to erect, at the
expense of the Crown, a stately palace, which was to
be named Blenheim, so that future generations might
recall the glorious victory it was designed to com
memorate. Woodstock — the name means a leafy place — had
been a royal demesne from time immemorial. Saxon,
Norman, Plantagenet, and Tudor Kings came thither,
glad to forget the cares of State in the pleasures of the
chase. The ancient town grew up at the gates of the
Park, and was already in existence when the Domesday
Survey was made. The park itself, originally like
Cornbury and Wychwood, was a wild and undulating
forest, which Henry I. enclosed. He built great walls
around it, in order to keep, in the quaint words of
John Stow, the antiquary, " great store of deer and
divers strange beast, such as were brought to him from
far countries, lions, leopards, lynx, and such other."
It was in the reign of Henry II. that Woodstock grew
famous . The King often held his Court at the manor-
house, which stood within half a mile to the north of
the palace which Queen Anne built for Marlborough.
He came thither, not merely for the chase, but, as
the old chronicles put it, " for the love of a certain
woman called Rosamund," whose bower in the park
was hidden in a maze, the clue to which was discovered
through the jealousy of Queen Eleanor. Rosamund
Clifford, commonly called Fair Rosamund, was the
daughter of Walter de Chfford, Baron of Hereford,
and was the favourite mistress of Henry II. Tradi
tions differ as to her fate, but the most authentic
version of the story states that she finally took sanc
tuary at Godstow Nunnery, near Oxford, and there
died. The supposed site of Fair Rosamund's Bower
has for centuries been identified with the well near
the northern end of the bridge which crosses the lake,
created, when the Churchills came into possession.

THE ROYAL M.ANOR HOUSE OF WOODSTOCK.

'705] WOODSTOCK 215
-rom the River Glyme, which flowed through the
park. The manor-house was on a knoll a little to the
north of the present bridge, and its position is marked
by a group of sycamores, though no actual vestige
of the building itself remains. It was a considerable
house, for, apart from the King's private apartments
and the Queen's lodgings, it contained halls of state,
a chapel, rooms for the officers of the Court, a guard-
chamber, and a gate-house. One King after another
appears to have added to it, until Henry VII. com
pleted a range of buildings which, with its courtyards,
was nearly an acre in extent. It was in the gate
house that the Princess Elizabeth lived, under the
close surveillance of Sir Henry Bedingfield, after
Wyatt's rebellion, in the reign of her sister, Mary
Tudor. The Princess was allowed to wander through
Woodstock Park, but was always closely guarded,
and it was there that she envied the milkmaids, whose
songs she heard on the other side of its walls, and
wished she could exchange places with them. Her
captivity began in May, 1554, and ended in April,
1555- When she became Queen, Ehzabeth did not
forget the consideration shown to her by the people
of Woodstock, for in the first year of her reign she
confirmed the charter of Henry VI., and bestowed
certain property on the borough.
James I., with his Court, frequently was in residence
at Woodstock Manor, and Charles I., hastening back
to Oxford after the Battle of Edgehill, spent a night
under its roof. It was garrisoned by the royal troops
in the Civil War, and all that remained of Rosa
mund's Bower was then destroyed, lest, perchance,
the Roundheads should shelter there in an attack
on the manor-house. It suffered a siege which lasted
twenty days during the Civil War, and after the
Commonwealth it remained little better than a

2i6 THE NATION'S GRATITUDE [Ch. xiil
picturesque ruin; and it was in this condition when
Queen Anne bestowed Woodstock Park, nearly
1, 800 acres in extent, together with more than
500 acres of land outside its wall, on John ChurchiU,
Duke of Marlborough, and his heirs for ever. There
was no precedent in the annals of England for such
a munificent act. No servant of the Crown, how
ever illustrious, had ever been honoured, before
Marlborough, by the proposal to erect so splendid a
public monument of his services to the nation. This,
though a unique distinction, carried with it a practi
cal disadvantage. Queen Anne and her Parliament
began to build without counting the cost, a circum
stance which led, when the attitude of the Throne and
nation alike had changed, to serious misunderstand
ings. Queen Anne always issued the orders for the
payment of the work, and as long as she lived these
vast charges were included in Her Majesty's debt, as
part of the Civil List sanctioned by Parliament. The
real difficulty began with vexatious delays, when the
Duchess had been driven from Court by the political
intrigues of Harley and Mrs. Masham, and it was
complicated by the ill-defined stipulations at the
start; and culminated when the hostility of the
Duchess to the architect assumed the nature of an
open quarrel.
Horace Walpole always expressed surprise that
Vanbrugh, whom Swift mockingly described as
Vitruvius the Second, was chosen for so great a task.
Sir Christopher Wren was unquestionably the greatest
architect of the age, and he submitted plans for the
proposed building; but Wren's designs were set aside
in favour of those of Vanbrugh, possibly because that
strong, versatile personage was Controller of the Works
to Queen Anne, and held the decorative appointment
also of Clarenceux King-at-Arms. Walpole tells us
that, though the Court was partial to Vanbrugh,

1705] VANBRUGH 217
other people were not bhnd to his defects. He was
a confident, witty, ambitious, wheedling fellow, who
thought himself equally competent to manage a
theatre, write a play, or build a palace. He was
Captain Vanbrugh when he comes upon the scene in
1705, and, though he had seen no fighting, he could
dangle a sword with the best, and make elaborate
compliments to the Duchess on the military achieve
ments of her husband. He quickly won her con
fidence, and for a time she treated him with marked
consideration, feeling, perhaps, all the more impressed
by him because of the romance which attached to
the fact that he once was a prisoner in the Bastille,
which to her was a symbol of all that was detestable
in France.
Vanbrugh, to do him justice, had a genuine admira
tion for Marlborough, and even when he was at
daggers drawn with the Duchess it never slackened.
It was the admiration of a poseur and a carpet knight
for a soldier, not prodigal of words, like himself, but
supreme in action. The Duke seems to have treated
him with mingled amusement and caution. He
laughed good-humouredly at his homage, and scanned
closely his accounts. Vanbrugh was the first knight
created by George I., which was not surprising, since,
in his capacity of Clarenceux Herald, he had carried
the Garter to that Sovereign when Anne conferred
that distinction upon him as Prince of Hanover in
1706, when Blenheim was building. If any proof
were needed of the Duke's good nature, it is to be
found in the fact that, in spite of the bitter feud
between the Duchess and the architect of Blenheim,
which was at its height when George I. came to the
throne, he brushed the matter aside, and presented
Vanbrugh to the King for the audience which sent
him forth into the world as Sir John — the name by
which he is known to-day. He was of Dutch descent;

2i8 THE NATION'S GRATITUDE [Ch. xni
perhaps that had something to do with his parade of
devotion to the man who championed the imperiUed
liberties of HoUand.
Vanbrugh was a student of PaUadio, and was
enamoured of the stately Itahan school of architec
ture. He had received, at best, only a fitful and
almost haphazard training for a profession which he
did not adopt until he had played many other parts.
Yet he built Castle Howard and Blenheim, and as
long as they stand his claims as an architect can never
be ignored. The imagination which yielded him
renown as a dramatist did not desert him when the
medium in which he worked was marble and stone.
He was a perfect exponent of the massive, the stately,
the imposing, the spectacular appeal of architecture.
He borrowed with both hands from classic models,
and in building Blenheim kept avowedly before him
the creation of a splendid national monument, rather
than the subtle charm of a noble dwelling. He had
genius, but scarcely that form of it which has been
defined as an infinite capacity for taking pains.
Voltaire, who visited the Duchess at Blenheim some
years after Marlborough's death, declared that
apparently the last thought that Vanbrugh had con
sidered was the question of comfort. Everything, he
held, had been sacrificed to effect and what he termed
the Majesty of Size.
The Duchess always protested that she never liked
Vanbrugh 's design for Blenheim. She thought that
the scheme of the house was too ambitious; she did
not wish to live in a great rambling building which
covers more than three acres. But her objections
were overruled by the Duke and Lord Godolphin.
They both agreed with Vanbrugh that, if the palace
was to be an historic national memorial of the crown
ing victory after which it was called, it could scarcely
be either too splendid or too spacious, and in this view

1705] PLANS FOR THE PALACE 219
the Queen herself concurred. Here it is possible to
cite, from an unprinted document, the Duchess's
comments on the place :
"Every friend of mine knows that I was always
against building at such an expense, and as long as
I meddled with it at all I took as much pains to lessen
the charge every day, as if it had to be paid for out
of the fortune that was to provide for my own children,
for I always thought it too great a sum even for the
Queen to pay. ... I never liked any building so
much for the show and vanity, as for its usefulness
and convenience, and therefore I was always against
the whole design of Blenheim as too big and unwieldy,
whether I considered the pleasure of living in it, or
the good of my family that were to enjoy it here
after."^ The Duchess adds that she felt that a building on
such a scale would of necessity take a long time to
finish, and that, in consequence, the Duke, " when it
was reasonable for him to lose no time," would be
kept out of its enjoyment.
The Duke was marching at the head of his army
from the Moselle to the Netherlands, to the relief of
Overkirk, when the building of Blenheim began, in
June, 1705. There was an absolute panic in Holland
at the moment, for the French, under Villeroy, had
captured Huy and invested Liege, and were clearly
intent on recovering all their lost ground of the Meuse.
Mariborough had no time to think of any personal
affairs at the moment, for the military situation had
suddenly grown critical. Meanwhile, Vanbrugh, on
the 9th of June, received an official letter from Lord
Godolphin, constituting him " Surveyor of the Works
and Buildings intended to be erected at Woodstock,"
and giving him " full power " to purchase materials
and employ workpeople for the said buildings. He
lost no time, for the foundation-stone was laid on the
1 Blenheim Papers.

220 THE NATION'S GRATITUDE [Ch. xiH
1 8th of June, with considerable ceremony and amid
local rejoicings. It was placed on the east front of
the palace, under the bow-windowed room in the
private apartments. This room seems to have been
specially introduced into the plan by Her Grace,
for Vanbrugh refers to it particularly, even before
the palace was built, as "my lady Duchess' favourite
bow-window." It is almost the only room in the
building which is closely associated in tradition with
her memory, and it was there that Steele's " Conscious
Lovers, " and other plays which beguiled the last days
of the Duke, were performed by his grandchildren
and his guests.
Vanbrugh wrote to the Duke on the 22nd of June,
stating that the " first stone of Blenheim was laid
on Monday last with much ado." He added that he
had opened four or five quarries in the park, and
found stone for the interior of the walls, but very
little of a better quality. Some of the external stone
for Blenheim was taken from one small quarry within
the park, and all of it was obtained within a radius
of a few miles of Woodstock. A great deal of it was
excavated at Cornbury, five miles away. Lord
Rochester refused to accept any payment, since it
was to be used for the house of the Duke of Marl
borough ; otherwise the cost of the palace would have
been greatly increased. Vanbrugh in this letter in
dicates that the plans of the house had been modified
since the Duke had gone abroad :
" The drawings I sent Your Grace were not perfect
in little particulars, which at leisure have since been
more thoroughly considered. The only alteration
worth mentioning to Your Grace, however, is in the
first entrance of the House, where, by bringing the
break forwarder, the Hall is enlarged, and, from a
round is brought to an oval figure, a Portico added,
and yet the room much better lighted than before.
The top of it rises above the rest of the building

17051 MINDELHEIM 221
regularly in the middle of the four great Pavihons.
I hope Your Grace will like this alteration, for I
think it adds wonderfuUy to the beauty, regularity,
and magnificence of the building. Your Grace will
believe the work in general will now go on very roundly
when I acquaint you that the number of workmen
on the House — besides the Gardens — will in a few
days rise to near a thousand. I shall be very happy
if my endeavours in this, and my wishes for Your
Grace's success abroad, are answered."^
The Emperor Leopold I. bestowed the principality
of Mindelheim upon the Duke after the battle which
saved the Imperial throne. Marlborough's reason for
accepting this bit of German territory was not the
£2,000 a year which it brought him, and which by
this time he did not need, but the circumstance
that it made him a Prince of the Empire, and therefore
placed him on an equality with the jealous minor
potentates who had shown a disposition to resent his
authority in the field. He was deprived of Mindelheim
by the Treaty of Rastadt in 1714, which restored
the principality to Bavaria. It gave him, however,
as long as the War of the Spanish Succession lasted,
the authority he needed, and when he was deprived
of it he had grown careless of such honours, and was
too proud to press his claims. In 171 5, however,
by way of tardy compensation, he was made Prince
of Nellenburg. By that time Marlborough had no
illusions about public gratitude at home or abroad.
But between the years 1705 and 171 1 his heart was
set on the splendid palace of Blenheim, which was
then slowly rising in the great park at Woodstock.
There are constant allusions to the progress of the
building in the letters which he wrote in campaigns,
crowned by the victories of Ramillies, Oudenarde, and
Malplaquet. He continually asks the Duchess for
details as to the progress of the building, and again
1 Blenheim Papers.

222 THE NATION'S GRATITUDE [Ch. xni
and again, in the midst of his strenuous career abroad,
he expresses the longing for peace and quietness with
her under the roof of the house, which stands to-day
as an enduring memorial of his unmatched genius as
a soldier. Towards the close of his mihtary career, a note, not
of impatience, but of misgiving, creeps into his letters.
It seems as if he had realized that the scale of the
building was so vast, and the difficulties that arose
were so vexatious, that life itself would be ended before
he knew the pride of possession. Happily, his fears
were not realized — ^he was master of Blenheim for a
few shadowed years; but in 1722, when he fought his
last battle — the only one in which he was not con
queror — the palace was still only partially completed.
The general plan of Blenheim— it is impossible to
describe architectural details — is a vast central build
ing connected by colonnades with two projecting
quadrangular wings. The south facade, though less
ornate and ambitious in design, has always been
admired for its simple and massive dignity. At the
east and west end of it the building projects, and is
crowned by square towers; whilst the centre, also
projecting, is rendered imposing by pillars, rising to
the height of the building, which mask the entrance
from the grand salon to the park, approached by a
broad flight of stone steps. The pediment is crowned
by a colossal bust of Louis XIV., a trophy taken from
the gates of Tournay. The original intention was
to place on this commanding position an equestrian
statue of the Duke. Although the skyhne of the
south front of the palace is less broken and picturesque
than that of the north facade, its beauty is undeniable.
The east front, the eariiest part of the building, con
tains the private apartments, and is reheved by the
bold sweep of the bay-windowed parlour, perhaps the
only room in the palace which is definitely associated

*7osl DESIGN OF THE PALACE 223
with the Duchess. The noble room, with three
windows on the east fa9ade and three on the south,
is the Grand Cabinet, which Marlborough specially
liked, and is still adorned with the great mirrors
which he brought for his walls from abroad. The
west fa9ade is of similar design to the east, and con
tains the Long Library, which was at first meant for
a picture-gallery and ballroom, and still ranks as
one of the finest apartments in Europe.
There are two central courts in the main building,
and from the north end of the library access is gained
to the raised colonnade, which leads to the private
chapel, containing a magnificent marble monument
to the first Duke, who rests in the vault beneath,
side by side with the woman he loved. Beyond, again,
on that side of the palace, through an arched gateway,
are the riding-school and stables ; whilst at the other
extremity of the palace, behind the imposing clock-
tower, is the outer court, which contains the orangery,
the estate offices, the dairy, and servants' quarters.
This court is reached on the side nearest Woodstock
by a massive tower, enriched with military ornaments,
which, with its iron gates, forms the main entrance
to the palace, and contains the porter's lodge. Beyond
stretches that portion of the park which divides the
palace from the town of Woodstock, and where the
street ends stands the first entrance of Blenheim, a
stately classical arch, with side-entrances for pedes
trians, erected in 1723 by the Duchess, and bearing
an inscription stating that it was built the year
after the death of the " most iUustrious John, Duke
of Marlborough, by order of Sarah his most beloved
wife." It adds that " the services of this great man
to his country the pillar will tell you, which the
Duchess has erected as a lasting monument to his
glory and her affection to him." The " pillar " in
question is the monument which the Duchess built

224 THE NATION'S GRATITUDE [Ch. xm
on an eminence in the park, fronting the north fagade
at the distance of about a mile. It rises to a height
of 130 feet, and is a landmark for miles around. The
pedestal, which is cased with white marble, is in
scribed with a record, written by Lord BoUngbroke,
of the victories of the great soldier, together with a
summary of the Acts of Parliament granting the
Manor of Woodstock to the Churchills. The column
is surmounted by a statue of the Duke in Roman
costume. The inscription on the monument is, in
truth, the splendid summary of the Duke's achieve
ments. It describes the long succession of his
victories, from Blenheim to Bouchain, in battles
which " broke the power of France, rescued the
Empire from desolation, asserted and confirmed the
Liberties of Europe." The statement ends with the
proud words :
" The Acts of Parliament inscribed on this Pillar
shall stand as long as the British Name and Language
last, illustrious monuments of Marlborough's Glory
and of Britain's Gratitude."
The nation's gratitude was short-lived, but Marl
borough's glory, though it suffered passing eclipse,
shines like a fixed star in the firmament for ever

CHAPTER XIV
THE PROUDEST YEAR II^T THE DUCHESS'S LIFE
The Duchess was elated in 1705. Homage from all
parts of Europe reached her, as the wife of the soldier
who at Blenheim had delivered a crushing blow to
the military prestige of France. Her power at the
Court of St. James's was unbounded. The Queen
and the nation vied with each other in doing honour
to the Duke. The palace, to commemorate the
great battle which had altered the whole course of
the War of the Spanish Succession, and had compeUed
the invaders of other kingdoms to be content with
the defence of their own frontiers, was already begin
ning to rise in the historic park at Woodstock. There
were political and social reasons of another kind
which heightened her triumph. The Whigs, to whom
she pinned her faith, came back to Westminster from
the polls with a majority. She was already beginning
to urge, not wisely but too well, that her son-in-law.
Lord Sunderland, should be raised to Cabinet rank,
a proposal to which the Queen, who was alarmed by
his extravagant speeches, demurred. The Duchess
was not easily turned from anything on which she
had set her heart, and in the following year she pre
vailed. Meanwhile, Sunderland had been sent as
special Envoy to Vienna, to congratulate the Emperor
Joseph I. on his accession to the imperial throne, in
succession to Leopold I., who died on the 6th of May,
1705. Lord Sunderland was naturally received at
Vienna with marked distinction, as the representative
225 15

226 THE PROUDEST YEAR [Ch. XIV
of Queen Anne, and as the son-in-law of Marlborough.
His selection for that high post gratified the Duchess,
and all the more because it kept him in the public eye,
and removed him from the political intrigues of the
Court at a time when the Queen's objections to the dis
missal of Sir Charles Hedges from the post of Secretary
of State, in order to make way for Sunderiand, still
prevailed. The Duchess even in old age was a matchmaker,
as her granddaughters had reason to know, and
in 1705 she arranged an alliance for the last of
her own children, who at that time remained un
married. Lady Mary Churchill was a high-spirited,
vivacious, and singularly beautiful girl, so much
so, indeed, that in the year after Blenheim she
was a reigning toast, and her loveliness was the
talk of the town. The Earl of Peterborough's heir
had sought her hand, which the Duke peremptorily
refused because of his evil reputation. Lord Hunting
ton, son of the Earl of Cromartie, was another of
Lady Mary's suitors, but, apparently, in this case the
girl herself was coy. Lord Tulhbardine was also one
of her countless admirers, but his proposal was re
jected. Then, when she was still only sixteen. Viscount
Monthermer, son of Ralph, Earl of Montagu, made
advances ; but Lady Mary pleaded her youth, and kept
him in suspense for a year. They were married in
the spring of 1 705 , greatly to the delight of the Duchess,
and with the approval of the Duke, who seems to
have thought that such an alliance would be of service
in the rivalry between the Whigs and the Tories.
The Queen made the same provision as in the case
of the Duke's other daughters, and her father gave
Lady Mary the same marriage portion as her sisters.
Lady Mary has the distinction of being the only
daughter of Marlborough to whom frequent allusion
is made in his letters from abroad, He was proud

17051 THE DUKE OF MONTAGU 227
of her wit, as well as of her beauty. She was the only
child who survived both her parents. It was, perhaps.
as well for her own happiness that she escaped from
leading-strings early, for she was almost as independent
and outspoken as her mother, and their strong natures
clashed. Her father-in-law, through Marlborough's
influence, was created Duke of Montagu shortly after
the marriage of his son.
Montagu's career was stormy and dramatic. He
was twice sent by Charles II. as Ambassador to
Louis XIV., incurred the mortal antipathy of the
Duchess of Cleveland, was struck off the Privy Council,
and superseded at Versailles I He afterwards espoused
the cause of Monmouth, and was compelled to go into
exile. He returned to England in the reign of
James II., and gained his earldom from William III.,
with whom he had thrown in his lot at the Revolu
tion. He died in the year that Marlborough triumphed
at Malplaquet and Lady Monthermer, at the age of
twenty-one became Duchess of Montagu, somewhat
to the dismay of her imperious mother, whose star
at that time was beginning to set.
The Duchess was forty-five when the youngest of
her daughters was married, and it is quite clear that
she was glad when they were off her hands. She had
no longer to chaperon them at the opera and the
ballroom, and was thankful to be relieved of the task
of keeping undesirable young gallants at arm's length.
One of the least attractive aspects of her character
is thrown into relief by her relations with her
daughters. Her letters in the Blenheim archives
are too long and often too trivial to be given at
length. It is enough to sum up in a few words the
broad impression which they give. There is a rap
on the knuckles in many of them. She was con
tinually bringing railing accusations of incivihty,
disrespect, and ingratitude, against the oldest and

228 THE PROUDEST YEAR [Ch.xiv
the youngest of them — Lady Godolphin and the
Duchess of Montagu. No one, not even her mother,
could pick a quarrel with Lady Sunderland, for " the
Little Whig," as men called her, was the soul of
goodness, and eager at all times to make peace among
her relatives. As for the Countess of Bridgewater,
a sunny temperament and a sense of humour marked
her, and she shared also, more than any other of the
Duke's children, one of his most enviable characteris
tics — the capacity for patience. The truth is that
the Duchess of Marlborough was curiously autocratic
in the attitude she assumed to her daughters. Even
when they were married women, of high and inde
pendent rank, she expected them to display in her
presence a deference which, even in those days of
ceremony and etiquette, was unusual. She expected
them to drop a curtsy as they entered her room, and
to address her as Madam. She ignored the cir
cumstance that they were no longer children, and
had their own place at Court and in Society; and the
consequence was that two of them. Lady Godolphin
and the Duchess of Montagu, grew defiant and went
their own way.
There were faults on both sides, as will appear;
meanwhile it is enough to cite, from an unprinted
paper, one of the charges of disrespect which the
Duchess made against her youngest daughter at this
particular period :
" One of Lady Mary's fancies was when she was
first married, that if she met me in any visit or publick
place, she would not make me a curtsy — I suppose
that must proceed from her fears that I would not
make her a very low one, and at that time I was
reduced to desire nothing more than decency — but
that not being to be compassed, I desired her to give
me the ease of not coming to my house — and in this
way we lived a gt. while, and when I have met her
in the streete in her chair she would not let down her

1705] HARLEY AND ST. JOHN 229
glass and bow. After this had made some noise,
several people that were friends to ye family took
upon them to argue this matter with her, and she
was so far persuaded, that we were made friends,
which I was very much pleased with. But her nature
soon returned, and when the Duke of Marlborough
and I went abroad in 171 2 — she very seldome writ
to me, and upon my reproaching her and complaining
to her sisters of her want of kindness, she writ verj'
odd letters— upon which her father writ a very move-
ing letter to the present Earl of Godolphin — desiring
him who was so reasonable a man to convince the
Duchess of Montagu how much she was in the wrong,
not to live kindly with so good a mother." ^
The Duchess as a " good mother," in the light of
her stern and uneasy relations with her daughters,
provokes a smile. She used to say of herself, with
the candour, right or wrong, which always marked
her, that it was her habit to " tumble her mind out
on paper;" 2 and, if she was to be judged by the reck
less words she wrote concerning Lady Godolphin and
the Duchess of Montagu in her lonely old age, truth
would compel the use of an epithet of an opposite
kind. Like the majority of quick-tempered, impul
sive, outspoken people, her bark was worse than her
bite, and therefore it is necessary to set over against
her unbridled speech her many fine and redeeming
qualities. Harley, anxious to gain the Queen's confidence,
and St. John, whose footing at Court was stiU uneasy,
were dancing attendance on the Duchess in 1705,
and trying to wheedle her by adroit compliments and
the gossip of the town into complaisance. She hked
St. John at this time fairly well, and was quick enough
to recognize his shining gifts and unbounded admira
tion for the Duke. But the Duchess thought that
she detected insincerity in Harley, though he far
outdid St. John in protestations of devotion. She
1 Blenheim Papers. "' Ibid.

230 THE PROUDEST YEAR [Ch.xiv
dishked his ceremonial bows, his high-flown, studied
speeches, his ostentatious air of candour, with the
result that the more effusive he became the less she
trusted him. She beheved that the Duke's confidence
in him was misplaced, and her aversion was heightened
by her knowledge that he supported Sir Charles
Hedges, who stood in the way of Sunderland's pro
motion to Cabinet rank.
The Duchess, relieved of the care of her daughters,
and deeming herself perfectly secure in the affection
and confidence of the Queen, began to absent herself,
when the mood seized her, from attendance at Court.
The quietude of Windsor Lodge, the beauty of her
own garden at Holywell House, and the new interest
which had come into her life with the building of
Blenheim, in turn attracted her. She wanted more
personal liberty, and began to detest the throng of
courtiers and suitors, to whose petitions she was
forced to attend, when at Kensington or St. James's.
But the Duchess failed to realize that she had accus
tomed the Queen to close attention and constant
raillery. Mrs. Morley grew moody and depressed, and,
in her secret heart, resentful at Mrs. Freeman's prefer
ence for any place outside the royal closet. But this
was hidden from the Duchess in 1705, and she seems
to have flattered herself that all was well. It looked
like it, what with the brilliant marriage of her daughter,
the building of the palace, the political advancement
of Sunderland, and the brightening prospects of the
Whigs, but appearances are proverbially deceptive.
If the Duchess was elated, the Duke's mood was
depressed. He had returned to the war with high
hopes, but, through no fault of his own, his plans had
miscarried. His intention was to take the offensive
by the invasion of Lorraine, for his ambition was to
get within striking distance of Paris. Prince Eugene
was no longer at his side; he had been recalled to

1705] DELAYS OF THE ALLIES 231
carry on the war in Italy, where he was confronted
by the Due de Vendome. Marlborough wished to
invade France by way of the Moselle and Saar. He
thought he could capture Metz, and by that means
turn the fortresses of the Netherlands and cut off
Alsace. He hastened to his headquarters at Treves,
where the Imperial Allies were to meet him, to carry
out the proposed plan of campaign arranged in the
previous autumn, and arrived on May 26 in that city.
But much had happened in the interval. Vienna was
no longer in peril, and the Emperor Leopold I., whose
throne had been saved by the Battle of Blenheim, was
no longer alive. The Duke had expected to find
himself at the head of an army of 30,000 British and
a reinforcement of 50,000 German troops. Yet, in
spite of the pledges he had received, not a man or a
horse from the German Princes and States came to his
aid. He waited at Treves until the 1 7th of June, with
the knowledge that Louis XIV. was assembling a great
army under Villeroy in the Low Countries, and that
VUlars and Marsin already held strong positions along
the line of his proposed advance. Faced by over
whelming odds, the Duke broke up his camp at the
end of three anxious weeks, and fell back to the Meuse,
having lost, as he said himself, " one of the fairest
opportunities in the world by the faithlessness of his
aUies." The Duke's letters written at this period make it
plain that he was not merely greatly disappointed
by the faUure of the AUies to come to his aid, but
that he was iU. Prince Lewis of Baden, to make
matters worse, instead of hastening to Treves, made
a pretext of his health, and went off to take the
waters at one of the German spas. He wrote to tell
the Duke that, in consequence, his troops would not
march at the time proposed, and, as every day was
critical, Marlborough did well to be angry:

232 THE PROUDEST YEAR [Ch.xiv
" This and other things makes me wish myself
a much privater man than I am, so that I mi^ht
depend upon myself without being plagued with
other people's humours."^
He told Godolphin, in a letter written in the middle
of June, that he was weary of his life, and declared
that, if the suspense lasted much longer, it would
make an end of him. He could not sleep.
" My dearest soul," he writes to the Duchess,
" pity me and love. I own to you that my sickness
comes from fretting, for I have been disappointed in
everything that was promised me. I have had
letters from all the children, but till I am in a better
humour I cannot write to them, so be so good as to
say something to them very kind from me."^
He tells her that the only consolation he has is that
she is kinder to him than she has been for many years.
He compares himself to a sick man turning rest
lessly on his bed from side to side. He urges her to
press forward the house at Woodstock, for he thinks
that he will never stir abroad again, when this cam
paign is ended, from his own home, since " it is
impossible to serve with any satisfaction when it is
in so many people's power to do mischief."^
Marlborough was at no period of his life sus
picious ; he trusted men implicitly until he had good
reason to know that they were unworthy of his con
fidence. The Duchess, on the contrary, was always
reading motives into other people's conduct. She
was sometimes right, but quite as often she was
wrong, and the uneasy habit grew upon her as hfe
advanced. Even in 1705 she believed the Duke and
Godolphin were ill-advised in placing so much trust
in Harley and St. John. The events which happened
a few years later prove that she was right ; but whether
' Blenheim Papers. 2 /j,-^ 3 /jj^

1705] THE DUCHESS AND POLITICS 233
either of them would have plotted against Marl
borough in the manner in which they eventually did,
if she herself had proved less overbearing and more
considerate, is one of the unsolved riddles of history.
However that may be, it was peculiarly unfortunate
that in the early summer of 1705, when, if ever she
ought to have written cheerfully to her husband,
since his mind was distracted by difficulties of all
sorts, she kept teUing him that one of the Ministers
who had been recently introduced into Godolphin's
Cabinet was plotting against him.
There are people who catch at a straw in the
direction of hope. The Duchess had another and less
excellent way : she caught at a straw in the direction
of apprehension; and the pity was that she never
spared the Duke her moody fears. He teUs her, in
reply to a letter alive with pohtical misgivings, that,
though others may intrigue against him, he is careless
of the result :
" I serve the Queen with all my heart, and when
they can prevail with her to think I am no use I shall
retire well contented, for I long after nothing so much
as to live quietly with you. When I have no place
I shall then have the pleasure of letting the Queen
and all the world see that I shall serve with the
same zeal without a place as now that I have her
favour."^ He adds that he thinks that it is for the good of
England that neither party in the State should have
a great majority, so that the Crown may be able to
influence its affairs. In another letter, written from
Maestricht, the 29th of June, 1705, he declares that
he begins to see clearly that " negligence abroad and
the mallice of parties at home will make me in
capable of doing Her Majesty any service." He
adds: ' Blenheim Papers.

234 THE PROUDEST YEAR [Ch. XIV
" I shall be obliged to continue as I am. My days
must be very short, as I am wasted to nothing,
having perpetual vexation — fearing the world may
blame me for other people's faults." ^
Whilst Marlborough was awaiting the reinforce
ments which never arrived at Treves, Villeroy cap
tured in quick succession both Huy and Li^ge, and
the Dutch in a panic begged the Duke to bring his
army with all haste to the Meuse. If he had followed
his own inclination, he would have marched in an
opposite direction, and have joined Prince Eugene
in Italy. He detested meddlesome Dutch Field
Deputies, and was angry with the States-General
because they had not sent to Treves the ammunition
they had promised. Prince Eugene shared Marl
borough's disdain of the Dutch Deputies. He ex
claimed : " Se melant toujours de tout, et toujours
mourant de peur."^ He saw, however, that Villeroy,
emboldened by his absence, might carry all before
him in the Netherlands, for Overkirk was no match
for so experienced a soldier. Hence, with a heavy
heart and in ill-health, he despatched the Foot from
Treves on the 19th of June, and himself followed the
next day with the Horse :
" The alarm is so great in HoUand that I am appre
hensive they may be frightened so as to barken to
a proposition of peace before I get thither, so that I
make all the diligence possible."^
No wonder he was chagrined at the turn of events.
He believed that if he had been properly supported
he could have invaded France, pushed his army on
to Paris, and put an end to the war. " There was
all the probability imaginable," he exclaimed, " for
a glorious campaign," and it had been put to flight
' Blenheim Papers. ^ Eugene's Memoires, p. 84.
'' Blenheim Papers.

1705] HUY AND LIEGE 235
by the " neghgence of Princes," who had broken
their promises by not coming to his aid at the critical
moment. When he was on the march, a letter was
put into his hand from the Queen, dated, " Windsor,
June 12." It was so gracious that it changed his
mood. Her Majesty told him that she was extremely
sorry to learn that he had met with so much vexation
and uneasiness. She added that, whatever fortune
attended him, she felt persuaded that nothing would
be wanting on his part. She declared that she was
persuaded that before the campaign ended something
would happen to " make you very well satisfied with
yourself," and then she added:
" I pray God send you good success, make you easy
in everything, and continue you under His gracious
protection, that your friends may have the satisfac
tion of seeing you in England again in health, which
nobody I am sure will desire more sincerely than your
humble servant, " Anne R.''^
It was just the message Marlborough needed at
that moment. He assured the Queen in reply that
he would venture ten thousand lives, if he had them, to
make Her Majesty easy and happy. At the same
time he hinted to the Queen that it might be to her
advantage, as well as his own, if he resigned his
command at the close of the present campaign, since
he was between cross-fires in England. Yet he hesi
tated because he was unwilling to place the Crown
at the mercy of either political party.
The Queen's prediction that something memor
able would happen before the campaign ended was
fulfilled within a month of the period when she
wrote her letter. Huy was recaptured and the siege
of Li^ge was raised, and Villeroy, with his great
army, retired behind the fortified lines, which
1 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. i., p. 287.

236 THE PROUDEST YEAR [Ch.XIV
stretched across the Spanish Netherlands from Ant
werp to Namur. These lines were protected by the
cordon of fortresses constructed, as an almost im
pregnable barrier, by the genius of Vauban, the
greatest mihtary engineer, not merely of France, but
of Europe. Villeroy's army, 70,000 strong, held the
lines, which had been strengthened and extended
during the previous three years. The Duke by
marches and counter-marches, threw the French
completely off their guard, and under cover of the
darkness forced the lines at Tirlemont on the i8th of
July. It was one of the greatest military achieve
ments, even in Marlborough's career, and only a con
summate soldier would have ventured to attempt it,
especially with a force inferior to an army which lay
behind entrenchments. The Dutch Deputies were
aghast at his proposal, and some of their commanders,
notably Slangenberg, thought that the Duke was
simply courting destruction; but, in concert with
Overkirk, he carried his point, and the result was a
brilliant and almost bloodless victory. His loss was
eighty men, but he captured several officers of distinc
tion, a number of standards, and 1,200 of the rank
and file. " Tirlemont,
" fi*ly iSth, 1705.
" My dearest Soull,
" This bearer Durel (one of the aides de camp)
will acquaint you with the blessing God has been
pleas'd to give me, for I have this morning forced the
enemy's lyns and beaten a good part of their Army,
taken the canon, two Lt. Generals and two Major
Generals, and a great many officers, besides standards
and couUors , of all which I shall have a perfect account
tomorrow. It is impossible to say too much good of
the troupes that were with me, for never men fought
better. Having march'd al last night, and taken a
good deal of pains this day that my blood is so bote
that I can hardly hold my pen, so that you will,
dearest life, excuse mee. If I say no more but that

1705] VACILLATION OF THE DUTCH 237
I wou'd not let you know my designe of attacking the
lyns by the last post fearing it might give you un-
easyness, and now, my dearest soul, my heart is so full
of joye for this good success, that shou'd I write more,
I shou'd say a great many foUys."^
The Duke had a narrow escape at Tirlemont. The
Horse charged the enemy sword in hand. They
fired from their saddles, and galloped back hotly
pursued. Presently they received reinforcements,
and made a counter-charge, before which, for the
moment, the British recoiled. In the confusion, Marl
borough, with a trumpeter and a groom, was separated
from his troops. A French dragoon, seeing the chance
of dealing a mortal blow at Marlborough, rushed at
him. Rising in the saddle, to make the thrust of his
sword more effectual, he overbalanced himself, and,
falling to the ground, was seized by the trumpeter.
Just in the nick of time Marlborough's thirty-eight
squadrons rallied, and the Duke led them forward,
again scattering the enemy like chaff, and capturing
the guns. Villeroy was not present at the action, but
tidings of it quickly reached him. He realized that
his position had been turned, and he fell back on
Louvain. The Duke made two distinct attempts to
follow up his success, but in both instances his designs
were foiled by the vacillation and stupidity of the
Dutch. So he had to content himself by destroying
the French lines from the Derner to the Mehaigne.^
Slangenberg was the chief offender amongst the Dutch
generals, and so great was the indignation, both in
England and Holland, when the facts were disclosed,
that he was deprived of his command. Marlborough
would have struck a decisive blow in 1705 if timid
counsels and quarrelsome tempers had not prevailed
in the Dutch camp.
' Coxe. " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. i., p. 294.
2 See "History of the British Army," by the Hon. J. W.
Fortescue, for detailed military descriptions, with plans of
Marlborough's campaigns. London, 1899.

238 THE PROUDEST YEAR [Ch.xiv
The tidings of the forcing of the lines at Tirlemont
were received with great rejoicings at the English Court.
Harley told the Queen that no Prince in the world had
such a subject as the Duke of Marlborough. He was
effusive in his compliments to the great soldier, whose
downfall he afterwards accomplished :
" Your friends and servants here cannot be without
concern on your Grace's account when we hear how
much you expose that precious life of yours upon all
occasions. ... I hope your Lordship's unwearied
care and unparalleled merit will in due time procure
a lasting and sure peace for Europe with repose and
eternal renown to your Grace." ^
The Duke was beginning to understand the man,
and could afford to toss such a letter aside.
Thanks to Slangenberg and the Dutch Deputies,
Villeroy had escaped for the moment, but in the next
campaign Marlborough tried conclusions with him
to some purpose. He had visited Vienna in the
interval, where he was received with the honours of
conqueror, and came to a clear understanding with
Joseph I. He returned to The Hague early in the
year 1706, and from that city wrote to the Duchess,
in reply to a letter of complaint which she had sent
him about the conduct of her daughters. It is clear
that he was troubled at the manner in which small
faults were reported to him, and begged his wife,
for his sake, to have in mind that her children were
young. He asked her not to regard trivial mis
demeanours too seriously, and hinted that when he
could find time to write to them he would point out
to them the duty of being more considerate to "so
good a mother."^ He adds that he is sending 10,000
men to Prince Eugene, in order that he may take the
field. The letter ends with the famihar request for
tidings as to how the building at Woodstock was
progressing. " Blenheim Papers. 2 jjj-^

1706] A " SCANDALOUS PAMPHLET " 239
Marlborough might have said what Nelson said a
century later: " I hate your pen-and-ink men."
Grub Street scribblers were already beginning to
think him noble quarry, and to stab at his reputation.
The hue and cry against him had not yet arisen,
and writers of genius, like Swift, who afterwards used
all their powers of detraction, were still silent. The
Duchess, however, was shrewd enough to detect the
first mutterings of the storm when she sent him
printed tirades and compliments with an impartial
hand. He had received what he called a " scandalous
pamphlet," and his comment was characteristic, since
it reveals his attitude to the Press :
" The best way of putting an end to that villainy
is not to appear concerned. The best of men and
women have in all ages been abused ; if we can be so
happy as to behave ourselves, as to have no reason to
reproach ourselves, we may then despise what rage
and faction do."
He adds :
" If I must be used ill by those I endeavour to
serve with the hazard of my life, and that the enemy
would seek all means of destroying me, I must be
madder than anybody in Bedlam, if I shall continue
serving."^ This is practically what he had said to Godolphin
at an earlier stage of the campaign.
The Duke sometimes struck out passages com
plimentary to himself, which his secretary, Cardonnel,
who was with him all through his campaigns, wrote
for the official Gazette.
" I am persuaded," he used to say, " that an
honest man must be justified by his own actions,
and not by the pen of a writer, though he should ' be
a zealous friend.' "^
* Blenheim Papers. ^ Ibid

240 THE PROUDEST YEAR [Ch.xiv
That may seem a small thing, but it at least throws
a significant sidehght on the quahty, as well as the
character, of Marlborough.
It was on the 23rd of May, 1706, that the Duke
won the second of his great victories in the War of
the Spanish Succession. Villeroy received orders
from Versailles at the beginning of that month to
force a battle. Marlborough was threatening Namur,
a place which the French regarded, on strategical
grounds, as more important than any other in the
Low Countries. VUlars had opened the campaign
by a successful attack on Prince Lewis of Baden on
the Mottar, and the Dutch were in a panic as usual;
for they saw that, unless Marlborough defeated
Villeroy, the whole outlook of the war would be altered
for the worse. The Duke, who had just received the
Danish contingent, which brought his army up to
60,000 men, threw himself across the path of Villeroy's
advancing army, and the latter took up a commanding
position on the heights above Ramillies , a village only
a few miles away from Tirlemont. Villeroy's army-
was 70,000 strong, and contained the picked regiments
of France. The French, believing that Marlborough
could not possibly reach the point they had so care
fully chosen for the battle, were quietly strengthening
their position, when in the early hours of the morning
General Cadogan, with 600 men, galloped upon the
scene to fix the guidons for the guidance of the
advancing army. Villeroy's right was on the
Mehaigne ; his centre and left lay behind the marshes
of the Geete. Between the Mehaigne and Ramillies,
which lay at the edge of the marsh, was a strip of
firm ground rather more than a mile in extent. This
was the chosen field of battle, and at ten o'clock,
when the Duke rode to the front to reconnoitre through
the roUing mists of that historic May morning, he
saw that there Villeroy had massed 120 squadrons of

1706]

PLAN OF RAMILLIES

241

Battle of
RAMILLIES
23'"-'' May 1706.

Scale of Miles

d a % s 1

16

S42 THE PROUDEST YEAR [Ch.XIV
cavalry, and that behind them lay the French infantry
of the right wing. Villeroy imagined that Marlborough
would throw himself against this force, especially as
the French left wing, protected by the marshes, held
an almost impregnable position. His whole plan of
battle was thrown into confusion when from the heights
he saw the Enghsh army suddenly wheel to the right
as if to attack the French left. The movement was
made with roll of drums and display of banners.
Villeroy at once weakened his right wing by
hurrying forward reinforcements to the threatened
left. Marlborough, with ominous courtesy, gave him
ample time for this movement, and, when it was
completed, suddenly ordered the troops to fall back.
He had grasped the advantage of the rising ground,
which screened his army at this point of the field;
and when all were under cover except the last brigade,
he ordered it to wheel round and face the enemy, who
imagined that the whole army was behind the hill.
The result of his strategy was that five British
battalions, standing at attention on the hill, threw
the whole of the French left wing out of action. The
position of the French behind the marshes made an
attack on their part impossible, and the small force
which Marlborough had left behind held them at bay
all through the day without firing a single shot.
Meanwhile the main body of the Duke's army had
made all haste to the extreme right of the French
position, whilst the Danish cavalry had galloped
round unnoticed to the flank of Villeroy's position,
which was in consequence turned. At half-past one
in the afternoon the battle was joined. It began
with the artillery. Before the smoke had cleared
away the Duke ordered the infantry to advance
against the French right wing, whilst four Dutch
battalions were directed to carry at the point of the
bayonet the viUages of Franquinay and Tavieres,

1706J A NARROW ESCAPE 243
where the extreme right of the French army was
posted. There was stubborn fighting around
Tavieres, but presently both villages were captured,
and this cleared the way for Overkirk with the
cavalry. He charged and broke the first French line;
but the second not only held its ground, but drove
the Dutch before it. At this juncture the Duke
himself brought up fresh squadrons of foreign Horse,
and turned the tide of battle. Some French dragoons
recognized him when the outcome of the fighting was
still uncertain, and, rushing out of their ranks,
surrounded him, and in the confusion he was unhorsed.
It looked for a moment as if he would be made
prisoner, but the cavalry instantly rallied, and the
position was saved. Whilst he was mounting his
horse again, his Equerry, Colonel Bringfield, held the
stirrup, and just as the Duke regained the saddle the
Colonel reeled to the ground in a cloud of smoke.
He had been killed instantly by a cannon-ball which
narrowly missed Marlborough. His gallant death is
commemorated on the tapestry at Blenheim, and by
a monument in Westminster Abbey.
Meanwhile the battle rolled on, and the solid
mass of Marlborough's infantry was hurled against
Villeroy's centre, which held the village of Ramil
lies, whilst the Danish Horse, under the Duke
of Wiirtemberg, feU upon the right flank of the
French, and the Dutch Guards under Overkirk swept
round from Tavieres and began an attack on the rear.
Villeroy was completely trapped, and, though the
French fought gallantly, a simultaneous rush of the
cavalry of the Allies from two directions threw the
French Horse into confusion, and the Duke, pressing
home the charge, won the Battle of Ramillies.
" RamiUies was a typical ' encounter battle,' in
which neither commander had time for a prolonged
reconnaissance, and the promptitude with which Marl
borough made his plans, and the skill with which he

244 THE PROUDEST YEAR [Ch.xiv
took advantage of his opponent's mistakes, stamped
him as a leader of high ability." ^
Saint-Simon in his " Memoirs " states: " We lost in
this battle 4,000 men and many prisoners of rank, all
of whom were treated with much pohteness by Marl
borough." Some of the historic regiments of France
were cut to pieces at RamiUies, and in the pursuit
which followed the famous Regiment du Roi was either
cut down or captured to a man. The French lost
the whole of their artillery except six guns. Saint-
Simon greatly understates the loss of men. The losses
of the French and Bavarians between them in killed,
wounded, prisoners, and deserters, were shown to
be from 12,000 to 15,000. The Allies lost in killed
and wounded 3,600. Brussels surrendered four days
after the battle, and, in quick succession, Ghent,
Antwerp, and, as the result of a vigorous siege, Ostend,
which was regarded as one of the strongest places in
Europe ; and before the campaign ended Marlborough
took Mons, the only place of any account occupied
by the French to the north of their own frontier.
It has been said that in six weeks after Ramillies not
a French soldier remained in a district which up to
the day before that battle had been held by an army
of 80,000 men, sheltered by a network of the strongest
fortifications in the world.
Villeroy ought to have waited for Marsin, who was
within two days' march of him when Ramillies was
fought. He was recaUed, for his defeat had created
consternation at VersaiUes. Three days after the
battle (May 27) the Duke wrote to the Duchess :
I have been in so continued a hurry ever since the
battle of RamiUies, by which my blood is so heated
that when I go to bed I sleep so unquietly that I
cannot get rid of my headache. So as yet I have
not all the pleasure I shall enjoy of the blessing God
1 " An Outline of Marlborough's Campaigns," by Captain
F. W. O. Maycock, D.S.O., p. 86. London, 1913.

1706] CONSEQUENCES OF THE BATTLE 245
has been pleased to give us in this great victory. It
is most certain that we have destroyed the greatest
part of the best troops of France. I have appointed
next Sunday for the army to return thanks to God
for the protection He has been pleased to give us,
for on this occasion it has been very visible. The
French had not only greater numbers than we, but
also all their best troops. If God had suffered us to
be beaten, the liberties of aU the AUies had been lost."
He adds significantly that " the consequences of
this battle are likelier to be of greater consequences
than that of Blenheim."^ He tells her in another
letter of the many towns that had submitted since
the victory, and makes it plain that all Brabant was
at his feet. It seems to him, he says, more like a
dream than the truth, so great are the results of the
battle. He expresses his gladness that the Duchess
is once more on happy terms with three of her
children, and " hopes to God that Lady Monthermer
will in time be sensible of the great obligations she
has to you." The Duchess had expressed her fear
as to his personal safety, little knowing at the moment
of his narrow escape at Ramillies. So he writes :
" You are very kind in desiring I should not expose
myself. Be assured, my dear soul, I love you so well
and am so desirous of ending my days quietly with
you, that I shall not venture myself but when it is
absolutely necessary. I am sure you are so kind to
me and wish so well to the common cause that you
would rather see me dead than not do my duty. I
am so persuaded that this campaign will bring us a
good peace that I beg you to do all you can that the
House at Woodstock may be carried up as much as
possible that I may have a prospect of hving in it."^
It would be easy to cite other letters, written during
the campaign of 1706, which show by the questions
he asked how keen was the interest that the Duke
took in the building of Blenheim.
1 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. i., p. 424.
^ Ibid., p. 426.

CHAPTER XV
THE FLOWING TIDE OF VICTORY
There is no need to describe the rejoicings in England
over the Battle of RamiUies. The Queen again went
to a service of solemn thanksgiving at St. Paul's, with
the Duchess by her side. The Duke received the
thanks of both Houses of Pariiament for a " victory
so great and glorious in its consequences that no age
can equal it," and, as an impressive mark of the
national gratitude, it was decreed that his title and
honours should descend to his daughters and their
male heirs, since he had now no son to inherit his
renown. It was also determined that the Manor of
Woodstock should always follow the title after the
death of the Duchess, on whom it had been settled
for life. When the Duke returned at the end of the
campaign, the colours and standards taken at Ramillies
were carried with imposing military honours from
Whitehall to Guildhall, amid a scene of indescribable
enthusiasm, which was heightened by the fact that the
royal standard of France was amongst them, which
had been captured in that action by Lord John Hay,
of the Scots Greys. But if England rejoiced, France
was wellnigh in despair. Voltaire has put the
position tersely :
" The Battle of Blenheim had cost Louis one of the
finest armies, with all the country betwixt the Danube
and the Rhine. It had cost the House of Bavaria
all its dominions. By the defeat of Ramillies all
Flanders was lost, even to the gates of Lille."^
1 Voltaire, " Age of Lewis XIV.," vol. i., p. 357.
246

1706J DIFFICULTIES OF LOUIS XIV 247
Marshal Villeroy was so stunned by his defeat that
for five days he did not send any despatch to Versailles,
but rested moodily in his tent. When the tidings of
defeat arrived, France was filled with consternation to
the verge of panic.
Louis XIV. was a man of indomitable will and of
high pride, yet even he quailed before the storm.
He had pinned his faith to Tallard, to Marsin, to
VUlars, and to Villeroy, and he was bitterly chagrined
that none of them had been able to turn the tide of
Marlborough's military triumphs. When Villeroy,
old and crestfallen, appeared at Versailles in response
to a peremptory summons after Ramillies, the King's
mood so far relaxed that he exclaimed, with a bitter
smile — Louis was approaching seventy, and Villeroy
was sixty-two: " Monsieur le Marechal, the times are
not favourable to us now."^
Taxation was growing oppressive in France, and
men as well as money were beginning to fail.
Louis XIV. in consequence made overtures of peace,
but the terms offered him by the AUies were harsh.
They meant, in short, that he should take steps to
bring about the abdication of his grandson, Philip V.
of Spain. This was regarded in France as such an
intolerable demand as to lead, at all hazards, to a
continuance of the War of the Spanish Succession.
In England, also, where a growing number of people
were beginning to shake their heads at the cost in
blood and treasure of Marlborough's campaigns, it
gave point to the charge, which his enemies were
already asserting in pamphlets and lampoons, that
the Duke was persisting in hostilities for his own
advantage. It was a base and unworthy accusa
tion, for the letters of the Duke to the Queen and
Godolphin, as well as to the Duchess, show con
clusively that his one desire, next to the honour of
1 Voltaire, " Age of Lewis XlV.," vol. i., p. 348.

248 THE FLOWING TIDE OF VICTORY [Ch.XV
England, was to lay down his arms. Louis XIV.
had still one iUustrious soldier who had not proved
impotent nor suffered defeat, and so, in the cruel
dUemma to which France was reduced, the Due de
Vendome, who had held at bay the AUies in Italy,
was summoned to succeed Villeroy in the Netherlands.
Vendome was the most capable soldier in France,
and no better choice could have been made if the war
had to be continued ; but even he was no match for
Marlborough, as the events of 1707-08 proved.
All through the campaign of 1707, Vendome,
though the army had been reinforced, acting under
instructions from VersaiUes, was wary. He was told
to hold Marlborough in check, and for the present
not to risk a battle. The summer of that year
was singularly inclement, the movement of troops,
especially of artillery, was in consequence difficult,
and the season when hostilities on the broad scale
were possible waned away almost barren pf results.
The Dutch were once more beginning to clamour for
peace, and the Field Deputies, who croaked like
frogs, alarmed by the Duke of Berwick's victory that
year at Almanza over the Marquess of Galway, were, as
usual, predicting disaster to the common cause in the
Netherlands. Marlborough again and again attempted
to draw the French into action, and with this intent
shifted his camp from point to point ; but Vendome was
not to be drawn . The Duke was restless ; his letters
show it. It seems he was never to enjoy the quiet for
which he so much longed. He was fifty-seven, and his
health was beginning to fail ; and the complaints which
the Duchess sent him, and the political anxieties
which Godolphin expressed in almost every despatch,
naturaUy weighed down even his buoyant tempera
ment. If Marlborough was reduced to inactivity through
no fault of his own in 1707, he scored a veritable

1707J MARLBOROUGH AND CHARLES XII. 249
triumph of another sort that year. Charles XII.
of Sweden represented at that moment a new
danger to the Grand Alliance. He had defeated
Peter the Great at Narva, and, in defiance of
Russia, had placed his own candidate on the throne
of Poland. Louis XIV., scanning the horizon for a
new ally, made overtures to Charles XII. in 1706,
and it was Marlborough who brought them to naught
by an opportune visit to that monarch. The Duke
also paid diplomatic visits to the King of Prussia,
the Elector of Saxony, and Stanislaus I. of Poland,
and on his return to The Hague wrote to the Duchess
on the 29th of April, stating that he had accomplished
his mission of conciliation in eighteen days :
" Now that the journey is over I am extremely
well pleased to have made it, since I am persuaded
it will be of some use to the public and a good deal
to the Queen. I shall not enter into particulars,
having written at large to the Lord Treasurer. This
journey has given me the advantage of seeing four
Kings, three of whom I had never seen. They seem
to be all very different in their kinds. If I was
obliged to make a choice, it should be the youngest,
which is the King of Sweden."^
One good result of the Duke's visit to Charles XII.
was that he was able to tell the States-General that
they might banish their fears concerning the sup
posed secret alliance between Sweden and France.
His embassy to the Prussian Court settled some
points of difficulty, and was not less timely. On
quitting Charlottenburg, the Duke states the King
" forced on me a diamond ring, valued at a thousand
pounds." On his way back to The Hague, Marl
borough broke his journey at Hanover, in order to
inform the Elector of the happy outcome of his
mission. His great achievement, of course, was that
1 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. ii., p. 54.

2 50 THE FLOWING TIDE OF VICTORY [Ch. xv
Sweden declined the overtures of France.
Charles XII., flattered by such an embassy, and
charmed by the manner of Marlborough's approach,
henceforth turned a deaf ear to all the blandish
ments of VersaiUes. Voltaire might well caU the
Duke the " cleverest diplomatist of his times."
The campaign of 1708, unlike that of the previous
year, was memorable. Marlborough had been de
tained in England longer than usual, partly by the
pohtical changes which were then in progress, but
still more by the threatened invasion of Scotland by
the Chevalier de St. George, with the French at his
back. The Duke, as Commander-in-Chief, instantly
made preparations for bringing over troops from
Holland, and took decisive steps to defend the coast.
The young Prince, with a flotilla, consisting of five
French men-of-war, sailed from Dunkirk; for Louis
had persuaded himself that the son of James, II.
had only to appear in Scotland for multitudes to
flock to his standard. But the vigilance of Admiral
Sir George Byng compelled the French fleet, after
gaining the Firth of Forth, to return; and the
Chevalier de St. George, better known subsequently
as the Old Pretender, chagrined at the collapse of the
bold project, and eager to distinguish himself, if
possible, elsewhere, joined the army in Flanders,
which was now under the joint command of the
Duke of Burgundy and the Duke of Vendome.
The defeat at Ramillies had led the French in 1 707
to play a waiting game. Louis XIV. was now, in
reality, fighting for the defence of his own frontiers,
and he had not appealed in vain to the pride of the
nation, which was cut to the quick. The conse
quence was that the army in Flanders in the spring
of 1708 consisted of 100,000 men; whilst the hne of
the Rhine was held by the Elector of Bavaria and the
Duke of Berwick, Marlborough's nephew and natural

1708] FRUSTRATED PLANS 251
son of James II. by Arabella Churchill. It was
because Louis XIV. had strong hopes of striking,
once for all, a decisive blow against the AUies, that
the Duke of Burgundy, heir to the throne, was placed
in command, with his brother, the Duke of Berry,
and the Chevalier de St. George at his side. The
plan of campaign which Marlborough and Prince
Eugene had concerted was, unhappily, frustrated.
Briefly stated, it was that the Duke should hold
Vendome in check in the Netherlands, whilst Prince
George of Hanover, afterwards George II., from
opposite points, made a simultaneous movement
against Alsace. Prince Eugene was powerless to
march, through the failure of several of the German
powers, notably Prussia and Saxony, to send con
tingents, and he therefore transferred his army of
35,000 men to the Netherlands, in order that
Marlborough might be strong enough to strike a
blow against the French. But, through the for
malities of the Imperial Court, Prince Eugene was
delayed, and the Duke was kept waiting a month
without being able to do anything. Meanwhile, at
the beginning of July, the Dukes of Burgundy and
Vendome suddenly broke up their camp, and, march
ing westward, captured the line of the Scheldt,
Ghent and Bruges opening their gates to them.
The French were masters of Ghent on the Sth of
July, and instantly Vendome led his army against
Oudenarde, a small fortified town on the Scheldt, of
great strategical importance. Marlborough, not
knowing in what direction Vendome would turn,
was holding a position which covered Brussels, whilst
awaiting the arrival of Eugene. He saw now that he
must give battle at once, without lingering for rein
forcements; for if Oudenarde fell, the outlook for
the Allies was critical.
Few incidents in the Duke's career were more

232 THE FLOWING TIDE OF VICTORY [Ch.XV
remarkable than the manner in which he forestalled
the French at Oudenarde. Both Burgundy and Ven
dome appear to have thought that Flanders lay at
their mercy after the capitulation of Bruges and Ghent.
They were, however, at cross-purposes, and moved
slowly. Burgundy was young, inexperienced, and
obstinate ; he did not forget that he was the grandson
of Louis XIV., and was inclined to stand upon his
rank. Vendome, a capable if somewhat harsh soldier,
had borne the brunt of much hard fighting elsewhere,
and was in consequence placed at a disadvantage by
the young Prince, and the outcome was that Versailles
had to pay for its vanity. The troops themselves were
dispirited by the divided command, for nothing is more
disastrous in war than a conflict of opinion, especially
when a general action is imminent. On the 9th of
July, Vendome, who thought that he had outwitted
Marlborough, approached Oudenarde, only to discover
that the Duke had garrisoned the town; whilst the
main body of his army stood between the French
and their own frontier. Prince Eugene, with his
staff, was at Marlborough's side, having galloped for
ward in front of his own army to join the Duke,
who with almost incredible speed had marched his
soldiers from Assche, where they had been quartered
for the protection of Brussels. It was idle now to
wait for the arrival of Prince Eugene's reinforce
ments, though they were only two days' march from
Oudenarde. The promptitude of Cadogan, one of the most
capable and trusted of Marlborough's lieutenants,
who was in command of the advance-guard, was
beyond all praise on this occasion. He it was, acting
under the Duke's orders, who prevented the French
from escaping out of the net into which they had
fallen. The simple truth was that Marlborough had
outpaced Vendome, and, when the latter saw that

2 54 THE FLOWING TIDE OF VICTORY [Ch. xv
the heights above Oudenarde were occupied by the
English troops, he instantly called a halt to his own
advancing army, and prepared to retire beyond the
Scheldt, so as to ward off any attack on Bruges.
But Cadogan, with ii,ooo men, was too quick for
him, for at dawn on the nth of July he threw
bridges across the river, just below Oudenarde. This
enabled the Duke to give battle, though it was not
until five in the afternoon that the fight began, with
Marlborough in command of the left wing, and Prince
Eugene of the right.
It was a stubborn and fierce action, for the French
fought with conspicuous bravery; but as darkness
fell, in spite of their superior numbers, they were
slowly driven back, almost inch by inch, over treach
erous and swampy ground. Overkirk distinguished
himself in the battle by the splendid manner in
which, when Marlborough was hard pressed, he
responded to the Duke's orders to bring up twenty
battalions of Dutch and Danes, with neariy all the
cavalry of the left wing, in order, wheeling round the
French right, to attack the enemy in the rear. The
Dutch General, who had fought through all the cam
paigns of William III., as well as those of the War
of the Spanish Succession, was not merely old, but
was suffering from a mortal disease which ended his
life that year; but at the critical moment of the
struggle he responded to Marlborough's call with the
enthusiasm of youth, and turned the French right;
and the Duke, pressing home the advantage, won
the battle.
The French lost 6,000 men killed and wounded,
beside 9,000 prisoners; also many standards, 4,000
horses, and ten pieces of artillery. It was in the
darkness of the night at Oudenarde that the drums of
the Alhes sounded the French retreat. Marlborough,
in all his battles, never longed more ardently for one

t7o8l THE COST OF OUDENARDE 255
more hour of daylight than at Oudenarde. Ven
dome, during the confusion, did his best to keep the
troops together until the morning ; but the Duke of
Burgundy sharply countermanded his orders, and, as
his authority for the moment was law, the army fell
back in ignominious retreat toward Ghent.
No battle that Marlborough ever fought was attended
with such uncertain issues. He had moved an army
of 80,000 men over some fifty miles of rough roads
in sixty hours, and had crossed two rivers, one of
them the Scheldt, before the eyes of the enemy, who
might have shattered his force in the process if
divided counsels had not prevailed. The Duke de
clared that, if he had been granted that other hour
of daylight, the nth of July would have ended the
War of the Spanish Succession. The loss to the
Allies in this great battle was 3,000 killed and
wounded. The Duke of Burgundy was never in
danger at Oudenarde; he watched the fight, with his
royal brother, the Duke of Berry, from a church
steeple, and went post-haste afterwards to tell the
bitter news at Versailles.
Marlborough announced the victory to the Duchess
in the following terms :
" fuly 12th. I have neither spirits nor time
to answer your three last letters, this being to bring
the good news of a battle we had yesterday, in which
it pleased God to give us at last the advantage. Our
Foot on both sides having been engaged, has occa
sioned much blood, but, I thank God, the English
have suffered less than any of the other troops, none
of our Enghsh Horse having been engaged. I do,
and you must, give thanks to God for His goodness
in protecting and making me the instrument of so
much happiness to the Queen and nation, if she will
please to make use of it."^
It is the letter of a tired man, and in the despatch
to Godolphin which accompanied it he says: " My
' Blenheim Papers.

256 THE FLOWING TIDE OF VICTORY [Ch.xv
head aches terribly." The Queen, writing from
Windsor on the 22nd of July, to congratulate the
Duke on the victory, makes pointed allusion to a
remark which had fallen from him in a moment of
dejection. He had told the Queen that "after this
campaign " he would serve her as General, but not
as Minister. Anne replied : " I shall always look upon
you as both, and never separate those two characters,
but ask your advice in both capacities on all
occasions."^ There is a curious undated letter at Blenheim from
the Queen to Marlborough, evidently written at this
juncture, in which reference is made to her attitude
towards Godolphin. It seems to have been written
in reply to one from the Duke, who had advised Her
Majesty to take measures that Parliament might up
hold the Lord Treasurer's hands, " without which all
must run to ruin." She impresses upon Marlborough
the necessity of taking steps " that no cause be given
to our friends abroad to think there is any fear of
business going ill in England." Then follows a charac
teristic touch — " The Whigs and Tories are such bug
bears that I dare not venture to write my mind freely
of either of them, without a cypher, for fear of any
accident. I pray God keep me out of the hands of
both of them. "2
The long strain of the war was beginning to tell
even on Marlborough's splendid constitution, and he
was ill at ease about the position of affairs in England,
and saw only too clearly that the relations between
the Queen and the Duchess were less cordial.
At this juncture, if Marlborough had been able to
obtain his way, he would promptly have followed up
the victory at Oudenarde by marching at once into
the heart of France. Ever since the Battle of Blen
heim he had reahzed that it was possible to invade
1 Blenheim Papers. 2 n^i^

1708] CAPTURE OF LILLE 257
that country, and the dream of his life was to dictate
terms to Louis XIV. at the gates of Paris. He
believed that the opportune moment had come to
humble the inordinate claims of France once for all.
But the irony of his position was this: that every
triumph he won over the enemy rendered Holland
more secure, and the Dutch, who scarcely considered
anything beyond its borders, more and more averse
to war. Oudenarde was the final stroke which ren
dered their territory safe, and so they turned a cold
shoulder to the Duke's bold design.
All through the War of the Spanish Succession the
Dutch took short views; they were too self-centred,
not to say selfish, to make any real sacrifice for the
common cause. Prince Eugene, moreover, deemed
the project too risky until the great fortress of Lille
had surrendered. Marlborough, to his chagrin, was
therefore compelled to abandon the invasion of
France, and the rest of the campaign was spent in a
stubborn siege, which lasted four months, of the
great stronghold. Whilst the siege of Lille was pro
ceeding, Vendome rallied his forces, and, as soon as
the Duke of Berwick came to his aid, found himself
at the head of 110,000 men, and, proceeded, under
orders from Versailles, to invest Brussels. The Duke
marched to the relief of that city, and, rapidly
covering seventy-nine miles without the loss of a
single waggon, forced the passage of the Scheldt
and liberated the city. The march thither, on the
testimony of contemporary French historians, was
one of the most notable achievements even in the
career of Marlborough.
Lille was no ordinary city to besiege. All the
genius of Vauban had been exhausted to make it
impregnable. It was held by a garrison of 15,000
men, under the command of Marshal Boufflers, a
most distinguished veteran in the French army; but
17

258 THE FLOWING TIDE OF VICTORY [Ch.xv
it fell on the 9th of December, after a memorable
and historic siege. The Duke closed the campaign
by the recapture of Ghent and Bruges.
He was bombarded with compUments for his
victories in 1708. One of the most effusive was
written by Henry St. John, afterwards Lord BoUng
broke, under date July 1 7 :
" Your Grace will give me leave to express a joy
which is too great and too severe to be silent. I
most heartily congratulate you on this new addition
to all the other glories of your hfe, which wiU be
crowned, I make no doubt, by entirely reducing that
Power against which we have so long contended, and
by giving to your own country and to all Europe that
peace and serenity which no one but you could pro
cure for them. I shall inviolably preserve in my
heart that gratitude for all your favours, that zeal for
your service, and that true, unaffected love for your
person, which I have never knowingly departed
from."i He subscribes himself as "your Grace's obedient,
faithful, and most humble servant," and, not content
with this, adds the assurance of his " greatest
respect." Yet, next to Harley, Bolingbroke was the chief cause
of the Duke's undoing two or three years later. Well
might the Duchess write the following bitter com
ment in her old age on the back of the original letter,
which is preserved at Blenheim :
" I need not say anything of Mr. St. John's be
haviour, when he got into power, to the Duke of Marl
borough, but that the Duke never was so kind to
any man as to him, and I have heard my Lord
Godolphin (say) that he had never anything to re
proach himself of in the whole time that he served
the Queen but in complying with the Duke of Marl
borough in doing unreasonable things in paying of
money for St. John at the Duke's request." ^
1 Blenheim Papers. ' Ibid.

1708] INDISCRETION OF THE DUCHESS 259
Parliament was so elated by the recent military
events that the House of Commons could not wait,
^ as on former occasions, to return him thanks, but sent
Mr. Speaker to him at Brussels with a flattering
message. But the Duke was ill at ease, for, as will
presently appear, much had happened in 1707-08 in
England, alike in the affairs of the nation and in the
circle of the Court, which was not to his advantage.
One reason why the Duke was anxious, at the very
moment when congratulations over Oudenarde were
pouring in upon him, was due to an act of indiscre
tion on the part of the Duchess, which brought
to light the changed attitude of the Queen. She
had forwarded impulsively to Windsor the Duke's
hasty note written on the morrow of the battle, in
which he expressed his thanks that the victory en
abled him to be of service to the Queen, adding the
words, and underlining them, " if she will please to
make use of it." The Duchess caught at the ex
pression, and, not content with allowing the letter
to speak for itself, made it the text of a tirade of
her own against the Queen's attitude to Marlborough.
She also took the occasion to ventilate her own
grievances in angry terms.
This led Her Majesty, in a letter of congratulation,
written a few days later, to say :
" I was showed a letter the other day by a friend
of yours, that you writ soon after the battle, and I
must beg that you explain to me one expression in it.
You say, after being thankful for being the instru
ment of so much good to the nation and me, ' if I
would please to make use of it.' I am sure I will
never make any ill use of so great a blessing, but
according to the best of my understanding make
the best use of it I can, and shall be glad to know
what is the use you would have me make of it, and
then I will tell you my thoughts very freely and
sincerely."^ 1 Blenheim Papers.

26o THE FLOWING TIDE OF VICTORY [Ch.xv
The Duke's reply, though courtly, was firm. He
told the Queen that he was always ready to hazard
his life in her service. He declared that he had
nothing to ask either for himself or for his family,
and that his only ambition was to end the few years
that remained to him in the service of the Crown.
Then he added the significant words :
" But as I have taken this resolution to myself,
give me leave to say that you are obliged in conscience
and as a good Christian to forgive, and to have no
more resentments to any particular person or party,
but to make use of such as will carry on this just war
with vigour, which is the only way to preserve our
religion and liberties, and the crown on your head."^
In a subsequent letter the Duke warned the Queen
that nothing would be more fatal to her service than
to discourage the Whigs, since, if she showed con
fidence in their zeal for her interests, they will all
" concur very cheerfully to make you as great and
happy as I wish." He explained the allusion, to
which exception had been taken, by saying that it
was written in great haste, and that he used it out of
" my fulness of heart for your service."
" What I meant is that you can make no good use
of this victory, nor of any other blessing, but by
foUowing the advice of My Lord Treasurer, who has
been so long faithful to you; for any other advisers
do but lead you into a labyrinth, to play their own
game at your expense. Nothing but your commands
should have obliged me to say so much, having taken
my resolution to suffer with you, but not to advise,
being sensible that if there were not something very
extraordinary. Your Majesty would follow the advice
of those that have served you so long, faithfuUy, and
with success."^
This drew a reply from the Queen, which confirnied
the Duke's impression that both his own influence
1 Blenheim Papers.
- Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. ii., p. 283.

1708J GODOLPHIN'S FIRMNESS 261
and that of Godolphin had been somehow under
mined, so he wrote to the Duchess warning her not
to show his letters to anyone except the Lord
Treasurer. He told her that he was aware, by letters
from England, that people were beginning to find fault
with him in all manner of ways, so he had come to
the conclusion that if he was ever unfortunate he
would run the risk of being called either a fool or a
traitor.^ The Duchess had the good sense to take
the hint which the Duke had given her, and from
this time onwards wrote nothing to the Queen with
out consulting Lord Godolphin; but, unluckily, her
previous impetuous and angry letters, though as yet
Marlborough did not know it, had gone far to alienate
Her Majesty. It must be borne in mind that what
prompted the tone of Marlborough's letters to the
Queen in 1708 were the apprehensions of Godolphin,
and the grievances, real or imaginary, of the Duchess.
He saw clearly from their letters that the political
authority of the statesman who had always been his
trusted friend was challenged, and that the social
ascendancy of the woman who was more to him than
aU the worid was seriously, if not permanently,
diminished. His own letters at this period, and they are many,
reveal his keen interest in the building of Blenheim,
which he regarded as a haven of retreat, and contain
allusions to the pictures he was buying at Brussels
for its walls, and the hope that the fierce sunshine of
that summer was ripening the peaches in his garden.
He describes the movements of the Dukes of Berwick
and Vendome, hints at the measures he had taken
to bring their plans to confusion alike at Lille and
at Brussels, and, above all, conjures the Duchess, in
a time so uneasy, not to lay too much stress on trifles
or to give any just cause for offence.^
1 Blenheim Papers. - Ibid.

262 THE FLOWING TIDE OF VICTORY [Ch.xv
Much had happened in England during those two
years. Lord Sunderland had been appointed Secre
tary of State, and the Whigs, backed by a Pariiament
in which they had a majority, were doing everything
in their power to gain the upper hand. The Union
of England and Scotland, one of the greatest measures
of Queen Anne's reign, had become an accomplished
fact, and the people of the new United Kingdom were
beginning to grow restless and impatient under the
burden of the war. In 1708 Harley and St. John,
after ceaseless intrigues against Goldolphin, were driven
out of office by that statesman's firm attitude. This
crisis was brought about by the Lord Treasurer's
refusal to continue at the head of affairs unless the
Queen sanctioned their removal. Marlborough hesi
tated over this ultimatum on the ground that he did
not think it wise that the Whigs should gain exclusive
ascendancy in the Cabinet. But Godolphin stood
firm, and the Duke eventually supported his demand.
The Queen fought against it; but when Godolphin
and Marlborough declared that the only alternative
was their resignation, she gave way, and for a time
the Whigs were supreme in the Cabinet.
It has been said, and with truth, that Godolphin
began his government with Tory colleagues appointed
by the Queen; that he continued it with a mixed
administration of his own devising; and, that though
he himself had entered public life as a Tory, he was
destined to end it in an exclusively Whig Cabinet.
He never would have held office during the seven most
critical years of the reign if the Duke had not insisted
that he should be at the head of the Treasury. Marl
borough made Godolphin indispensable during the
War of the Spanish Succession, because he declared
that he would not take command in the field unless
the statesman in whom he placed implicit confidence
— it was never abused — was in authority at home.

1708] ABIGAIL HILL 263
The Ministry of Godolphin and Marlborough was, in
truth, what Lecky has caUed it — " one of the most
glorious in English history."^ It had its triumphs
of peace as well as of war, for it settled a great out
standing question by the Union of England and
Scotland in 1707.
How well Godolphin managed the finances of the
nation all through that crisis is shown by the following
words :
" The war was paid for out of increased taxation,
and not out of borrowed money, and campaigns, in
which Blenheim, RamiUies, Oudenarde and Mal
plaquet were fought, only raised the National Debt
from rather less than ;£ 13,000,000 in 1702 to rather
more than £21,000,000 in 1710, or by about
;£ 1, 000, 000 a year. "2
After the fall of Godolphin from power in 1710,
the Tories, under Harley and St. John, made short
work of his policy of economy. In the three succeed
ing years, during which the war dragged on ingloriously,
no less a sum than ;£ 14, 000 ,000 was added to the
National Debt — nearly twice the sum which Godolphin
had found it necessary to borrow to subsidize Marl
borough's military campaigns during no less than eight
years of tremendous strain and stress.'
In one of the letters of the Duke to the Queen cited
in this chapter, there is a guarded aUusion to " some
thing very extraordinary "* which had happened
during his absence abroad. That " something " was
the rapid advancement at Court, by a process which
must next be described, of the Duchess of Marl
borough's humble kinswoman, Abigail Hill.
1 " History of England in the Eighteenth Century," by
W. E. H. Lecky, vol. i., p. 48-
" Sir Spencer Walpole, " Essays Political and Biographical "
(1908): Sidney, Earl of Godolphin, p. 62.
3 Sir Spencer Walpole, " Essays Political and Biographical "
(1908): Sidney, Earl of Godolphin, p. 62.
* Blenheim Papers.

CHAPTER XVI
NEW FORCES IN COURT AND CABINET
Harley, though neither a statesman of strong brains
nor political vision, had wheedling manners and was
adroit at a compliment. He had a passion for
intrigue, and cultivated an air of mystery, and, as a
woman was ruler, he knew the value of the backstairs
and the fascination of agreeable tattle. Men said of
him that he earned a reputation for wisdom by his
capacity for holding his tongue, yet it wagged freely
enough in private audiences in the Queen's closet.
He never would have dreamed of demurring, even in
the most guarded and deferential tones, to any state
ment expressed by the Queen. Harley was, in short,
in the jargon of the day, a trimmer, if such a term
can be applied to a statesman who could cajole his
Sovereign into the adoption of his own political views.
The Duchess of Marlborough prided herself beyond
everything else on her candour. Her secretary,
Arthur Maynwaring, a cool man of the world, a wit
as well as a scholar, declared that the Duchess had no
" crooked wisdom." Her moral courage was superb;
it is possible to admire it at the expense of her pru
dence. She was in no danger of gaining a reputation
for wisdom by the simple process of taking refuge
in silence. She said exactly what she thought, and
did so in scorn of consequences. There is always
risk in such an attitude towards others, and the peril
of impulsive headlong speech is never more pro
nounced than at a Court, where plain truths are
unusual and apt to be misunderstood. 264

1708] MRS. MORLEY AND MRS. FREEMAN 265
During the early years of the reign, probably no
two women ever lived on such terms of intimacy as
Mrs. Morley and Mrs. Freeman. They were in
separable, and apparently one had not a thought
which the other did not share. Mrs. Morley outdid
Mrs. Freeman in protestations of ardent affection.
She did not possess the strength of character of her
confidante; on the contrary, she was vacillating,
pliant, and in no sense self-reliant. Mrs. Freeman
was resolute, uncompromising, and had clean-cut
opinions of everything under the sun. As time went
on, Mrs. Morley grew more and more depressed; her
chUdren, one after another, faded out of hfe. After
the death of the young Duke of Gloucester she always,
when writing to Mrs. Freeman, signed herself, " Your
poor, unfortunate, faithful Morley." When Prince
George died in 1708 she grew moody and dis
pirited; she thought that the judgment of God had
overtaken her, and began to reproach herself bitterly
because of her desertion of her father. Her thoughts
turned also to the question of the succession to the
throne. She disliked the House of Hanover, and this
sentiment became more pronounced when the old
Electress Sophia began to show an interested anxiety
in the Queen's health. It would appear that, from
this time onwards, Anne cherished a secret sentimental
longing that her young brother, the Chevalier de
St. George, might in due time reign in her stead as
rightful King.
Queen Anne was a Stuart, proud of her blood, but
she lacked the personal magnetism, the resistless charm,
and assuredly the impulsive audacity, of her race.
She was more conscientious than the majority of the
Stuarts, and less courageous, and, even when due
allowance is made for her sex, she could never do the
daring things either in personal conduct or public
policy which startled the world when Charles II.

266 NEW FORCES [Ch. XVI
and James II. held sway. Anne was a staid, matter-
of-fact Queen, of quiet tastes and serious disposition.
Charles II. once laughingly asserted that it was a
characteristic of the House of Stuart that every
member of it could sleep through a sermon. Queen
Anne was the inevitable exception. She doted on
Bishops, and was punctilious in her demeanour at
Church. The Stuarts have been described as a family
of artists, despised by a nation of shopkeepers. But
Queen Anne again broke the record, for she had not
a particle of the artistic temperament, and the nation
of shopkeepers adored her. The majority of her race
possessed a keen sense of humour; they could laugh
and make allowances; but in this direction, also. Her
Majesty, with all her virtues, was deficient. It was
because of her negative, rather than her positive,
qualities that she became known as " Good Queen
Anne." George II. was once discussing the characteristics
of the Stuart Sovereigns. He declared that all of
them had been ruled by courtiers, mistresses, or
priests, and he added that the last of them was under
the dominion of the women about her. The King's
verdict was both shrewd and true. Queen Anne, in
the heyday of her power, when one glorious victory
followed another in rapid and almost bewildering
succession, was ruled by the Duchess of Marlborough.
In the closing years of her hfe, when the spirit of
faction rose high and everything seemed falling into
confusion, she was in the leading-strings of Mrs.
Masham. It has been said, and with truth, that it
is easy to understand the sway which the Duchess
gained over the Queen, since a woman who could
govern Marlborough was capable of governing anyone
in the world. There is ample evidence that the
Duchess, until her temper was hopelessly spoilt by
the chagrin inspired by the failure of her ambition,

1708] THE DUKE'S PATIENCE 267
though always a haughty woman, possessed a charm,
a vivacity, and a sparkling wit, which assured her the
conquest of hearts. The pity is — it spells the tragedy
of her hfe — that, with all her fine quahties and un
questionable abihty , she could not govern herself. The
art of life, Madame de Sevignd used to say, consists in
pretending not to see; but the Duchess had the eyes of
a hawk, and, if she saw anything that ruffled her, she
launched forth instantly into angry protestations.
One of Marlborough's favourite axioms was
" Patience conquers all things." He practised what
he preached, and again and again, under circum
stances which, had he been a weak man, would have
made him rail at the irony of fortune, he held his
peace and, bided his time. The Duchess, on the
contrary, continually spoke unadvisedly with her
lips, and in the attempt to set things right, contrived
constantly to set them wrong. People of great in
dependence of character, especially if that quality
is united to disconcerting freedom of speech, seldom
have intimate friends, and to this rule the Duchess
was not an exception. Men were shy of paying com
pliments to her, in spite of her beauty and humour,
because they instinctively knew that she saw through
them, and they never could tell what retort she would
make. Women of social rank felt the same constraint,
and all the more because reason was her strong point
rather than sentiment. Hence it was that, with the Duke
continually abroad, and her daughters all married,
the Duchess grew lonely. The Queen's conversation
was not exhilarating. It turned almost invariably on
three or four topics — her health, the cut of a mantle,
the gossip of the town , the political virtues of the Tories ,
or the Church as the chief bulwark of the Throne.
The Duchess scorned valetudinarians, despised tittle-
tattle, hated the Tories, and was not in the least
troubled about the Church. The consequence was

268 NEW FORCES [Ch. XVI
she ran off to Blenheim, as Godolphin put it, to pry
into what Vanbrugh was about,^ or to St. Albans
to busy herself in a local election, or to the Old
Lodge in Windsor Park to sun herself in her garden.
It was a little unfortunate, for the Queen, being a
jealous woman, drew conclusions. It was maladroit
that she paraded her love of Windsor when the Court
was not at the Castle. Lady Sunderland, the most
dutiful of her daughters, the " Little Whig " whom
men of quality toasted at the Kit-Cat Club, though
meek, was valiant. She told her mother that she was
making a mistake, and even ventured to hint that pro
longed absence from the Court — it sometimes extended
to six weeks at a stretch — was a dangerous tax on the
Queen's patience.^ It was more dangerous than Lady
Sunderiand knew when she made her deferential
protest, for it gave Abigail Hill opportunity to in
gratiate herself with offended Majesty.
The Queen could not live without someone at her
side, who paid her endless attentions and studied her
every whim. She was strangely dependent on the
people about her, and, so long as she had some one
person to share her confidence, she sat very lightly to
everybody else at Kensington or St. James's. Abigail
Hill was the exact opposite of the Duchess in tempera
ment and bearing. She has been described as a
smooth and noiseless woman, soft-spoken, deferential,
obsequious. The Queen, who had treated her at
first with blended condescension and disdain, as a
useful, unimportant person, to be tolerated rather
than trusted, and, above all else, to be kept in her
proper place, gradually relaxed her mood. Eventu
ally — annoyed at the unaccommodating temper of the
Duchess and her frequent and sudden departures from
the Court — the Queen admitted Mistress Hill almost
unconsciously to intimacy. The lady, thus honoured,
^ Blenheim Papers. ^ Ibid.

1708] ABIGAIL HILL'S MARRIAGE 269
was prepared to do anything at a moment's notice,
even menial duties, such as the Duchess would never
have tolerated. She was, in short, always at hand
and always at attention, and this, hnked as it was to
flattery and adulation, made her — though the Duchess
was long in discovering the fact — a woman of conse
quence at a Court where small things counted.
As Mistress HiU's ascendancy with the Queen in
creased, she began to fight shy of the Duchess, and
kept out of her way as much as possible. She was
reserved and uneasy when they met, and, after the
ordinary civilities, relapsed into silence. The Duchess
attributed this to what she calls her kinswoman's
" pecuhar moroseness of temper," but this change of
bearing presently became so pronounced as to raise
conjectures as to what it really meant. At length
the Duchess heard by a side-wind that Abigail Hill
had been secretly married in the summer of 1707, at
the lodgings of Dr. Arbuthnot, the Queen's physician,
to Mr. Samuel Masham, Equerry and Groom of the
Bedchamber to Prince George of Denmark, and that
Her Majesty was not only aware of the circumstance,
but had honoured the ceremony by her presence.
The Duchess, who had befriended Abigail from girl
hood, and had introduced her to the Court, though
a near relative, had neither been consulted about
the match nor bidden to the wedding. Startled by such
news, the Duchess was inclined to treat it as mere idle
gossip without a shadow of foundation, but on making
further inquiry, she was told, from an independent
source, a more circumstantial story, which it was
impossiole to dismiss.
Here it may be as well to cite the Duchess's account
of what followed :
" I went to her and asked her if it were true; she
owned it was, and begged my pardon for having
concealed it from me. As much as I had to take ill

270 NEW FORCES [Ch. xvi
this reserve in her behaviour, I was willing to impute
it to bashfulness and want of breeding rather than to
anything worse. I embraced her with my usual
tenderness, and very heartily wished her joy." ^
The Duchess proceeds to say that she offered to
provide Mrs. Masham with better apartments, and
that she was prepared to make matters easy with the
Queen. Mrs. Masham, thinking that Her Majesty's
presence at the wedding was a secret, which was not
likely to leak out, replied with an innocent air that
the Bedchamber Women had already acquainted
Her Majesty with the event. The Duchess saw at
once that she was dissimulating, and dropped the
conversation. The matter could not rest at that
point, so she adds :
" I went presently to the Queen and asked her why
she had not been so kind as to tell me of my cousin's
marriage. All the answer I could obtain from Her
Majesty was this: ' I have a hundred times bid
Masham tell it you, and she would not.' "^
Amongst the Blenheim Papers there are letters that
passed between Mrs. Morley and Mrs. Freeman when
their relations were beginning to be strained. One
undated note is endorsed by the Duchess :
' ' A copy of a letter from the Queen when she feared
I had found out her intimacy with Mrs. Masham and
therefore desired me not to speak to her, but to write
when I was in the spleen — for fearing, I suppose, that
she would blush."
It is rather a pitiful little note, whatever was its
occasion, and it shows that, if Anne were in the toils
of Mrs. Masham, she was troubled with compunction:
" I cannot forbear telling you why I disowned my
being in the spleen this morning, and the cause of
my being so. My poor heart is so tender that I durst
^ " Account of the Conduct of the Dowager-Duchess of
Marlborough," p. 182. 2 jj^-^^ p jg^.

1708] MRS. MASHAM'S DESIGNS 271
not tell you what was the matter with me, because I
knew if I had begun to speak, I should not have been
fit to be seen by anybody, and therefore thought it
better to let it alone at that time. The reason of my
being in the spleen was that I fancied by your looks
and things that you have sometimes let fall that you
have hard and wrong thought of me. I should be very
flad to know what they are that I might clear myself,
ut let it be in writing, for I dare not venture to speak
with you for the reason I have told you already. . . .
Don't let anybody see this strange scrawl." ^
The growing coolness between them comes into
view in another letter not dated, but evidently written
in reply to one from the Duchess in answer to that
just quoted:
" I am sorry to find by my dear Mrs. Freeman's
letter I received this evening that she continues to
have such strange hard thoughts of me. Certainly
you can never think, after all the assurances I have
given you of my kindness, that I ever could have a
thought of parting, with you. I hope Mr. Freeman
and Mr. Montgomery will never forsake me. I will
never give them cause, nor never will forsake them,
nor my dear Mrs. Freeman, who, whenever she has
any commands for her faithful Morley, will let (her)
receive them from yourself, that being the way that
will always be the most agreeable to me."^
The Duchess has endorsed the letter with the
comment that when it was written the Queen was
coming under Abigail's designs.
Her Majesty would never have come, to any appre
ciable extent, under Mrs. Masham 's designs if that
lady had stood alone. Addison, who had written
the commemorative poem on the Battle of Blenheim —
which took the wind out of the sails of countless other
writers of complimentary verse — had, as a reward,
been made an Under-Secretary of State. He throws
light on a new influence which then came into play.
^ Blenheim Papers. 2 H)id.

2 72 NEW FORCES [Ch.xvI
Harley, he tells us, had " just found out that he stood
in the same relation to Mrs. Masham as the Duchess
of Marlborough." There was this difference, how
ever, between them. Harley gave the cold shoulder
to his cousin until she had caught the fancy of the
Queen, whilst the Duchess befriended her when she
was in poor circumstances and quite unknown. He
stood in exactly the same relation to Abigail Hill on
the other side of the family, and it taxes credulity
to suppose that he only found out that she was his
kinswoman when the tide of fortune set her way.
He was clever enough to see that, if he paid her
assiduous court, she could advance his interests with
the Queen. He fed her with compliments, climbed
into favour with her aid, and made her his cat's-paw.
They were both much more to the mind of the Queen
than either the Duchess or Godolphin. Her Majesty
leaned to the Tories, Abigail — a Jacobite at heart —
was of the same way of thinking. Mr. Secretary
Harley, though still a member of Godolphin's Govern
ment, only waited for an opportunity to poison the
Queen's mind against my Lord Treasurer and the
Duke. There is documentary evidence at Blenheim
that Harley, as early as May^,^i7o6, began his " under
mining operations " by teUing Mrs. Morley that she
was but a " cypher " as long as the Churchills were
in favour.^ Mrs. Masham had a further advantage
in the Queen's eyes — she was a narrow-minded
Churchwoman, who chimed in with forebodings of
her own whenever Her Majesty expressed her fears
of the Catholics.
Godolphin was not a master of small-talk. The
tremendous burden of public affairs was on his back,
and the prolonged strain, involved in supplying the
Duke with the sinews of war, was beginning to tell
on his splendid constitution, and all the more because,
' Blenheim Papers.

1708] INTRIGUES AT COURT 273
with the ceaseless political intrigues which were now
in process, he was compelled to be taciturn and wary,
scarcely knowing whom he could trust. It was to
Marlborough, and to Marlborough alone, that he
revealed himself in admirable letters, which cannot
here be cited, though they do him infinite credit.
Hence it was, with the Duchess indignant and holding
herself aloof from Court, and Godolphin preoccupied
and immersed in affairs, that Mrs. Masham and Mr.
Secretary Harley, putting their heads together in
secret conclaves over the tea-table, hit upon the way
to bring about that estrangement of the Queen which
was to culminate in the overthrow of the Ministry,
the dismissal of the Duchess, and the fall of Marl
borough. All this, of course, did not emerge at once.
Probably it would never have come about at all if
the Duchess had not taken the bit in her teeth, and
refused, with characteristic hauteur, to accept the
shrewd advice of Godolphin, and to listen to the ex
postulations of the Duke. She would never have been
driven from Court if she had not given her enemies the
advantage, and if she had retained her place there
Godolphin might have died Prime Minister, and the
Duke's military career would not have ended under
a cloud. As it was, she brought about the undoing
of a statesman who held her in chivalrous respect, and
of the man who, with an undivided heart, adored her.
Godolphin could have baffled the intrigues which
overthrew him, and the detractions of his enemies
would have been powerless against Marlborough, if
the Duchess had shown discretion and taken pains —
at least whilst the war lasted — to retain her ascend
ancy with the Queen.
The Duke's letters, written from abroad at this
period, reveal his uneasiness at the turn which matters
were taking at the Court. The Duchess had told him
that the Queen avoided seeing her in private as much
18

2 74 NEW FORCES [Ch. XVI
as she could, and was no longer free or easy in her
intercourse with her. She told him also that Mrs.
Masham was in favour, and that Mr. Secretary Harley,
through her influence, had gained the Queen's ear.
He rephed, under date, August 6, 1 708 :
" The account you give me of the commerce and
kindness of the Queen to Mrs. Masham is that which
will bring at last all things to ruin, for by all you write
I see she is determined to support and, I believe, at
last to own her. . . . The discovery you have made
of the Queen's having the opinion that she has friends
which will support her can be no other than the
Tories; and it is true they would ruin the Lord
Treasurer and me, and will be able to bring it about,
if it can be thought ruin to be put in the condition of
quietness, which of all things, I wish for; but not
forced to it, which I shall certainly be if Mrs. Masham
remains in that credit you say, and I believe she has,
with the Queen." ^
Three days later he writes again to the Duchess,
stating his conviction that the Tories had got " entire
possession of the Queen," and would be able to
maintain it as long as Mrs. Masham had credit.^
It is significant that the Duke, though sore at Her
Majesty's neglect of his letters, defended her against
the Duchess's imputations. There are many proofs
that Marlborough held Queen Anne in high regard,
and all that he would admit was that she was misled
by Mrs. Masham. He met the Duchess's angry words
by protesting his love for the Queen, and his desire
to serve her as long as life lasted. He states that he
could not think, in any case, of relinquishing his post
whilst the war lasted, though again and again he
makes it plain how ardently he longed for peace, and,
with it, release from the burden of authority. His
thoughts turned constantly to Blenheim. IHe was
^ Blenheim Papers, cited also by Coxe.
2 Ibid., cited more fully by Coxe, vol. ii., p. 286.

1708] DUKE'S ADVICE TO DUCHESS 27;
afraid that, if the war lasted much longer, his chance
of enjoying that house would be smaU. He asks
continually about its progress, and states that he was
buying pictures for the adornment of its walls. It
represented to him the rehef which he desired from
strenuous activity. But he realized, if the war was to
be brought to a triumphant conclusion, Godolphin
must be maintained in power, and therefore the
Duchess needed to walk circumspectly ; so he begged
her not to dwell too much on trifles, and all the more
since other than personal interests were at stake.
The Duke knew more of the Queen's side of the
story than he judged it politic to tell the Duchess.
In March, 1708, just before he went abroad for the
campaign, which culminated in the Battle of Oudenarde
and the capture of Lille, Her Majesty wrote to him
in the following terms :
" I have had a great mind to speak to you this
week, but when I have met with an opportunity I
have found such a tenderness coming upon me on
the thought of the subject I was to speak of, that I
choose rather to trouble you this way with my com
plaints than any other. You know I have often had
the misfortune of falling under the Duchess of Marl
borough's displeasure, and now, after several recon
ciliations, she is again relapsed into her cold unkind
way, and by a letter she wrote to me on Monday, I
find she has taken a resolution not to come to me when
I am alone, and fancies nobody will take notice of
the change. She may impose upon some poor simple
people, but how can she imagine she can on any that
have a grain of sense ? Can she think that the Duchess
of Somerset and my Lady Fitzharding, who are two
of the most observing, prying ladies in England,
won't find out that she never comes near me nor
looks on me as she used to do, that the tatling voice
will not in a little time make us the jest of the town ?
Some people will blame her, others me, and a great
many both. What a disagreeable noise she will be
the occasion of making in the world besides, God

276 NEW FORCES [Ch. xvi
knows, of what ill consequences it may be of, therefore
for God Almighty's sake, for the Duchess of Marl
borough's, your own, and my poor sake, endeavour
all you can to persuade Mrs. Freeman out of this
strange unreasonable resolution. I have not as yet
ventured to make any answer to her letter, nor dare
not, for till this violent humour be over all I can say,
though never so reasonable, will but inflame her
more." The Queen went on to add that she was not con
scious that she had done anything to deserve the un
kindness of which she complained, and to protest
that she was not " such a strange creature as Mrs.
Freeman imagined." Then she adds:
" Whatever she may do I hope you will never for
sake Mrs. Morley, who, though she can never say
enough to express her true sense of the sincere friend
ship you have shown to her on all occasions, nor how
much she values it, yet to her last moment will con
tinue as she is now with all truth and faithfulness
your humble servant."^
The Duke, it will be seen, was between galling
cross-fires. He felt that the Duchess was putting
herself in the wrong, and the position was the more
annoying to him because Godolphin, whose political
burdens were already sufficiently great, was placed
at a disadvantage through the growing coolness of
the Queen and the Duchess. Marlborough did all
that was possible to bring them to terms, but when
the Duchess kept telling him one story after another
of real or imaginary affront, and the Queen ceased to
write to him, it was only natural that his sympathies
went with his wife, though he implored her to try and
keep the peace, at all events, until the war had been
pushed to a triumphal conclusion, since the honour
of the nation was at issue. She, however, went her
own way, and it must be admitted that Mrs. Masham
^ Blenheim Papers.

1708] MRS. MASHAM'S NEW ATTITUDE 277
was sufficiently exasperating. She had the audacity
to tell the Duchess, shortly after the latter became
aware of her intimacy with the Queen, that she was
" sure that Her Majesty, who had loved Lady Marl
borough so extremely, would always be kind to her."
The comment of the Duchess on that statement was
characteristic :
" This was very surprising, that she, that had just
before pretended to live at so humble a distance from
the Queen, should presently forget herself, and in the
very next breath take upon her to know so much of
the Queen's mind as to be sure she would be very kind
to me. It was very shocking to me to be assured of
the Queen's favour by one that I had raised from
starving, and to whom I had given the opportunity
of getting that favour to herself of which she had
made so ill a use of."^
When the marriage of Mrs. Masham was publicly
announced, the Duchess, to save appearances, made
a formal call upon her. " But this great lady never
thought fit to return my visit or take any further
notice of me." She adds that, soon after this, both
the Duke and Lord Godolphin found that the Queen
began to raise unusual difficulties in matters of public
business, and that " Mr. Harley, by the help of Mrs.
Masham, used all the arts that were possible to disturb
and embroil the affairs of the nation, thinking to find
his own account in it."
Nettled by Mrs. Masham's failure to return her
caU, and the Queen's reiteration that she misjudged
that lady, the Duchess wrote as follows to Her
Majesty: " When I was last at Windsor I found the enclosed
letter from my dear cousin Hill, in which she used
this expression to me, ' You are so far happy, that your
greatest enemies never reproach you, either with want
of sense or sincerity,' and she concludes with ex-
^ Blenheim Papers.

278 NEW FORCES [Ch. xvi
pressions of her own sincerity, and that she is my
faithful servant. I have several letters that show
the care I took of her whole family, of the brother
that is dead, as well as the one who has shown himself
to be of the same principle as his sister; — and she has
acknowledged under her hand that never any family
have received such benefits as she and hers have
done from me, which I will keep to show the world,
what return she has made for obligation that she
was sensible of. Whether she spoke the same lan
guage of me to Your Majesty I cannot tell, though at
first I am apt to think, she was too artful to rail at
me, but rather pretended to have a kindness for me,
and, like lago, gave, as the occasion, wounds in the
dark, and so got a footing by making Her Majesty
think that she loved you extremely, but let that be
as it will, I believe she has changed her note as to
me a good while, and I think, notwithstanding the
conclusion of her own letter, in which she professes
so much sincerity, she has given sufficient demon
stration that she has none. But after all this Your
Majesty says, ' this fine lady is the very reverse of
what I take her to be.' To which I can only answer
that she is the very reverse of what I once took her
to be, and I don't at all doubt but when her master
Harley has tutored her a little longer — if I do not die
very soon — Your Majesty and I shall come to agree
in our opinion of her."-^
On the Thanksgiving Day for the victory of
Oudenarde, the Duchess was guilty of a grave indis
cretion. She had always selected the jewels to be
worn by Her Majesty on state occasions, and the
Queen had invariably accepted her services ; but when
she was preparing for the solemn Te Deum at St.
Paul's she declined to wear the gems which the
Duchess had chosen. This in itself was a trivial
matter, but the Duchess seized upon it as a personal
affront, and thought that Mrs. Masham had prompted
it. There is no proof that such was the case,
but there is evidence, enough and to spare, of the
^ Blenheim Papers.

1708] THANKSGIVING FOR OUDENARDE 279
anger the incident inspired. As the procession passed
through the streets, amidst the acclamations of the
crowd, the Duchess, who rode in Her Majesty's coach,
assailed her with bitter comments, and exclaimed
that the Duke, as well as herself, felt that they had
her confidence no longer. On quitting the cathedral
these complaints were renewed, and, on the steps, as
the Queen turned to reply, the Duchess abruptly
requested her to drop the conversation lest the people
should hear it. A few days later she wrote to the
Queen a letter, renewing her charge of ingratitude,
and placed the Duke at a disadvantage by enclosing
a note he had written — intended for her eyes alone —
which seemed to give colour to the statement she had
made about his attitude. The Queen wrote in reply:
" After the commands you gave me in the Church
on the Thanksgiving of not answering you, I should not
have troubled you with these Unes but to return the
Duke of Marlborough's letter safe into your hands." ^
The Duchess felt she had put herself in the wrong,
and replied:
" Though I have always writ to you as a friend
and lived with you as such for so many years, with
all the truth, honesty, and zeal for your service that
was possible, yet I shall never forget that I am your
subject, nor cease to be a faithful one."^
' This was followed by an interview, from which
both the Queen and the Duchess retired in tears.
Meanwhile lampoons were beginning to appear,
and ballads were hawked about the streets, chiefly
of a kind which threw ridicule on Mrs. Masham. The
Duchess sent specimens of them to the Queen, stating
that it was not to be expected that her new favourite
would acquaint Her Majesty of such effusions, since
^ "Account of the Conduct of the Dowager-Duchess of
Marlborough," p. 220. ^ ji,ia., p. 222.

28o NEW FORCES [Ch. XVI
they told against her, " though the town and country
are fuU of them." She went on to say that justice
wisdom, and constancy, were the marks of a great
reputation :
" I hope your Majesty will forgive me if I cannot
think it was very just to disgrace your faithful ser
vants for some that have betrayed you, nor very wise
to disoblige all the honest part of the nation for a
few inconsiderable people of ill principle and no
interest, nor, if I may be allowed to say so, was it any
great proof of Your Majesty's constancy to leave
Lord Marlborough and me for Mr. Harley and a
woman that I took out of a garret." ^
She maintained that it was idle for the Queen to
assert that the Duke had stiU the same credit with
her as before, since he had not gained her approval
for " anything of consequence that he has advised
in his letters this year out of Flanders."^ She told
the Queen, moreover, that Harley was writing by
every post to HoUand, stating that the Duke and
Godolphin were " quite out of favour." She reminded
the Queen that her father, James II., had been
" sung out of his kingdom by siUy baUads," and
warned her not to hazard everything rather than dis
please AbigaU. She declared that Mrs. Masham was
not competent to give advice of any kind, and yet
the Queen seemed inclined to pin her faith to " no
body but a chamber-maid, whom I took from a
broom as the ballad says rightly." " The cause of
all the disturbance," exclaimed the Duchess, with a
delightful forgetfulness of her own share in it, was
" that base woman and the creatures that govern
her." Whilst these unseemly wrangles were in progress.
Prince George of Denmark was slowly dying. The
Duchess states that —
^ Blenheim Papers. 2 jf^^ s j},^^

1708J DEATH OF PRINCE GEORGE 281
" Through the whole summer after Mr. Harley's
aismissal the Queen continued to have secret corre
spondence with him. That this might be the better
managed, she stayed all the sultry season, even when
1!^ u !?^^ "^^^ panting for breath, in the small house
sne had purchased at Windsor, which, though as hot
-as an oven, was then said to be cool, because from
the park such persons as Mrs. Masham had a mind
to bring to Her Majesty could be let in privately by
the garden."! f y y
Harley had, in consequence, many private audi
ences, and seems to have done his best to turn the
Queen's mind from Godolphin and Marlborough,
both of whom attributed to his advice Her Majesty's
sudden coolness to their proposals on matters of state
for the conduct of the war.
The death of Prince George at Kensington, in
October, 1708, deprived both Godolphin and Marl
borough of one who had always steadily supported
their jpoUcy. It did more than this, for it removed
from the Queen's side a Prince who had a genuine
regard for the Duchess. The latter lost, just as her own
position became critical, her most powerful friend at
Court. It was Prince George who, in the spring of
that year, had persuaded the Queen to dismiss Harley,
whom he never trusted, and to uphold Godolphin at
home and Marlborough abroad. Queen Anne declared
after his death that the Prince had never known of
her difficulties with the Duchess. He therefore had
no opportunity of acting as a peacemaker. The
Queen was stunned by the death of her consort, and
for a time refused to quit his private apartments.
The Duchess declares that Her Majesty sat for weeks
at St. James's Palace in one or other of two little back
rooms looking out on a court, and refused to leave
them, because the Prince had spent the last days of his
1 "Account of the Conduct of the Dowager-Duchess of
Marlborough," p. 222.

282 NEW FORCES [Ch. XVI
life within their walls. So matters stood when 1708
ended. The wind had shifted, so far as the Duchess
was concerned, from south to north. No wonder
that the Duke, with the war still unended, was uneasy,
and more inclined than ever to covet the quiet of
Blenheim. Marlborough's opinion is significant. He told the
Duchess that he could not entirely agree with her
opinion of the Queen, for whom he felt a certain
" tenderness." He added: " I would willingly be
lieve that all which is amiss proceeds from the am
bition and ill-judgment of Mrs. Masham, and the
knavery and artfulness of Harley. "^
Blenheim Papers.

CHAPTER XVII
THE YEAR OF MALPLAQUET
The building of Blenheim meanwhile was proceeding
slowly — so slowly that it taxed the patience of the
Duke and the temper of the Duchess. It may be
added that it placed an unwonted strain alike on the
patience and temper of Vanbrugh. He was sailing
before the wind at the time, not only as an architect,
but as a dramatist, and the Duchess appears to have
thought that he was too much engrossed with
theatrical matters and the applause of the town to
give adequate attention to the workpeople at Wood
stock. Anyhow, the Duchess and Vanbrugh were
constantly at cross-purposes. He resented her in
terference in questions of detail, and she imagined that
he gave himself airs and was inclined to take too
much upon himself. Vanbrugh was not diplomatic;
the Duchess was scarcely considerate ; both of them
were strong-willed, and so inevitably there arose a
clash of opinion.
The first serious difficulty was over the removal or
retention of the ancient and picturesque, but dis
mantled and almost ruined, royal residence in the
park. It stood on the knoll, at a distance of about
half a mile, nearly opposite the main entrance of the
palace, which was in process of erection. The
Duchess ordered it out of the way. She brooked no
rival either at Woodstock or at Windsor. She de
clared it spoilt the view, and she did not desire a ruined
building, though it might look romantic and was
historic, in full view of the house. Vanbrugh, on the
283

284 THE YEAR OF MALPLAQUET [Ch. xvil
contrary, held that just because this old hunting-
lodge of the Kings of England was picturesque, and
had about it the glamour of historical associations, it
ought to remain. He pressed the point so hard that
the Duchess suspected ulterior motives, and jumped
to the conclusion that he really wanted to preserve it
as a place of residence for himself, at all events so
long as Blenheim was building, and how long that
might be neither she nor anybody else could deter
mine. It does not appear that there was any ground
for the suspicion. Vanbrugh was too fond of society
and the gay life of the capital to covet the seclusion
of Woodstock. The true ground of his opposition to
the removal of the old embattled place was his pos
session of the artistic temperament and his wish to
give his own building a dramatic setting. The
Duchess was not endowed with the artistic tempera
ment, and, in consequence, did not care a straw about
the poetry of association. She triumphed, her word
was law, but it poisoned her relations with the
architect, and paved the way for many subsequent
wrangles on points of less moment. Henceforth
Vanbrugh walked about the works of Blenheim
abashed and exasperated, though he retained, as his
letters show, an air of punctilious deference until
there came an open quarrel. The Duchess, on the
contrary, was less guarded. She distrusted a man
who dabbled as freely in ink as in mortar, and kept a
sharp eye on all his doings.
Her growing estrangement from the Queen did not
heighten the attractions of Blenheim in her eyes.
The splendid palace was supposed to be taking shape,
stone by stone, as a monument of Her Majesty's
gratitude, and deep in the heart of the Duchess there
rankled, rightly or wrongly, the sense that the Queen's
gratitude was dwindhng away. She did not, in conse
quence, share the Duke's enthusiasm concerning the

I709J MARLBOROUGH HOUSE 285
house, and she was a little bored by his continual
requests from abroad for explicit information as to
its progress. It almost seems as if, in the spring of
1709, she had come to the conclusion that it was only
a question of time before she would be compelled,
by Her Majesty's change of attitude, to relinquish her
position at Court, and with it her apartments at
St. James's. It was in such a mood that she set
about in that year the building of Marlborough House.
The Duke, though he yielded, did not like the scheme.
He thought it inopportune, and seems to have antici
pated the view, which the town presently took, that
the ChurchiU ascendancy was declining.
The site which the Duchess desired for her town-
house was the Friary Grounds, close to St. James's
Palace. They were so called because they contained
the old houses where Catherine of Braganza lodged
the priests who came in her train from Portugal.
The buildings where these ecclesiastics had sheltered
still stood ; and as Pall Mall was at that time one of
the most fashionable residential quarters of the town,
the position, apart from its proximity to the Court,
was all that could be desired. It was significant that
the lease of this Crown land to the Duchess was
obtained at the instance of Lord Godolphin, who
seems to have acted as intermediary between the
Duchess and the Queen. It was a narrow strip of
land, and whilst the house was building a new lease
was granted for a term of fifty years of part of a leafy
retreat known as the Royal Garden, which at that
time extended east as far as the present Carlton
House Terrace. If the Duchess had felt confidence
in Vanbrugh she would have asked him to furnish
the design for Marlborough House, but she had already
come to the conclusion, by watching his work at
Blenheim, that he was dilatory and opinionated, so
she put the proposal before Sir Christopher Wren,

286 THE YEAR OF MALPLAQUET [Ch.XVII
whose design for the palace, to her regret, had been
set aside. The great architect of St. Paul's Cathedral
was then an old man of seventy-seven, but his hand
had not lost its cunning. Marlborough House was
his last architectural work of any moment, and its
design shows the simplicity and dignity, as well as
the regard for comfort, which marked all his domestic
architecture. It has been greatly altered since his time,
and an upper story has been added to the house that
he designed for the Duchess. It was a copy in some
respects of the Duke of Buckingham's town-house,
and was originally a two-storied mansion facing the
Mall, surmounted with an ornamental balustrade and
with niches containing allegorical figures.
The foundation-stone was laid, without any cere
mony, by the Duchess on the 24th of May, 1709, and
she watched the rapid progress of the building with
evident satisfaction. The bricks for it were brought
from Holland by the ships which carried reinforce
ments and ammunition to the Duke in Flanders. She
wanted twelve thousand Dutch tiles for the adornment
of its walls, and wrote to the Duke concerning them;
but he, busy with great affairs, had not leisure to
carry out her instructions. The house was finished
by midsummer, 1711, and from that time onwards
was a favourite residence of the Duchess. The Duke
appears to have taken little interest in the scheme.
His heart was set on Blenheim, which Vanbrugh
promised was to rival Versailles. He was buying
costly mirrors for it, and ordering the magnificent
tapestry which still adorns its state apartments. He
told the Duchess to remember that her " new building
scheme " was sure to cost " twice as much as at first
proposed."! But when the building was started his
mood relaxed, and so he wrote from Rotterdam in
June, 1709: 1 Blenheim Papers.

I709] HARLEY'S OVERTURES 287
I do wish you all happiness and speed with your
building in London, but beg that that may not hinder
you in pressing forward the building of Blenheim,
for we are not so much master of that as of the other."!
Lord Godolphin took almost as much interest in the
building of Blenheim as the Duke. He went con
stantly thither to urge forward its progress, and may
almost be said to have constituted himself clerk of the
works. In small things as in great, he sought con
tinuaUy to advance Marlborough's projects, and in
the Duke's absence did his best to keep the peace
between the impulsive Duchess and the sensitive
architect. He loved to wander in the glorious park,
and to take a brief respite from his official cares in
the seclusion of the High Lodge. No man would
have been a more welcome guest to Marlborough at
Blenheim than Godolphin, but neither the master of
the house nor his bosom friend lived to see the com
pletion of the palace.
It is impossible to study the annals of Queen Anne's
reign attentively without perceiving that, up to the
year 1708, Marlborough was indebted to an extent
that can scarcely be expressed to the unique position
of the Duchess at Court. It may even be said that,
until Harley joined forces with Mrs. Masham and
made her a cat's-paw for his adroit overtures to the
Queen, the ascendancy of the Duchess, in spite of
passing disagreements with Her Majesty, was not
seriously challenged. But the whole situation
changed when the Duchess persisted in nursing her
grievances, and Harley, through the influence of
Mrs. Masham, got on to a confidential footing with
the Queen. He disliked the Duchess, and fanned the
displeasure of Her Majesty. He was shrewd enough
to see that, so long as Godolphin remained Lord
Treasurer, there was no chance whatever either to
1 Blenheim Papers.

288 THE YEAR OF MALPLAQUET [Ch. XVII
undermine the Churchill influence or to secure his
own pohtical advancement. He had never forgiven
Godolphin and Marlborough for bringing about his
own dismissal from the Ministry, and he was now
busy with secret intrigues to break their power. He
possessed what Godolphin lacked, the abihty to in
gratiate himself with the " stupidest woman in
Europe," as Anne, with a touch of injustice, was
described. Godolphin, whilst always respectful and ever
courtly in his attitude to the Queen, never hesitated
on occasion to tell Anne plain truths. He had too
much self-respect to allow the Queen to imagine. — in
critical moments, when his own cool, capable brain
was of account to the nation-^that her own fears and
antipathies ought to represent the last word in a
momentous decision. He was Her Majesty's respon
sible adviser, and ought, in common fairness, to have
had no rival in matters political in the royal closet.
.Small wonder, then, if he resented the backstairs
influence of Harley, who cannot be exonerated from
playing a discreditable part. Harley had no right to
court secret political audiences, and, if he had been a
man of honour, he would have scorned to avail him
self of the opportunities which Mrs. Masham, who was
herself an ardent Tory, contrived for his advantage.
Both Godolphin and the Duke lost prestige through
these manoeuvres, and neither of them was sufficiently
alive to the change which had come over the nation.
In other words, they did not realize the growing
power of the House of Commons, or the fact that the
polling-booths had to be reckoned with as well as the
Court. Charles II. at WhitehaU, WiUiam III. at Hampton
Coilrt, were very different from Anne, whether at
Kensington or Windsor; they wielded an authority
which had since passed into abeyance. Moreover,

1709] DUKE'S COMMENT ON MRS. MASHAM 289
the masterful person ah ty of WUham had in a sense
overshadowed the real significance of the Revolution ;
it was only with a woman on the throne that the
altered conditions brought about by that great up
heaval began to assert themselves when votes were
cast at a General Election. Godolphin and Marl
borough had been trained in the traditions of the
old order, and they were too old to get into living
touch with the new movement. There is a signifi
cant sentence in one of the Duke's letters to the
Duchess, written when her quarrel with Mrs. Masham
was in progress. He says that if the new favourite
is a " good weather-cock," then it seems to him it is
" high time to leave off struggling, for nothing is
worth rowing for against wind and tide — at least,
you will think so when you come to my age.''^ If
the strain was telling on the Duke, it was telling even
more on Godolphin. Marlborough was abroad fight
ing his battles; he had a thousand matters to think
of, and it was possible for him, therefore, to throw
aside his anxiety concerning intrigues at Court. But
Godolphin was on the spot, burdened with affairs of
State, at the Queen's call, and yet not in her con
fidence, and compelled, from his devotion to the
great soldier, to humour the Duchess, and at the
same time, as best he might, to keep the peace with
Mrs. Masham. He had also uneasy colleagues in the
Cabinet, notably the Duke's own son-in-law. Lord
Sunderland, who was rash, impulsive, and not at all
to his mind.
The Battle of Oudenarde, and the bitter winter
which succeeded it, reduced France to the verge of
despair. Louis XIV. began to reaUze not only that
he was old, and that his most renowned Marshals,
one after another, had suffered defeat, but that the
nation itself was reduced to the verge of bankruptcy
1 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. ii., p. 175.
19

290 THE YEAR OF MALPLAQUET [Ch. xvil
by the exorbitant taxation which the war had occa
sioned. Hence, in the spring of 1709, Louis, well
aware that the Dutch were scarcely less tired of
hostilities than himself, opened — as he had done
three years earlier — negotiations for peace with the
States-General. France wanted to divide the Allies
at that crisis, but Heinsius stood firm, and refused to
entertain separate overtures. Louis, with his army
shattered, and, as it seemed, with no further chance
of raising the sinews of war either by fresh taxation
or new loans, was compelled to acquiesce in this
decision, and to make proposals, not to the Dutch
alone, but to the Allies.
One of the most damaging accusations brought
against Marlborough was that he was eager to pro
long the war for his own advantage. The charge
was first brought against him by the Tories, who
were intent on driving him from power. It was the
text of many abusive pamphlets, and it raised a great
hue and cry in the country. It was a cruel slander,
for nothing was more unjust; yet,- like many other
false statements before and since, it was repeated so
constantly that it passed in process of time on to the
page of history, where it has remained, wearing the
semblance of unassailable truth. Happily for the
Duke's reputation, it can now be shown to be false,
by an appeal to the private letters which he wrote
in 1709 from The Hague to the Duchess — letters
which have remained too long in ambush. Two or
three brief citations — all of them written in July —
are perhaps enough. He speaks with pity of the
country people who, because of the campaign, were
suffering from want of bread, and adds significantly:
" I would fain make an end of the war." He asks for
the measurements of the state-rooms at Blenheim,
which he was wishful to embellish, and then the
contrast between the palace, which was being built

1709] HENSIUS SAVES THE SITUATION 291
for him, and the existing situation of his own troops
prompts reference to " the poor soldiers in the trenches
up to their knees in dust." He adds that " the sight
of them gives me the spleen to a degree that makes
me languish for retirement." In another note this
sentence occurs : " I hope this winter will put an end
to this war, and that the Peace may last as long as
we shall live."! AU this shows that the Duke longed
for quietude, and was not, as some have urged, playing
a part. He certainly would not have written to the
Duchess, in letters meant for her eyes alone, in such
a strain if his wish to end hostilities once for all had not
been sincere. He had won victories which had made
his name feared in France, and respected in every
part of Europe ; and many passages have already been
cited from his letters which conclusively prove that,
next to the honour of England, nothing lay nearer to
his heart than a few years of unruffled peace. But
he was not the sort of man to want peace at any price,
and least of all if it meant surrender to the claims
of France. Torcy, Secretary of State for Foreign
Affairs in France, went to The Hague on the 6th of
May with the offer to the Dutch of all they wanted,
provided they would break with the Allies, and it
was then that Heinsius saved the situation. Marl
borough was in England at the moment, discussing
the prospects of peace with Godolphin, and hastened
back immediately to Holland to strengthen the hands
of the Grand Pensionary. He was accompanied by
Lord Townshend as joint Plenipotentiary.
In a letter to the Duchess, dated the 25th of May, the
Duke throws hght on the Conference. He states that
" negotiations had been at a breaking-point, because
the Dutch, in opposition to Eugene and Count Zinzen
dorf, had raised difficulties about their Barrier. This
had been got over, and now only Mons. de Torcy,
acting for France, had to be considered." ^
1 Blenheim Papers. 2 jn^

292 THE YEAR OF MALPLAQUET [Ch. XVII
Two days later he writes again, teUing her that " the
King of France, to whom Mons. de Torcy has now
gone to refer the Preliminaries, must sign, unless he is
obstinately resolved upon the ruin of his country." !
Foiled in his attempt with the Dutch, Torcy tried
to enter into negotiations separately, first with the
English and then with the Austrian Envoys — a suffi
cient proof that France, at aU hazards, wanted to
break the Grand AUiance. He even tried to bribe
Mariborough ,2 but instantly found that he had made
a grave blunder. Torcy, in a letter to Louis, had to
confess that in diplomacy, as well as in arms, Marl
borough had no equal. The Allies stood together and
stipulated for the surrender of the fortified J;owns
along the frontiers of Holland, Germany, and Savoy;
Strasburg was to be restored to the Empire, Dunkirk
was to be dismantled, and Newfoundland was to be
ceded to England. France, moreover, was no longer
to insist on either Italy or Spain for Philip, and was
openly to recognize, as against the claims of the
Pretender, the Protestant Succession to the Throne.
Negotiations were abruptly broken off when the
Allies made a further stipulation that Louis XIV. must
use his own armies, if necessary, to bring about the
abdication of his grandson in Spain.
It is plain that Marlborough considered that this
last stipulation was more than flesh and blood could
stand. He thought that the Allies were driving too
hard a bargain, and declared that, if he were in the
place of the King of France, he would " venture the
loss of his country sooner than be obliged to join
his troops for the forcing of his grandson." But his
colleague, Townshend, was of another mind, and so
were the Envoys from Vienna, and the harsh proposal
was carried. Whilst negotiations were still proceed-
* Blenheim Papers.
2 Memoires de Torcy, i. 262; ii. 104-111.

1709] FOLLY OF THE ALLIES 293
ing, the Duke, writing on the 4th of June from The
Hague, told the Duchess that everything was prac
tically settled.! He thought that the condition of
France was such that it must submit to the terms.
He had already requested her to send over a " canopy
and chair of state in view of the Peace." " It is
resolved that nobody shall take the character of
Ambassador until the day we sign."^ It is perfectly
clear that the Duke felt that peace was a foregone
conclusion, and no evidence can be produced to
prove that he was not doing his best to secure it.
He even began to arrange with Godolphin for the
return of the troops. But the Allies had over
reached themselves. They had wounded to the
quick the pride, not merely of Louis, but of the French
people. The King appealed to the patriotism of his
subjects. The French are a chivalrous race, and they
rose to the occasion. Madame de Maintenon gathered
up the situation in a phrase — ' ' The news brought by
Torcy," she wrote on the 3rd of June, " fills every
body who has a drop of French blood in his veins
with indignation."^ Men who had hitherto been
laggards in war sprang to arms, and others, imitating
the example of the nobihty, who sent their silver
plate to the Treasury, contributed money. A wave of
indignant enthusiasm swept over the country, and
the outcome was that Louis was able to place Mar
shal ViUars, the only soldier of supreme rank who had
not suffered defeat in the war, at the head of an army
of 90,000 men.
Marlborough immediately quitted The Hague, and,
with Prince Eugene, prepared to meet him. In a
letter to the Duchess on the 24th of June, he says :
" I do by this post send to the Lord Treasurer a
copy of the King of France's letter in which he gives
1 Blenheim Papers. 2 /jj^.
3 A. Geffroy, " Lettres Authentiques," ii. 207.

294 THE YEAR OF MALPLAQUET [Ch.XVII
reasons to his people for having refused agreeing to the
Prehminaries, so that we may now be sure we must
make this campaign."!
He made it to some purpose by seizing strategic
points on the Scheldt and by the capture of Tournay.
Godolphin, whilst the siege was in progress, worried
almost to death by the captious attitude of Pariia
ment towards everything that concerned the prosecu
tion of the campaign, wrote from Windsor, in August,
to Marlborough :
" I wish, as you do, that the whole House of Com
mons took their turn at the citadel of Tournay. I
am apt to believe they would be much tamer creatures
when they came back again."
Marlborough had expressed the wish that some of
the people who did the talking would take a hand at
the fighting. His patience was wellnigh exhausted by
the constant attacks which were made upon him in
newspapers and pamphlets.
Tournay had been fortified by Vauban, and was
regarded as impregnable. Its fall startled the Court,
for the great fortress on the Scheldt protected the
French frontier. As soon as it fell, Marlborough
crossed the French lines at a point where they were
indifferently guarded, and, throwing his army over
the River Haine, proceeded to invest Mons, the
capital of Hainault. The march to Mons, a distance
of fifty miles to the east, was accomplished by the
Duke's army with almost incredible speed and with
out the loss of a single man. Whilst it was in pro
gress, VUlars heard that the Allies were in motion, and,
throwing his army of nearly 100,000 men across the
Duke's path, entrenched himself in a strong position
and stood ready to give battle at Malplaquet, under
cover of the thick woods which surrounded that place.
He was eager to measure swords with Marlborough,
! Blenheim Papers. 2 Ibid.

1709] VILLARS AND BOUFFLERS 295
for the war had taken a new turn, and not only the
honour but the existence of France was imperilled.
VUlars was unquestionably the ablest of all the Mar
shals of Louis XIV. Behind him was an army in
spired by patriotic fervour. He was almost the only
soldier of that epoch who seemed able to inspire the
rank and file with enthusiasm. The French troops
responded to him in the same way that the English
did to Marlborough, and for the same reason — he
considered his men. At his side were brave old
Marshal Boufflers, the Chevalier de St. George, and
twelve of the French nobility. Louis himself had
expressed a wish, old as he was, to place himself at the
head of the army, and die, if need be, in defence of
his throne. He regarded as an intolerable affront the
stipulation of the Allies in the terms which France
had just rejected — that he should take up arms against
his grandson in Spain. " If I must needs fight," were
his words, " I would rather fight my enemies than
my own children."
With Marlborough were Prince Eugene, the Princes
of the Empire, and the majority of the brave officers
who had borne the brunt of all the hard fighting
up to what was destined to be the Duke's final battle.
Marlborough had 90,000 men, tired and mud-stained
by the arduous march. The French were working
with their spades, throwing up entrenchments, almost
until they went into action on the misty morning of
the 1 1 th of September. The battle began badly for the
AUies, through a strategic blunder on the part of
the Prince of Orange, who misunderstood his instruc
tions and made a premature attack, only to be driven
back to the Dutch, with heavy loss. Then the action
became general, Prince Eugene leading on the right,
and Marlborough on the left. The French were
fighting largely under cover of the forest, and the
advance of the Allies was hindered by marshes.

296 THE YEAR OF MALPLAQUET [Ch. XVll
streams, fallen trees, and entrenchments. At one
point in the battle there was great disorder in both
armies, for the soldiers in the woods fell into con
fusion and were divided by the thickets. The
slaughter on both sides was terrible. Prince Eugene's
horse was shot under him, but he led the advance of
the right wing on foot, waving his hat to the troops.
The soldiers pressed on behind him, cursing the
marshy, uneven ground and fallen trees, which threw
them out of line. Every inch of the way was con
tested. The great tide of men tossed to and fro. No
one could forecast the outcome of the fierce struggle.
In the thick of the action VUlars was wounded in
the knee, but he refused to be carried off the field,
and, though in great pain, continued to direct the
movements of the troops, until at last he fainted and
was borne to the rear. By this time the French had
been beaten back from their entrenchments and
driven from the wood, and, though they still fought
stubbornly, their centre had been weakened by the
hurrying up of reinforcements to the point where
Eugene was leading the attack. Napoleon Bonaparte
used to say that there was a critical ten minutes in
every battle which decided its fate. It had come at
Malplaquet, and Marlborough took advantage of it. He
moved his batteries forward and captured the redans ;
and the Prince of Orange, atoning for his initial
mistake, cleared, by a charge of the Hanoverians,
supported by the cavalry of the Allies, the open
space in the forest where the fight was now raging.
But the Allies had still to reckon with Marshal
Boufflers, who at this moment brought up the French
gendarmerie, and forced the Hanoverians inch by
inch back to the entrenchments. But Marlborough
fell upon them with the British and Hanoverian
cavalry, only to be met by the French Household
Cavalry, which charged with desperate valour and

1709]

PLAN OF MALPLAQUET

297

Battis of
MALPLAQUET n'^ Septembtr 1703.

-^.V^-^" ¦- ^».-^r^.r-^4^a

298 THE YEAR OF MALPLAQUET [Ch. xvil
broke his Unes. The situation was saved by Prince
Eugene, who gaUoped to his aid with the Imperial
Horse; and the French, fighting desperately, slowly
gave way. At that moment the Prince of Hesse
put the squadron under his command against the
French infantry on the right wing of ViUars' army,
and cut it off from the centre, and aU was lost.
Boufflers, now in command, sounded the retreat, and
the whole French army fell back toward Bavay at
three o'clock in the afternoon. They were beaten,
but they had covered themselves with glory, and
the AlUes were in no position to take up the
pursuit. VUlars' despatch to Versailles was no idle boast:
" The enemy would have been annihilated by another
such victory." Bolingbroke, long afterwards, de
scribed Malplaquet as a " deluge of blood." He
spoke truly. It was the most bloody battle in the
whole war, and, except from a few military students,
has never received the attention which its importance
merits. More men were slain at Malplaquet than at
Blenheim, RamiUies, and Oudenarde, put together.
It was the greatest pitched battle in which the
French fought their best and yet were defeated; and
Madame de Maintenon's letters show the consterna
tion and panic which it occasioned at VersaiUes.
The forest and the entrenchments served the French
well at Malplaquet; their loss was 12,000, whilst the
Allies, with no such cover, paid heavily for the victory
with the blood of 20,000 men. Sixteen pieces of
artillery and forty-six standards and colours were cap
tured — amongst them the proud standard called La
Cornette Blanche, which had been carried by the
King's bodyguard into the action. The capture of
this flag wounded Louis to the quick.
It is clear, from other letters written at this period
to the Duchess, that Marlborough, though those at

1709] THE QUEEN'S COLDNESS 299
his side little suspected it, was not merely restless,
but ill. He complains of his sleeplessness, and adds
that he is seized with giddiness whenever he attempts
" anything considerable."!
When the battle was over, the Duke wrote to the
Duchess, on the nth of September, 1709 :
I am so tired that I have but strength enough to
tell you that we have had this day a very bloody
battle. At first we beat their Foot, and afterwards
their Horse. God Almighty be praised, it is now
in our power to have what Peace we please, and I
may be pretty well assured of never being in another
battle, but that nor nothing in this world can make
me happy if you are not kind."^
He fell ill on the day after Malplaquet. He was, in
truth, worn out by the fatigues of the campaign and
his anxiety about affairs at Court. Moreover, being
the most humane of soldiers, he was distressed at the
terrible price of the victory. Three days later,
though still weak and exhausted, he wrote again :
" I have every minute an account of the killed and
wounded which grieves my heart, the numbers being
considerable, for in this battle the French were more
obstinate than in any other war. I hope and believe
it will be the last I shall see, for I think it impossible
for the French to continue the war."^
The Duchess, in her reply, complained that the
Queen had not paid her any comphment over the
Battle of Malplaquet. Her attitude had completely
altered since Blenheim and RamiUies; after those
great battles it seemed as if Her Majesty could neither
do nor say enough to show her gratitude to the great
soldier. It was surely significant as to the changed
attitude of the Queen that her Majesty faded to send
him the usual congratulations, though Malplaquet was
• Ble 1 heim Papers.
2 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. ii., p. 462.
3 Blenheim Papers.

300 THE YEAR OF MALPLAQUET [Ch. XVll
probably the most difficult battle he had ever won.
Now aU this was altered, and it is clear, from the
following note, written on the 3rd of October, that
Marlborough winced :
" I do agree with you that Mrs. Morley might have
taken notice to you of the victory, and have shown
some concern for my being safe. If I do not mistake,
it was much the same last year after the Battle of
Oudenarde."! Prince Eugene, in fairness it ought to be said,
divided with Marlborough the glory of triumph at
Malplaquet. A French officer who fought in that
battle exclaimed, with a generosity which did him
credit :
" What shaU be able to stem the rapid course of
those two famous heroes ? If an army of 100,000 men
of the best troops, posted between two woods, trebly
entrenched and performing their duty, as well as any
brave men could do, were not able to stop them in
one day, will you not then own with me that they sur
pass all the heroes of former ages ?"
The campaign ended with the surrender of Mons
on the 9th of October, 1 709. It left the AUies masters
of Brabant and Flanders, and in command of the
Scheldt. "It is sometimes said that Marlborough fought
Malplaquet, and wasted life unnecessarily there, in
order to restore his waning popularity in England,
but it must be remembered that in 1 709 Mons was
the last of the first-class fortresses belonging to the
French, and the army of ViUars and Boufflers the
only real obstacle between Marlborough and Paris.
Can anyone doubt that had Marlborough been well
supported in England, the Allies would have been in
Pans in 1710 ?"2
' Blenheim Papers, 19.
2 "Europe, 1598-1715," by Henry Offley Wakeman, M.A.
London, 1894.

1709] ATTACKS ON MARLBOROUGH 301
But if Marlborough did not receive the thanks
of the Queen, the two Houses of Parliament were
not unmindful of that honour; and from far and
wide, in spite of the growing detraction of the press
and the coolness of the Court, came unstinted words
of praise. France, beggared and exhausted, made
renewed overtures for peace in the winter, but the Con
ference at Gertruydenberg came to nothing. It began
on the 20th of March and ended on the 13th of July,
when negotiations were suddenly broken off by France.!
After the campaign, which ended with Malplaquet
and Mons, Marlborough was ill-advised enough to ask
the Queen to appoint him Captain-General for life —
a request which was not granted, largely, there is
reason to think, at the instance of Lord Somers.^
It is not difficult to understand the Duke's reasons.
He saw that the Whigs were losing power in the
country; he knew that Mrs. Masham was gaining
ascendancy at Court; he was perfectly aware that
the Tories were opposed to him, and he seems to
have foreseen that they were likely, in spite of all
the blood and treasure that had been spent, to re
spond to the growing clamour of the populace by
bringing about the conclusion of peace on discredit
able terms. It is absurd to suppose that the Duke — ¦
he was aging fast, though he was only sixty —
aspired, as the hireling press recklessly asserted, to
the position of Dictator. It was even noised abroad
that his real intention was to seize the crown in the
event of the death in his lifetime of the Queen, who
was already a martyr to gout. Marlborough had no
son to succeed to his honours, and enough evidence
1 For detailed account of what happened, see Matthew Prior's
" History," edited by his executor, Adrian Drift. London, 1740.
And also Dr. SomervUle's " Great Britain during the Reign of
Queen Anne." London, 1798. Pp. 386-390.
2 Burnet's " History of His Own Time." Oxford, 1833. Six
volumes. Note by Lord Dartmouth. Vol. i., p. 416.

302 THE YEAR OF MALPLAQUET [Ch. XVII
has surely been accumulated in these pages to show,
on the indisputable evidence of letters intended only
for the eye of the Duchess, that the overmastering
desire which he cherished for his dechning years was
personal tranquillity, and freedom from care, in the
house at Blenheim, on which he had set his heart.
But his enemies were determined on his undoing,
and the populace was caught by the hue and cry
which they raised that the Duke, like Cromwell,
meant to be Dictator of England. Marlborough
never courted the crowd, and least of all the mob
of gentlemen who write at ease. On the contrary,
he disdained them, and they took their revenge.
There are spots on the sun, and the scribblers of
lampoons, ballads and pamphlets innumerable
fastened their fangs on the weak side of a great
reputation. He thought that he had done enough
by his sword for the glory of England and the defence
of its rights to dispense with the help of the pen.
He never dreamed that a renown so hardly won
could suffer even passing eclipse in the eyes of the
nation, because men who spilt ink instead of blood
found it to their advantage to decry his victories
and misinterpret his motives!
The Duchess, by a strange irony, quite uncon
sciously helped to compass his fall. She pelted the
Queen with letters, meant to be merely explanatory,
but in reality tactless and railing. They did not move
Her Majesty a hair's breadth, for the dominant quahty
in Anne was obstinacy. She replied that the Duchess
seemed bent on the ruin of her " poor cousin," and
charged her with " inveteracy " against Mrs. Masham.
The Duke knew that no possible good could come
out of such wrangles; on the contrary, he saw that
they spelt disaster both at home and abroad ; for by
this time the disputes of the Queen and the Duchess
were beginning to form the topic of lively comment

1710] DR. SACHEVERELL

303

and of shrewd conjecture, not merely at The Hague
and Vienna, but at VersaUles. He told the Duchess
that it was idle for her to write letters to Windsor,
since it was perfectly clear that the Queen has " not
the consideration she formerly had either for your
self or me." He added, in a letter written shortly
before Malplaquet, dated the 26th of August, 1709:
It has always been my observation in disputes,
especially in those of kindness and friendship, that
all reproaches, though never so reasonable, do serve
no other end but the making the breach wider.
There is a Power above which puts a period to our
happiness or unhappiness, otherwise, should any
body eight years ago have told me after the success
I have had, and the twenty-seven years' faithful
services of yourself , that we should be obhged, even
in the hfetime of the Queen, to seek happiness in a
retired life, I should have thought it impossible."!
Unhappily, other forces were at work for the un
doing of Godolphin and Marlborough. When the
heather is dry, a stray match may set acres burning.
Dr. Sacheverell, a theatrical clergyman of oratorical
gifts and violent Tory principles, preached two
sermons, one at Derby and the other in St. Paul's
Cathedral, on the duty of non-resistance, which
would have attracted, at best, but passing attention
if Godolphin, nettled by a personal allusion, had not
called the attention of Parliament to them, with the
result that the noisy cleric was suspended for three
years, and his obnoxious harangues were burned by
the common hangman. It was a victory more costly
than Malplaquet, for the Queen secretly, and the bulk
of the nation openly, took sides with the pulpiteer.
It gave Harley his chance, and Mrs. Masham fanned
Her Majesty's disapproval. On the 8th of August,
1 710, the Lord Treasurer, who had served the Queen
so long, was at a moment's notice dismissed from
1 " Account of the Conduct," p. 244.

304 THE YEAR OF MALPLAQUET [Ch. XVII
office, with as little regard as if he had been a dis
honest footman. Godolphin's downfall was ominous for
Marlborough, and all the more as the Duke had made
it plain that " aU the honours and riches of the world
would not now tempt him to take any part in a new
Ministry." He felt proudly that his record was
written; he did not desire to be entangled either in
the cabals of the Court or in the intrigues of party.
He told the Duchess that he intended to end his days
with Godolphin and herself, and added: " If I can
find mercy from the Almighty, I shall not envy any
greatness at Court."! g^ matters stood in the fateful
and uneasy summer of 1710, when the Tories came
to power under Harley and St. John.
On the 8th of August the Queen announced the fact
to Marlborough in the following letter :
" Kensington,
"August, 8, 1710.
" My Lord Treasurer, having for some time shewed
a great deal of uneasiness in my service, and his
behaviour not being y° same to me as it was formerly,
made it impossible for me to let him keep y* white
staff any longer, and therefore I ordered him this
morning to break it, which I acquaint you with now,
y' you may receive this news first from me, and I do
assure you I will take care y* army shall want for
nothing.'"' ^ Blenheim Papers.
2 Copied from original letter in Blenheim Papers ; also cited by
Coxe, iii., p. 124.

CHAPTER XVIII
THE HISTORIC QUARREL
" We are living in a disagreeable age," Godolphin
exclaimed in the year 1710. Marlborough was of
the same mind. He told the Duchess:
" I have never during this war gone into the field
with so heavy a heart as I do at this time. The
present humours in England give me a good deal of
trouble, for I cannot see how it is possible they
should mend till everything is worse."
How came it that the Lord Treasurer at Court and
the Duke abroad, after a war which had raised Eng
land to paramount influence in the councils of Europe,
and brought the most powerful monarch that France
had ever known to sue for peace, were in such a mood
of dejection ? Had Blenheim, Ramillies, Oudenarde,
and Malplaquet, been fought in vain ? History can
give a proud answer to that question, but at the
moment — a moment when England was invincible
abroad — the great Minister, and the still more illus
trious soldier who had humbled the pride of
Louis XIV., suddenly realized that the foe within
their own gates was conspiring with the help of the
Crown to reduce them to impotency.
That is a statement which requires explanation.
The Queen's attitude had altered; public opinion was
uneasy; the nation was in peril of change. There
were forces at work, subtle and deadly, which neither
statesman nor soldier could control. When once sus
picion invades the social and political atmosphere, no
305 20

3o6 THE HISTORIC QUARREL [Ch.xvih
man, however capable, however distinguished, can
fight against it. It is easy to meet a frontal attack;
no one knew that better than Marlborough. It is
not difficult — as Godolphin had proved again and
again in the cut and thrust of public controversy—
to refute the accusations of political antagonists ; but
it is another matter to hold high posts of responsi-
bihty, whether at home or abroad, when slanders are
whispered into the ear of the Sovereign, as well as
circulated broadcast over the land.
It was openly stated, as already indicated, that
Marlborough's request to be made Captain-General
for life was but a veiled attempt to make himself
Dictator. Wiseacres even declared that he intended
to seize the throne on the death of the Queen,
whose health was already broken. It was a ridiculous
charge, for the Duke, apart from all else, was many
years older than Anne, and, as his letters prove,
his ambition at this time was for peace and quiet
ness. How long the reign would last was on the
knees of the gods, but so electric was the temper
of the times, that if it was announced in the Gazette
that the Queen had an attack of gout, everybody
went about shaking his head, predicting the end, and
next day, if she rallied, speaking of her as if she
were immortal. The nation was divided into two
camps — the Jacobites, who were intriguing, drank the
health of " James III.," and were for the old order;
and the adherents of the House of Hanover, who, for
the most part, were less feather-brained and more
substantial. Which cause would ultimately prevaU
no man could forecast. It looked ominously as if
the Revolution settlement might at the last moment
be set on one side, and, meanwhile, Whigs and Tories
ahke, Mariborough and Godolphin, Harley and St.
John, were playing a deep game, for they did not
know under which King they might be called to

!7io] FALL OF THE WHIGS 307
serve. None of them, it is reasonable to beheve,
would have hfted a hand against Anne. They had
won their laurels in her reign, and their personal
devotion to her cannot be assailed. But the Queen's
health was uncertain, and it looked as if after her
would come the deluge, and the recognition of that
fact explains, if it does not justify, the adoption by
prominent men of a trimming policy at which Anne
herself scarcely looked askance. The secret packet,
indeed, which the Queen always wore, and which
was thrown into the fire unopened by the Lords of
the Council at her death, is believed to have con
tained her written desire that her subjects should
offer the throne, not to her declared successor, but
to her young brother, the so-called Pretender. Be
that as it may, it is notorious that the Queen detested
the idea of the succession of the House of Hanover,
though she feared it was inevitable. It cannot, there
fore, be wondered at that the men around her throne
either cloaked or dissembled their real sentiments,
and, as the years wore on, kept themselves in touch
with both claimants to so splendid a heritage.
But, leaving so great a problem, it here becomes
necessary to look back, in order to trace what in these
pages is a matter of more concern — the chain of events
which weakened and eventually shattered the power
of the Whigs, and drove the Duke and Duchess from
ascendancy at the Court of Queen Anne. It was
nothing short of another " War of Succession," the
scene of which was not Flanders and Spain, but
Windsor and Kensington.
The swift and dramatic turn of events in 1710 make
it plain that the Whigs had lost the support of the
Queen and the confidence of the country. Anne had
always been in favour of a Coalition Government, and
in the earlier years of her reign Godolphin's Ministry
had fulfilled that condition ; but the Whig element in

3o8 THE HISTORIC QUARREL [Ch. xvm
it had gradually triumphed, and when Harley and
St. John, as well as Nottingham, were thrown out of
office, the Tory influence dechned. The Queen feared
the supremacy of the Whigs ; they stood for principles
to which, at best, she gave but a lukewarm assent.
Her heart was with the Tories, and they had ceased
to count with Godolphin, who, though of that party
at the outset, had gradually veered over to the Whigs,
and since 1708 had thrown in his lot with them.
Somers and Sunderland, both of whom were members
of the Junta, now represented the Whigs in Godol
phin's Ministry. Lord Somers was President of the
Council, and Lord Sunderland Secretary of State.
Both were ardent Whigs, and, before they joined
Godolphin, had been thorns in his side. Somers was
a great lawyer, a master of persuasive reason, cool,
diplomatic, and well versed in foreign affairs. He
was almost the only man of his party who had the
Queen's ear. Sunderland was briUiant, impetuous,
and unbridled of speech. The Queen fought against
his admission to the Cabinet with great tenacity, and
only yielded because the Duchess of Marlborough
made an impassioned plea on behalf of her favourite
son-in-law. She disliked Sunderland because of his
republican sentiments, of which he made no secret
even in the royal closet, his overbearing manners,
his brusque and autocratic speech, and she regarded
him, moreover, as a dangerous free-thinker, ready to
champion all the causes which she detested.
Harley, in his secret audiences with the Queen,
lost no opportunity of deepening her fears. He knew
how to shake his head solemnly, when to sigh, and
when to throw up his hands. He was a master of
adroit insinuation, and, as the Queen did not doubt
either his shrewdness or his wisdom, every tea-table
interview confirmed her apprehensions. But behind
Sunderland stood the Duchess, and the Duchess

1710] SWIFT AND THE DUKE 309
meant the Duke, and the question of an inglorious
Peace, or war carried to the gates of Paris — a climax
to his victories which Marlborough already saw within
his reach. It is idle to suppose that the Duke desired
the war for his own advantage. He had had enough
of glory; all he longed for in the personal sense was
release from the tremendous strain imposed upon
him. But Marlborough was opposed to England
making terms with Louis XIV., which would reduce
the Grand Alliance to a byword. England was bound
by treaties, and he would be no party to setting them
aside. It was not personal ambition which made
him desire the post of Captain-General for life ; all he
wanted was to be in the saddle until the War of the
Spanish Succession had been brought by force of
arms to a triumphant conclusion. He saw clearly
enough that the temper of England was changing,
but he wished to hold the Queen and the nation to
the great task both had undertaken, until by the
magic of his sword the balance of power had been
altered, and the inordinate claims of France were
crushed beyond hope of recovery. Harley was of
another mind. His ambition was peace at any price,
and with this in view he held that the power of the
Churchills must be broken.
Swift, though an implacable enemy of Marlborough,
admits that the Duke at this time was not merely the
greatest subject of the Queen, but, as he puts it, the
" greatest subject in Christendom," yet the Court
began to heap indignities upon him. His wishes with
regard to preferment in the army had hitherto been
always respected by the Crown, but now they were
openly flouted. The Queen appointed Lord Rivers,
a Whig whom Harley had won over to his own side,
to the Lord-Lieutenancy of the Tower without con
sultation with the Duke, who had intended the post
for a more distinguished peer. On the heels of this

3IO THE HISTORIC QUARREL [Ch.xvhi
rebuff came a serious shght. The death of the Earl
of Essex rendered vacant the colonelcy of one of the
most distinguished regiments in the service. The
Duke wished to confer this coveted post on an officer
named Meredyth, who had won renown in the war.
But the Queen commanded him to give the regiment
to Colonel Hill, a soldier whose claims were vastly
inferior, and who, moreover, would never have occu
pied it if he had not been the brother of Mrs. Masham.
Hill, apart from the circumstance that he was so
closely related to the woman who had done her best
to supplant the Duchess, had no claims to such a
promotion. The Duke, in an audience with the
Queen, told her that such an appointment would
" set up a standard of disaffection," around which
all the malcontent officers in the army would rally.
He recalled to Her Majesty his own great services,
and begged her to alter her instructions, and not
force upon him so unreasonable a demand. The
Queen received his expostulations with unwonted
coolness, and adhered to her resolution.
The Duke and Duchess retired to Windsor Lodge,
but not before they had placed Lord Somers and
other of the Whig statesmen in possession of the facts.
Godolphin at this crisis acted with vacillation ; it was
left to Somers, who was on a better footing with the
Court, to make an energetic and dignified protest.
The Duke had drawn up a letter to the Queen, in
which he said, with the candour of a soldier, that
matters had come to such a crisis that " I hope your
Majesty will either dismiss Mrs. Masham or myself."!
Sunderland and others wished him to send it, but
Godolphin and Somers judged it too violent, and
pleaded for delay. Somers played the part of peace
maker. He requested an audience, and when it was
granted told the Queen that the eyes of all Europe
' Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. iii., p. 8.

1710] MRS. MASHAM AND THE DUKE 311
were fixed upon the Duke, and that everywhere
abroad he was regarded as one who was honoured
with Her Majesty's absolute confidence. He assured
the Queen that, if she gave heed to proposals for ad
vancement in the army without consulting the Duke,
the outcome would be disastrous. Every officer
looked to the Commander for advancement, and if
his recommendations were set aside there would be
an end to all discipline. The Queen contented her
self by saying that she had a full and lasting sense
of the Duke's long and great services, and if people
attempted to do him an iU office, their malice would
recoil on themselves. Then she added stiffly: " I
hope the Duke will not deem my proposal unreason
able." Sunderland was furious, and proposed to call
the attention of Pariiament to such a high-handed
proceeding. But the Duke declared such action
would be an insult to the Crown. In the end Somers
and Godolphin persuaded Marlborough to throw
aside his first letter, and write another in which,
whilst making a dignified protest against the influ
ence of Mrs. Masham in a matter which lay entirely
outside her province, he did not press for her dis
missal. Before this letter reached the Queen's hands,
she yielded to the resolute attitude of her Ministers,
fearful lest, if she persisted, Sunderland would carry
out his threat and bring the matter before Parliament.
She wrote a short note to the Duke, stating that she
would not press for the promotion of Colonel Hill, and
his original suggestion was, in consequence, adopted.
When Marlborough next appeared at Court, Anne
smothered him with compliments, and shortly after
wards sent him abroad to resume the campaign.
It was at this juncture that the ill-advised trial of
Dr. Sacheverell, to which passing allusion has already
been made, took place at the instance of Godolphin,
who allowed himself to be nettled by a pointed allu-

312 THE HISTORIC QUARREL [Ch.xvih
sion to himself in the preacher's wild harangue. The
man was at best a contemptible creature, not worthy
of powder and shot, and the Whigs made a fatal
mistake when they resolved upon his impeachment.
The charge against Sacheverell was based on a
sermon preached before the Lord Mayor in St. Paul's
Cathedral on the 5th of November, 1709. It was im
mediately published, and had an extraordinary sale
as a pamphlet, entitled " The Perils of False Brethren
both in Church and State." It was a violent tirade
against the principles of the Revolution, the Dis
senters, and the Whig Ministry. The trial took place
in Westminster Hall, and lasted three weeks. Several
of the Bishops, and notably one or two of the Royal
Chaplains, surrounded the defendant. This in itself
was a proof of the sentiment which prevailed at Court,
but, if anything more was needed to reveal it. Her
Majesty's presence during the proceedings spoke for
itself. Dr. Sacheverell was not heroic ; he was merely
a feather-brained clergyman; but prosecution made
him a popular hero. He was not a saint, but the
mob regarded him as a martyr. If he had been let
alone, his cheap rhetoric would have died down like
the foam of the sea. As it was, the Whigs made
him the precursor of the storm which swept them
from power. Every day his coach from the Temple
passed through the streets amid the plaudits of
the people. He was prayed for in many of the
churches as one who was suffering for righteousness'
sake. The Queen's chariot, as it slowly made its
way through the throng to Westminster, was greeted
with the cry: "God bless your Majesty ! We hope
your Majesty is for High Church and Sacheverell."
The excitement ran through the country; in every
market-place there were angry wrangles ; it was feared
that the conventicles would be attacked.

1710] THE QUEEN AND SACHEVERELL 313
The Doctor was found guilty by a bare majority
of six, and was ordered to abstain from preaching for
three years. The sentence was regarded as tanta
mount to an acquittal, and the rejoicings which fol
lowed all over the kingdom provoked riots of an
alarming kind. The Duchess's friend, Dr. Hoadly,
who was the champion of the Low Church party, was
burnt in effigy. The High Church had triumphed, and
the Queen was with them — a circumstance which stood
revealed when Her Majesty, at the first opportunity,
conferred the rich city living of St. Andrew's, Holborn,
on the man who had publicly attacked her Ministers.
The Duchess appears to have regarded Sacheverell
as a pulpit mountebank, a man to be dismissed
with contempt. But she doubted the wisdom of
the trial, and, like Godolphin, was chagrined at
its result, and all the more since the Duke wrote
telling her that the " commotion in England was
doing great hurt." The outcome of Dr. Sachev-
erell's trial, so far as the Court was concerned, was
to identify the Queen openly with the High Church
party, to gain for her the enthusiastic devotion of the
Tories, and to advance Hariey and Mrs. Masham in
favour. The Duchess had her own circle of friends,
and, chilled by the mystery and constraint which
pervaded the Court, began to be more in their com
pany. Stung by the studied coolness with which
she was now always met, she told Her Majesty that
she proposed to be in attendance only so far as the
duties of her office required. She kept her word, and
was much at Windsor Lodge, St. Albans, or Wood
stock, to the great content of Mrs. Masham, and
apparently to the satisfaction of the Queen. Godol
phin grew uneasy, for he felt that as long as the
Duchess held her own, and was constantly on the
scene, it was still possible to checkmate the back
stairs influence which threatened the downfall of the

314 THE HISTORIC QUARREL [Ch.XVIH
Ministry ; but neither his expostulations nor those of
the Duke, to whom he appealed, were of much avail.
One of the few men who had the absolute confi
dence of the Duchess was Arthur Maynwaring, M.P.,
who held the post of Auditor of Imports from 1705
until his death in 1712. Maynwaring, v/ho was born
in 1668, was educated at Christ Church, Oxford, and
was a barrister of the Inner Temple. He edited the
Medley, a journal in the Whig interest, to which
Addison, Steele and Garth contributed. Swift did
not relish what he called their " little barking pens,"
and declared that they were " always mauhng "
Harley, Bolingbroke, and himself. Maynwaring at
tacked SachevereU, scoffed at Mrs. Masham, and de
fended Mariborough. He had a mocking spirit, a
lively fancy, the art of putting things, and no lack
of political courage.
"It is no wonder," he wrote, " that in all ages
princes have been inclined to reward flatterers, since
it would have been a sad thing for them to have the
truth plainly told, which is almost the only thing in
the world which has never been bought or sold."!
He recognized Marlborough's greatness, and was
better acquainted with the secret history of his un
doing than almost any other man in public life ; and if
he had possessed the Duke's confidence to the extent
which he had that of the Duchess, he would have
rendered him far more service with his caustic P^n
than, as matters stood, was in his power. ; He makea''
it plain that, as late as the year 1709, Queen Anne
frankly admitted that " nothing had been done right
in her reign to which the Duchess of Marlborough
had not 'chiefly contributed.' "^'^ Marlborough and
Godolphin were no match for Harley and St. John
when public opinion had to be turned by the
political pamphlet. They believed in deeds, not
* Blenheim Papers. 2 Ibid.

I710J MAYNWARING'S LETTERS 315
words, and sat lightly to the new force which had
arisen in the nation through the growth of the press.
Godolphin's attitude to Swift threw that incompar
able master of political ridicule into the opposite
camp, and Marlborough's reticence toward Mayn
waring placed one of the ablest writers of his time at
a disadvantage. Many a mischievous lie could have
been nailed, like a false coin, to the counter, if the
Whigs had grasped more promptly the power ^ of
the press. Swift and other brilliant writers were in
close communication with Harley and St. John, and
they brought all the resources of argument, invective,
and irony, to bear with lightning speed on the chang
ing aspects of the situation. The Whig writers, on
the contrary, were for the most part more leisurely
and not as well informed. They did not hit the nail
on the head so adroitly, nor did they drive it home
with such telling effect.
Maynwaring, in a letter to the Duchess after
, SachevereU 's trial, gives a glimpse of what was pass
ing at that time :
" Plato says that the best possession any Prince
can have is the familiarity of those who will not
flatter. If this be true, what a sad case is the Queen
in, surrounded with flatterers and Uars, and at enmity
with the only person who ever told her the truth.
Nobody can say that Queen Anne is a philosopher." !
His letters are fuU of hvely rattle. He tells the
Duchess that people grow so warm about Dr. Sachev
ereU as to lose all self-control. One prominent officer,
whose name was before the world, proposed at a
dinner the toast " Confusion to SachevereU," and,
because a man who was present refused to drink it,
he tossed the upraised glass of wine in his face, where
upon there was a pretty quarrel. People who held
the opposite view were just as violent. A parson at
^ Blenheim Papers.

3i6 THE HISTORIC QUARREL [Ch.xvih
Worcester quarrelled with a Scots pedlar in an ale
house for refusing to drink the Doctor's health, and,
after bandying words with the fellow, demanded satis
faction. They accordingly went into a room to box
it out, but the pedlar proved more than a match for
the parson, and made him cry for quarter. Mayn-
waring's comment is both amusing and shrewd:
" These were very fit persons to engage in the
quarrel of such a fellow, and the ale-house was a
proper place of battle. But that a whole nation
should run mad and fight in such a cause is a frenzy
that never had a parallel."!
He is angry because the Duke seems powerless to
rid the Court of Abigail, and expresses indignation
that a soldier who had won seven battles " cannot
remove a chambermaid from the Queen," even though
she was betraying both the Throne and the nation.
He declares that military critics deemed Oudenarde
the most extraordinary battle which Marlborough
had fought,
" because the enemy were attacked in their march,
which shows more the abilities of a General than
forcing a camp. If the Duke can follow up his vic
tories" by securing peace, it will be as impossible for
his enemies to hurt him as for the winds to blow
down Mr. Vanbrugh's walls at Woodstock, where I
hope your Grace will long enjoy all the happiness and
prosperity that was ever known in life, and that the
greatest cares you will ever feel again will be how to
hang up your pictures and adjust your furniture."^
We find Maynwaring rebuking the Duchess because
she had written a letter in the spleen, in which she
declared that she wished herself drowned. He as
sured her that in his opinion she is the most fortunate
woman in the world. " Your conquests here are
almost as great as your lord's in Flanders, but, for
God's sake, madam, come to town immediately, and
! Blenheim Papers. 2 /jj^

1710] " LAUGH AT THE QUEEN'S FOLLY " 317
beheve that it wiU make your friends still more
happy." He returns more than once to this point,
as this citation from an undated letter makes plain :
" To-day I met Lord Manchester, who is full of the
common complaint that you are not more with the
Queen, upon which I told him the story of the bed
chamber woman. This changed his opinion, but it
is not strange if those that depend wholly on the
Duke of Marlborough and the Lord Treasurer think
themselves undone if you are not at Court."!
In another letter, written early in 1 710, he again
takes up his parable on the subject:
" If you keep your post and your ground at Court,
it will make the Whigs strong and satisfied. They
trust you, and think themselves obhged to you, and
though two or three that you know personally may
not have made the returns that are due, 'tis only
because they are not naturally good men. But the
party honours you, and think they have no other
support, and those that never saw you are uneasy
and grieved when you are absent from Court. "^ -
He ends by appealing to her sense of humour,
telling her that she ought to do the duty of her
place, and for the rest " laugh at the Queen's folly."
All through these letters Maynwaring stands revealed
as a master of adroit compliment, and even out of
a scrap of literary gossip noised about the town he
makes capital:
" The Bishop of Salisbury (Dr. Burnet) is daily
writing a History of his own Times, which everybody
will read when he is dead, and if he had any sense of
gratitude he will mention you with more respect than
any person in it."^
But the main burden of his letters just then was
that the Duchess, even if she took little concern in
what was passing, must, though it might be irksome,
keep herself in evidence at Court :
* Blenheim Papers. 2 iim. 3 /jj^.

31 8 THE HISTORIC QUARREL [Ch.xvih
" If you would have Madam AbigaU and Squire
Harley delighted, and all the insects that live by the
warmth of their favour crawl again out of their holes,
in which they were half starved and dying, then leave
the Queen's bedchamber open to them. But if you
wish security to your friends, happiness to the nation,
success in war, or the blessing of a peace, remember
you are still Groom of the Stole."!
He went in fear of Abigail, he laughingly declared,
for writing ballads against her.
When the Duchess told Maynwaring that she
thought that the King of France would not con
fess himself beaten without fighting another pitched
battle, in spite of all rumours to the contrary, he
laughed away her apprehensions by exclaiming:
" There is no more likelihood of that than there is
of the Queen's hanging Abigail. "^ Sometimes Mayn
waring seeks to divert the Duchess, in her self-chosen
seclusion at Windsor Lodge, by pushing aside the
political curtain. Here, for instance, is a description
of a reception at Lord Godolphin's :
" Some are musing, others whispering, some walk
ing about the room, others leaning against the wall,
and when his door opens, presently all cast their eyes
that way, and if nobody comes out at last but Will
the butler, there is a strange damp upon their coun
tenances, yet many of them do not fail of making
profound reverences to him. When my Lord Treas
urer himself comes out they all crowd about him,
press to be heard, and stick close to his ear until he is
gone into the Court." ^
He amused the Duchess by telling her that a cer
tain French historian, in speaking of the brilliant
Court of Francis I., had censured that monarch
because he had made his palace every night the resort
of the most beautiful women and all the men of wit
and distinction in the kingdom :
1 Blenheim Papers. 2 md. s Ibid.

I710] " DAMNATION TO MRS. MASHAM " 319
If that man had lived to see our Court, he would
have applauded the Queen's prudence in that par
ticular, who never willingly draws any of her nobles
from their seats, but seems to think her Court wants
no further decoration, when it is set off with those
shining lights the Scotch Doctor (Arbuthnot) and
—AbigaU."! When the quarrel between the Queen and the
Duchess was at its height, Mrs. Masham grew uneasy.
She knew that she had made a false step when she in
duced the Queen to demand a regiment for her brother.
High talk ran through the town on that occasion , and
some of Marlborough's indignant officers drank
" Damnation to Mrs. Masham." She dreaded the
wrath of the Duchess, and wrote in consequence, to
borrow Her Grace's phrase, a letter of protestation.
It was her greatest misfortune, she declared, to be
under Her Grace's displeasure. She added that she
had done her best to keep back all knowledge of this
from the world, and ended with the plea: " I cannot
restrain the tongues of mahcious people." Unfortu
nately, she made no attempt to do so. The Duchess
chanced to come across this effusion in her old age,
and on the back of it wrote the foUowing comment :
" This letter, so full of a good conscience, was writ to
me by my Lady Masham after she had done me so
much mischief. 'Tis, I think, the style of her master
Harley."^ Mrs. Masham was a mere puppet in
Harley's hands. He turned her head with his atten
tions, and gleaned from her lips aU that was passing
in the Queen's mind.
The position of the Duchess in the spring of 1710
was intolerable. Godolphin, states Maynwaring, did
not conceal his opinion even to the Mistress of the
Robes that in her quarrel with the Queen both of
them might possibly be a little in the wrong .^ Godol
phin, Sunderland, Somers, were imploring her on pubhc
1 Blenheim Papers. 2 /jj^. 3 /jj^.

320 THE HISTORIC QUARREL [Ch.XVHI
grounds to keep on good terms with the Queen,
and yet not merely her conduct, but her motives,
were assailed.
" Every action, every word — nay, every look of
her face — was misrepresented, and painted in the
most odious colours. If she declar'd her mind with
her usual frankness, and did not immediately give
up her opinion, without conviction, it was unpardon
able boldness and disrespect ; if she dechned entering
into controversy, it show'd her contempt of Her
Majesty's understanding, and behef of the superiority
of her own. If she stay'd at home, as she often did,
for two or three days, and was not seen at Court, it
was a gross failure of duty, and slight of her Sovereign.
If she came thither, and not conscious of any mis
demeanour, or suspicious of any ill practices against
her, did not fawn like a spaniel, but behaved on the
same foot of friendship as she had been desir'd, it
was inexcusable insolence. If she spoke against pas
sive obedience and Non-Resistance, and declar'd for
the rights of the subject, she was a Republican, and
if she open'd her mouth against a scandalous Peace,
she delighted in war."!
The words just cited may almost be claimed as con
temporary evidence, for they were written early in
the reign of George II., and occur in a well- written
anonymous pamphlet of a hundred pages, being the
first attempt which was made in print to describe
a great career.
There comes a point in human endurance beyond
which it is impossible to pass if self-respect is to be
maintained, and the knowledge that " malicious
people " were making havoc of her reputation, not
merely at St. James's, but in every Court in Europe,
led the Duchess to determine to bring matters to an
issue. For more than a quarter of a century she had
been honoured with the confidence of Anne, as
1 " The Life of Her Grace Sarah, late Dowager-Duchess of
Marlborough," p. 51. London 1745.

'710] AN AUDIENCE WITH THE QUEEN 321
Princess and Queen, and, apart from a boldness of
speech which she had never disguised, and which her
royal mistress had, until recently, always encouraged,
she was conscious that amid all the strain of difficult
and responsible service she had done nothing to justify
the treatment which she now received. She could
afford to laugh at what she called Grub Street stories,
which were industriously circulated by her enemies
in pamphlets or broadsheets, since they were palpably
inspired by ignorance and envy, as well as malice.
But when she was accused of having treated the Queen
at the trial of Dr. Sacheverell with disrespect, a
charge which was as ridiculous as it was untrue, and
absurd stories were put about concerning her rela
tions at the Court, she felt bound in honour to seek
an opportunity to vindicate herself from such asper
sions, and all the more so since it was within her
knowledge that the Queen had allowed such scandal
to pass unrebuked.
The Duchess therefore asked for a private audi
ence, a request which, in view of her position and
services, it might be imagined Her Majesty would
instantly have granted. To her surprise, Anne twice
refused this proposal, and intimated that, if she
had anything to say, she might impart it by letter.
Harley by this time, though he had no official stand
ing at Court, was in constant touch with the Queen.
He had been given a key which gained him admission
unobserved from Windsor Park to a small house
below the Castle, where the Queen spent much of her
time, ostensibly because it had been a place of retreat
for Prince George in his last days. In this way he
came and went to Windsor without the world hearing
so much as a whisper of his movements. When Anne
was at Kensington, Mrs. Masham's ingenuity enabled
him to chmb the backstairs undetected. Matters
had come to a pretty pass when the Sovereign lent

322 THE HISTORIC QUARREL [Ch.xvih
countenance to such intrigues behind the back of her
responsible advisers, and be it remembered that, out
side a narrow chque at Court, the Mistress of the
Robes was still regarded at home and abroad as the
real, though perhaps imperilled, power behind the
Throne. She made no secret of the motive which prompted
her request for a private audience. She told the
Queen that, whilst she was not prepared to state
in writing what she had to say, it concerned the
slanders which had been put in circulation, and she
added, with a candour which she had good reason
afterwards to regret, that her statement was not of
a kind which would compel an answer. Anne had
scarcely received this letter before the Duchess, who
could bear the suspense no longer, took coach to
Kensington Palace, and requested the Page-in- Waiting
to inform the Queen of her presence. She had pur
posely chosen the hour when she knew Her Majesty
was least engaged, and she sat down, she tells us, in
a window of the long gallery outside the private apart
ments, " hke a Scotch lady with a petition, instead of
a trusted and lifelong confidant."! There she re
mained for an inordinate time, hazarding the probably
correct conjecture that the Queen meanwhile was in
deep consultation with Mrs. Masham. The light was
slowly fading. It was the evening of the 6th of April,
1 710, and just as darkness fell the door of the royal
closet was thrown open, and the Duchess entered.
There is scarcely an incident in the annals of the
Throne which has been more often described than the
historic interview between Queen Anne and the
Duchess of Marlborough. Almost every writer has
brought imagination into play in its recital, and with
scarcely an exception has employed it to the dis
advantage of the Duchess. She has been represented
*¦ Blenheim Papers.

1710J A CRITICAL INTERVIEW 323
as a haughty, domineering, angry woman, who swept
into the presence of her meek and long-suffering
Sovereign in order to assail her with reproaches. The
truth is, the Duchess sought the Queen in another
mood, and, though words ran high before the audi
ence ended, they were occasioned by Her Majesty's
provoking and sullen obstinacy. It was no sudden
pique that moved the Duchess, though she afterwards
said it was " industriously spread about the town that
I had gone in upon the Queen, and surpriz'd her in
her closet with all the rudeness imaginable." That
in itself was a slander, for the keys of office were
dangling at her waist. If she had chosen, she might
have gone directly to Her Majesty by virtue of her
post, without ceremony, instead of waiting, like some
poor lady with a petition. Her aim was simply to
know exactly where she stood with the Queen. She
wanted, in other words, to find out — and no one in
the world knew better how to detect what was really
passing in Anne's mind — whether Her Majesty be
lieved the absurd stories that were afloat to her dis
credit. She was in the position of a trusted servant
of the Crown, whose reputation had been besmirched
by slanderous tongues, and, conscious of her own in
tegrity, she wished to clear herself. This she desired,
not for her own sake alone, but because she knew full
weU that, so long as her footing at Court was uneasy,
Lord Godolphin was placed at a disadvantage, and
the Duke, with a still more tremendous strain
upon his brave shoulders, was confronted by dis
quieting rumours, which damaged his influence
abroad. There was a lull before the storm. The Queen
looked up quickly as the Duchess entered, and ex
claimed that she was just about to write to her. The
Duchess, instead of ' ' displaying all the rudeness imagin
able," which was afterwards attributed to her, pro-

324 THE HISTORIC QUARREL [Ch. xviii
tested that she had not come to solicit the return of
Her Majesty's favour, but merely to clear herself of
the charges which had been brought against her, and
which she proceeded to state. Instantly the Queen's
manner hardened. She interrupted the Duchess
curtly, " Whatever you have to say, you may put
it in writing," which in itself was a harsh rebuff to
one who had shared her every thought and guided her
affairs with discretion. The Duchess attempted to
explain how matters stood, but was again and again
interrupted with the same words : " Whatever you
have to say, you may put it in writing." At this she
assured the Queen that she had no desire to trouble
her unduly, but added: " I cannot possibly rest till I
have cleared myself from some particular calumnies
with which I have been loaded." Her resolution
prevailed for the moment, but the Queen, as if to
show she was indifferent to anything she said, turned
away her face. The Duchess said it was hard that
there were people about the Court who had made the
Queen believe that she had said things which she was
no more capable of saying than of " killing her own
children." Anne, startled by her vehemence, fell
back on a commonplace : " Without doubt there
were many lies told." The Duchess then begged, in
order that she might make her innocence apparent,
that Her Majesty would tell her the real grounds of
offence. The Queen now fell back on her own letter,
and reminded her that in seeking an audience she had
said that Her Majesty would not be obliged to answer.
The Duchess's subsequent comment on this subterfuge
is perfectly reasonable. She declares that such words
" did not at all imply that I did not desire to know
the particular things laid to my charge," since it was
impossible to refute accusations which were not dis
closed. She told the Queen at the time that all she
wanted was to get at the truth, and added that Her

1710] THE QUEEN OBDURATE 325
Majesty need not reveal the names of those who had
slandered her.
" I protested to Her Majesty," states the Duchess,
that I had no design in giving her this trouble to
sohcit the return of her favour, but that my sole view
was to clear myself, which was too just a design to
be wholly disappointed by Her Majesty."!
The Queen said nothing to this, but rose from her
chair and moved towards the door. The Duchess
followed her, with a renewed appeal for an explana
tion. Thereupon the Queen repeated more than
once : " You desired no answer, and shall have none."!
The Duchess, stung to the quick, broke into a storm
of tears, and asked Her Majesty if in the long course
of their friendship she had ever played her false. She
declared that she was not conscious of having given
offence in anything, except pressing upon the Queen
matters which she deemed imperative for her service
and security. She hinted further that she might still
have been happy in the Queen's favour if she had
dissembled her real opinion of men and affairs. The
Queen seems to have relented for a moment, and the
Duchess, on her own showing, with a " fresh " flood
of tears and a concern sufficient to move compassion
even where all love was absent, begged to know what
other charges, beyond those which she had explained,
rankled in the Queen's mind. At this Her Majesty's
attitude hardened, and she fell back again on the
words: " You have desired no answer, and you shall
have none." Then, in a final appeal, the Duchess
asked if Her Majesty did not know herself that she
had often set aside self-interest in order to serve the
Crown faithfully. Surely the Queen would at least
admit that she was a woman incapable of disowning
anything that she knew to be true.
^ " Account of the Conduct of the Dowager-Duchess of
Marlborough," p. 241.

326 THE HISTORIC QUARREL [Ch.xvih
Anne's mood was relentless, and once more the
passionate plea for fair-play was met with the chilhng
response: " You desired no answer, and you shall
have none." Then the Duchess admits, in so many
words: " I could not conquer myself, but said the
most disrespectful thing I ever spoke to the Queen in
my life, which was: ' I am confident your Majesty
will suffer for such an instance of inhumanity.' "
Anne's retort was: " That will be to myself." The
Duchess adds, in the " Account of the Conduct,"!
which was first pubhshed in 1742 : " Thus ended this
remarkable conversation, the last I ever had with Her
Majesty." She adds, and the words do her credit:
" The Queen always meant well, how much soever
she might be bhnded or misguided."
The Duchess quotes a letter written by the Duke
on the 26th of August, 1709, when he was besieging
Tournay. It shows that Marlborough even then
realized that matters were rapidly approaching the
breaking-point between the Queen and his wife :
" If anybody had told me eight years ago that
after such great success, and after you had been a
faithful servant, that in the Queen's lifetime we
should be obliged to seek happiness in a retired life,
I could not have believed that possible."^
Such treatment, after nearly thirty years of un
wearied and devoted service, admits of no justifica
tion. The Duchess of Marlborough was clearly
within her rights in desiring to know the accusa
tions which had been brought against her, and
the only supposition is that they were too trivial
to be advanced. She would not have been human
if she had accepted such harsh treatment without
resentment, and she was very human, as her vivid
1 " Account of the Conduct of the Dowager-Duchess of
Marlborough," p. 243.
- " Account of the Conduct," p. 234.

1710] THE QUEEN AND THE DUCHESS 327
little touch in one of her unpublished papers at
Blenheim attests: " After I had come out from the
Queen, I sat me down in the long gallery to wipe my
eyes, before I came within sight of anybody."! The
Queen's conscience was uneasy. A few days later
she wrote asking the return of " all my strange
scrawles, it being impossible that they can now be
agreeable to you "^ — a desire which was ignored by
the indignant Duchess.
" Blenheim Papers. 2 /jj^.

CHAPTER XIX
THE FALL OF GODOLPHIN
The quarrel between the Queen and the Duchess,
though it did not immediately lead to the latter's
dismissal as Mistress of the Robes, was sufficient!}'
disquieting, not merely to the Duke, but to the great
Minister who all through the storm and strain of the
war had upheld his actions. Godolphin began to
reahze that not only his health, but his political
power, was waning. He had lost the confidence of
the Court, and was looked at askance by Whig
statesmen in his own Cabinet. His prestige in the
country was weakened by the growing ascendancy of
Harley with the Queen, the taxation which rendered
the war unpopular, and the attacks of the Press,
which the Tories subsidized. The peace negotiations
in the spring of 1710 at Gertruydenburg had failed.
Louis XIV., old, disillusioned, and weary of war as
he was, had still enough spirit to reject with scorn
the proposal that he should assist in driving by force
of arms his own grandson from the throne of Spain.
The Dutch, moreover, had made inordinate claims,
whilst Austria and Savoy were opposed to the only
terms which France could accept. It was not ex
pedient, therefore, even from Harley's point of view,
to break openly with the Duchess, for the Duke held
the key of the situation, and was the ruhng spirit of
the Grand Alliance. By the irony of fortune, his
star was still in the ascendant in every Court in
Europe at the very moment when, by a series of
3^8

1710] SHREWSBURY AND HARLEY 329
cold and calculated rebuffs, aU that mahce could
suggest was being done in England to weaken his
position and chill his ardour.
The harsh treatment of the Duchess was immedi
ately followed by the appointment of the Duke of
Shrewsbury to the post of Lord Chamberlain. Godol
phin was taken aback. He was the Queen's respon
sible adviser, and yet the decision was made over his
head. Shrewsbury was no friend of the Ministry.
On the contrary, he was in league with Harley, who
was plotting against it. He could pay the Duchess
elaborate compliments about the exploits of the Duke
and her own services at Court, and at the same time
intrigue against them. He was notoriously jealous
of their son-in-law, Lord Sunderland, and bore him
no good- will. Moreover, the " King of Hearts," the
name by which he was known in society, because of
his wheedling, attractive manners, was a man with a
damaged record. It is true he was one of the seven
noblemen who signed the invitation which brought
William of Orange to the throne, and was made Secre
tary of State on the accession of that monarch. But
Shrewsbury promptly quarrelled with Nottingham
and Carmarthen, and was one of the first statesmen
after the Revolution to attempt to overthrow it by
making overtures to the Court of St. Germains. He
was, in truth, an arch-schemer, and was accused of
being privy to the assassination plot. During the
earlier years of Anne's reign he led a leisured hfe in
Rome, and, having married his Itahan mistress, now
appeared upon the scene with his unprepossessing but
ambitious Duchess, who cherished aspirations for the
post of Mistress of the Robes.
Harley pretended to think that Shrewsbury's wide
experience of affairs and cosmopolitan outlook would
be of advantage to the Queen. The real motive of
his appointment was to force upon the Godolphin

3?o FALL OF GODOLPHIN [Ch.xix
Ministry someone who was prepared to carry all that
he could glean of its intentions to the Opposition.
Godolphin wrote to Marlborough a letter in which he
describes the audience at which the Queen made
known her purpose. He states that Her Majesty
reproached him about an anxiety which he did not
attempt to conceal. The Queen declared that none
of the Whigs had shown themselves as uneasy as
himself in regard to the appointment. Godolphin
replied that that arose from their desire not to em
barrass public affairs at so great a crisis. He adds :
" We parted drily enough, but that I found that
she had a mind to make me think that she did not
design any other alteration, though I had told her
the noise of the town ran very high on that subject." !
It is clear that Godolphin saw how the wind
was blowing, and he ought to have resigned. It
was an intolerable affront, and on all grounds it
should have been challenged. He knew that the
Tories had taken heart of grace since the trial of
Sacheverell, and that, though, as he put it to Marl
borough, he was toiling at the oar like a slave in a
galley, the tide was running swiftly against him both
at Court and in the country. He knew, moreover,
that there was a powerful clique in his own party
who wished him out of the way. He told the Duke
that he had left no stone unturned to bring about a
reconcihation between the Queen and the Duchess,
but confessed that he was baffled. Glancing at the
letter in which Godolphin's despair stood revealed, the
Duchess in her old age, with unconscious irony, wrote
upon it this comment: " Surely there never was any
time since Adam that such a woman as Abigail gave
so many great and good men so much trouble."^ The
words reveal her typical foible — whoever went wrong,
she was always in the right. If she had been
^ Blenheim Papers. 2 /jj^

1710] DISMISSAL OF SUNDERLAND 331
willing to admit, when the remorseless logic of facts
was against her, that there were occasions on which
she had been ill-advised, the story of her brilliant,
honest, but wayward and imperious career would not
have been so tragic.
It is not difficult to understand Godolphin's posi
tion, even though it be admitted he acted tamely.
His nerves were shattered, and when that happens
decision and spirit are commonly lacking. He was
hoping against hope for some sudden turn of the
wheel which might restore his authority, but beyond
this was another reason. He was reluctant to quit
office at a crisis when the Duke more than ever
needed his aid, and nothing is more plain in his whole
career than his admiration for Marlborough. It is
easy to see now, in the light of all that quickly fol
lowed, that if Godolphin had played the man at that
moment it would have been better for the Duke as
well as for himself. His vacillation emboldened their
common enemies, and hastened the downfall of one
of the most brilliant Ministries which has ever held
power in England.
The next step which revealed the Queen's dis
pleasure with her Ministers was the sudden dismissal
of Lord Sunderland on the 13th of June, 1710, from
the post of Secretary of State. Sunderland had been
more ardent than any other member of the Govern
ment for the prosecution of Sacheverell, and when
that matter was out of the way Her Majesty, prompted
by Shrewsbury, took her revenge. Anne's letter to
the Duchess at this crisis is curious. It was written
early in June, 1710, but is merely dated "Wednesday
morning, 9 o'clock."
" I received your letter last night just as I was going
to bed, to which I can say no more than what I did
on that subject on my last confirming of that same
opinion, only [except] that I have no thoughts of

332 FALL OF GODOLPHIN [Ch.xix
taking the Duke of Marlborough from the head of the
Army, nor I daresay nobody else. If he or you should
do so wrong a thing at any time — especially at this
critical juncture — as to desert my service, what con
fusion might happen would be at your doors, and you
alone would be answerable and nobody else, but I
hope you will both consider better of it. Yesterday
in the afternoon Mr. Secretary Boyle came to me, and
I then ordered him to go this morning to Lord Sunder
land for the seals, which I think proper to acquaint
you with before you hear it from other hands, and so
let you know Lord Dartmouth is the person I intend
to give them to, who I hope you will approve of." !
It is plain that the Queen was now prepared to break
with the Duke and Duchess at the first opportunity.
Such an act was virtually a declaration of war against
the Churchills. Anne knew perfectly well how the
Duchess, especially after the stormy interview already
chronicled, would interpret her son-in-law's dismissal.
An uneasy conscience lurks in the letter which Her
Majesty wrote to Godolphin, stating that she had
ordered Mr. Secretary Boyle to demand the seal of
office from Lord Sunderland. The Queen protests too
much, and in one unguarded expression her secret
intentions leap to hght :
" I have no thoughts, nor I daresay nobody else,
of taking the Duke of IVIarlborough from the head of
the Army."
Yet two months later Godolphin, who clung to her
service more on patriotic than on personal grounds,
was abruptly dismissed; whilst a year and a half did
not slip uneasily away before Marlborough, who had
carried her arms to victory in battles which shine in
the annals of history, and had made her name illus
trious in every Court in Europe, shared the same fate.
It is impossible to exonerate Anne, not merely from
harshness, but from the disgraceful charge of double-
1 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. iii., p. 90;
but cited from original at Blenheim.

1710] QUEEN ANNE AND THE DUKE 333
dealing, since all the world knows that at the moment
when she wrote that letter to a great and sorely-tried
Minister, who had served her with unwavering devo
tion, she was countenancing the intrigues which drove
Godolphin from power, led to the dismissal of the
Duchess, and culminated in the downfall of Marl
borough. Lord Somers, who more than any other of the Whig
statesmen stood well with the Queen, tried in vain to
shake her resolution about Sunderland. Anne was
inflexible, though she volunteered the statement (it
was quickly falsified): " I do assure you, I do not
intend to make any further alterations." The Duke,
in a letter to Godolphin, but meant for the Queen's
eye, which arrived too late to prevent the dismissal
of Sunderland, shows how greatly he chafed at the
manner in which the Whigs seemed prepared to
swallow this fresh affront. It was addressed to
Godolphin, who was expressly told to read it to the
Queen. He felt that the quarrel was being pushed so
far that there must be an end of half-measures. He
made it clear that he reahzed that Lord Sunderland
had been singled out as the object of the Queen's
displeasure for " no other reason than that of being
my son-in-law." He added (the letter is dated
June 20) :
" I conjure you to use such powerful instances to
the Queen that she may be sensible before it is too
late that the request I now make is much more for
hers and the pubhc good than for any consideration
of ease to myself. What I desire is that she would
be pleased to defer the removal of Lord Sunderland
till the end of this campaign, and then she may have
the winter before her to take measures with the Allies
for the command of this Army, on which, in a very
great measure, depends not only the welfare of Eng
land, but of all Europe. This is what I beg, in reward
of all my faithful services. If it must be otherwise.

334 FALL OF GODOLPHIN [Ch. XIX
and that nothing but my immediate retiring will con
tent those that have at this time the power, I must
submit with the satisfaction that everybody must be
sensible of my readiness to have served — if it might
have been allowed with honour."!
Anne read the letter, and in returning it to Godol
phin wrote, on the 13th of June:
" I think the Duke of Marlborough's pressing so
earnestly that I should delay my intentions is using
me very hardly. I hope both he and you, when you
have considered this matter more calmly and im
partially, will not wonder that I do not comply with
his desires."^
When this reply was communicated to Marlborough,
he reahzed that matters had come to such a pass that,
to borrow his words, " the sooner the scabbard was
flung away, the better." He was annoyed, not only
by the Queen's attitude, but also by the apparent
indifference to Sunderland's fate which not a few of
the Whig statesmen displayed. The nation at large,
ignorant of the secret cabals which were at work, was
at a loss to understand on what pretext Lord Sunder
land had been removed. There was widespread con
sternation, and scarcely any political event in the
reign created so great a sensation. A panic arose in
the city, and public securities fell. The nation, so it
was said, at the time was like a flourishing tree, full
of blossoms. If the Ministry was changed, men
declared it would be nipped like fruit by a north
east wind. In every Court in Europe controlled by
the Grand Alliance there arose a sense of alarm. The
Emperor Joseph I. made a dignified protest to the
Queen :
" Your Majesty cannot find amongst your subjects
any who in Parliament could better second your
1 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. iii., p. 87.
2 Ibid., p. 90.

17IO] THE DUKE AND GRAND ALLIANCE 335
generous intentions ; or could serve you either in your
councils or in the management of your armies with
more zeal, fidelity, and universal approbation."!
He begged the Queen to continue a Ministry which
had promoted the common cause to so signal a
degree, and which had the confidence of Her Majesty's
Alhes. The Queen was startled. She seems scarcely to
have realized how closely foreign potentates watched
political movements in England. It was imperative
to allay such widespread alarm. She therefore in
structed Mr. Secretary Boyle to write despatches in
her name to her Allies, assuring them that their fears
were groundless. They were told that it was Her
Majesty's intention to continue the administration of
affairs in the hands of the present Ministry, since the
Queen had long experience of their abilities.
The Duke would assuredly have thrown up his
command but for the appeal to his patriotism which
was made at this crisis in the historic joint letter,
dated the 14th of June, 1710, which was sent to him
by Godolphin, Somers, Halifax, Newcastle, and other
leading statesmen. They expressed their indignation
that at a moment when he was hazarding his life in
the service of his country, and the fate of Europe
hung in the balance, he had been subjected to so
great a mortification. They told him that if he quitted
the service the Grand Alliance would be imperilled.
" We therefore conjure you by the glory you have
already attained, by the many services you have done
your Queen and country, by the expectation you have
justly raised in Europe, and by all that is dear and
tender to you at home, whose chief dependence is
upon your success, that you will not leave this great
work unfinished, but continue at the head of the
Army. "2
1 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. iii., p. loi.
2 Blenheim Papers.

336 FALL OF GODOLPHIN [Ch. XIX
The Emperor wrote to him a letter of remonstrance
even more generous and not less emphatic. He told
Marlborough that it would be fatal to the common
cause if, in the midst of his triumphs and almost at
the end of the war, he rehnquished his military com
mand.! The Duke's sense of duty, his loyalty to the
Ministry, his devotion to the common cause, prevailed,
and though, as he told Godolphin, he did not think
that such a decision would save the pohtical situation,
he determined to remain at his post. Scarcely a
month after Marlborough had formed this resolution
Godolphin was dismissed.
The Duchess comphcated the pohtical situation by
a long and angry letter to the Queen, in which she
protested in vehement terms against Lord Sunder
land's removal and the intrigues of Mrs. Masham.
Her own relations with the Court had now wellnigh
ceased, and, though not yet deprived of her position
as Mistress of the Robes , she was no longer in attend
ance on the Queen.
Sunderland had scarcely been removed before the
Queen surprised Godolphin by treating him with a
consideration to which he had long been a stranger.
Her Majesty knew perfectly well that, though the
Ministry had lost ground in the country, no one could
forecast what the result of a General Election might
be. It was impossible, in short, to tell to what extent
the influence of the Whigs had declined since the trial
of Sacheverell and the failure of the peace negotia
tions. But Harley was by no means sure in July,
1 710, whether the dismissal of Sunderiand had not
provoked a reaction in their favour, which, if an
appeal were made to the nation, might again place the
Lord Treasurer at the head of affairs. One thing was
certain, and that was that, however Godolphin stood
with the country, he had a powerful following in the
1 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. iii., p. 100.

1710] MARLBOROUGH'S MISGIVINGS 337
existing House of Commons. It was this which led
the Queen to act cautiously. She accordingly made
a show of cordiahty, and told him that she was in
favour of what she called a moderating system, or,
in other words, of carrying on the Government with
the aid of statesmen of both parties. She even
hinted to Godolphin, though in too vague a manner
to allow of a reply, that a reconciliation between
Harley and himself would be of pubhc service. She
next made Lord Shrewsbury the mouthpiece of her
wishes. " Yesterday," wrote Godolphin to the Duke
on the 12th of July, " the Lord Chamberlain told
Lord Hahfax that the Queen was resolved to make
me and Mr. Harley to agree." ! How this was to be
brought about, Shrewsbury, though full of compU
ments, was too adroit to disclose. Anyhow, Godol
phin, who was in the position of a drowning man
catching at a straw, was relieved, and was even
sanguine enough to believe that he had regained to
some extent the Queen's confidence. Marlborough,
however, had misgivings. The French were already
beginning openly to boast that what they lost in
Flanders was now balanced by what they were gaining
in England.
Then suddenly the blow fell, Anne appears to have
realized that the Whigs were so divided that she could
act decisively. She saw also that a reconciliation be
tween Godolphin and Harley was impossible without
concessions to the Marlborough interest, which she
was not prepared to make. Godolphin was abruptly
dismissed on the 8th of August. The Duchess gives
this account of the manner of it :
" The very day before the Lord Treasurer was put
out he was two hours with the Queen, advising her
with great respect and making the highest expressions
of duty, offering to serve or not to serve as she
* Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. iii., p. 15.
22

338 FALL OF GODOLPHIN [Ch.xix
pleased, or thought it for her interest, and in con
clusion asked: ' Should I go on?' She readily an
swered : ' Yes.' He observed something strange and
gloomy in her looks, but had not the least thought of
what happened the next day, when he was removed
in an unheard of manner for a man of that high
station."! Godolphin had left the Queen's presence with the
distinct assurance from her hps that she wished him
to continue in office, yet late that very night Her
Majesty wrote him a letter which was handed to his
porter next morning, and which ran as follows :
" Kensington,
" August jth.
" The uneasiness which you have showed for some
time has given me very much trouble, though I have
borne it. Had your behaviour continued the same
it was for a few years after my coming to the Crown,
I could have no dispute with myself what to do. But
the many unkind returns I have received since, espe
cially what you said to me personally before the
Lords, makes it impossible for me to continue you
any longer in my service ; but I will give you a pen
sion of £4,000 a year, and I desire that, instead of
bringing the staff to me, you will break it, which I
believe will be easier to us both."^
Godolphin not merely broke the staff, but, accord
ing to the gossip of the town, threw the Queen's letter
into the fire.
The time was not ripe for the dismissal of Marl
borough. Anne wrote to the Duke, on the day when
she removed the Lord Treasurer, in these terms :
" My Lord Treasurer, having for some time shown
a great deal of uneasiness in my service, and his be
haviour not being the same to me as formerly, made
it impossible for me to let him keep the white staff
any longer, and therefore I ordered him this morning
to break it, which I acquaint you with now that you
1 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. iii., p. 124.
2 Ibid.

1710] THE TRIUMPH OF HARLEY 339
may receive this news first from me, and I do assure
you I will take care the Army shall want for nothing." !
Godolphin made adignifiedandrespectful reply tothe
Queen 's message . He told her that he was not conscious
of ever having uttered an undutiful word or of having
been guilty of one undutiful act during all the years
in which he had served the Crown. He claimed to
have shown at all times " respect, zeal, and integrity."
He had had the handling of millions of public money,
but he quitted office so poor that, but for the prompt
generosity of Marlborough and a small fortune which
came to him shortly afterwards through the death of
his brother, he would have been on the verge of actual
want. The Queen never fulfilled her promise of the
pension, and Godolphin had too much self-respect to
remind her of it. With almost incredible meanness,
the fallen statesman's son. Lord Rialton, who held a
minor and quite unpolitical appointment at Court,
was also dismissed. He probably would have been
allowed to remain but for one reason. Like Sunder
land, he was a son in-law of the Duchess of Marl
borough. The fall of Godolphin meant the triumph of Harley.
It was followed by a General Election, one of the
most bitter and stormy which up to that time had
ever been held in England. The Whigs received a
crushing defeat, and from the autumn of 1710 to the
end of the reign, four years later, the Tories were
masters of the situation. Shrewsbury, Rochester,
Ormond, and Harcourt, joined the new Administra
tion, but the most brilliant member of it was Henry
St. John, who, though the Queen personally disliked
him , was appointed Chief Secretary of State . Somers ,
Cowper, and Walpole, to whom Harley made over
tures in deference to the Queen's wish for a composite
Ministry, resenting the treatment which had been
1 Blenheim Papers.

340 FALL OF GODOLPHIN [Ch. XIX
meted out to their old colleagues, Sunderland and
Godolphin, refused to join the Ministry.
The reign of compromise was over. Both Queen
and country were now in the hands of the Tories.
Party feeling at this crisis ran so high that ladies in
society sat at opposite sides of the building when they
went to the opera. They showed their colours by the
different kind of fans they carried, and wore patches
in a manner which revealed even to strangers whether
they were Whigs or Tories. Political friendships
which had stood the strain of years were snapped
asunder, and talk grew boisterous and menacing in
every fashionable coffee-house and common tavern.
Men quarrelled over the conduct of the war, and
women over the rival claims at Court of the Duchess
and Mrs. Masham. The merchants, and, in fact, the
moneyed classes generally, deemed Godolphin badly
used; the landed gentry were of another mind, and,
like the majority of the common people, stood by
Harley. The clergy, who in no election had taken a
more energetic part, pinned their faith to Henry St.
John. They regarded him as the champion of the
Church, because he had opposed with all his might
the impeachment of Sacheverell. St. John was, in
truth, an odd hero for the clergy, for he was a free
thinker, whose character, to say the least, was not
irreproachable. The Revolution which brought William to the
throne had shattered the ascendancy both of the
Church and the landed interest. The Tories were
bent on the restoration of the old order in Church
and State; Godolphin during his last uneasy years
had been kept in power largely by the moneyed and
trading classes, many of whom were Dissenters as
well as Whigs, who had set aside hereditary right to
the crown. Harley, though oddly enough a Dis
senter by birth and training, came to power to uphold
the Church against the claims of Dissent, and to

1710] JONATHAN SWIFT 341
protect the rights of the landed gentry. He, like
St. John, saw clearly that peace was imperative, and
they both inspired the cry which sprang up in the
autumn of 1710 with the suddenness of a tropical
storm, that Marlborough stood in its way.
They found their chief weapon against the Duke in
Swift. Bitter, vehement, unscrupulous, Swift pos
sessed the art of clear and racy expression. He could
simulate moral indignation when he did not feel it,
and he had at his command all the resources of irony
and invective. He was a great force in English
letters, and, in spite of outbursts of petulance and
vulgarity, few writers approached him in easy mastery
of incisive speech or in the power to make the worse
appear the better cause. He was a man of haughty
and unbending temper, who, though he could cringe
on occasion, carried resentment, when his pride was
wounded, to wild lengths, and, in spite of his sacred
calling, cherished the unlovely spirit of vindictiveness.
His gown and cassock sat uneasily upon him, for the
cure of souls was the last task in the world for which
he was suited by temper and predilection. Theology
was a dead letter to him. He could never have ex
celled as a clergyman, for he lacked reverence and
sympathy, and was too open in his scorn of the com
mon people. His passion was politics, his power was
the pen. He was to use it afterwards at the call of
imagination, and to gain for himself, in consequence,
a lofty place in literature. But in 1710 he was in
London, restless, ambitious, and unemployed. He
possessed the full head and the empty purse which are
said to constitute the two spurs to literary exertion.
His magic wit was, in consequence, at the service of
any statesman who deemed it well to use it. Look
ing back on his career at a later period. Swift declared
that the lack of a great title and fortune was the
secret of all his efforts to distinguish himself. He
wanted, he frankly admitted, to be " used like a lord

342 FALL OF GODOLPHIN [Ch. xix
by those who have an opinion of my parts, ' and he
was shrewd enough to see that a reputation for wit
might serve his purpose just as well as a blue ribbon
or a coach and six horses. Bored to death by his
country living in Ireland, he had at the age of forty-
two taken his courage in his hands and come to Lon
don, in the hope that if he plunged boldly with all his
shining gifts into the game of politics he might gain
substantial preferment.
Godolphin had met his overture coldly. The Whigs
needed clever pamphleteers badly, but somehow the
Lord Treasurer, even when wellnigh driven to bay,
looked askance at a cleric of savage humour and
biting speech. It was Harley who took the measure
of the man, and introduced him to St. John, and so
Swift gained his footing with the Tories, and paid for
it handsomely by the boldness and vigour with which
he championed their cause. He fanned the growing
discontent about the war. He denounced the con
duct of the Allies; he made Mariborough, who had
raised the nation to the pinnacle of glory, a target
for all the shafts of ridicule and calumny. He was
almost as great a genius with the pen as was Marl
borough with the sword, and he bent without scruple
all his powers to the hero's undoing.
Swift made Harley's acquaintance on the 4th of
October, 1710. He states that the Minister received
him with the " greatest marks of kindness and esteem."
He was exactly the man whom the Tories needed at
that crisis. They had already no lack of weak but
venomous scribblers at their call; what they wanted
was a man possessed of shining gifts who would
stick at nothing.
He seems to have believed that the war was likely
to come to an end if, for no other reason, that its
sinews, in the shape of money, were, in i 7 n , dwindling
away. In a letter to the Earl of Peterborough, dated
the 4th of May, occur the words :

17IO] THE "WHIG EXAMINER" 343
" I foresee we shall have a Peace next year, by the
same sagacity that I have often foreseen when I
was young, I must leave the town in a week — because
my money is gone and I can borrow no more." !
But he was a year out of his reckoning. Swift had
come to London ostensibly on an ecclesiastical
mission. He arrived in August, and the Whigs,
whose fate then hung in the balance, were in no
humour to trouble themselves with the affairs of
the Irish Church. Harley now undertook to settle
the matter at once, and told Swift to come to him
whenever he liked, but added cautiously, " not to
his Levee, since that was not a place for friends
to meet." The "Journal to Stella" had been com
menced; it ended in April, 171 3. It reflects as
in a mirror Swift's movements, his intimacy with
statesmen and men of letters, and his confidential
tattle with Mrs. Masham. It is a human document,
perfectly outspoken, because never intended for
publication, and is rich in sidelights on politics and
society. Within a fortnight of his introduction to
Hariey, Swift wrote that he already stood ten times
better with the new people — that is, the Tories — than
he had ever done with the old. He found Harley so
" excessively obliging " that he was at a loss to
understand his civility. Before long he was admitted
to that statesman's Saturday dinners, where he dis
cussed high politics with his host and St. John. His
powerful new friends even began to call him " Jona
than," and the world seemed at his feet. Harley told
him that the great want of the Ministry was " some
good pen," and St. John, who had just started the
Examiner, with the aid of Prior, Atterbury, and other
writers, had not much difficulty in wheedling him
into accepting its control. He took up this congenial
task on the 2nd of November, 1710, and relinquished
^ Correspondence of Jonathan Swift, D.D., edited by F. Elrington
Ball, p. 254. London, 1910.

344 FALL OF GODOLPHIN [Ch.xix
it on the 1 4th of June, 1 7 1 1 . Addison tried to answer
him in the Whig Examiner, but he was too polished,
not to say too scrupulous, a writer to be a match for
Swift in polemical warfare.
The Tories wanted to convince the nation that they
stood for justice and common-sense. There were
Whigs to be conciliated who were tired of the war,
and Tories to be persuaded that Harley stood for the
interest of both Church and State. Beyond all else,
Marlborough was to be discredited, and his position,
as far as possible, undermined, at the very moment
when the new Ministry was assuring him of its cordial
support. Swift's strong point was invective, his foible
was lack of veracity. He knew perfectly well that the
taxation which the war made inevitable had struck at
the pockets of the people, and with an ingenuity which
was as remarkable as it was ingenious he assailed
Marlborough — though no man longed more sincerely
for quiet — as the chief obstacle to Peace. Primed
by his patrons, he was sufficiently unmanly, even as
early as the 23rd of November, to insinuate that the
Duchess had feathered her nest by dishonourable
means during the years when she had been supreme
at Court. It was a charge that was absolutely false,
as the Duchess proved by sending in her audited
accounts. Queen Anne, bitter and implacable though
she now was, at once passed them, adding significantly :
" Cheating was never the Duchess's fault."
In the autumn of 17 10 Swift was so well posted up
with the gossip of the Court that he was able to say
with palpable exaggeration: " The Duchess of Marl
borough's removal has been seven years working, that
of the Treasurer almost three, and he was to have
been dismissed before Lord Sunderland."! It is a
statement which may be accepted with a pinch of
salt, but it shows how absolutely Swift was gulled by
Harley.
' " Journal to Stella."

CHAPTER XX
THE PLOT THICKENS AND MARLBOROUGH FALLS
The building of Blenheim was brought to a standstill
that autumn, greatly to the chagrin of the Duchess,
though scarcely to the surprise of the Duke, who saw
how the wind was blowing. The payment of the
workpeople by Government was stopped. Godolphin
went down and exclaimed indignantly: " Let them
keep their heap of stones ! ' ' Vanbrugh appealed in vain
to the Duke. He was determined to leave the Queen
and Harley to do as they pleased about the building.
The Duke told the Duchess not to " meddle in the
accounts," or to allow any of her friends to touch
them. Her Majesty, he declared, was mistress of her
moneys, and consequently of her time about finishing
the palace. Then he added:
" Whilst the Lord Treasurer was in and I had the
Queen's favour, I was very earnest to have had it
finished, but as it is, I am grown indifferent, for, as
things are now, I do not see how I can have any
pleasure in living in a country where I have so few
friends."! That letter was written on the 30th of October,
and a few days later he again insists with dignity :
" It is in no way proper for us to be directing the
Queen's money. I beg they may take their own
method, both as to accounts past and to come. I
will give no direction, being very sure that fault
would be found. "^
1 Blenheim Papers. 2 /j/^.
345

346 MARLBOROUGH FALLS [Ch.XX
Blenheim, he declared proudly, " was meant to
express the sense of England's indebtedness to him.
It might remain as it stood, half built," as Vanbrugh
called it in one of his letters, -as a " monument of
ingratitude." He was chafing not a httle just then at the results
of the campaign of 1 710. He had hoped when it
began, just after the failure of the peace negotiation
of Gertruydenburg, to have struck the final blow by
carrying the war into the heart of France; but his
plans had been frustrated by a wet summer, by illness
on an alarming scale in his army, by the political
confusion in England, which had hindered the arrival
of Engineers who were needed for the artillery, and
by the reinforcements which ViUars had brought to
the seat of war. As it was, he had made a brilliant
dash through the French lines, and captured Douay
on the 26th of June, Bethune on the 28th of August,
St. Venant on the 29th of September, and Aire on the
1 2th of November, all of them fortified places. But
he had been compelled to relinquish the expedition
against Calais and Boulogne, though both seemed
within his grasp at the beginning of the campaign.
When it was over, he wrote to the Duchess in Novem
ber, stating that, after spending a few days at The
Hague in order to settle mihtary projects for 171 1,
he meant to sail for England. The letter reveals
clearly his disappointment at the turn of events :
" I see no quietness in England. Yet I am, like a
sick man, desiring and believing to find ease in
another place, though I fear there is too much reason
for me not to be so happy as yet to be blessed with
quietness."! Godolphin, and not Godolphin alone, but the Whigs
also, had expressed their anxiety that, in spite of
political changes, he would retain his command. The
! Blenheim Papers.

1711] ATTACKS ON THE DUKE 347
Duke states in allusion to this that he desires to be
governed, in the crisis which had arisen, by the
views of the Whigs, from whose principles he never
intends to depart :
" Whilst they had a majority in the House of
Commons, they might suspect that it might be my
interest that made me act in conjunction with them.
But now they must do me the justice to see that it is
my inchnation."!
Three months before that letter was written the
Whig Ministry had been dismissed, and Hariey and
St. John had come to power at the head of a Tory
Administration. Marlborough might well feel depressed. In spite
of his proud position in Europe and his unbroken
series of victories, he was at the mercy of circum
stances in England. The Queen and the Duchess
were not on speaking terms. His son-in-law had been
dismissed from office. Godolphin, who had suppUed
the sinews of war, and was a statesman in whom he
placed implicit confidence, had been driven from
power. Harley and St. John were in authority, and
both of them, in spite of fair words, were his im
placable foes. It looked as if a war which had made
England the arbitrator of Europe, was now to be
directed by men who desired peace at any price.
The Duke knew that Louis XIV., his marshals and
his statesmen, saw that they might still triumph in
the council-chamber, though they had again and
again been defeated in the field. Marlborough seemed
to have spent his strength for naught, and now a
hireling press, as able as vindictive, was crying him
down, to the surprise and indignation of the nation's
Allies , whilst the very house which bore the magic name
of Blenheim stood unfinished and desolate amid the
clamour of workmen whose wages had not been paid.
The soldiers of Marlborough were accustomed to say
^ Blenheim Papers.

348 MARLBOROUGH FALLS [Ch.XX
that when the strain of battle grew critical the Duke
grew most serene. His confidences are placed before
the world in this volume, and if they show that he
was sensitive, uneasy, and wounded by the turn of
events, he still carried his head high, and only the
Duchess and Godolphin knew then that beneath his
unruffled composure there lurked the bitterness of a
man into whose soul the iron had entered. He came
back to England, and at the end of December, for the
first time in his experience, the usual thanks of Parha-
ment were disallowed.
On the 17th of January, 1711, the Duke was re
ceived in audience by the Queen. He was a proud
man, but he humbled himself by an attempt to bring
about at least a partial reconciliation between Her
Majesty and the Duchess. His friends at home and
abroad were imploring him at all hazards to retain
his post. He knew better than anyone else in Eng
land the anxiety of the Allies at the thought of his
possible retirement. He wanted, moreover, to bring
the war to a triumphant conclusion, and for this end
to keep the Duchess from angry outbursts and the
Queen from assuming an attitude towards her of open
hostility. The Duchess herself was alarmed at the
Duke's aspect when he returned to England. He
looked worn, his health seemed failing. She per
suaded herself that, if the strain upon him were not
relaxed, he had scarcely six months to live. So he
carried a letter from her to the Queen — the last com
munication between them — which must have cost so
proud a woman a great deal to write. In it the
Duchess declared her sorrow for anything which she
might have done to render Her Majesty uneasy. She
made her submission in short, but with character
istic frankness. Her motive was to save the Duke
from chagrin and the nation from mischief. The
Queen received Marlborough coldly. She toyed with

1711] THE DUKE'S LOYALTY 349
the Duchess's letter, and at first refused to open it.
When at last she read it, all that she had to say
was: " I cannot change my resolution." The Duke
pleaded with Her Majesty not to break with the
Duchess till the Crown had no further need of his own
services. He intimated that they both desired
to retire together, and hinted that it would be no
great strain on Her Majesty's patience, since he
thought the war would end in less than a year. All
that he could say was of no avail. The Queen
demanded the return of the gold key of the Mistress
of the Robes within three days. The Duke asked
that at least an interval of ten days might be granted,
but the Queen repeated her demand, and, as if to
give an additional sting to it, now insisted that the
key must be relinquished within two days.
The Duke quitted the presence determined to resign
his command, in order to cover the insult to the
Duchess ; but she rose to the occasion, and entreated
him to take no such step, but, on the contrary,
to carry the key to the Queen that very evening.
After a struggle he yielded, and renewed his request
to know the grounds of Her Majesty's displeasure.
The Queen faltered, but gave him no inteUigible reply.
Marlborough has been blamed for not immediately
throwing up his command, but he saw that to do so
would imperil the common cause; and when Prince
Eugene added his protests to those of Godolphin, he
determined to remain in the saddle, in the hope that
he might still bring the war to a conclusion which
would reflect lustre not on England alone, but on her
Allies. He little knew when he came to that decision
that Harley was already meditating a separate treaty
with France, and that St. John, whom he had be
friended when quite unknown, was preparing a trap
for him, based on information to which he had access
as Secretary of State, concerning the financial aspects

350 MARLBOROUGH FALLS [Ch.XX
of the war. In spite of their ceaseless intrigues, now
with the Court of Hanover and now with that of St.
Germains, they were, at the moment of the dismissal
of the Duchess, advancing steadily in the Queen's
favour. Harley, indeed, through the dastardly
attempt of the French spy, Guiscard, to assassinate
him, and the popularity of the South Sea Scheme,
which he instituted in order to replenish the national
Exchequer, rose in public estimation ; whilst the atti
tude of the Crown towards him was revealed when he
was created Earl of Oxford early in 1711, and given
the post of Lord Treasurer, which had been in com
mission since Godolphin's fall. His brilliant col
league, St. John, who was shortly to become his
deadly rival, was also raised to the peerage in 171 2,
with the title of Viscount Bolingbroke, the name by
which he is best known on the page of history.
Meanwhile the Duke had gone abroad with a heavy
heart to open the new campaign. He arrived at The
Hague on the 4th of March. Harley had assured him
of support and of his anxiety that military operations
should be pushed forward with vigour, and yet the
Lord Treasurer was busy in secret communication
with Louis XIV., of which the Duke knew nothing.
Moreover, Marlborough's position with the army was
imperilled by a spirit of faction which the Ministry
did nothing to discourage. Hence his protest to
Harley; it was written on the 28th of May, 171 1 :
" I am in no way ambitious of power, but if it is
not made visible to the officers that I have the
Queen's protection, it will make it very difficult for
me to preserve that discipline in the Army which I
have very much at heart."!
In spite of all his chagrin in England, Marlborough
believed in the spring of 1711 that he stood on the
brink of a great military triumph abroad. He had
! Blenheim Papers.

1711] THE EMPEROR CHARLES VI. 351
always desired to humble France by invasion, and to
end the war at the gates of Paris, and that ambition
was shared by Prince Eugene. But the stars in their
courses seemed fighting against him now. Before the
Allies could take field and push the advantages they
had gained in 1710, tidings arrived of the sudden
death at Vienna, on the 17th of April, of the Emperor
Joseph — an event which altered in a moment the
whole political situation, and deprived Marlborough
of the invaluable aid of one who had always given his
bold military plans firm support. The Emperor's
death, notwithstanding diplomatic condolences, was
a relief to Harley. It gave him a fresh pretext for
his negotiations with France, which were carried on
without the knowledge of the Allies — a distinct
breach of treaty obligations — as well as behind the
back of the Captain-General, who had been sent
with a shower of hollow compliments to commence
hostilities anew.
The Archduke Charles, the Austrian claimant to
the crown of Spain, now became head of the Habs-
burg dynasty, and was elected to the Imperial Throne
as Charles VI. As Emperor of the West he held sway
over Austria, Italy, and the Netherlands. Though
the aim of the whole war had been the question of the
Spanish Succession, England, which had struggled so
long and so gloriously against the grandson of
Louis XIV. as ruler of the Peninsula, suddenly
realized that Philip of Anjou was a less evil on the
throne of Spain than the addition of that crown to the
great heritage already possessed by the Empire . The
immediate result was the shattering of Marlborough
and Eugene's concerted plan of action for carrying
the war into France. Prince Eugene and his army
were instantly recalled from the Netherlands to act
as a barrier against any hostile action to the new-
Emperor by Louis XIV.

352 MARLBOROUGH FALLS [Ch.XX
Marlborough's supreme abihty as a soldier was as
conspicuous as ever in what proved to be his last
campaign. The Imperial troops had been withdrawn,
and his own army had been seriously weakened, not
merely by the absence of the five battalions which
had been summoned from Flanders for the ill-fated
expedition to Newfoundland, but by the need of
relieving garrisons to protect the towns which he had
captured in 1 710. He took the field with an army
which was greatly inferior in point of numbers to
that of VUlars, who had occupied a strong position
behind entrenched Unes thrown up in the winter,
which was supposed to be impregnable. ViUars
wrote to Louis XIV. declaring that he had brought
Marlborough to a " Ne Plus Ultra " by the construc
tion of the famous entrenched lines, called by that
name, which formed the French frontier from the
Channel to Namur. The French army held the
ground between Oisy and Bouchain. The Duke,
ardently as he wished to do so, saw that it would
be madness to risk a pitched battle. If he was to
triumph, it must be by stratagem.
On the 2nd of August, after a series of rapid move
ments which mystified VUlars, the Duke drew up his
army within a league of the fortified lines. His own
officers were amazed at his audacity, for half the army
had been sent by this time on a secret mission. The
whisper ran through the camp that the Duke had lost
his head, for no one could understand his proceedings,
except on the supposition he was about to court
destruction. VUlars thought that Marlborough was
at length at his mercy, for he knew that the Duke's
army was no match for his own, even apart from
the French advantage in the fortified lines. Next
day Marlborough made a reconnaissance in view
of the enemy, pointing out exactly the positions
his troops should take in the approaching action.

!7iij MASTERLY TACTICS 353
When it was over, the rank and file went back to
their camp predicting terrible and futile slaughter,
and declaring that next day would see an end of
them. At nightfall the Duke suddenly ordered
the drums to roll, and told the army to strike its
tents, and with all speed to prepare itself for move
ment. At nine o'clock the whole of Marlborough's
troops were marching eastwards under the moonlight,
and eight hours later reached the banks of the Scarpe.
Pontoons were thrown across the river, and just as
the army had crossed a note from Cadogan was thrust
into Marlborough's hand. It was then that Marl
borough issued his historic command to the tired
troops : " The Duke desires that the infantry will step
out." By this time VUlars was in hot pursuit, for it
was plain that Marlborough meant to cross the
Scheldt, and, after a forced march of thirty-six miles,
he broke through the " Ne Plus Ultra " and invested
Bouchain, in spite of all that the enemy could do to
forestall him. For sheer military skill and daring
there were few achievements, even in Marlborough's
career, more brUliant than the capture of this fortified
town, which capitulated, after a stubborn siege, on the
14th of September.
The Duke, who never let the grass grow under his
feet, prepared at once for the siege of Quesnoy, in
order to throw open the road through France. Vol
taire admits (" Siecle de Louis XIV.") that thence to
Paris there was scarcely a rampart to oppose him.
But the Duke had shot his last bolt; his down
fall was at hand. Harley at this point interposed.
Secret negotiations with France had prospered,
and in defiance of the terms of the Grand Alliance
England had determined to make a separate peace
with Louis XIV. Marlborough's indignation at so
base a betrayal was acute, but he was powerless.
The hirelings of the Press, prompted by Bolingbroke, 23

354 MARLBOROUGM FALLS [Ch.XX
were already crying down the capture of Bouchain,
though every military man in Europe knew that it
had been achieved, at tremendous odds, by a stroke of
genius. The Duke had fought his last battle. He
had been crippled all through the campaign by the
half-hearted support of the Ministry, who had tricked
him and kept him in the dark as to their real inten
tions. At last he saw through the plausible pretexts
of Harley and St. John, and had no alternative but
to return to The Hague. There he first heard of the
charges of peculation which were presently to be
brought against him, and on the heels of such bitter
tidings came the news that Preliminaries of Peace had
been signed in London. He had always held his own
in battle, and was the idol of the men who served
under him. Fate was peculiarly cruel to him.
Honoured and victorious abroad, with an unparalleled
record as a soldier, he was now to be dishonoured and
slandered at home, and assailed like a pickpocket, at
the instance of unscrupulous Ministers and a venal
Press, by a nation which had gained ascendancy in
Europe by the magic of his sword.
Louis XIV. had good reason to congratulate him
self on the turn of events. In 1709 he had vainly
sued for peace, and had even attempted by the offer
of a huge bribe, which was indignantly declined, to
bring Marlborough, who was then master of the situa
tion, to terms. Madame de Maintenon's words at
that time are significant :
" The King was too proud, and he has been humili
ated. France aspired too high, and perhaps her pre
tensions were unjust. The nation had become inso
lent and perverted."
But in 1 7 1 1 , notwithstanding fresh military re
verses to France, Harley and St. John were wiUing
to make peace behind the back of the Allies, because
without it their own position in England was insecure.

1711] DISMISSAL OF THE DUKE 355
Versailles stood amazed at the terms which were
offered, and could not understand, with Marlborough
still victorious in the field, how it came about that
England should adopt so conciliatory an attitude.
The Queen knew all about the negotiations with
France, though the nation was kept in the dark.
The policy of the Ministers in the autumn of 1711
was to discredit Marlborough, and nothing was left
undone by scribblers in the Press to drag him down.
He felt it keenly, and told Harley just after Bouchain
that he had been "given a mortal wound," and the
latter with incredible effrontery professed to sympa
thize with him. " I do assure your Grace I abhor
the practice as mean and disingenuous." He was in
reality laughing in his sleeve, for nothing suited his
purpose better. Louis XIV. had a short way with
libellers. He clapped them into the Bastille or sent
them to the galleys. But in England, when Marl
borough was their noble quarry, they wrote with im
punity, and were encouraged in high places, until even
Swift, who was Marlborough's deadly foe, declared
that the accusations against the Duke were pushed too
hardly. The moment that Marlborough heard at The
Hague of the charges of fraud and embezzlement of
public money which were brought against him by the
Commissioners appointed by Parliament to inquire
into the conduct of the war, he wrote to them a letter,
in which he stated that the whole of the money which
he was said to have misappropriated had been used
in the pubhc service for secret intelligence concerning
the enemies' designs. He had no difficulty, on his
return to England, in proving up to the hilt the truth
of that assertion, and the charges against him were
in consequence dropped. Yet on the 31st of Decem
ber, 1 7 n, the Queen thought fit to dismiss him from
all his employments. The Duke indignantly threw
the letter, in which Her Majesty stated her decision.

356 MARLBOROUGH FALLS [Ch.XX
into the fire. Next day twelve new peers were
created to give the Ministry a majority in the Lords.
But Harley, or, as he must now be called, Oxford,
though he httle knew it, was riding for a fall. When
the tidings of the Duke's fall reached Versailles,
Louis XIV. exclaimed: "The dismissal of Marl
borough will do all that we can desire !"
Whilst the Duke was still abroad fighting for the
honour of England, the Queen, after the final rupture
with the Duchess, lost no time in appointing the
Duchess of Somerset Mistress of the Robes, and Mrs.
Masham Keeper of the Privy Purse. One of the
charges brought against the Duchess of Marlborough
in almost every history of the reign is that in a fit of
petulance she deliberately wrecked her apartments
at St. James's Palace, and went so far as to remove
the marble mantelpieces from the rooms she had
occupied. It was even hinted abroad at the time
that the Queen gave, as a reason for stopping the
work at Blenheim, that she would not build a house
for ons who had pulled down and gutted her own.
The Duchess absolutely repudiated such charges.
She stated that she had removed nothing from her
lodgings at St. James's that was not her own property.
All that she took away were " brass locks of my own
buying," and the pictures and mirrors she had hung
on the wainscot. She maintained that the charges
brought against her in the Examiner were due to the
prompting of Harley. When she quitted her apart
ments, apart from the brass locks, " everything was
in good order." That statement does not rest on her
own words alone, for the housekeeper at the Palace
wrote a letter which confirmed it.
As to Blenheim, she had never shared the Duke's
ambition for a house on so palatial a scale. Here it
is possible to cite her own words from an unpublished
paper written in old age :

1711] BLENHEIM PALACE 357
" Every friend of mine knows that I was always
against building at such an expense, and as long as
I meddled with it at all, I took as much pains to
lessen the charge every way, as if it was to be paid
for out of the fortune that was to provide for my
own children. I always thought it too great a sum
even for the Queen to pay, and nothing made it
tolerably easy to me, but my knowing that as she
never did a generous thing of herself, if that expense
had not been recommended by the Parliament and
paid out of the Civil List, she would have done
nothing with the money that was better. I never
liked any building so much for the show and vanity
of it as for its usefulness and convenience, and there
fore I was always against the whole design of Blen
heim, as too big and unwieldy, whether I considered
the pleasure of living in it, or the good of my family
who were to enjoy it hereafter. Besides that the
greatness of the work made it longer in finishing, and
consequently would hinder Lord Marlborough from
enjoying it when it was reasonable for him to lose no
time . I made Mr . Vanbrugh my enemy by the constant
disputes I had with him to prevent his extravagance.
" Soon after my Lord Oxford had made a merit to
Lord Marlborough of his having prevailed with the
Queen to continue money for the building, I received
a letter from abroad that there were no hopes that
the French would give such a Peace as even so bold
a villain as my Lord Oxford durst accept, and there
fore 'tis probable he ordered this money (£20,000) to
delude Lord Marlborough so far as to make him con
tinue in the service for the sake of having that great
work finished, since his lordship would have too many
difficulties, when no Peace could be had, to fall out
quite with Lord Marlborough. I hear the money is
to be paid in such little sums, if at all, that it looks
like a design rather to keep some hold of Lord Marl
borough than to do him any real good."
She adds, looking back on the withholding of the
workmen's wages in 1711 :
' ' There never was so ridiculous a pretence for stopping
a building recommended by Parliament, and designed
as a public monument of our victories against France ." ^
1 Blenheim Papers.

358 MARLBOROUGH FALLS [Ch.XX
There is at Blenheim a copy, in Arthur Mayn-
waring's handwriting, of a letter which he wrote to
the Queen just before the dismissal of the Duchess.
It is so bold that it is extremely unlikely that the
original was forwarded, especially as the writer held
an official appointment at the time. It seems
reasonable to think that it was written in reality to
gratify the Duchess. A citation from it will show its
purport, and it is interesting as a revelation of how
high feeling ran at that crisis amongst the friends of
the Duchess :
" Your Majesty's favour to the Duchess of Marl
borough was always looked upon as a peculiar happi
ness to your people, because it naturally led you to
put your chief confidence in the two ablest men in
your kingdom (Marlborough and Godolphin). I have
often heard it said that she was the only favourite
that ever a Sovereign was the better for. Must the
Duchess at last be disgraced for the sake of one raised
by herself from nothing, almost without a name until
she was known by a very black crime ? — I mean that
of ingratitude. Sure, Madame, this can be no fit com
panion for a great Queen adorned with all Christian
and moral virtues, and therefore, for God's sake,
Madame, consider what you are doing. . . . Nothing
can restore the Duke of Marlborough's credit in
foreign courts but your Majesty's showing your
utmost indignation against his enemies in your own." !
Such a protest suggests Mr. Secretary Craggs 's re
mark, when it was already evident that the Duchess
had lost the favour of the Crown, and all the more
since he also realized what this meant to Marlborough :
" It is enough to distract one to consider that Mr.
Harley, Mrs. Masham, and their creatures, should
reap the benefit of the most glorious actions that
ever were performed, when they were no more instru
mental in bringing them about than their coach-
horses 1"^ 1 Blenheim Papers. 2 /jj,^.

1711] THE BUILDING OF BLENHEIM 359
One concession the Queen made to the Duchess:
she was allowed to retain her appointment as
Ranger of Windsor Forest, and to the close of her life
the Old Lodge, which was afterwards pulled down to
build a house for the Duke of Cumberland, continued
to be her favourite residence. There is a hint in one
of Maynwaring's letters that the Duchess at this time
was so restless that she talked of quitting England
altogether, and declared that she might take up her
abode either at Mindelheim or, strange to say,
America.! As the summer of 1711 wore uneasily along, the
Duke appears to have grown impatient about the
building of Blenheim. He was beginning to feel, as
he put it, that it looked as if he were " never to have
any quietness there or anywhere else." Vanbrugh
was bombarding him with letters, asking for instruc
tions, in view of the laggard attitude of Harley. At
length, probably with a touch of impatience, Marl
borough, though he had told the Duchess a few months
earlier not to commit herself in the matter, seems to
have given definite orders to the architect himself.
Vanbrugh declared, in a document which still exists
amongst the archives — on which is endorsed, in the
handwriting of the Duchess, " Mr. Vanbrugh's paper
of what he says Lord Marlborough ordered to be done
in the building, 171 1 " — that the Duke told him in
writing to finish the west towers of the palace, with
the balustrades and ornamental masonry; to com
plete the colonnade leading to the chapel; to make
the steps up to the great portico and those from the
salon down to the garden; to finish the haU and
salon; and to complete the palace from that point
eastward, so that the private apartments might be
made ready for furniture. He was also told to finish
the bridge, to cope the garden walls, to pave the great
'¦ Blenheim Papers.

36o MARLBOROUGH FALLS [Ch. xx
court, and to finish the buildings in the housekeeper's
department. It would have been better, perhaps, if
the Duke had not interfered, for his action led ulti
mately to fresh wrangles about the expenditure over
the house, and in the end he was mulcted to the extent
of £60,000.
Marlborough landed at Greenwich on the 17th of
November. Parliament met three weeks later, and
the terms of the peace preliminaries with France,
which had been signed on the 27th of September, at
once came up in debate. Lord Nottingham, who by
this time had joined forces with the Whigs in opposi
tion to the Occasional Conformity Bill — a harsh
measure promoted by the Tories against the Dis
senters — moved that no peace would be lasting which
left the Bourbons in possession of Spain and the
Indies. The Duke took part in the discussion, and
defended himself against the charge that he had
personal reasons for the continuance of the war, and
Nottingham's motion was carried against the Ministry
by a small majority. The point which he had raised
was promptly brought forward in the Commons, where
a resolution, in similar terms to his own, was defeated
by a substantial majority. The Lords adjourned for
the Christmas recess on the 21st of December, and,
as Shrewsbury was now making overtures to Marl
borough, the Ministry determined to bring matters
to an issue. The report of the Commissioners, which
charged the Duke with the appropriation of public
money, was ordered to be delayed by the House of
Commons, and, in order to abolish the hostile majority
in the Upper House, twelve new peers were created,
one of them being the husband of Mrs. Masham.
On the 31st of December the Queen issued an order
dismissing Marlborough from all his employments,
giving as the ostensible reason that the accusations
against him " might undergo an impartial investiga-

I7I1] DUKE'S LETTER TO THE QUEEN 361
tion." It was a high-handed proceeding, and on the
face of it palpably unjust, for the charges, though
formulated, had not been proved. After this act
of indignity had been done, they were subsequently
discussed at length in the Commons, with the result
that the prosecution was dropped. It had served
its purpose by the Duke's removal. In other words,
the Tory Government induced the Queen to dismiss
Marlborough on a charge which had not been sub
stantiated, and the failure to prove the case against
him is, in itself, evidence enough that, though he
had accepted gifts from the Allies, he was not guilty
of using, for personal ends, public money entrusted
to him by the nation for the conduct of the war.
It was in this manner that Marlborough, in spite
of his splendid services to the nation, was hounded
out of public life amid a storm of unscrupulous
newspaper clamour.
The Duke accepted his dismissal with dignity. In
a letter to the Queen, he expressed the hope that Her
Majesty might never find the want of a servant as
faithful as he had always endeavoured to be. He
complained that his enemies had prevailed with the
Queen to take such a step in a " manner that is most
injurious to me." He added:
" If their malice and inveteracy against me had
not been more powerful with them than the considera
tion of Your Majesty's honour and justice, they would
not have influenced you to impute the occasion of
my dismission to a false and malicious insinuation
contrived by themselves and made public when there
was no opportunity for me to give it my answer." !
He spoke of his age, of the fatigues pressing upon
him, and he stated that they combined to make him
" ardently wish for the power to enjoy a quiet repose
in order to think of eternity." But he protested,
' Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. iii., p. 280.

362 MARLBOROUGH FALLS [Ch.XX
both in Parliament and in his letter to the Queen,
against separate negotiations with France. He
wanted peace to be made in concert with the Allies,
and thought that England was breaking faith with
the other Powers which formed the Grand Alliance,
in trying to arrange terms which left them in the
lurch. It was his stiff, unaccommodating attitude
which in reality brought about his downfall. Oxford
and Bolingbroke, as already shown, knew they could
only retain power at home if they made peace
abroad, and therefore they poisoned the mind of
the Queen and the nation by a " falsely malicious
insinuation," which drove the greatest man in England
from power.
There is a curious document still at Blenheim which
purports to be a copy of a letter written by Louis XIV.
to the Cardinal de Noailles, Archbishop of Paris. It
is probably fictitious, but at least it reveals the view
which was held in France in January, 1712, when the
Court of Versailles was filled with rejoicing over Marl
borough's dismissal. The document is too long to
quote in its entirety, but the following typical
passages may be cited :
" Cousin and Chancellor, we greet you well. It is
with the greatest satisfaction that we communicate
to you the agreeable account which we received by
our last Despatches from Great Britain, of the entire
defeat of the D. of M— b— gh."
" We hoped the timely death of that Prince
(William III.) would have desolved this confederacy
(the Grand Alliance) formed by him, but M — b — gh
soon made us sensible that these hopes were vain.
His consummate wisdom, his even and immovable
temper, inspired their councils and armies with an
unanimity not to be shaken by the variety of their
forms of government, difference of religious or civil
interests, or all the mutual jealousies or distrusts our
utmost art and industry could insinuate. He formed

1712] LETTER OF LOUIS XIV. TO NOAILLES 363
their well-concocted designs, and executed what he
formed; by him all our resolutions were discovered
almost as soon as taken, and scarce sooner detected
than disappointed. Whether he attacked our lives,
besieged our towns, or fought our armies, neither
armies, towns, nor lives put the least stop to the
progress of his arms, success everywhere attending
him as the natural consequence of his steady conduct
and courage."
The document goes on to say that the Danube,
the Rhine, the Meuse, the Scheldt, with innumerable
smaUer streams, will " remain monuments of his glory
till they cease to flow." It hints that the Saone and
Seine might have been added to this list if England
herself had not " reasonably interposed on our be
half." It speaks of Marlborough being removed from
his command " at a time when his Queen, his country,
and the whole Confederacy stood most in need of his
assistance." Allusion is next made to the grounds of
his dismissal. They " demand an account of him of
the sum applied by him to get intelligence, well
knowing that the nature of that account admits of no
vouchers." The Duke cannot " discover to whom
those sums have been paid without disclosing to us at
the same time the betrayal of our secrets."
It is added : " Thus the man, whom the united forces
of France and Spain could not overcome, has fallen by
the hands of those for whom he conquered." After
some vain-glorious declarations concerning what all
this meant to France, the final words are reached :
" We therefore require you to cause Te Deum to
be sung in the Church of Notre Dame in our good
city of Paris on ye (27th) day of January, for this
memorable deliverance of us and our people from the
imminent dangers we lately were exposed to, and for
the fair prospect of reaping the fruits of all our toil.
Given at our Court of Versailles, ye (17) day of
(January, 1712). " Louis."
[Countersigned " Torcy."] ^
1 Blenheim Papers.

364 MARLBOROUGH FALLS [Ch.XX
The dates are fiUed in by another hand.
The Gazette which announced the dismissal of the
Duke of Marlborough announced that the Duke of
Ormonde had been appointed Captain-General by the
Queen, and was at once to take command of the
forces in Flanders. Ormonde was a pronounced
Jacobite, and probably that circumstance had a good
deal to do with his selection. His appointment to
supreme military command was more or less of a
blind, for the negotiations with France were suffi
ciently advanced to lead Oxford and Bolingbroke to
know that the war was virtually at an end, though
it was not politic at the moment to admit such a
fact, even to Ormonde.
Lord Wolseley did well to insist that three great
national heroes, Marlborough, Nelson, and WeUing
ton, had one characteristic in common. They believed
that the finest quality of a patriotic servant of the
Crown was summed up in the " noble, selfless " word
Duty. " Marlborough, his great serene mind ruffled
for a moment by insult, comforts himself by this
magic word ('We must continue to do our duty').
Nelson thrills his eager fleet and all future generations
of Englishmen with it. Wellington, cold and im
pregnable, rests upon it."!
^ " Life of John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough," by Viscount
Wolseley. London, 1894, vol. ii., p. 445. [Unfortunately, Lord
Wolseley's "Life of Marlborough" was never completed. It
only brings the story of the Duke's career up to the year of
Queen Anne's accession, and therefore leaves untouched the
historic battles on which his renown as a soldier is built.]

CHAPTER XXI
MARLBOROUGH OUT OF THE SADDLE
Before 171 2 was a week old. Prince Eugene landed
in England. He came on a special Embassy from
the Emperor Charles VI. Vienna, like The Hague,
was at a loss to understand England's sudden com-
plaisancy towards France. The Emperor feared the
loss of his most powerful ally, and Prince Eugene
was the bearer of an autograph letter to Queen Anne,
charged with proposals in regard to the war. Nothing
could well have been more disconcerting to Oxford
and St. John than the dramatic appearance on the
scene, at this juncture, of the Duke's great comrade
in arms. Prince Eugene, as soon as he landed, was
told that Marlborough had been dismissed. He had
never dreamed that so illustrious a soldier could
be treated with such contumely, especiaUy at a
moment when the whole of Europe looked to him to
bring the War of the Spanish Succession to a glorious
conclusion. When the Prince arrived in London, he was warned
that the less attention he bestowed on Marlborough
the more agreeable would his conduct be regarded by
the Queen. If he had known that Oxford and St.
John had intended to drive the Duke from power by
false accusations, it is certain that he never would
have consented to undertake a mission to the English
Court; but, unaware of what even Swift called the
manner in which " personal resentment was allowed
to mix with public affairs," he had come to England
365

366 THE DUKE OUT OF THE SADDLE [Ch. XXI
to represent the Emperor's view of the political
situation, and to prevent, if possible, any action
which would nullify as well as discredit the Grand
AUiance. Marlborough's dismissal placed Prince
Eugene in a difficult and delicate position. He would
have gratified the Queen and her Ministers if he had
credited the accusations against Marlborough ; but he
knew the Duke too well not to see the true position
of affairs at a glance. Eugene was the last man in
the world to desert another when calumny, like a
full tide, was making havoc of his reputation. When
he was told that it would be good policy to stand
coldly aloof from Marlborough, if he wished his own
mission to prosper, the Prince exclaimed proudly,
"It is wholly inconsistent with my honour and
temper to be wanting in respect to a friend in adverse
fortune, for whom I always professed regard in the
time of his prosperity." !
Eugene was received with marked distinction both
by the Court and the Cabinet. The Queen presented
him with a diamond-hilted sword, and Oxford enter
tained him at a banquet. If compliments could have
turned his head, Eugene would have faltered in his
allegiance to the Duke. Oxford clinked his glass,
exclaiming: " I consider this day as the happiest of
my life, since I have the honour to see in my house
the greatest captain of the age." Prince Eugene's
reply was diplomatic but stinging: " If it was so, he
was obliged to his lordship for it."^ He was thinking
of Marlborough, and Oxford saw it and winced. Both
host and guest knew perfectly well that the greatest
captain of the age had been cashiered, and the
Prince was aware that the man who was paying him
honour had brought to confusion the foremost soldier
in Europe.
1 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. iii., p. 287.
2 Lediard, " Life of Marlborough," vol. iii., p. 269.

I7I2] PRINCE EUGENE IN ENGLAND 367
On a subsequent occasion, someone thrust into
Eugene's hand one of the atrocious printed libels
against the Duke, and drew his attention to a passage
which declared that Marlborough had been " once
fortunate." Eugene caught the meaning of such an
insinuation, and, with chivalry, repelled it. He replied,
" It is true. The Duke was once fortunate, and it
is the greatest praise that can be bestowed upon him,
for, as he was always successful, that implies that all
his other successes were owing to his own conduct." !
Oxford and St. John grew uneasy at Prince Eugene's
presence in London, and all the more as he lost no
opportunity of openly consorting with Marlborough,
and, in season and out, extolling his services to
England. It was vastly inconvenient for the two
statesmen, dipped as they were in political intrigues
with France, to have in their midst a military hero,
who could not appear in the London streets without
the plaudits of the crowd. Since the Prince was imper
vious to flattery, they were determined, at all hazards,
to turn public opinion against him. The rumour
quickly ran abroad that Marlborough and Prince
Eugene were in secret league, and had entered into
a conspiracy to dethrone the Queen. Oxford and St.
John did not assume responsibility for so ridiculous a
charge, but they allowed it to be made the subject of
discussion in the Privy Council, and the accusation
passed unchallenged in coffee-house and tavern, and
did its work.
Prince Eugene, indignant at such a charge, and not
less indignant at the cold reception of his proposals
for the conduct of the war, quitted England on the
17th of March, to resume command of the Imperial
troops. He seems to have realized that Oxford and
Bolingbroke were trying to throw dust in the eyes of
1 Burnet, " History of His Own Times," vol. iv., p. 116.

368 THE DUKE OUT OF THE SADDLE [Ch. XXI
the Emperor. He did not return to Flanders, how
ever, before he had acquainted himself with all that
was in Marlborough's mind about the plan of cam
paign for 1 71 2.
" Deep calleth unto Deep." At the darkest period
in Marlborough's fortunes — when the bitter wind of
scurrilous distraction was sweeping through the land
— genius in letters paid homage to genius in arms.
In January, 1712, Steele published his impassioned
tribute to the great soldier — " The Englishman's
Thanks to the Duke of Marlborough." It was written
on New Year's Day, and therefore only a few hours
after Marlborough's dismissal. It opens with an ex
pression of the author's " utmost consternation" at
the tidings which he heard " this day." Steele
laments that the sword is taken out of the hand of
one who " defended all men from it." He conjures
the Duke to take refuge in the proud memory of
what he has achieved : " Past actions make up present
glory. It is in the power of mortals to be thankless
to you for doing them ; but it is not in their power
to take from you — that you have done them." He
declares that the Duke's character is " indelible in
the Book of Fame," and predicts that the " brightest
circumstance that can be related of the Queen herself
will be — ' It was She for whom Marlborough con
quered.' " He reminds the Duke that his glory is
not changed because the rest of mankind are fickle.
" My Lord, if even the glorious edifice which your
country decreed should be erected to perpetuate your
memory stand unfinish'd, let it stand so— a monument
of the instability of human affairs."
It is significant that it was at this crisis in Marl
borough's career that Addison and Steele were of one
mind concerning the shameless indignities heaped
upon the illustrious soldier when his renown stood
four-square in Europe with Blenheim, RamiUies..

1712 ADDISON AND STEELE SPEAK OUT 369
Oudenarde, and Malplaquet for its foundation-stones.
In proof of this it is enough to recall their joint
dedication of the fourth volume of the " Spectator "
to the Duke. They declare that they have Hnked
his " memorable name " with their pages to preserve
them "from oblivion." Marlborough is reminded
that he is Prince of Mindelheim, and that it was
the gift of the Emperor, " whose dominions he
had preserved." Then follows a sentence in which
Steele's pen is revealed : " Glory established upon the
uninterrupted success of honourable Designs and
Actions is not subject to Diminution; nor can any
Attempts prevail against it , but in the proportion which
the narrow Circuit of Rumour bears to the unlimited
Extent of Fame." The final sentence contains the
words: "We may congratulate your Grace not only
upon your high Atchievments, but likewise upon the
happy Expiration of your Command, by which your
Glory is put out of the Power of Fortune."
Lady Rialton and the Countess of Sunderiand, both
of whom keenly resented the Queen's treatment of
their father and mother, followed the Duke and
Duchess into retirement. Young, beautiful, and ac
complished, they were both exceedingly popular in
society, and held official posts at the Court of Queen
Anne. It was impossible, however, for them to re
main in attendance on the Queen after her harsh
treatment of their mother. Lady Sunderland, at least,
who was high-minded as well as highly-strung, was
assuredly glad to quit a Court which she had adorned,
though she was never at ease in it. Swift did not
conceal his admiration of the " Little Whig," as the
gaUants were accustomed to call the Countess when
they toasted her ; but she could not endure the man —
apart from his attacks on her father — for he was not in
the least her idea of a clergyman. It was Sunderland
who declined the Queen's pension, in words which
24

370 THE DUKE OUT OF THE SADDLE [Ch. xxi
have become historic: " If I cannot serve the pubhc,
I will not plunder it." Shortly after the withdrawal
of all the Churchills from her service, the Queen
showed her resentment by issuing explicit orders, on
the 7th of June, 1712, that no further payments
should be given for the building of Blenheim.
The significance of Marlborough's dismissal was
not lost on France. Louis XIV.'s attitude, in regard
to the peace proposals, instantly stiffened. He saw
that, with the Duke's sword sheathed, he could raise
his terms. It was known perfectly well at Versailles
that Oxford and St. John were in the mood to
accept peace at any price, since the rising temper
of the nation made it imperative if they were
to retain power. The British plenipotentiaries at
the first Conference at Utrecht were accordingly
confronted, on the nth of February, 171 2, by pro
posals from France which brushed aside the secret
negotiations signed by Masnager in London in the
previous October. This gave rise to an angry debate
in Parliament, in which surprise and indignation was
expressed at the terms now offered by France.
Oxford dreaded daylight being thrown on the secret
negotiations of 1711, and Halifax's resolution, urging
that the war should be carried on in concert with the
Allies until an honourable peace was in sight, was
passed without a division. St. John, writing to
communicate this decision to the British plenipo
tentiaries, tried to intimidate Versailles :
" The French will see that there is a possibility of
reviving the love of war in our people by the indigna
tion which has been expressed at the plan given in
at Utrecht."
It was plain to Oxford that the temper of the
English people would not brook the new attitude of
France, and the negotiations at Utrecht were, in
consequence, suspended in favour of Torcy's proposal

1712J DEATH INVADES VERSAILLES 371
that England and France, by an exchange of de
spatches, should determine the conditions of peace,
and then force terms on the other Powers represented
by the Grand AUiance.
Death invaded the Court of Versailles just as this
decision was reached. The young Duchesse de Bour-
gogne, who was the idol of the King's old age, as
well as the chief ornament of his Court, died of
smallpox at the age of twenty-six on the 12th of
February, 1712. Six days later her husband, the
pupil of Fenelon and the hope of France, followed
her to the grave, and a few days later the
elder of their two sons also succumbed to the
disease which carried off their parents. The Due
de Bourgogne had been Dauphin for a few months;
his child had only held that rank for a few days.
Stroke after stroke had fallen on the royal house,
for three Dauphins had been struck down by death
in the space of one year. The heir to the throne was,
in consequence, a puny child, so delicate that the
nation despaired of his life, though he lived to rule
as Louis XV. At the moment, this little Prince alone
stood between Philip V. of Spain and the throne of
France. Louis XIV., old, weary, disillusioned, as
well as lonely and in failing health, felt as though all
his proud schemes had miscarried. Versailles had
lost its gaiety by the death of the Duchesse, and
France had been robbed of its dreams by the loss of
the Dauphin. The only royal occupants of the
palace were the old monarch, whose sun was setting
in blood, and a young Prince, still in the nursery,
whose life seemed to hang on a thread.
The war had begun with the disputed succession in
Spain ; it was to end with the settlement of the im
perilled succession in France. The King recognized
that the sword could not be sheathed, except by a
compromise which would satisfy the Grand Alliance.

372 THE DUKE OUT OF THE SADDLE [Ch. XXI
The Austrian rival to Philip — the Archduke Charles,
in whose cause Marlborough and Prince Eugene had
fought so many battles — ^was now out of the question.
He had ascended the Imperial throne as Charles VI. ,
and Europe would never consent to the possibility of
the union of the two crowns. Louis XIV. had
reigned for nearly seventy years, and was begin
ning to feel, as he afterwards put it, that it " was
easy to leave the world "; but he had first of all to
think what was best for the House of Bourbon. He
sought to make fresh terms with England, and secret
proposals and counter-proposals passed between the
two Courts.
They had advanced so far by the loth of May that
the Duke of Ormonde was instructed, at all hazards,
to keep the army out of action.
"It is the Queen's positive command to your
Grace," wrote St. John on that day, " that you avoid
engaging in any siege, or hazarding a battle, till you
have further orders from Her Majesty."
Ormonde was ridiculed by his enemies as a " man
of straw," and, if such contempt had not hitherto
been justified, he was reduced to that unenviable
position by a despatch which left him powerless. He
could not even give explanations to Prince Eugene,
for he had been expressly directed to conceal his
sudden and humiliating instructions.
" Her Ma.jesty thinks you cannot want pretences
for conducting yourself without owning that which
might at present have an ill effect if it was publicly
known."! He was further told that France was aware of the
order that had been given to him by England, and
that therefore, if Marshal ViUars approached the sub
ject, he was to " answer accordingly."
Oxford, in short, was playing a deep double
1 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. iii., p. 302.

I712J LORD OXFORD'S SCHEMES 373
game. He had dismissed Prince Eugene with the
assurance that the war was going to be vigorously
renewed. He had placed Ormonde in command of
the military forces of the nation ostensibly for the
same purpose. He had tricked the Allies, and was
pushing forward an arrangement with France about
which they were in the dark. The Dutch were puzzled
by Ormonde's vacillation; they withdrew their troops
from his command and placed them under Prince
Eugene. He appealed to Ormonde for assistance in
the siege of Quesnoy, and the latter had to dissemble,
and finally, driven to bay, to meet the appeal by a
blank refusal. Quesnoy was taken by the Imperial
and Dutch troops, under Eugene, after a siege of six
weeks, on the 4th of July. Meanwhile the withdrawal
of the English troops from the assistance of Prince
Eugene raised angry debates in both Houses of Parlia
ment; but in the end the Ministry triumphed, and a
resolution was passed which gave Oxford the breath
ing-time that he wanted. He gained his point by a
deliberate suppression of the truth. The fear had
been expressed in the House of Lords that England
might conclude a separate peace. " Nothing of that
nature," exclaimed Oxford, " was ever designed.
Such a peace would be so base, so knavish, and so
villainous a thing, that every servant of the Queen
must answer for it by his head to the nation." !
Marlborough was personally attacked in the course
of the discussion by Earl Poulett: "No one can
doubt the Duke of Ormonde's bravery, but he does
not resemble a certain General who led troops to
the slaughter, to cause a great number of officers to
be knocked on the head in a battle, in order to fill his
pockets by disposing of their commissions." ^
The Duke instantly met the disgraceful and cruel
1 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. iii., p. 308.
2 Lediard, " Life of Marlborough," vol. iii., p. 278.

374 THE DUKE OUT OF THE SADDLE [Ch.xxi
taunt by challenging Poulett to a duel. Whereupon
Lady Poulett ran to the Queen, who stopped the
proposed encounter.
Louis by this time had brought his grandson to
terms. Phihp V. elected to abide by the throne of
Spain, and publicly to renounce his presumptive
rights to the crown of France. He further consented
that, in case he left no direct heir, the crown of Spain
should not pass to any other French Prince but to
the Duke of Savoy. Louis, on his part, undertook
that the Pretender, Prince James Stuart, should in
stantly quit French soil, and consented, even before
any treaty was signed, that English troops should
garrison the citadel of Dunkirk, as a further pledge
of good faith. The Queen, in a speech from the
throne, on the 6th of June, explained at length other
terms which France was willing to concede in the
interests of England, one of which was the infamous
monopoly of the slave trade for the space of thirty
years. " I have not," said Her Majesty significantly,
" taken upon me to determine the interests of our
confederates; these must be adjusted in the Congress
of Utrecht." England, in other words, had fought for
her own hand and prevailed, leaving the other members
of the Grand AUiance at a distinct disadvantage, in
spite of Oxford's denunciation of knavish tricks.
Marlborough, Godolphin, Nottingham, and Cowper,
spoke on behalf of the Allies, and argued that they
ought, in common fairness, to be at once included in
any agreement with France. The Duke declared,
" The measures pursued in England, for a year
past, are directly contrary to Her Majesty's engage
ments with the allies ; they have sullied the triumphs
and glories of her reign, and will render the English
name odious to all other nations."
But such protests passed unheeded.
Godolphin was ill when he made his speech in

1712] ARTHUR MAYNWARING 375
Parliament in June, and it quickly became apparent
that his days were numbered. During the summer of
1 712, the Duchess, who once said, "No one has gone
two steps for me, for whom I would not make ten
in return," was distressed, not only by his illness, but
also by that of another equally loyal friend, Arthur
Maynwaring. He was only forty- four, but he had
ruined his constitution, it was said, by too much
champagne and burgundy. Maynwaring knew better
than any other man of the period, who dipped his
quill in ink, the real story of Marlborough's dis
missal, and if he had outlived the Duke, or even
outweathered His illness in 171 2, there is little doubt
that he would have challenged at length, and to
some purpose, the base accusations of Swift. But
through failing health, in 1711 and 171 2, Maynwaring
was not equal to any sustained bit of work ; otherwise
the statements in the " Conduct of the Allies " would
not have been allowed to pass unchallenged. It was
peculiarly unfortunate for the Duke that Maynwar
ing's death came so rapidly on the heels of his own
dismissal, for that clever and light-hearted fellow had
a pen which could prick bubbles with the best. He
was not in the least afraid of picking up the glove
even of Swift.
The Duke and Duchess spent the summer at their
house at St. Albans, full of concern about Godolphin
and Maynwaring. It was whilst walking in the garden
there, late on a September night, that Arthur Mayn
waring caught the chill which proved fatal. He
lingered two months, but, in spite of all that Dr.
Garth and Dr. Ratcliff could do, gradually grew worse.
The Duchess sat in tears by his bedside when aware
that she was about to lose a secretary who had always
been loyal to her, and whom she rightly regarded as
one of her most attached friends. The end came on
the 13th of November.

376 THE DUKE OUT OF THE SADDLE [Ch. xxi
Lord Godolphin, who needed both quiet and atten
tion, was nursed by the Duchess with unwearied de
votion through the late summer of 1 7 1 2 . The dying
statesman was visited at St. Albans by the leaders of
the Whig party, and rumour had it that Marlborough
and they were engaged in concocting schemes against
the Queen and Oxford. The Duke had fought his
last fight abroad, and struck his tent. It stood now
on the broad lawn of Holywell House, and beneath it,
sheltered from the broiling sun, his life-long friend lay
sick — the man who had upheld his hand through all
the stress and strain of the War of the Spanish Suc
cession. Godolphin, like Maynwaring, had lived too
freely, and at sixty-seven his constitution was broken.
His high spirit was broken also, for he was bitterly
chagrined at the turn of events and the manner in
which both the Duke and himself had been dismissed
by the Queen, whose reign they had made illustrious.
All that love and skill could do was lavished upon him
in his hours of mortal weakness. The end came on
the 15th of September, at the Duke's house at
St. Albans, and no man mourned the loss of the
greatest statesman of the age more than its greatest
soldier. Smollett declared, with simple justice, that
Sidney, Earl of Godolphin, was an " able, cool, dis
passionate Minister, who rendered himself necessary
to four successive Sovereigns," and controUed the
public finances with equal skill and integrity. He may
have hedged like other statesmen of the Revolution ;
but, though millions of the public money were in his
keeping, he stands guiltless of fiscal misdeeds. Pope
extolled Godolphin's " high desert.
His hand unstained, his uncorrupted heart.
His comprehensive head."
Though he had not the constitutional aptitudes of
Somers, or the brilliant gifts of St. John, he ex-

1712] THE DUKE'S TRADUCERS 377
celled both of them in the consummate grasp of
affairs. The Duke was too much of a soldier to show his
heart to the world, but all his friends knew that he
winced at the accusations which were made against
him. He was more sensitive to such attacks than
the Duchess, and she, at the moment, was quite as
much under the lash of public ridicule . The notorious
Mrs. Manley had brought charges against her in the
forgotten book called " The New Atlantis," and Swift
was base enough to recommend this lying and un
scrupulous traducer to the patronage of the Ministry.
The Duke's position in the late autumn of 171 2
was intolerable. He had lost the confidence of the
Queen, and death had deprived him of the only man
who, in good and evil report, had remained his " own
familiar friend." He was baffled by public intrigues,
and wounded by personal insinuations. The lordly
house at Woodstock, to which he had looked as a
final haven of retreat, stood half built and desolate.
Oxford was supreme, and at daggers drawn with him ;
St. John, though more diplomatic in attitude, was in
truth scarcely a less deadly opponent. The Whigs
were more anxious to stand well with the Court
than to take up Marlborough's cause. Scribblers in
the Press were scoffing at his latest military achieve
ments — his breaking through the French lines, which
was in truth one of the most brilliant and daring ex
ploits in his whole career, but was described by these
ignorant hirelings as the mere " crossing of the
kennel." They even had the audacity to assert that
the siege of Bouchain had " no other object " than
the " capture of a dove-cote." Yet France admitted
that the Duke had " covered himself with glory "
through military operations, which compelled their
admiration. It was said abroad that Louis XIV.
welcomed his defeated commanders with more kind-

378 THE DUKE OUT OF THE SADDLE [Ch XXI
ness than England evinced towards its most illustrious
General. The legal proceedings brought against the Duke,
for the recovery of sums received as percentage, had
not yet been dropped, though he had sent the Com
missioners the Queen's warrant issued at the beginning
of the war, and countersigned by Mr. Secretary
Hedges, which authorized the retention of 2| per
cent. Now, to add to the mortification of his posi
tion, a demand for £30,000, representing arrears on
the building of Blenheim, was made upon him.
Proud, lonely, disillusioned, it was small wonder that
the Duke determined to quit England. He was rich,
renowned, and had a name to conjure with in Europe.
Even Queen Anne, when she heard of his intentions,
deemed him rightly advised. " The Duke does well
to go abroad," was her comment when tidings reached
her of his proposed departure.
The Duchess, it was arranged, was to join him a
month or two later. She remained behind in order
to settle up various private affairs. Marlborough
always trusted her judgment in such matters, and
during his prolonged absence from England had left
everything that related to his property in her hands.
Before leaving England he appointed his sons-in-law
trustees of his estates, and also entrusted to his
friend and comrade-in-arms. General Cadogan, the
sum of £50,000 to invest in Dutch securities, to safe
guard his family, as the Duchess remarked, in case
of any public miscarriage of affairs in England.
Unluckily, Cadogan, with the best intentions in the
world, thought well to use his own judgment. Dutch
securities seemed to him less attractive than those of
Austria, so he placed the Duke's money in the latter
quarter. Years afterwards, when Marlborough was
dead, the Duchess brought an action at law against
him for not carrying out his instruction, and forced

BLENHELM PALACE.
l''ioiii a lilhofiniph.

1712] THE DUKE GOES ABROAD 379
him to make good the loss. It is quite certain the
Duke would not have sanctioned such a proceeding.
On the 28th of November, Marlborough sailed for
Ostend, leaving the Duchess at St. Albans. He was
accompanied by two gentlemen and a few servants.
He wanted quiet, and, by a strange irony, that was
impossible in England. The Ministry breathed freely
when he sailed, though Oxford and St. John, who
were now absolutely at cross-purposes, were not
a little anxious as to how Marlborough would act
in the event of the Queen's death — an event which
was not likely to be long delayed. They had done
their worst, so far as the Duke was concerned; it
remained to be seen how he would act when the rival
claims of the House of Stuart and the House of Han
over came up for -final decision. Marlborough went
abroad in 1712 free and unsaddled with responsi
bility. His life had been strenuous as well as splendid,
and he turned his back on public affairs with almost
the zest of a youth who had escaped from school. If
his own inclinations had been studied, all ceremony
would have been waived when he landed ; but
whatever his enemies in England might think, the
magic of his name was still resistless in the region
where he had won his greatest victories. He was
received everywhere with marked distinction. At
Ostend the Duke's arrival was greeted with a salute
of artillery. The garrison was paraded, and the
Governor entertained him at a banquet. Next day
he left for Antwerp, where he was welcomed with
mihtary honours. The same reception awaited him
at Maestricht, and all the way to Aix-la-Chapelle,
where he intended to take up his residence, the enthu
siasm of the people was unbounded. At the hour
when fortune had ceased to smile upon him in England,
they paid him as much honour as if he were still at
the height of his triumphs. The common people

38o THE DUKE OUT OF THE SADDLE [Ch.xxi
said of Marlborough when he was in exUe in 1712-
17 14 — and no finer compliment could well have been
accorded to him :
" The only things the Duke has forgotten are his
own deeds. The only things His Grace remembers
are the misfortunes of others ; his looks, his bearing,
and his address, are full as conquering as his sword."!
He made the same impression on men of consequence
by his kindness, his consideration for others, his grave
gentle bearing, the resistless charm of his manner.
It was the Due de Les Diguieres who, on quitting the
Duke's crowded levee at Aix-la-Chapelle, declared:
" I can now say that I have seen the man who is
equal to the Marechal de Turenne in conduct, the old
Prince de Conde in courage, and superior to the
Marechal de Luxembourg in success." ^
The Duchess had intended to follow the Duke
abroad in the course of a fortnight or three weeks,
but it was two months before she was able to join him.
His letters to her reveal his loneliness, as well as his
ardent wish that she should hasten her journey.
He told her that the sea was calm and the roads as
good as in summer, and that he was waiting until he
" had the happiness of her company " to push on to
Frankfort. He wanted to get to that city in order to
settle for a time, as he said, into an orderly way of
living, and added: " If you are then contented, I shall
have nothing to trouble me."
He desired her, in passing through Brussels, to call
on M. De Vost, in order to look at the " hangings," as
he modestly called the glorious tapestries which now
adorn the walls of Blenheim. Josse De Vost was the
most renowned and skilful artist in tapestry, not
merely in Flanders, but in Europe. He had estab-
1 Alison, " Life of Marlborough."
2 Lediard, " Life of Marlborough," vol. iii., p. 301.

1712] DE VOST'S TAPESTRIES 381
lished his looms at Brussels in the summer of 1705,
and had been already granted various privileges by
the city, in recognition of the superlative merit of his
work. The Emperor Leopold was one of De Vest's
patrons, and a fine example of his skUl in tapestry
was one of the artistic treasures of the Imperial Palace
of Vienna. Almost as soon as the walls of Blenheim
began to rise, the Duke determined that De Vost
should depict his battles upon them. He seems to
have given the artist his first commission in 1 706, and
since then the flying shuttles had been busy, weaving
many-coloured threads into the magnificent and real
istic pictures which, for wellnigh two centuries, have
graced the state apartments at Blenheim :
" The vivid tints with war's dread horrors bum ;
Here Grief and Shame — there, Rage and Fury tum;
The lengthen'd march — the ramparts rise to sight.
And all the kindling glories of the fight."
De Vost not merely had the Duke's explicit descrip
tions to guide him in the preparation of these historic
tapestries, but the original plans of the battles and
sieges, showing the disposition of the troops, as well
as portraits of the chief soldiers depicted, were placed
at his disposal. It is the realistic fidelity in every
detail, no less than the artistic beauty, of the Blenheim
tapestries, which commands admiration, and the cir
cumstance that they are almost contemporary with
the battles and sieges depicted immeasurably enhances
their historic appeal.
The stranger, passing through the state apartments
of the palace, is confronted by these glowing and
realistic pictures of the attack on Donauwerth, the
siege of LiUe, the battles of RamiUies, Oudenarde,
and Malplaquet, the march to Bouchain, and the
siege of that fortified town. It is significant that
perhaps the finest tapestry of aU, which depicts the
Battle of Blenheim, was placed by the Duchess in

382 THE DUKE OUT OF THE SADDLE [Ch.xxi
the private apartments. De Vest's masterpiece en
riches the walls of the bow-window room, where
Marlborough in old age used to sit and watch the
plays given for his entertainment by his grandchildren
and friends. This favourite room of the first Duke
and Duchess is comparatively small, and the glorious
tapestry, in consequence, representing the battle
which gave occasion for the house, is placed at a dis
advantage, since it extends across two walls at right
angles; but the Duchess determined its position, and
it has never been changed. She wished the tapestry
that represented the battle which made the Duke
immortal to decorate the room where she constantly
sat. The story runs that a French officer who visited
Blenheim generations ago, enraged at the account
which was given him, on the spot, of Marlborough's
historic victory, flashed out his sword and slashed at
the picture. It was skilfully repaired, and bears no
traces to-day of that act of vandalism.
Early in February, 171 3, the Duchess reached
Maestricht, where she and the Duke remained
for a few days. She was accompanied to Dover,
when she set out on her journey, by her kins
man, Mr. Robert Jennings, a wealthy lawyer in
London, who was connected with the Court. Whilst
she was abroad she wrote to him a number of letters,
which were published, from the original manuscripts
at Madresfield Court, and a few citations of interest
are given, since Lord Beauchamp has placed the
volume at the writer's disposal. The first was written
immediately on her arrival at Maestricht, and is dated
the 1 2th of February. After thanking Mr. Jennings
for his kindness in escorting her to Dover, the
Duchess says :
" AU the places one passes through in these parts
have an air very different from London. The most
considerable people I have seen have but just enough

1713] THE DUKE AT FRANKFORT 383
to hve, and the ordinary people I beheve are half
starved ; but they are all so good and so civil that I
could not help wishing that they had the riches and
the liberties that our wise countrymen have thrown
away, or, at best, put in great danger."
She adds that the " honours paid her at every
halting-place, as the Duke of Marlborough's wife,
were not to be imagined." She was gratified by it all
the more because he was not in authority. " It
shows that he made a right use of power when he was
a general," and she thinks that her kinsman will see
what people abroad think of the Ministry.
On the ist of March the Duke and Duchess made a
short stay at Aix-la-Chapelle. She tells her relative
that she is spending her time in that city in visiting
convents and churches, and that the abuses of the
priests, and especially the extortions which they
practised on the " poor deluded people," move her
to indignation. In the middle of May the Duke and
Duchess settled at Frankfort for a time, where Marl
borough had an opportunity of exchanging confi
dences with Prince Eugene. The Duchess sat at a
window as the troops under the Prince's command
marched past , and she wished that she were a man , that
she might fight also " in the glorious cause of liberty."
The soldiers saluted the Duke as they went by, " as
if he had been at his old post." She describes the
court which was paid to Marlborough, and says " it
would fill a book " to give an account of all the honours
done to him by the Elector of Mayence and other
notables. In a subsequent letter from Frankfort,
the Duchess refers to Lord Godolphin. She cannot
write about the best friend she ever had in her life
" without dropping some tears." She declares that
he managed, not merely her own affairs, but those of
the nation, and might " truly be compared to Arist-
ides for honesty and care of the public good." She

384 THE DUKE OUT OF THE SADDLE [Ch. xxi
says, " you have seen how Lord Godolphin was used,"
and declares that she has often thought that, " if it
were not for the satisfaction of one's own mind, as far
as it concerns this world, it is much better to be
wicked than good."
She gives a delightful picture of her country walks
with the Duke. They drove out of the city every
afternoon, and stopped the coach when the road
seemed inviting. " Frankfort, "May 16.
" T'other day we were walking from the road, and
a gentleman and his lady went by us in his chariot,
whom we had never seen before, and after passing
us with the usual civilities they bethought themselves
and turned back, came out of their coach to us, and
desired that we would go into their garden, which was
very near that place, desiring us to accept of a key.
This is only a little taste of the civility of people
abroad, and I could not help thinking that we might
have walked in England as far as our feet would have
carried us before anybody that we had never seen
before would have lighted out of their coach to have
entertained us."!
There are passing allusions in the letters to La
Guerre 's work in the decoration of Marlborough
House, and to affairs at Woodstock. She says that
the Duke has grown " intolerable lazy," and has not
written once to any of his daughters in England.
She offers to buy lace for Mistress Jennings.
" If she will employ me, pray assure her that I will
take as much care to serve her well, as I did the
Queen, whom I had the honour to save a hundred
thousand pounds in nine years, which I can prove to
anybody."^ The Duchess thought Frankfort an agreeable town,
but expressed her surprise that a country so long
1 " Letters of Sarah Duchess of Marlborough, from the Original
Manuscripts at Madresfield Court." London, 1875.
2 Ibid.

1713] JACOBITE EXPECTATIONS 385
civilized should lack all the conveniences of life. She
was there in the winter, and detested their " intoler
able stoves." The most beautiful place she saw in
her travels was the castle of the Elector of Treves,
at the confluence of the Rhine and Moselle. He
received his distinguished guests with marked honours.
She was not in the least impressed with the rehgious
processions which she saw abroad. It seemed to
her that they had a " folly for almost every day in the
year." It is plain that the Duchess looked askance at the
negotiations with France. She at least stood clear
of all the intrigues which were in progress in regard to
the Pretender. In a letter from Frankfort, written
in July, 1 71 3, occur the significant words:
" Be sure nothing can stand before the King of
France long, if England continues to assist him; and,
as long as this ministry continues, I think there is no
doubt that England will act (do) what is most for
the advantage of the French in all things, which must
certainly a little sooner or later bring in the Prince
of Wales." !
Just before that letter was written the Duchess had
met at Frankfort a Roman Catholic gentleman, whom
the Duke had befriended at a critical juncture in his
private fortunes. The Duchess describes him as
" very honest in his way." He told her that he
expected the restoration of King James as a cer
tainty, and desired her as a friend to try to " bring
the Duke of Marlborough early " into a project,
which was then ripening, with that end. The Duchess
replied proudly, " I had much rather have the Duke
suffer upon that account than change sides, for that
would look as if what he did at the Revolution was
not for justice, as it really was, but to comply with
the times." ^
1 Madresfield Letters. 2 if,id_ 25

386 THE DUKE OUT OF THE SADDLE [Ch.xxi
The Duke seized the opportunity presented by his
residence in Germany to take the Duchess to the
Principality of Mindelheim, where he was welcomed
with stately ceremonials as a Prince of the Empire.
By one of life's little ironies, Marlborough, in spite of
his great services to the Court of Vienna, was not
long allowed to enjoy the revenues of the principahty,
which had been conferred upon him by the Emperor
Leopold in recognition of his victory of Blenheim.
He retained the rank of Prince of the Holy Roman
Empire, and this title of Prince was confirmed by
Charles VI., and extended to heirs female.
Whilst the Duke and Duchess were still abroad,
tidings of a great personal sorrow reached them.
They had been cheered by lively letters from their
children, but early in 1714, whilst at Antwerp, news
came to them of the death of their third daughter,
Elizabeth, Countess of Bridgewater. She was struck
down by smallpox, and, after a short illness, died on
the 22nd of March, in the twenty-sixth year of her
age. The Countess of Bridgewater was the child of
all others whom Marlborough adored, and her death
moved him deeply. It was said in her lifetime that
Lady Bridgewater threw herself into the gaiety of
the Court without sharing its follies, and was the
" best of wives." She was also a singularly dutiful
and affectionate daughter, endowed with a sunny
temper and great charm of character. When the
tidings came, the Duke dropped his head heavily on
the marble mantelpiece, by which he was standing,
and fell in a swoon. It seemed just then as if all
things were in conspiracy to break the Duke's spirit,
but the fortitude which had served him so weU in
battle did not desert him when assailed by " the shngs
and arrows of outrageous fortune."
During the closing months of his residence in
Germany he had been in close communication with

I7I3] THE DUKE AND THE SUCCESSION 387
the Court of Hanover, and had finally dropped, in
1 71 3, his previous political relations with his nephew,
the Duke of Berwick, on behalf of " James III.," as
the Jacobites termed the Pretender. If Prince James
Stuart had consented to abandon his perfervid Roman
Catholicism, Marlborough would unquestionably have
done all in his power to advance his cause. But the
Prince was a truly religious man, and " not for three
crowns " would he consent either to cloak or to dis
semble his real convictions. Marlborough beyond
all else was a Protestant, and he knew, moreover,
that a Roman Catholic King of England was im
possible. Besides, the Pretender was hand in glove
with Louis XIV., and it was the lifelong ambition of
Marlborough to break the power of France . The Duke
made it clear in his secret correspondence with
Berwick, as far back as the years 1708-09, that he
would always oppose the power of France, and would
do nothing for the Pretender against the " interests of
England."! He was prepared to exchange compli
ments with him, and to make guarded statements, but
he was not prepared to pledge himself at all hazards to
bring about the restoration of the House of Stuart.
No one could predict what would happen in England
after Anne's death, but when the Pretender expressly
declared that under no circumstances whatever
would he change his faith, Marlborough seems to have
recognized that nothing further was possible, and
hence he pledged his sword and life to the Hanoverian
cause. His sympathies were with the Stuarts, but,
since both his convictions and his interests, and, as
he judged, the interests of the Protestant Faith in
England as well, were with the House of Hanover,
he determined to stand by the Electress.
Almost as soon as this decision had been reached ,
1 " Une Negociation Inconnue entre Berwick et Marlborough "
(1708-09 Ed.). A. Legrelle. Ghent, 1893.

388 THE DUKE OUT OF THE SADDLE [Ch.xxi
tidings arrived in the early summer of 1714 that the
Queen's health was rapidly faUing. In July the
Duke determined to return to England, in order to
be on the spot when the crisis arose. If a steam-
packet had been at his service in those days, Marl
borough would have been in London when the Queen
died. But he was detained by contrary winds at
the port of departure, and reached Dover on the
ist of August, the very day when the sceptre fell from
Anne's hands. He was too late to have a voice in the
sudden and dramatic Council of Kensington, which
ended, after a few hours of suspense — ^when the rival
claims of the Pretender and the Elector hovered in
the balance — ^with the command to the heralds to pro
claim in the streets of the capital the accession of
George I.

CHAPTER XXII
THE LAST YEARS OF MARLBOROUGH
There is scarcely a more dramatic chapter in the
annals of England than that which closed with the
death of Queen Anne. The Duke and Duchess were
spectators at a distance of the rivalry between Oxford
and Bolingbroke, which not merely embittered Her
Majesty's last days, but provoked the fit of apoplexy
which, after an angry Council prolonged till midnight
at Kensington, proved fatal. Marlborough was ab
sent from England from the autumn of 1712 to the
summ^er of 1714, and had neither part nor lot in the
unseemly wrangles which brought about so tragic an
issue. Within that interval England made terms
with France at Utrecht, which satisfied neither
Holland nor Austria. The Dutch, after prolonged
negotiations, were conciliated by a strong barrier of
fortresses, which secured their frontiers from inva
sion. But even when the Peace of Utrecht was
signed by both England and Holland, France had
still to reckon with the hostility of Austria, and the
struggle went on for a time on unequal terms. When
the armistice was proclaimed, England laid down
her arms on the 6th of June, 171 2, much to the
chagrin of Marlborough. The foreign troops, who
had served under the Duke, joined the standard of
Prince Eugene. They refused to obey the Duke of
Ormonde's orders, and even the English soldiers who
followed him to Dunkirk were sullen and indignant.
Eugene, deserted by Ormonde, who was acting under
389

390 MARLBOROUGH'S LAST YEARS [Ch. XXII
instructions from the Ministry, boldly pursued the
plan of campaign which Marlborough and himself had
concerted in the previous year. Immediately after
the capture of Quesnoy, the Prince marched his army
to Landrecies, along what the troops proudly caUed
"the road to Paris." The reduction of this fortified
town had been Marlborough's ambition at the very
moment when his victorious career was stayed, for he
knew that, if he held Landrecies, the AUies could
march to the gates of Paris and dictate terms to
Louis XIV.
Prince Eugene determined to carry out the broken
purpose of the great soldier. It was a supreme and
gallant effort on the part of Eugene, who was as
brave a soldier and as loyal a comrade as ever led a
charge in battle. But the reign of terror which the
Duke's renown had created in France no longer
existed. He was not now at the seat of war, and
Versailles breathed freely. The song with which
women all over France rocked their babes in the cradle
to sleep, " Malbrook s'en va-t-en Guerre," though it
survived on their lips for more than one generation, was
already no longer a spell. The moment the armistice
was signed Louis sent the garrisons from every town
which was no longer threatened to strengthen the
army of Marshal VUlars. He was the most able
commander in the King's service, and, with Marl
borough gone — smarting under the defeat at Mal
plaquet — he saw his chance, and Eugene, disheartened
and outnumbered , was no match for him . VUlars threw
the Prince off his guard by a demonstration in force
against the army which threatened Landrecies, and
under cover of it, by a sudden and masterly movement,
attacked the Dutch at Denain, where the Earl of
Albemarle was posted to protect the rear of the be
sieging host. Eugene hastened at once to the aid of
Albemarle, but VUlars cut the bridge across the

!7i3] THE END OF THE WAR 391
Scheldt, and on the 24th of July was victorious after
a fierce struggle. In consequence the AUies were
forced to raise the siege of Landrecies, and ViUars
pushed his advantage so cleverly that Douay sur
rendered. Quesnoy was recaptured, and on the loth
of October the campaign ended with the surrender
of Bouchain, which Marlborough had taken so bril
liantly in the summer of the previous year.
With the fall of Bouchain, the War of the Spanish
Succession, so far as its operations have been followed
in these pages, came to an end, but it was one which
rankled in the heart of Marlborough. That end might
have been far different if the Duke had not been
deprived of his command, or even if Prince Eugene
had been properly supported after his removal. It
was a weak and impotent conclusion — the outcome
of England's deliberate betrayal of the Allies. It
seemed to Marlborough, when the tidings came to
him, that he had laboured in vain and spent his
strength for naught.
England had called a truce to battle exclusively
in her own interests and in defiance of her treaty
obligations. Almost everything that had been won
at the point of the sword on the northern frontier of
France was relinquished at the very moment when
Europe expected the AUies to deliver a crushing
and final blow to the pretensions of Louis XIV.
Even the original purpose of a war on which so much
blood and treasure had been spent was abandoned,
for a Prince of the House of Bourbon was henceforth
allowed to wear the crown of Spain. The secret
history of the negotiations form one of the most
shameful episodes in the annals of England. Mari
borough had nothing to do with it ; it was Oxford and
Bolingbroke, the statesmen who compassed his down
fall, who were directly responsible for what Pitt
afterwards denounced as " this indelible reproach

392 MARLBOROUGH'S LAST YEARS [Ch. xxil
on the foreign policy of the nation." Peace, on
terms far more advantageous, as well as honourable,
than that which was concluded at Utrecht would
have been arranged if another twelve months had been
granted to Marlborough. But he was hounded down,
just as he was preparing to strike the final blow, with
the aid of unscrupulous writers like Swift. It is true
that the cost of the war had grown menacing; it is
equally clear that the nation was restive and dis
contented at its prolongation, and partly because it
was, of necessity, in ignorance of Marlborough's
proposed coup de grace to France at the gates of Paris.
But the nation would have waited patiently if dis
content and suspicion had not been sedulously
fomented by the astounding charges against Marl
borough, for, unlike the Whig party, it was not pre
pared for peace on humiliating terms.
Oxford and Bolingbroke acted like gamblers en
gaged in a game of chance. Any moment the Queen
might collapse, and after her came the deluge. They
had both intrigued deeply with the Pretender, and
they knew perfectly well, in doing so, that, in spite of
declarations to the contrary from the Throne, they
had the secret good-wUl of the Queen. Anne detested
the House of Hanover, and did not wish the strong-
brained, domineering old Electress to become her
successor. The Queen felt the call of her blood. She
had always been more or less inspired by senti
mental regret for the part which she had played
at the Revolution. She desired to make tardy
reparation for what she now deemed her desertion
of her father's cause, by paving the way for her
young brother to gain the crown when her own lonely
and embittered life was ended.
The Queen, in the closing years of her reign, was
between cross-fires. On parchments and in proclama
tions she was pledged to Hanover; at heart she seems

1713] THE PEACE OF UTRECHT 393
to have longed, though with perplexed misgivings,
that the ancient line of Soveriegns should not be set
aside. Lady Masham was a pronounced Jacobite,
who, in season and out, was never weary of extolling
the virtues as well as the claims of the Chevalier de
St. George. The Duchess of Somerset, on the con
trary, stoutly held that the Act of Settlement, made
in 1 701 in favour of Hanover, ought to be respected,
and harped on the old cry, " The Church in danger !"
well knowing that Anne was the obedient daughter
of the Church. At the time when affairs grew critical,
Bolingbroke was much more to the mind of Lady
Masham than Oxford. A finished courtier, Boling
broke masked his inordinate ambition under gay
repartees. He had a handsome face, was skilled in
compliment, and had few scruples. Oxford was not
prepossessing, was slow and embarrassed of speech,
and much given to mysterious and vacillating state
ments. When he was raised to the peerage, an old
dancing-master in London declared that he was at a
loss to understand what the Queen saw in the Lord
Treasurer, since he was the greatest dunce whom he
had ever tried to teach the quadrille. It was Boling
broke — the only prominent statesman in office at the
time who was an accomplished linguist — ^who had the
last word, so far as England was concerned, in the
Peace of Utrecht, which was concluded in March,
1 71 3. He had a great deal more to do with its stipu
lations than Oxford, and, as he was more ardent for
the Stuart cause, the Queen, though scandalized by
his private life, gave him her confidence.
France had good reason to be satisfied with its
terms. They were far better than Louis XIV. had
dared to dream; he had been prepared to make con
cessions at Gertruydenburg which were not now
demanded. When it was signed — a straw shows how
the wind was blowing — Louis, who was perfectly

394 MARLBOROUGH'S LAST YEARS [Ch.XXII
aware of Anne's fondness for dress and good living,
sent her a personal present of six splendid gowns and
more than two thousand bottles of champagne.
The Peace of Utrecht confirmed the right to the
throne of Spain of the grandson of Louis XIV.
Louis acknowledged, with his tongue in his cheek,
the Protestant Succession, well aware that Anne
detested the House of Hanover. True to his cynical
maxim, " Apr^s moi le deluge," he relinquished
his claims to Nova Scotia and other castles in
the air across the Atlantic. Spain had to make
more costly concessions. Philip kept the Indies,
but yielded to his old rival for the Crown, the
Emperor Charles, his possessions in Italy and the
Netherlands, and made peace with the Duke of Savoy
by ceding Sicily. Spain relinquished to England not
merely Minorca, but Gibraltar, which made this
nation mistress of the Mediterranean ; whilst Holland
obtained a line of barrier fortresses which delivered
the Dutch from their fears. France undertook to
drive the Pretender from her territory, and the brave
Catalans were left to their fate under Charles V.
Austria, after Utrecht, was forced by the logic of
events to the conclusion that it was uselesss to con
tinue the struggle.
Peace was signed in 1714 between the Emperor
Joseph and Louis XIV. at Rastadt, and the men
who signed it were the two soldiers who last crossed
swords in the war — Prince Eugene and Marshal VUlars.
The air was gradually clearing. Just before the
Peace of Rastadt the old Electress Sophia of Hanover
died suddenly at Herrnhausen, on the 9th of June,
1 714, at the age of eighty-four, and her son, the new
Elector, was free to form a close aUiance with the
Whigs. If she had lived a few weeks longer, her
avowed ambition to add " Queen of England " to
the inscription on her coffin might have been gratified.

1714] POSITION OF LOUIS XIV. 395
The negotiations which led to this result were
carried on by secret emissaries, who made the journey
between London and Versailles under assumed names.
The Allies were kept in the dark, though England, as
the predominant partner in the Grand Alliance, was
pledged to enter into no compact with France, except
" jointly and in concert " with the other Powers in
volved in the struggle. Both before and after Mal
plaquet, France had made overtures for peace which
had been contemptuously spurned. Louis wanted it
after the Battle of RamiUies in 1706, but at that time
the hopes of the Allies ran high, and they would not
listen to his proposals. In 1709 he sent his Foreign
Minister, Torcy, to The Hague, to try and bring the
Dutch to terms, and it was on that occasion, knowing
that the last word was with Marlborough, that he
attempted to bribe the Duke.
Then came the abortive Conference at Gertruyden
burg in 1 710, when France was prepared to humble
herself in the dust if only peace were gained. Now
the ball was suddenly at her feet. It is recorded that
when the Abbe Gaultier — a secret political agent of
France in London with whom Oxford had been
intriguing whilst Marlborough was still fighting —
appeared at the French Court in January, 1711, he
asked Torcy whether the King wanted peace, since
England, to his knowledge, was willing to come to
terms. Torcy replied that " to ask a Minister of His
Majesty at that time whether he wanted peace was to
ask a man, ill of a protracted and grievous malady,
whether he wanted to be weU." ! So the tortuous and
protracted negotiations began which culminated at
Utrecht. Three persons were opposed to the negotia
tions. Marlborough, Prince Eugene, and Heinsius,
persisted in their desire to crush Louis, but the forces
arrayed against them were too powerful. Louis
1 Torcy, " Joumal," 1709-1711.

396 MARLBOROUGH'S LAST YEARS [Ch. xxii
thought'that fortune had deserted him, and that the
great reign was to end in untold disaster. He could
not complain of his luck in 1 7 1 3 , for England was as
anxious as he was for peace, and conceded it on terms
which were much more advantageous to France than
those which previously had been rejected.
Yet, in the very year in which the peace was con
cluded,^ Oxford and Bolingbroke, in spite of their
ostentatious and public declaration in the treaty
about the Protestant Succession in England and the
expulsion of the Pretender from France, were secretly
plotting to secure the throne for him in the event of
the Queen's death. They made the Duke of Ormonde,
who was a notorious Jacobite, Warden of Dover, and
placed other prominent Jacobites in authority in
Ireland and Scotland. But in the summer of 171 3
they began to quarrel openly, and, when their
antagonism presently ripened, Bolingbroke, who had
the Queen's ear, triumphed by cleverly bringing the
more violent Tories and the more extreme High
Churchmen over to his side. He made himself the
champion of the iniquitous Schism Act, which was
passed in the spring of 1714, and Oxford, who stoutly
opposed it, was dismissed from office. Bolingbroke
was instantly appointed Prime Minister, and the
game seemed in his hand. Oxford by this time, as
the Stuart Papers reveal, had cooled towards the
Pretender, and was paying assiduous court to the
House of Hanover. Men said at the time, that which
ever Prince appeared first in London after the Queen's
death would gain the crown. But that event came
suddenly, when Bolingbroke was engaged in the task
of forming a Cabinet, and all his plans were thrown
into confusion.
The Queen had carried about with her for years a
secret packet, with which she never parted by day or
by night. It was believed to contain her real wishes

1714] MARLBOROUGH RETURNS 397
in regard to the succession. It was found under her
pillow when she died at Kensington, and, by order
of Shrewsbury and other Lords of the Council, was
thrown unopened into the fire. Whatever that mys
terious packet contained, Anne hoped against hope
that her brother would ascend to the throne as
James III. Bolingbroke seems to the last to have
played a waiting game. James would have landed
in Scotland in the Queen's lifetime if Bolingbroke had
not deemed such a movement too risky. He thought
that the Elector was inevitable, but that England
would soon grow weary of him, and that then it
would be possible to organize the Jacobite movement
and drive him from the throne. But he seems to
have forgotten that he had to reckon with Shrews
bury and the Whig leaders, and their prompt action
on the last day of the Queen's life caused all his schemes
to miscarry and drove him into exile. He had been
racing against time, and his chagrin is reflected in a
letter to Swift, dated the 3rd of August, which is
historic : ' ' The Earl of Oxford was removed on
Tuesday ; the Queen died on Sunday 1 What a world
is this and how does fortune banter us !"
Two days after that letter was written Marlborough
arrived in London, and in his progress through the
streets met with a perfect triumph. Two years
earlier the Duke's coach had been followed by a
hostile crowd, and the great soldier had been assailed
with expressions of contempt. The populace at that
time were gulled by the slanders which were heaped
upon Marlborough in high places, and had accepted
the false charges which were made against him by
Oxford and Bolingbroke in Parliament, and by Swift,
and a host of less brilliant, but equally malicious,
writers in the Press. Since then the tide had turned,
and the two statesmen who had so bitterly traduced
him were seen in their true colours. One had been

398 MARLBOROUGH'S LAST YEARS [Ch. XXII
contemptuously dismissed from office, and the other,
though he had been the chief instrument in bringing
about the Peace of Utrecht, stood revealed as the
arch-plotter for the Roman Catholic Prince who
had long been toasted in Jacobite gatherings as
" James III."
As the Duke's coach, on the 5th of August, 1714,
made its way to Marlborough House, escorted by a
great retinue of gentlemen on horseback, the citizens
greeted it with loud cries of " Long hve King
George ! Long hve the Duke of Mariborough !"
The conjunction of the new King's name with that
of the man whom the late Queen had discarded when
at the height of his renown was significant. It re
vealed a great change in popular sentiment towards
the Duke, and it becomes necessary to ask what had
happened, not so much in England as abroad, since
1 71 2. A great deal that was hidden then is known
to-day, through the publication of the Stuart and
Hanover Papers. There was not a man in the realm
in the last two years of the reign of Queen Anne,
however highly placed, alert, and well informed, who
was acquainted with the whole of the tangled web of
intrigue which, until the last moment, imperiUed the
Brunswick Succession. Statesmen, diplomatists, en
voys, open or unacknowledged, and a crowd of spies,
who ran to the rival Courts in ambush, knew parts
of the story. But all these people, high and low,
were divided into hostile camps, anyone might be
impeached, or even lose his head, if he divulged the
information which he possessed. There was, in short,
outside the two narrow and jealously guarded
circles of the extreme Jacobites and the perfervid
Hanoverians, a conspiracy of silence.
The rank and file of the Jacobites knew part of
the story in its broad outlines; their leaders, who were
actively engaged in negotiations with the Pretender,

1714] GEORGE I. AND MARLBOROUGH 399
of course knew more. The Whigs as a party were
in sympathy with the Elector, and the clubs and coffee
houses were alive with political rumours more or
less well founded; but the Whig statesmen, who were
not less busy on behalf of Hanover than their Tory
rivals, were extremely reticent, lest their plans at
the last moment might miscarry. In spite of all this,
the great mass of the people, who did not trouble
themselves deeply with such high things, had an
inkling of the trend of affairs — at all events, after
Oxford's dismissal. Hence, when they saw the
soldier, whose downfall he had compassed, in the
capital as the new reign began, they jumped to con
clusions, and linked his name in their plaudits with
that of the King. They were wiser than they knew.
Marlborough, whilst abroad, had pledged both his
sword and his life to the Electress Sophia, and had
received a provisional order to place himself at the
head of the army in the event of Anne's death. He
was not lavish with money; indeed, one of the most
common charges against him is that of parsimony,
though it rests on slender evidence. He had known
in his early days what it was to want money, and,
like other self-made men, he handled it to the last
carefully. But he could be lavish on occasion, and
when the Electoral Prince, who was both poor and
niggardly, required funds for political purposes in
England, it was the Duke who placed £20,000 at his
disposal, in the autumn of 171 3.
It is significant that the first State document
signed by George I., on the 6th of August, 1714, was
the appointment of Marlborough to his old post of
Captain-General of the Forces, which may be set
against the fact, of which a great deal has been made,
that the Duke's name was not on the hst of peers
who were appointed to act as regents until the King's
arrival. Nearly all the accusations brought against

400 MARLBOROUGH'S LAST YEARS [Ch. xxii
Marlborough resolve themselves into the charge of
double-dealing. In a certain sense it is true, but,
apart from the lax ethical standards of the period,
there are other considerations which need to be borne
in mind. One is that nobody knew what would
happen on the death of Anne, and, in consequence,
neariy every prominent man of that epoch was in
clined to adopt the attitude taken up in a familiar
song by " The Vicar of Bray." Almost aU of
the statesmen who had lived through the Revolu
tion, and did not know whether it would last, halted
between two opinions. Not a few of them vacillated
more than Marlborough, and the most adroit in
such unscrupulous political intrigues were Oxford
and Bolingbroke.
The worst that can be said against the Duke, and
it is only fair that it should be admitted, rests on the
authority of the Stuart Papers. Briefly stated, it
amounts to this : He wanted a pardon from the Pre
tender in March, 1714; he promised two years later
to do what he could for the Prince. The request for
a pardon reveals Marlborough partly as a man of
sentiment, as he assuredly was, and, for the rest, it was
prompted by prudential reasons, since he did not wish
to be ruined if — as seemed likely in the spring of 1714
— James succeeded to the throne. As regards the
assurance that he would do what he could for the
Prince in 17 16 — and it must be borne in mind that
the statement rests entirely on the testimony of
Menzies, a notorious Jacobite spy — stands the indis
putable fact that Marlborough took vigorous military
steps to suppress the Jacobite Rising of 171 5. But,
apart from all this, both the Stuart Papers and the
recently-published " Une Negociation Inconnue entre
Berwick et Marlborough " conclusively prove that
the Duke habitually adopted a non-committal atti
tude. The two points on which he stood firm were

1714] MARLBOROUGH AND THE JACOBITES 401
that he would never consent to do anything to place
James upon the throne so long as he was a Roman
Cathohc or rehed on the armed intervention of
Louis XIV. He refused to go to the French Court
when he was abroad, even though Anne held out
the hope of a return to her favour if he consented
to take that step. He had spent his life in warring
against Louis XIV., and he was far too proud a
man to seek an audience at Versailles after all his
victories over France.
His recently-published letters to Berwick, in
1708-09, go far to clear his reputation, for in them
he explicitly declares that he will do nothing against
the Protestant Succession. When James, to his
credit, definitely refused either to renounce or even
conceal his religious convictions, Marlborough, though
with a heavy heart, saw that his succession was im
possible. He StiU kept up communications with
Berwick for a time ; but it is plain that from the
autumn of 171 3 the Jacobites were suspicious of him.
He replied to their overtures in vague and bantering
terms ; they ceased to give him their confidence,
though they tried their best, as Berwick put it to
James, " to keep civil with him." The simple truth
was that Mariborough was now, as Berwick after
wards reported to James, " omnipotent with the
Elector." The Duke's ruling thought was always
the interests of England, and chief amongst its in
terests, in his conviction, was the Protestant Suc
cession. It was on that rock that he spht with
the Prince who styled himself "James III."
As early as 1708 Marlborough was aware that the
English people, who never reaUy cared for William III .,
did not reUsh the prospect of another foreign ruler.
He knew also that the Electoral Prince was jealous
of his own military renown and personal popularity,
and both of these facts need to be borne in mind in
26

402 MARLBOROUGH'S LAST YEARS [Ch.XXII
any attempt to understand the Duke's vacillation.
But he never swerved from what he told the Duke of
Berwick in that year, which was that he was desirous
of serving Prince James if he could do it " sans
prejudice de I'interet de la nation," but that at aU
hazards he was opposed to anything that would
forward the designs of France. He recognized in the
last days of Queen Anne, when the Chevaher pubhcly
announced that nothing would induce him to abandon
Roman Catholicism, that it was impossible, " sans
prejudice de I'interet de la nation," to take any steps
for the restoration of the son of James II. If the
Prince, as at one time seemed likely, abandoned a
religion to which the majority of the Enghsh people
were opposed, Marlborough, it is clear, would have
lent him his sword. He was willing, so he put
it, to throw in his lot with James with all his
heart the moment he was persuaded that it would
be " pour le bien de mon pays," but he expressly
added that that time would only come " quand
le Roi sera appele par la nation."!
Marlborough's position was perfectly clear and logi
cal. He was sincerely attached to the Stuarts. He had
won his spurs as a young officer under Charles II. ; his
earliest victories as a commander had been won
under James II.; his historic triumphs in arms had
been gained under Queen Anne; but he would do
nothing to imperil the Protestant Succession or to
bring about what he regarded as a dangerous alliance
with France. He was indignant at the Treaty of
Utrecht, and all the more because he regarded it as
dishonourable to England and a positive breach of
faith with the AUies. He knew, moreover — or, if he
did not know, he suspected — that, when Anne's death
took place, Louis XIV. would hold that part of the
' " Une Negociation Inconnue entre Berwick et Marl
borough " (1709-09), by A. Legrelle.

1714] POSITION OF THE JACOBITES 403
treaty which tied his hands as to the Pretender as no
longer binding, and that was what actually took place.
It was these considerations which led Marlborough to
throw in his lot with the House of Hanover, and not,
as has been so often contended, any paltry question
of self-interest.
How well he served the cause of the Elector stands
revealed in the Hanover Papers. Like almost every
other woman of the period, the old Electress Sophia
admired Marlborough. She not merely admired, but
trusted him, and had she lived to ascend the Enghsh
throne, and to achieve her expressed ambition that
" Queen of England " might be inscribed on her
coffin, it is not open to doubt that the Duke would
have played a great part in what, of necessity, must
have befen a short, though probably a memorable,
reign. Marlborough strongly urged upon the Court
of Hanover that the Duke of Cambridge, the Elector's
son, who afterwards reigned as George 1 1., should
proceed to England in Queen Anne's lifetime and take
his seat in the House of Lords. He thought, in
common with all who wished well to Hanover, that
the young Prince's presence in England as ultimate
heir to the throne would in itself tend to defeat the
intrigues of the Jacobites ; but Queen Anne, like
other less illustrious personages, could not bear to
think of her own departure from the scene, and
when the proposal was made to her she peremptorily
vetoed it, declaring that it would be like stepping
down from the throne. Oddly enough, the Duke
of Berwick, as the Stuart Papers show — under date
of the 1 8th of August, 171 3 — ^was strongly in favour of
a similar scheme, though with Prince James, instead
of Prince George, as the chief actor. He thought
that the Pretender should go to England ; he believed
that the Queen would welcome him, and that he ought
to accompany her at the opening of Parliament.

404 MARLBOROUGH'S LAST YEARS [Ch. xxil
His plan was that Anne should divulge to the as
sembled Lords and Commons her agreement with
the Prince, and " desire their concurrence in the
matter." Berwick was sanguine enough to think
that the English were " so fickle " that, if the Queen
and the Prince took Parliament by storm in this
fashion, all would go weU. He proposed, in other
words, which have since become historic, to " dish
the Whigs " and ruin the Elector's chance of the
throne; but Queen Anne wanted neither of them, and
cautious Abbe Gaultier was forced to report to Ber
wick that Her Majesty was of opinion that her brother
must not stir from Lorraine.
The Queen, like her statesmen, was in two minds.
The Jacobites were convinced that she wanted to
" pay her debts," which was the term they used
when speaking of the Queen's wish to secure her
brother's succession. Mrs. Masham was clearly doing
all in her power for James, and the Stuart Papers
show that she had, Bolingbroke apart, an important
ally. Berwick reports, as late as the ist of March,
1 714, to James: " The Archbishop of York is daily
speaking of the matter to the Queen, declaring that
she cannot hope for salvation unless she does all that
lies in her." As Anne's thoughts were constantly
turning now to her father and now to her brother,
his words had great weight with her. But Oxford
shook his head, and the Duchess of Somerset, who
was in the interests of Hanover, frowned, and the
poor Queen — she was indulging too freely in alcoholic
drinks at this time — sat in her lonely apartments at
St. James's baffled and irresolute amid such cross
fires. Harley's attitude annoyed the Jacobites be
yond words. He had spoken them fair for so long,
but when matters became critical he grew evasive.
Berwick began to suspect that he was a " knave at
bottom," a man of " dark and incomprehensive "

1714] THE HOUSE OF HANOVER 405
mind, who was playing, in spite of all his protestations,
a deep and waiting game. It was on Bolingbroke
that they pinned their hope, and when he ousted his
rival from power they were jubilant. Both Oxford
and Bolingbroke, less than three months before the
Queen died, verbally assured the Abbe Gaultier that
they would " never serve nor have any master "
save James. A month later the Duke of Ormonde
declared that the Stuart prospects were good " if
Queen Anne did not leave James too soon in the
lurch." All that Berwick could say when the Queen's
life was waning was that James must make a virtue
of necessity and have patience. He said: " Matters
are in such a ferment that all the world stands
gaping." The Hanoverian Succession was brought about by
Shrewsbury, Somerset, and Argyle. The Duchess
of Marlborough used to say that Shrewsbury had
more influence with the Queen in her last days
than anyone else, except Harley and Mrs. Masham.
The Queen made much of him, and, when he pretended
to be lame with gout, would send her own sedan and
have him carried up the stairs of the palace into her
presence. He succeeded to the place which Somers
formerly had in her confidence, and it was into his
hands, at the instance of Somerset and Argyle, that
Her Majesty, when dying, gave the Lord Treasurer's
wand, with the pathetic request that he would
use it in the best interests of the nation. That
act overthrew, at the last moment, the Boling
broke scheme for the restoration of the Stuarts, and
set the trumpets blowing a few hours later for
George I.
Marlborough's splendid constitution was impaired
when he returned to England in 1714- The Duchess
declared shortly afterwards that the Duke's hfe was
in actual jeopardy if he were not set free from care.

406 MARLBOROUGH'S LAST YEARS [Ch. xxii
She herself had no longer any ambition to play a
great part at Court. She threw herself on her knees
and begged the Duke to take upon himself no more
responsibilities. It was a gratification to Marl
borough that General Cadogan, who had fought by
his side through the War of the Spanish Succession,
and had thrown up his appointment when the Duke
was dismissed, was appointed Master of the Horse.
Cadogan was the soldier who, beyond any other, had
Marlborough's confidence, and it is probable that he
would not have resumed his command if his trusty
lieutenant, who in due time was to succeed him as
Commander-in-Chief, had not been taken back into
favour. If the Duke had followed his own inclina
tion, he would have retired from supreme command
at sixty-six ; but Lord Sunderland joined his per
suasions to those of all his old friends, who earnestly
wished that the hero of Blenheim should die in
harness. If any proof is needed that Marlborough
stood high at the new Court, it is shown by the honours
that were paid to the family. The Earl of Bridge-
water was appointed Chamberlain to the Household
of the Prince of Wales ; another son-in-law. Lord
Godolphin, was restored to his old office at Court;
the Duke of Montagu was given a regiment, and
his Duchess was gazetted Lady of the Bedchamber
to the Princess of Wales; whilst Lord Sunderland,
somewhat to his own chagrin, was appointed Lord
Lieutenant of Ireland, a post which he afterwards
exchanged for that of Secretary of State.
In 1 71 5 Marlborough took energetic steps to sup
press the Jacobite Rebellion — his last service to the
nation as a soldier; but it was already clear to himself,
as well as to others, that his fighting days were over.
In the following spring came the final sorrow of his
life ; his second daughter, Anne, Countess of Sunder
land, died at Althorp on the 15th of April, 17 16. It

THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH, AND
CHARLES 3rd EARL OF SUNDERLAND.
From .1 miniature at Blenlieini.

1716] THE DUKE'S FAILING HEALTH 407
was said of her that she had her mother's beauty and
her father's sweetness of disposition. Lady Sunder
land made an extraordinary impression on her con
temporaries, who declared that she was the soul of
goodness. She seems to have been the only one of
the daughters with whom the Duchess never quarrelled,
and yet she had a good deal of her mother's spirit
and cauld withstand her to her face ; but she was so
lovable, so tactful, and, without the least parade, so
deeply religious and charitable, that even her im
perious mother could see no fault in her. The am
bition of the Duchess, in the last days of her ascend
ancy, had been to resign the gold key of Mistress of
the Robes to her favourite daughter, and when Lady
Sunderland died in the bloom of her life the Duchess
was inconsolable. She begged Lord Sunderland to send
her a lock of his wife's hair, and any little cup or trinket
which her dear child had handled. It was a calamity
to the Duchess that Lady Sunderland, who knew every
turn of her mother's mind, and was beyond all else
a peace-maker, did not live, not merely to be the
consolation of her old age, but to hold her back from
the freaks and foibles which marked it. This loss,
following so closely on the death of Lady Bridge-
water, fell heavily on the Duke, and all the more
since he found himself unable to dispel the depression
of the Duchess.
His first paralytic seizure quickly followed. He
was struck down on the 28th of May, 1716. A part
of that summer he spent at Tunbridge Wells, whither
he had gone at the recommendation of Sir Samuel
Garth. Steele, who was ever a warm friend of the
Duke's, spent some days in August with him at
that spa. The change proved beneficial, and as
the autumn drew on his health greatly improved,
but in November he had another seizure. Few men
were more attached to the Duke than the poet and

4o8 MARLBOROUGH'S LAST YEARS [Ch. XXll
physician. Sir Samuel Garth, who by this time
was attached in the latter capacity to George I.
Marlborough, in good report and evil, was always
Garth's hero. He was the first man who was knighted
by George I., and he begged the King on that occa
sion to borrow Marlborough's sword, a request that
was graciously granted. His devotion to the Duke
in his illness was of a kind that cannot be purchased.
His letters stiU exist at Blenheim, and in one of them
he says to the Duchess :
" I wish my Lord Duke's health depended on my
wishes. I am almost inclined to think that everything
is in your power, and I hope the greatest man upon
earth will owe a long preservation to the care of the
worthiest lady."!
In another he says :
' ' I am sorry you are not as successful in everything
you undertake as the Duke of Marlborough. When
you consider the reward of a great man — that did
not only make the good of his countrymen his study
in his lifetime, but also their preservation after his
death — you will the less wonder that at least twenty
towns and almost half as many victories are forgotten
in as few hours almost as thej^ were gained in. But
truth is like light: it may be lessened, but can neyer
be extinguished."^
The Duke made a surprising recovery from this
second seizure, and he owed it to the devotion of the
Duchess and the skill of Garth. A Court physician
in those days, when the tedious journey to Blenheim
had to be made by coach, could not be- in constant
attendance. Dr. Luther, the most famous Oxford
physician of the period, was accordingly instructed by
Garth to watch the patient. At that time medical
men did not pay much attention to the question of
diet, but this Oxford practitioner was an exception
- Blenheim Papers. ^ Ibid.

1716] QUAINT MEDICAL ADVICE 409
to the rule. He wrote to the Duchess in the autumn
of 1 716 a letter, which merits citation:
"Dr. Luther is humbly of opinion that His Grace's
case is by no means dangerous, and that His Grace
has little else to do besides taking steel wine two or
three times a day; to drink as much as he pleases of
good French white wine, all red wines being apt to
bind too much. But above all to go to bed about
ten o'clock and to rise about eight or nine, and if
possible to ride on horseback morning and afternoon ;
to dine at one o'clock, and if possible on one plain
dish of easiest digestion, and not to eat much fruit
whose juices are too cold for the stomach. The Duke
must forbear all manner of meat at night, and ought
rather to eat broth made of an old cock, bruised to
pieces, bones and all, now and then two eggs poached
in gravy, or five or six oysters iust warmed in their
shells." He adds — what seems remarkable — that crabs and
lobsters are " exceeding good," and gives the final
caution, " sup about seven o'clock." The Duke was
an admirable patient, and, unlike the Duchess, was
never afflicted with " the spleen"; on the contrary,
even in iUness, his placid serenity never deserted him.
Unfortunately the Duke's recovery was retarded
by the furious quarrel between the Duchess and Van
brugh over Blenheim Palace. It almost seems as if
the Duke's second seizure was occasioned by these
angry recriminations, for the quarrel reached a climax
on the 8th of November, just two days before this
paralytic stroke. Vanbrugh wrote in a passion to
the Duchess, protesting against her using him " so
ill." "I never will trouble you more, unless the Duke
of Marlborough recovers so far as to shelter me from
such intolerable treatment." ! The Duchess had sent
to her lawyer a full statement of her grievances over
the building, and he had asked explanations from the
architect. Vanbrugh brushed the papers aside, and
1 Blenheim Papers.

4IO MARLBOROUGH'S LAST YEARS [Ch.XXH
told the Duchess that the charges she had made
against him were " so full of far-fetched, laboured
accusations, mistaken facts, and strained construc
tions, that I should put a very great affront upon
your understanding if I supposed it possible you could
mean anything in earnest by them but to put a
stop to my troubhng you any more." He went
on to tell her brusquely that his only concern was
for the Duke, " for whom I shall ever retain the
greatest veneration." He goes on to state that the
Duchess was like the Queen, who thought to get rid
of a faithful servant, and predicted that the Tories
would have the pleasure of seeing her entrust the
work to someone who would make a bungle of the
Duke's building, in much the same way as Harley
" did of his victories, for which it was erected."
The Duchess stated that at the time of the Duke's
first seizure, in 1716, Blenheim was only " an un
finished shell." The turrets were built at that time,
the chapel was not in existence, the first courtyard
between the main entrance to the palace and the
clock-tower, with the surrounding buildings, was not
even begun, and the bridge across the lake was still
in process of construction. As to the interior of the
house, the Duchess states that there was scarcely a
room in such a condition as to put a bed up in it.
She adds that visitors to Blenheim in 17 16 said the
place " was a chaos, which nobody but God Almighty
could finish." It was left for her to bring order
out of confusion, and the palace as it now stands is
her monument.
The question of the arrears, incurred by the sus
pension of the works in the last years of the Queen,
was met by an Act of Parliament, passed at the be
ginning of the reign of George I., which acknowledged
the Crown's responsibility, and made the Treasury
responsible for them ; but Vanbrugh claimed that.

i7i6j DUCHESS AS A WOMAN OF BUSINESS 411
years before, when the Duke was abroad in the thick
of his campaigns. Lord Godolphin, acting on His
Grace's behalf, had authorized additional expenditure.
This claim was long a bone of contention between
himself and the Duchess, and the matter was finally
thrown into Chancery. After prolonged litigation,
it was decided, in 1723, that the Duke's estate was
chargeable for a portion of the cost. Marlborough,
apprehensive of such a result, had left the Duchess an
additional ;£ 10,000 a year for a period of five years,
apart from a jointure of £1 5,000 a year, that she might
finish the building of Blenheim to her satisfaction.
She was a splendid woman of business all her life, and
she completed the palace at less than the stipulated
sum of £50,000, and well within the allotted period.
The cost of the building was £300,000, of which
£240,000 was provided by the Civil List, whilst the
remaining £60,000 was spent first and last by the
Marlboroughs. The Duchess, when she grew restless
at Antwerp in 1714, told the Duke that she would
rather live in a cottage in England than in a palace
abroad. But when she returned she fought, tooth
and nail, over Blenheim, and Vanbrugh, who was as
biting of speech as herself, told his friends that she
ought to be hanged for her conduct.
The Duke's last public appearance of any moment
was at the impeachment of Oxford in 171 7. After
1 71 8 his health slowly but steadily declined, and he
was unable to take any further part in public affairs .
He occasionally visited the country-house of one or
other of his friends, and sometimes went to Bath,
then at the height of its vogue as a fashionable re
sort, to drink the waters ; but he lived chiefly — always
with considerable state — in the completed wing of
Blenheim, at Windsor Lodge, or at St. Albans. He
had spent his best years in the saddle, and his old
love of riding was his chief relaxation. When the

412 MARLBOROUGH'S LAST YEARS [Ch.XXH
candles were lighted, he beguiled the long winter
evenings with cards, and took a keen interest in the
private theatricals got up for his amusement by
his lively young granddaughters, who, since the
deaths of Lady Sunderland and Lady Bridgewater,
were living under the care of the Duchess. These
plays were performed, as already mentioned, in the
bow- window room, which lent itself admirably to the
purpose. The whole household was admitted to
share the entertainment. Young officers who had
served in the Duke's last campaigns were the actors,
whilst the actresses were Lady Anne Egerton, Lady
Di Spencer, and their girl friends. The Duchess
always read the plays carefully before the rehearsals
began, and deleted any passages which she thought
in the least degree risky. Dryden's " All for Love "
was one of the plays performed.
Sir Richard Steele, who called Marlborough the
hero of his heart, was present as a guest at Blenheim
on that occasion, and he was asked to write a pro
logue for the play. He had a ready pen, but he
appears to have hesitated, and Bishop Hoadly re
lieved him of the task. Steele accordingly took the
more congenial part of stage-director, a work for
which his position as Master of the King's Players at
Drury Lane equipped him. Lady Bateman took the
part of Cleopatra, whilst that of Anthony was per
sonated by Captain Fishe, one of the Duke's old
equerries. Anthony paid his addresses to Cleopatra
with so much ardour that Steele, who was seated
next to the Bishop, whispered : " I doubt Fishe is flesh,
my lord." Next morning Hoadly and Sir Richard
left the palace together. When they reached the
Great Hall, they found it filled with two long rows of
footmen in laced coats. Steele started back in em
barrassment, and, turning to the prelate, inquired
whether he was expected to give vails to all these

1716] THE END DRAWS NEAR 413
people. Hoadly shrugged his shoulders and replied
that he supposed so. Whereupon the impecunious
man of letters exclaimed that he feared he had not
enough money to go all round. Then his mother- wit
came to the rescue, and, with the hasty remark, " I
have it," he stepped forward and propitiated the
crowd of menials by addressing them as " Gentle
men." He told them that they had punctuated
" AU for Love " with such judicious applause last
night that it was obvious that they were men of taste,
and therefore, if they wished at any time to visit
His Majesty's theatre, he would be happy to place
seats at their disposal, and so left amid a round of
applause without parting with a shilling.
As his illness increased, the Duke sometimes walked,
with slow and failing steps, to his own portrait by
Kneller, painted when he was in the fulness of his
strength and renown. Once, after looking for a long
time at the picture, he turned away with a sigh,
exclaiming, " That was once a man !" The Duchess
found time, in the midst of her devotion to him — it was
never relaxed— to bandy repartees with Sir Samuel
Garth, and to revile Dr. Mead, whom she apparently
did not think was successful in his treatment of
the patient. Society was going wild in Marlborough's
last days over the South Sea Company, and the
Duchess, who always believed in playing a bold hand,
embarked in the speculation, and, with her usual
astuteness, believing that the Bubble was expanding
so fast that it must soon burst, had the good sense to
take her profits, and came out before the crash,
having added considerably to her fortune.
A ridiculous charge of sending money to the Pre
tender was trumped up against her in the Duke's
last days. It was absolutely groundless, but it pro
duced a coolness between herself and Lord Sunder
land, which continued almost to his death, on the

414 MARLBOROUGH'S LAST YEARS [Ch.XXII
19th of April, 1722. But the chief shadow on the
Duke's closing days sprang from the recriminations,
on other grounds, between the Duchess and her
two surviving daughters, the Countess of Godolphin
and the Duchess of Montagu. Nothing is more
pathetic than the attempts which Marlborough made
to persuade his daughters, when he was slowly dying,
that they had the best of mothers, unless it be his
desire to win Her Grace to a more conciliatory mood.
The end came at Windsor Lodge, when the forest
was at its loveliest in all the glory of June. The
Duke lay perfectly calm for several days, conscious
that his last battle was approaching. The night
before he died he hstened to the prayers which were
read to him, and, when the Duchess bent over him
and asked whether he had heard them, answered:
" Yes, and I joined in them." At daybreak the
next morning, as the birds were carolling in the ad
joining woods, John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough,
passed away without a struggle, on the i6th of June,
1722, in the seventy-second year of his age. When
the tidings reached London, people said: " The Duke
has found in Death his only conqueror." After lying
in state at Marlborough House, he was buried,
with military honours and stately pomp, in West
minster Abbey, and in the grave in Henry VII.'s
Chapel where once had rested for a time all that was
mortal of another illustrious soldier and compatriot,
Oliver Cromwell. Blenheim received him in 1744,
for the Duchess could not bear the thought that
she should be separated in death from the man who
had loved her with unswerving and ardent devotion .

CHAPTER XXIII
THE DUCHESS AND HER DAUGHTERS
Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, was a young
married woman of thirty-three when John Locke —
who, by the way, died in the year that the Battle of
Blenheim was fought — published his famous " Treatise
on Education." Locke's counsels of perfection on
the training of children probably never caught the
eye of the Duchess, though she was always in her own
fashion inclined to treat with more respect the words
of philosophers than the advice of other serious
writers, lay or cleric, at discretion. Anyhow, no
trace can be found in her treatment of her young
daughters that she had read a dissertation which,
towards the end of the seventeenth century, made a
great impression in the land, and helped to dispel the
austerity which had existed for many generations
in the relations of parent to child. The Duchess,
even in the days when she was a young mother, was
in outlook a survival of the old school which held
stoutly to the view that children should be kept in
their place, and ought never to be allowed, whatever
might happen, to question authority. Manners were
formal and ceremonious in the reigns of James II.
and William and Mary, and children, especially if they
happened to be of rank, were brought up in a hard
and formal atmosphere, of which discipline, rather
than sentiment, was the dominant note.
The Duchess, in the years when her daughters were
most impressionable, was in strict attendance on the
415

4i6 DUCHESS AND DAUGHTERS [Ch.xxhi
Princess Anne, and though she ran to them with impul
sive caresses if they were ill, she appears to have kept
them at other times not, perhaps, at a distance, but
at least in subjection. The spoilt child was exceedingly
rare at that period ; the neglected child was too common.
Little people were treated like playthings to be taken
up or set aside according to the caprice of the moment.
They lived for the most part with tutors and gover
nesses, and were too often only brought down from
the nursery when their elders relaxed from their
usual mood of indifference to one of complacent
toleration; or when some honoured guest desired to
" see the children," in order to coin a compliment
to their mother on their good looks. Some women
adore their sons, and appear to regard their daughters
as youthful rivals in the affections of their husbands .
The Duke of Marlborough was more indulgent than
his wife, and to the last day of his life he kept the
affection of his daughters.
The Duchess, with the best intentions in the world,
missed her way to the heart of her pretty, vivacious
girls. She lost her chance when they were in the
schoolroom, and did so because she was too strict
and censorious. When they came out, she was eager
to advance their fortunes in the world, and was
elated when the town extolled " Marlborough's Fair
Daughters," and men of wit and fashion clinked
their glasses to them as reigning toasts. Nothing
is more tragic in life than the subtle growth of
misunderstanding between a woman and her children,
and when pride, high spirit, and unaccommodating
temper rule on both sides, the issues are de
plorable. No one could accuse the Duchess of
Marlborough of being a cold woman. There are
countless proofs that she had a warm heart, but
the pity of it was that her children were made to
feel that she had a warm temper as well, and as

I68I-I739] A QUESTION OF DISCIPLINE 417
most of them were liberally endowed in the same
direction, revolt was inevitable. The Duchess,
though not to her daughters — ^wounded pride in that
direction blocked the way — softened in old age. On
one occasion she was in the royal nursery when the
Princess of Wales (afterwards Queen Caroline) was
whipping her little son, who was crying piteously.
The Duchess took the child's part, and ventured to
protest against such stern chastisement. The Prince,
who shortly afterwards became George II., was
lolling in the room with an amused air. " Ah, see 1"
he exclaimed, " you English are none of you well bred,
because you were not whipped when j^ou were young."
The Duchess confessed : " I thought to myself, ' I
am sure you were not whipped when you were young,'
but I choked it in." In her own nursery she seems
to have spared the rod, but she probably dinned into
the ears of her little girls the admonition " Children,
obey your parents," with the result that as soon as
might be they escaped with a hght heart out of her
control. " Marlborough's Fair Daughters " all married
young, and no one can blame them.!
The Duchess outlived all her children but the
Duchess of Montagu, with whom she was not on
speaking terms in her lonely, disillusioned old age.
How this rift in the family lute of the Churchills
arose can be traced in letters, sometimes amusing,
but more often pathetic, which still exist in the
Blenheim archives. It was an untold misfortune to
the Duchess when she lost in the lifetime of the Duke,
in quick succession, the two daughters who best
understood her : Elizabeth, Countess of Bridgewater,
and Anne, Countess of Sunderland. Lady Bridge-
water was so light-hearted and kindly that Duchess
Sarah, even in her most atrabilious moods, could not
! " Letters and Works of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu," edited
by Lord Wharncliffe. London, 1837; three vols.; vol. i., pp. 76, 77.
27

4i8 DUCHESS AND DAUGHTERS [Ch.XXHI
pick a quarrel with her. The Countess of Sunderland
possessed equal sweetness, but more courage, and
could withstand her mother to her face ; but the
Duchess always recognized in her an unparaded
saintliness to which she herself laid no claim. If
these two had lived, her old age would not have been
so embittered, for between them they represented
sweetness and light — and, what is more, they both
recognized without stint their mother's great qualities.
Harriet, Lady Godolphin, and Mary, Duchess of
Montagu, were of altogether different temperament.
Lady Godolphin was a vain, self-opinionated woman
of lax principles, who led her own life with easy
scruples. The Duchess of Montag6 was a hard,
brilliant, attractive woman of the world, and looked
at her mother in a dry light, and was sarcastic of
speech. She was, in her way, as oracular and self-
willed as the Duchess, but was not endowed either
with her brains or her fine qualities. Quite early in
the lives of his children the misunderstanding between
them and their mother can be traced in the Duke's
letters. In the year in which Marlborough won his
great victory at Ramillies, he wrote from The Hague
to the Duchess, on the 4th of May, 1706, begging her
to pass over " little faults," and to remember that
his girls were " very young." He adds that they
must be " barbarians if they do not make a kind
return to so good a mother."!
Shortly afterwards the Duchess complained of the
conduct of Lady Mary, and the reply the Duke wrote,
on the ist of July, 1 706, was :
" I do grieve as much as any parent can when a child
is unkind. We must hope the best, and be always
careful not to resent their carriage to such a degree
as to make the town judge as to who is in the right." ^
In another letter in the same year the Duke ex-
^ Blenheim Papers. 2 Ibid.

168I-I739] HENRIETTA, LADY RIALTON 419
presses pleasure that the Duchess is on " happy
terms " with three of her children, and hopes to God
that Lady Mary " will in time be truly sensible of the
great obligations she has to you."
The Duchess, with what seems in these days
amazing celerity, made, as has already been shown,
great matches for her daughters. Lady Henrietta
was married at eighteen; Lady Anne, whose bright
eyes, according to Addison's fine compliment, were
quite as deadly as her father's sword, was married at
seventeen; Lady Elizabeth was a mere child of fifteen
when she was wedded; and Lady Mary married the
heir to a dukedom when she was only two years
older. It must be admitted that none of them did
otherwise than rejoice at their swift escape from their
mother's thraldom.
Henrietta, Lady Rialton, became second Countess
of Godolphin on the death of her father-in-law in
1 71 2, and succeeded as Duchess of Marlborough, in
her own right, on the death of her own father in 1 722,
though she did not inherit Blenheim, which was re
tained by the terms of the Duke 's will to his wife for
life. As she died before her mother, she was never
mistress of the palace, and at her death, in 1733,
Charles Spencer, fifth Earl of Sunderland, became
second Duke of Marlborough, and from this grandson
of the great soldier the present Duke is directly de
scended. The relations of the old Duchess and the
new were always more or less strained . Henrietta was
bewitched by Congreve the poet, and the old Duchess,
who was a stickler on the question of morals, regarded
with grave disapproval her daughter's infatuation for
a handsome, wheedling fellow, who overflowed with
compliments. Henrietta, it must be confessed, was
not a model daughter. Letters which exist at
Blenheim make it clear that she lacked tact and was
not remarkable for filial devotion. In one of them

420 DUCHESS AND DAUGHTERS [Ch. xxill
she protests to her mother that it is " most cruel " of
her to think that she had no power with her. She
adds that if the Duchess was not satisfied with her,
that was an affliction which would soon wear off.
In another letter Henrietta tells her mother that she
is prepared to "go cheerfully to my martyrdom,"
which is scarcely a pleasing allusion to the fact that
the Duchess had expressed a desire to see her. The
interview in question appears to have been stormy,
and so we find Henrietta writing after it had taken
place: " It was impossible to love you and not take
it ill that you should make me so many unkind
reproaches." In one letter Henrietta begins with the
cold and formal " Madam," and in another — for her
mood changed as swiftly as that of her mother — with
" My dear Angel Mamma." Just after the Duke's
death, in 1722, Henrietta inadvertently opened a letter
addressed to the Duchess of Marlborough, to find that
it was intended for her mother. She promptly for
warded it under date the 19th of July, 1722, with this
odd apology:
" Madam, " I am very sorry for the accident of this letter
coming to me, because of giving your Grace the
uneasiness of hearing from me, but indeed, I took it
for myself, as indeed your Grace may be sure, and
am. Madam, " Your Grace's most obedient servant,
" Marlborough."!
It is small wonder that the wife of Marlborough
resented such a letter from his daughter !
But in one of her letters Henrietta struck the nail
on the head, for she told her " dear mamma," without
mincing words, " that all would be well if she did but
remember you were once of my age yourself. " 2 It was
1 Blenheim Papers. 2 Ibid.

I68I-I739] ANNE, LADY SUNDERLAND 421
the old difficulty which the Duke in his lifetime had
done his best to combat. The Duchess lacked
imagination and sympathy in her relations with her
children, and the one thing which she could not
pardon was revolt from authority. On one occasion
— the letter is dated the 12th of l^ovember, 1724 — the
old Duchess was provoked to write to her son-in-law,
Francis, Lord Godolphin, in these terms about the
conduct of her daughter :
" The ill-treatment which I have had from the
Duchess of Marlborough both before and since her
father's death I believe there is no instance of to any
mother since the world was made." !
It was a characteristic outburst; but Godolphin,
who was an easy, inert, good-natured man of the
world, was as powerless to make peace as to bridge
the Atlantic, and as long as both lived he had to wink
at the blazing indiscretions of his wife and his mother-
in-law. Anne, Lady Sunderland, continually poured oil on
the troubled waters; but she was sensitive, and occa
sionally the Duchess wounded the most dutiful of her
daughters to the quick, not of set purpose, but
because of her almost brutal plainness of speech.
The Countess writes under date July, 171 1 :
" I take this opportunity, as being the least trouble
some to my dear mamma, to assure j^ou once more
that I shall always design to do everything I think
can show you I am grateful, out of reason, and out
of love and duty, for you never had anybody loved
^ou with more passion. I should be glad to lay my
life down to give the least mark of it. I hope you
will let me have the greatest happiness of this world —
your good opinion. I am sure I shall live and die your
most dutiful
" A. Sunderland."
' These and following citations are from the Blenheim
Papers.

422 DUCHESS AND DAUGHTERS [Ch. xxni
In a group of affectionate notes Lady Sunderland
protests her love and devotion to her mother. Occa
sionally her remarks have a quaint flavour: " For,
setting aside afflictions, I have had — which it is im
possible to be without in this world — I have nothing
to vex me but my house keeping." In another note
she says: " The only misfortune I have had in the
world is that I love my dear mamma most tenderly,
and she does not think it." Lady Sunderland de
clared that she would rather go " through fire and
water " than displease her mother. " If it were my
last words I would say, whatever fault I have com
mitted, it did not proceed from want of love to you."
The Duchess had written complaining of the conduct
of Lady Godolphin and Lady Monthermer, and this
drew a protest from Lady Sunderland: " I am so
sensible of my own misfortunes that I must say all
that I can for my sisters, which is that I never saw
what you think in either of them."
The Duchess expected her daughters to drop a
courtesy whenever they came into her presence. Lady
Monthermer, who was as impulsive as her mother, was
guilty of neglect in this respect, and the Duchess wrote
a railing letter to Lady Sunderland on the subject.
The latter replied, meekly admitting that her sister
was " mightily to blame," and declaring that she
had not the " mUdest temper" in the world; but
hoped that she will be " penitent," and begged her
mother in conclusion " once more to try to forgive."
Lady Sunderland had the Duchess's confidence more
than any other of her daughters . She always turned
to her on the rare occasions when she felt the need of
sympathy. If the Duchess caught a chUl, she used
to declare that her constitution was " broak," and
with infinite tact Lady Sunderland would brush aside
her fears. If her mother were kind. Lady Sunder
land's gratitude was boundless; if she were angry, she

I68I-I739] LADY SUNDERLAND'S LETTER 423
used to cry herself to sleep. She once told the
Duchess significantly it was much easier to blame
other people than to mend one's own faults. She
seems to have had a fixed presentiment that her own
life would be short, and hence we find her begging her
mother to take under her roof her girls when she was
¦gone. A year or two before her death Lady Sunder
land, under date Althorp, the 9th of September, 171 3,
wrote a pathetic letter addressed to " My Lord (not
to be given to him until after I am dead)," —
" I have always found it so tender a subject,
my dear, to talk of rny dying that I have chosen
rather to leave my mind in writing which, though
very insignificant, is some ease to me. Your dear
self and the dear children are my only concern in
this world. I hope in God you will find comfort in
the loss of a wife, I am sure you lov'd too well not to
want a great deal. I would be no further remem-
ber'd than what will contribute to your ease, which
is to be careful, as I was, not to make your circum
stances uneasy by living beyond what you have,
which I could not, with all the care that was possible,
quite prevent. When you have any addition, think
of your poor children, and that you have not an
estate to live on, without making some addition by
saving. You will ever be miserable if you give way
to the love of Play. As to the children, pray get my
mother, the Duchess of Marlborough, to take care of
the girls, and if I leave my boys too little to go to
school — ^to be left to servants is very bad for children,
and a man can't take the care of little children as a
woman can — for the love that she has for me and the
duty I have ever show'd her, I hope she will do it,
and be ever kind to you, who was dearer to me than
my life. Pray take care to see the children married
with a prospect of happiness, for in that you will
show your kindness to me, and never let them want
education or money while they are young. My father
has been so kind as to give my children fortunes, so
that I hope they won't miss the opportunity of being
settled in the world for want of Portions. But your
own daughter may want your help, which I hope you

424 DUCHESS AND DAUGHTERS [Ch. XXIII
will think to give her, though it should straighten
your income, or to any of mine if they want it. Pray
let Mr. Flournoys get some good-natur'd man for
Lord Spencer's governor, who may be fit to go abroad
with him. I beg of you to spare no expense to im
prove him, and to let him have an allowance to make
him easy. You have had £5,000 of the money that
you know was mine, which my mother gave me
yearly. Whenever you can let him have the income
of that for his allowance if he has none any other
way, and don't be as careless of the dear children as
when you relied upon me to take care of them. But
let them be your care, though you should marry,
for your wife may wrong them when you don't mind
it. We must all die, but 'tis hard to part with one
so much belov'd and in whom there was so much
happiness, as you, my dearest, ever were to me.
My last prayer shall be to the Lord Almighty to give
you all blessing in this world, and grant that we may
meet happy in the next. Pray give Lady Anne my
diamond ear-rings. The middle drops are my
mother's; and give Di my pearl necklace and watch,
and give Lady Francis Spencer my diamond buckles,
and give Mr. Flournoys the medal of gold which you
gave me when I was married, and the little picture
which I have of you and Lord Spencer." !
Lady Sunderland recognized— apart from outbursts
of temper — her mother's sterling qualities. She
declared that, if she had twenty children, she would
part with none of them except to the Duchess, for
she knew perfectly well that her mother would look
after her chUdren. When Lord Sunderland found the
letter which has just been cited, immediately after
his wife's death, he sent it to the Duchess, who replied
on the 13th of May, 1716:
" I send you enclosed that most precious letter
which you sent me yesterday. You will easily believe
it has made me drop a great many tears, and you
1 From the original manuscript at Blenheim. It is also cited
by Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. iii.,
P- 395-

168I-I739] LADY BRIDGEWATER 425
may be very sure that to my life's end I shall observe
religiously all that my poor dear child desired. I
was pleased to find that my own inclinations had led
rne to resolve upon doing everything that she men
tions, before I knew it was her request. ... I desire
when it is easy to you, that you will let me have some
little trifle that my dear child used to ' weare in her
pockitt,' and I desire Johnson (Lady Sunderland's
maid) will look for some little cup she used to drink
in. I have some of her hair, but Johnson may give
me a better lock, at the fuU length." ^
The Duchess was loyal to her trust, and was more
indulgent to Lady Sunderland's children than she had
ever been to her own daughters.
There is scarcely any allusion at Blenheim to her
third daughter, Elizabeth, Countess of Bridgewater,
except a letter which reveals the inconsolable grief
of her husband at her early death. Ladj?- Bridge-
water appears to have glided through life with the
goodwill of everyone who knew her, and her death,
when the Duke was still abroad, was the greatest
blow he had received since his hopes had been extin
guished by the death of Lord Blandford .
Mary, Duchess of Montagu, was the only child
who outlived the Duchess. Pope described her as
" the Angel Duchess," but he only knew her at a
distance, and she had not an angelic temper. Marl
borough once told his wife with a smile that he
wondered Lady Mary and herself failed to agree, since
they were so much alike. She did not possess her
mother's great qualities — superlative common-sense,
devotion to duty and moral courage ; she only shared
her weaknesses — disdain of contradiction, scorn of
advice, and exasperating petulance. She was a
beautiful woman to whom gaUants bowed low, but
the pity was that beneath her loveliness there lurked
an imperious temper and a selfish heart. If she had
1 Coxe, " Memoirs of the Duke of Marlborough," vol. iii., p. 397-

426 DUCHESS AND DAUGHTERS [Ch. XXIII
died and the Countess of Sunderland had lived, the
Duchess of Marlborough might have grown old grace
fully. The Duchess of Montagu might at least have
treated her proud, lonely mother, beggared of hope
and left with the burden of Blenheim on her shoulders,
and the Duke's reputation to defend, with some show
of consideration ; and if she had done so, the Duchess
was too warm-hearted a woman not to have responded
to what she lacked pitifully in her old age — the sym
pathy of those who stood nearest to her.
The Duchess of Montagu went her own way, and
flouted her mother, and the Duchess of Marlborough
had too high a sense of her own dignity and her
daughters' indebtedness to her to allow her to do so
with impunity. It is not possible to enter at length
into family wrangles, even if it were desirable, and the
Duchess of Marlborough left among the Blenheim
Papers a document of more than a hundred folio pages
descriptive of the " barbarous treatment " which she
had received from Lady Godolphin and the Duchess
of Montagu. It is her own handwriting — a curious
scrawl — just after the death of the Duke. In it she
declares that the Duchess of Montagu " always had
a great deal of harshness in her nature, and from a
child would often snap me up, though I spoke to her
with ever so much kindness " — a statement which
may be accepted with a pinch of salt. It is quite
clear that the Duchess thought Lady Mary the beauty
of the family, and she admits that she had a great
deal of wit, and it was only after great provocation
that her own passion for her " burnt out." Then she
describes the generous settlement which the Duke left
her to draw up at the time of Lady Mary's marriage,
and her own subsequent gift in money to her.
Lady Mary was devoted to her father, but in her
letters to him said " very offensive things of me";!
! Blenheim Papers.

I68I-I739] THE DUKE AS PEACEMAKER 427
and when the Duke was dangerously ill in 1716, she
and Lady Godolphin would never come to see him
when he was alone, but only visited the house when
company was there, and even " then they went
towards him without taking any notice of me, as if
they had a pleasure in showing everybody that they
insulted me."! 'pj^g Duchess states that when she
met her daughter in the streets in her chair " she
would not let down her glass and bow,"^ and this
behaviour made a disagreeable noise in the town.
She tried to get her son-in-law Godolphin to make
peace. But he was a prudent man, and declined to
be raked by cross-fires. The Duchess's comment on
his polite refusal is that " My Lord Godolphin knew
too well Her Grace's temper."^ He knew also that
his mother-in-law's disposition was not too accom
modating, and so, bowing low, declined the task of
peacemaker. The Duke in his last days did all that was possible
to reconcUe the Duchess and her daughter. He
dictated a long letter to the Duchess of Montagu in
1 72 1, in which he told her that her expressions of
tenderness and duty towards himself would give him
greater pleasure if she displayed more kindness to
wards her good mother. He declared that he knew
how tenderly the Duchess loved her, and added that
she had no reason for her complaints. He implored
her to be reconciled to her mother, and assured her
that she would be met with the greatest kindness, and
added that, if she desired to make him happy " at
a time of life when I most want it," she would show
herself more considerate. Then the secretary adds:
" What follows my Lord Duke writ with his own
hand." It is written in a manner which shows that
the Duke at that time could scarcely handle a pen,
and is as follows :
1 Blenheim Papers. ^ Ibid. ' Ibid.

428 DUCHESS AND DAUGHTERS [Ch. xxni
" I am not well enough to write so long a letter
in my own hand, and I believe I am the worse to see
my children live so ill with a mother for whom I
must have the greatest tenderness and regard."!
It was the last letter which the Duchess of Mon
tagu received from her father, but it did not alter
her attitude towards her mother. The Duke always
declared that the Duchess had treated their chUdren
with great kindness, and he made it plain to the
Duchess of Montagu, on more than one occasion,
that she was not fulfilling her duty to himself unless
she treated her mother with proper consideration.
After the Duke's death, the Duchess of Montagu
led her own life, and saw nothing of her mother.
In 1739, however, she seems to have made overtures
of peace, but her mother was obdurate, and returned
her letters unopened. Then she had recourse to
stratagem. She wrote a letter to her mother, and
took it to a lawyer in the Temple and asked him to
address it. Her mother, who was accustomed to
receive many lawyer's letters, opened it eagerly,
under the impression that it had something to do
with business. Her daughter had long ceased to
address her as " My dearest Mama," and what the
old Duchess read was as follows :
" Madam, " I hope you will forgive this first and last
deceit I ever was or will be guilty of towards you,
and have the goodness to consider that I must suffer
when the moment I entertain 'd the agreeable belief
that it was possible for me to prove that in some
things I have been wronged to you. I was denied
pleading my cause to the only judge, except my own
conscience, by whom I wish to be acquitted."^
It appears that a mutual friend, a certain Mrs.
Hammond, was endeavouring at that time to bring
* Blenheim Papers. " Ibid.

I68I-I739] THE DUCHESS OF MONTAGU 429
about a reconciliation. The Duchess wrote under
date the 17th of November, 1739, a letter to that lady
from Marlborough House, in which she states that —
" After all that has pass'd in so many years I
never will have anything more to do with her, and
what I write now is only to you who are very agree
able to me notwithstanding your partiality of en
deavouring to excuse things which are inexcusable."
She alludes scornfully to her daughter as the " great
lady." She proceeds to give a long account of all that
she had done for the Duchess of Montagu, and adds
that— " She was from a girl very ill-tempered, but I
lov'd her; and if I had not I would have hid it
from the world in order to dispose of her well. I
married her to the chief match of England in all
respects, and the settlements which I made for her
were uncommon."
She adds that the Duke left such matters entirely
in her hands, and states that —
" If it had not been for my favour she must have
been married to some country gentleman with £1,500
or £2,000 a year, which for ought I know might have
been better both for her and for me — at least 'tis
probable it would have made her behave better."
The Duchess ends by stating that in the Duke's
lifetime she was anxious to be reconciled to her
daughter, and then ends :
" But now I have taken my resolution unalterable
that I never will have anything more to say to her.
My life is very near run out, and I am sure she can
now never give me any more pain or pleasure, and
therefore I desire that you would never name her
more to your most faithful, humble servant,
" S. Marlborough."!
Long before this she had told the Duchess of
Montagu that she really thought it was best that
1 Blenheim Papers.

430 DUCHESS AND DAUGHTERS [Ch. xxill
they should continue as they were, " without making
any new comedies for the world, which was tattling
all too freely about their strained relations." ! Hence
it came about that, in the autumn of 1 739, the curtain
fell on what in reality was a tragedy rather than a
comedy. It often happens that old people are more indulgent
to their grandchildren than to their own children.
They stand on a different footing, and are neither so
apt to challenge authority or fail in deference, even
to the freaks and foibles of those from whom they
have great expectations. The grandchildren of the
Duchess, with perhaps one or two exceptions, retained
her good graces and kept on good-humoured terms
with her, and she, on her part, was considerate — in
spite of summer hurricanes — towards them. One of
them. Lady Anne Egerton, married, in 1725, the third
Duke of Bedford. Another, Lady Isabella Montagu,
was a favourite with the Duchess even when the latter
was not on speaking terms with Lady Isabella's
mother. Lady Isabella married, in 1723, William,
second Duke of Manchester. The young Duchess of
Manchester, for reasons which her grandmother states
she could never understand, was coldly treated by
both her parents, with the result that she made an
early and loveless marriage. She was witty, " ex
tremely agreeable," but sharp-tempered. For twelve
or fifteen years before her marriage she was con
stantly with the Duchess of Marlborough, who says:
" I pitied her, and for all that time acted the part
of a kind grandmother, which most people know.
I loved her as much as if she had been my own child,
and never pretended to use any authority over her,
but conversed with her as if we had been sisters." ^
The two daughters of Henrietta, Duchess of Marl
borough, Lady Henrietta and Lady Mary Godolphin,
' Blenheim Papers. ^ Ibid.

168I-I739] LADY SUNDERLAND'S CHILDREN 431
married respectively the Duke of Newcastle and the
Duke of Leeds. Oddly enough, it was Vanbrugh, at
a time when his quarrel with the Duchess had not
ripened, who negotiated the settlement of Lady Mary
with the Duke of Leeds.
But the favourite grandchildren of the Duchess
were unquestionably the children of Anne, Lady
Sunderland. She was passionately devoted to two
of them : Jack Spencer, who married Lady Georgiana
Carteret, and to whom she bequeathed her old home,
Holywell, at St. Albans, as well as Marlborough
House, for life, after which it was to revert to the
holder of the Marlborough title. His sister. Lady
Di, married the fourth Duke of Bedford. He was
always on agreeable terms with the Duchess of Marl
borough. Before his marriage to Lady Di, he good-
naturedly helped the Duchess with her voluminous
correspondence, and won her heart by respectful
attentions. She called him, with a touch of charac
teristic humour, the " best servant and minister that
ever I had," and added: " I think Providence
designs to make me amends for some of my past
sufferings by the goodness and kindness of this young
man." And Mary Wortley Montagu states that
Jack Spencer, in the eyes of the Duchess, in spite of
his wild froUcs, " could do nothing wrong." He died
in 1732, or the loneliness of the last twelve years of
the Duchess's life would not have been so absolute.
Lady Di, before her marriage, was the constant com
panion of the Duchess, and acted as her secretary.
She was a beautiful, vivacious girl, who was devoted
to her grandmother, and contrived to keep on affec
tionate terms with her without any sacrifice of in
dependence. Lady Di was so bewitching as to make a conquest
of hearts without knowing it. It is not commonly
known that she might have married Philip, Earl of

432 DUCHESS AND DAUGHTERS [Ch. XXIII
Chesterfield, the most brilliant and accomplished man
of quality of his times. This statement rests on the
Blenheim Papers, which contain both Chesterfield's
proposal for her hand and Lady Di's graceful refusal
of the honour. Lord Chesterfield, of course, made his
proposal in a letter to the Duchess : " The Hague.
" Madam, " The honour I once had of Your Grace's
favour and protection of which I have always retain 'd
a just sense encourages me to address myself to Your
Grace in this manner ; my absence allows me no other
way of doing it and the subject is of so great conse
quence to myself that I hope it will in some degree
justify the liberty I take. The person, the meritt
and the family of Lady Diana Spencer are objects
so valuable, that they must necessarily have already
caused many applications of this nature to Your
Grace, as they oblige me to add to the number of
them, and though they may be all so much better
founded than mine as to leave me very little hopes of
success, yett I could never forgive myself if I omitted
even the least possibility of being so happy. Your
Grace will therefore permitt me to throw myself at
Lady Diana's feet, and with the utmost respect to
offer her the absolute disposal] of myself and fortune.
I am sensible how unworthy they are of her and how
small a chance I have of their being accepted since
I can only hope for it from an error in both your
Grace's judgement and hers. I will not presume now
to trouble Your Grace with any particulars till I first
know whether I have your premission to do it. If
I obtain that, the short stay I shall make here wUl
soon allow me to do it in person in England. I
cannot conclude this letter without assuring Your
Grace, that the honour I should have of being so
nearly related to you is not one of my least tempta
tions, and that I should be proud of adding the tyes
of duty to those of veneration and respect with which
I have the honour now to be, Madam,
" Your Grace's most humble and
obedient servant ,
" Chesterfield." !
* Blenheim Papers.

168I-I739] LADY DI SPENCER 433
He was too much of a laggard in love. Lady Di's
reply — the copy of it at Blenheim is undated — shows
clearly beneath its shy phrases that he might have
won her hand if he had pressed his suit earlier :
" My Lord,
" I am sure nothing could have contributed so
much to my happiness as such an alliance with your
Lordship. But before I receiv'd your letter, I was
too far engaged in a treaty to break it off, and I can
now only wish that your Lordship will be so good as
to let me see you sometimes, though I cannot have
the honour which you destin'd me, who am and shall
allways be with the greatest respect imaginable your
Lordship's most faithful] and most oblig'd humble
servant, " Di Spencer."!
The Duchess was flattered, and never forgot Lord
Chesterfield's proposed alliance with her favourite
granddaughter. This is shown by her will, in which
she bequeathed to Phihp, Earl of Chesterfield, " out
of the great regard which I have for his merit, and the
infinite obligations I have received from him, my
best and largest briUiant diamond ring and £20,000."
Even this did not exhaust her recognition of Lord
Chesterfield, who in truth was always one of her most
trusted friends. She left him property in Northamp
ton and Surrey, and the reversion of her Wimbledon
estate. At one time the Duchess, who deemed that all
things were possible to Lady Di, aspired to marry
her to Frederick, Prince of Wales. The Prince was
at daggers drawn with George II., and the Duchess
cherished a mortal antipathy for Queen Caroline.
The royal scapegrace was heavily dipped in debt,
and, as the Duchess detested the Court as much as he
did, he requested the honour of a call, and she offered
him the hand of Lady Di and with it £100,000 as her
1 Blenheim Papers. 28

434

DUCHESS AND DAUGHTERS [Ch. xxiii

portion. The Prince — there was no Royal Marriage
Act in those days — would not have been human if
he had declined such an overture. The marriage was
secretly arranged to take place at Windsor, but
Walpole caught wind of it, and was just in time to
prevent it taking place.
Lady Di's death at the early age of twenty-eight
was the last great sorrow of the Duchess. With her
death the last gleam of sunshine faded from the sky
of the Duchess of Marlborough's now lonely life.
Lady Di's sister. Lady Anne, did not share her happy
temperament, with the result that she was often in
disgrace at Blenheim. It was on one such occasion
that the Duchess, enraged by some act of defiance,
blackened her granddaughter's portrait at Blenheim,
and wrote underneath the disfigured picture the bitter
words, " She is more black within." Lady Anne
married William, Viscount Bateman, an Irish peer.
In the natural course of events, William, Marquis
of Blandford, only son of Duchess Henrietta, would
have succeeded to the dukedom. Whilst making the
grand tour. Lord Blandford fell in love with the
daughter of a rich burgomaster at Utrecht, whose
sister was married to William, fifth Earl of Denbigh.
He wrote to the Duchess to tell her that he intended
to marry this lady, and she replied in hot haste, pro
testing against a match which disappointed all her
hopes.! Lord Blandford, who was well aware that
such a union would be a chagrin to his ambitious
grandmother, wedded the lady before the Duchess's
protest could reach him. The Duchess, with charac
teristic impetuosity, wrote a second letter — though
the first had been full of " ingenious curses " — filled
with benedictions, and adding that she was impatient
to embrace Lady Blandford, who, it may be stated in
passing, did not long survive her husband. His deatli
* Blenheim Papers.

168I-I739] DEATH OF LORD BLANDFORD 435
occurred at Oxford in August, 1731, two years after
his marriage. He went thither to attend a great
Tory meeting, and remained overnight as the guest of
Balliol. He drank not wisely but too well at table —
so much so, indeed, that Dr. Leigh ventured to counsel
prudence. Next day he was seized with a high fever,
and the following night his host sat up with him
reading prayers, for, in spite of his habits. Lord
Blandford had a deep sense of religion. Early next
morning he fell into a state of collapse and died.
The Duchess was sent for post-haste, but no tidings
were given her of the blow which awaited her. She
arrived at BaUiol about ten o'clock with Lady Di
Spencer. All that she had been told was that Lord
Blandford was ill. Dr. Leigh met her and ushered
her into the house. " How is poor Blandford ?" was
her first question. Dr. Leigh bowed and said nothing.
" Ay, I suppose he's dead. I would have given half
my estate to have saved him. I hope the Devil is
picking that man's bones who taught him to drink."
Halfway up the stairs the Duchess suddenly turned
and shook her stick at Lady Di, who was following.
" Where is my basket, Di ? Did I not charge you to
bring it ? " Lady Di instantly ran back to the coach and
brought a heavy hand-basket, which, it was supposed,
contained money. The Duchess stayed two hours at
Balliol, discussing the case in technical terms with the
physicians, who had been summoned hastily to meet
her. Then the young widowed Marchioness, who had
also been summoned, was announced. The Duchess
overwhelmed her with sympathy, though she never
saw her again. As she went down the stairs, she
turned to Mrs. Leigh and said, " I shall take another
opportunity of satisfying the woman of the house,"
and was quickly on the road back to Blenheim.
This story is told by the late Lady Leigh in " Mem
orials of Old Warwickshire." It was when in the

436 DUCHESS AND DAUGHTERS [Ch. xxill
company of one of her husband's ancestors, Mr. Leigh
of Stoneleigh Park, that Lord Blandford had met his
bride at Utrecht.
Duchess Henrietta died two years later, and
the title passed, in 1733, to his cousin Charles,
fifth Earl of Sunderland, who then became second
Duke of Marlborough. His succession was due to
the death, in 1729, of his elder brother, Robert,
fourth Earl of Sunderland. Robert, fourth Earl, was
always on excellent terms with his grandmother, and
she looked forward with pride to his succession to
the dukedom. She had watched over his education,
as indeed she did over that of all her grandsons ; the
letters which exist at Blenheim, written by their
tutors to the Duchess, are themselves a tribute to the
unrelaxing care she took in this direction. The
Duchess was in her seventieth year when this favourite
grandson was struck down by illness in Paris. She
at once proposed to hasten thither in order to nurse
him, but his death took place before she could carry
out her purpose. She always declared that he had
been badly treated, and was never tired of blaming
what she called the " murthering physicians," who
appear, if the truth must be told, to have had recourse
to desperate remedies. Charles, fifth Earl of Sunder
land, who now became heir to the dukedom, was a
young man of extravagant habits. He was always
a thorn in his grandmother's side, especially as he
plunged into debt, which was a weakness she could
never condone.
After the death of his brother Robert, the Duchess,
in one of her relenting moods, gave the young Earl of
Sunderland the historic diamond sword which had
lieen presented to his grandfather by the Emperor
Charles of Austria. When she heard, however, that
the young Earl was in the toils of the money-lenders,
she brought an action at law to shield him from the

I68I-I739] MARLBOROUGH'S SWORD 437
possible temptation of parting with so great an
heirloom. The indomitable lady appeared in court
to support her plea, and made characteristic appeal,
which was successful: " That sword my lord would
have carried to the gates of Paris. Am I to live to
see the diamonds picked off one by one and lodged at
the pawnbroker's?" No such indignity happened.
The sword which the Emperor presented to the first
Duke is still the proud possession of his descendants.
But the actual sword which he wore in battle was
bequeathed by him to his ever loyal comrade in
arms, Eugene, Prince of Savoy, who on receiving
it unsheathed the glittering blade, and exclaimed :
" Voila I'ep^e que j'ai suivie par toute cette longue
guerre." Charles, second Duke of Marlborough, had the
martial spirit of his race. He was a soldier who fought
gaUantly at the Battle of Dettingen in 1743, and, after
other military services, died suddenly at Miinster in
Westphalia whilst still on active service, in 1758. He
married Miss Trevor, daughter of Lord Trevor of
Bromham, greatly to the displeasure of the Duchess,
who could not forget that her father had been an
opponent of the Duke. His brother. Jack Spencer,
was twice returned to Parliament as Member for
Woodstock. He was almost as extravagant as
Charles, but like his sister. Lady Di, he knew how to
humour the Duchess. Sometimes she would order
him out of the room, and a few minutes later he
would make her laugh by vaulting gracefully through
the window into her presence. The Duchess in her
old age was accustomed to give a dinner-party every
year to all her young relatives at Marlborough House.
" What a glorious sight it is," she exclaimed when
a family gathering was assembled round the table,
" to see such a number of branches flourishing from
the same root I" " Alas !" said Jack Spencer, in low

438 DUCHESS AND DAUGHTERS [Cn.xxm
tones which his grandmother could not catch, " the
branches would flourish far better if the root were
underground." Autocrats make so insistent a demand
on obedience that even when they are prodigal in
gifts they seldom win that spontaneous homage
which to them is the requital they most desire. In
other words, apart from more lofty considerations, it
seldom answers, as the Duchess found, to be too
exacting. Madame de Stael was right: " It does not
do to war with the world. The world is too strong
for the individual." It would have been well for the
Duchess of Marlborough if she had recognized such
a fact.

CHAPTER XXIV
SARAH IN OLD AGE
The Duchess to the close of her hfe took a keen,
though rather cynical, interest in politics. Abigail,
Lady Masham, though a good deal younger, died ten
years before her. Lady Masham ceased to count
either in politics or society when Anne's reign ended
in 1 714, and her closing days were spent in well-
endowed obscurity. The other mortal antipathy of
the Duchess, Robert Harley, first Earl of Oxford,
had died much earlier, in political disgrace; indeed, he
only outlived the Duke of Marlborough a couple of
years, and had no footing at the Court of George I.,
because of his intrigues with the Pretender. The
Duchess would scarcely have been happy without
implacable resentments, and in this respect Queen
Caroline, consort of George 1 1., and Sir Robert
Walpole, first Earl of Orford, took the place in her
black books left vacant by Lady Masham and Harley.
Her hatred of Walpole — it might almost be described
as a mania — darkened her last days, for she thought
that he was hurling England to perdition. Her
resentment against Queen Caroline chiefly arose from
the fact that she gave an unswerving support to that
statesman. Apart from politics, the Duchess had an inordinate
desire to possess landed estate. She believed that
Walpole 's financial policy spelt ruin to the funds,
and, as the land could not run away, she buried her
money in it. She died possessed of thirty estates,
439

440 SARAH IN OLD AGE [Ch. xxiv
and it is significant that the first of them was pur
chased the year after the Duke's death, and the last
in the last year of her own life. One of them was
the Manor of Wimbledon, which she bought from Sir
Theodore Jansen, of the South Sea Company, when
the crash came which ruined his fortunes. She pulled
down the house and built another, and when it was
finished she was not pleased with its aspect. Down it
came in turn, and up went another mansion with a
more sunny outlook. She lived there a good deal for
a few years, and then grew tired of the place, residing
chiefly, as years went on, either at Marlborough House
or Windsor Lodge. But, to her credit, she built
houses for other people as well as herself, for towards
the very poor she was always generous. The alms
houses at St. Albans, which the Duchess both built
and endowed in 1736, are an enduring memorial of
her generosity. There are thirty-six of them, and
they form three sides of a quadrangle. Each recipient
of the charity must be over sixty years of age, and
they all receive an allowance of three shillings a
week and medical attendance, and are in every case
placed in possession of four rooms with an ample
garden. In the quadrangle there still stands a noble
cedar-tree, which the Duchess herself planted.
Her friendships were not many, but they were
ardent, and the letters at Blenheim, which have never
been published, show that she did good by stealth.
Lady Lechmere, wife of an eminent barrister, who
became Solicitor-General in 171 8, and was raised to
the peerage in 1721, was her bosom friend. Another
lady whom she greatly liked was Miss Cairnes, who
on her marriage became Lady Blayney. Mrs. Burnet,
third wife of the Bishop of Salisbury, who went on a
secret mission in the Whig interest to the Court of
Hanover in 1707, was always deep in the confidence
of the Duchess; and so, for a number of years, was

I730-I744] LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU 441
Mrs. Clayton, afterwards Lady Sundon, though the
Duchess looked somewhat askance at her when, as
Bedchamber Woman to Queen Caroline, she practic
ally controlled the patronage of the Court. Lady
Mary Wortley Montagu, whom Fielding called " the
glory of her own sex and the wonder of ours," took
the Duchess by storm in her old age — and with small
wonder, for they were both quick-witted, impulsive,
unconventional women. It was to Lady Mary that
she told the pathetic story of a stormy scene with the
Duke, which ended with her cutting off her glorious
locks, which he had always admired, and dashing out
of the room. When her rage had spent its force she
returned, in order that the servants might not discover
her folly; but the tresses were not lying on the floor
where she had left them, and she feared that they
might have been removed by her maid. Years after
wards, when the Duke was dead, she unlocked a
cabinet in which he kept his most treasured posses
sions, and there, carefully folded away, was the
hair she had left at his feet. At that point of
the story the Duchess broke into uncontrollable
grief. But the woman who knew the mind of the Duchess
best, when the long day of her extraordinary life was
drawing to its gloomy sunset, was one of her own
dependents — Grace Ridley, the daughter of a clergy
man near Woodstock. She served the Duchess with
infinite tact and unwearied devotion. The confidence
which the Duchess placed in this faithful woman was
shown by the words which she wrote on the packet
which contained the Duke's love-letters. She stated
that she had twice tried to burn them, but her resolu
tion had failed, and therefore she requested Grace
Ridley to commit them to the flames when she was
gone . There is no proof that the latter ever saw these
instructions, for the papers of the Duchess were

442 SARAH IN OLD AGE [Ch. xxiv
voluminous, and passed at once into the hands of the
executors, and so the packet escaped destruction.
The Duchess by her will bequeathed £15,000 to
Grace Ridley, together with an annuity of £300.
She also gave her two pictures of the Duke and a
portrait of herself by Sir Godfrey Kneller, and the
" striking watch " which had originally belonged to
her husband, and which she herself wore.
The intimacy with Mrs. Burnet began in the reign
of William III., at the time when the King appointed
Marlborough Governor to the young Duke of Glouces
ter, and entrusted the direction of the Prince's studies
to the Bishop. Mrs. Burnet was a deeply religious
woman, inclined to mysticism, and if that had been
her only recommendation the Duchess would in all
probability have fought shy of her. But she was also
a keen politician, and had great influence at Court,
which she used to advance the fortunes of Lord
Sunderland. She was an ardent Whig, and it seems
clear that she did a great deal to enlist the sympathies
of the Duchess with that party, a circumstance which
proved embarrassing to the Duke and Godolphin at
a time when they both wished to stand uncommitted .
Mrs. Burnet has, in short, to be taken into account in
any attempt to estimate the influences which turned
the Duchess of Marlborough into a violent partisan
of the Whigs. Almost the first letter she wrote after
the Battle of Blenheim was one with tidings of the
victory addressed to her friend at Salisbury, and it
was for Bishop Burnet that she penned the character
istic document, a copy of which is still at Blenheim,
entitled " What first struck me " in regard to the
growing coolness of Queen Anne .
There exists at Blenheim a document, written by
the Bishop's wife, on which the Duchess has inscribed :
" A character writt by Mrs. Burnet of Mrs. Freeman."
It is too long to cite in its entirety, but two or three

1730-1744] MRS. BURNET'S " CHARACTER " 443
sentences in it are significant. Mrs. Burnet says,
speaking of the Duchess, that her
" understanding was clear and penetrating, her
imagination lively, and her judgment so exact that
I ever hardly observed her fail in the giving the
characters of those who came within her observation,
or make a wrong judgment of any matter that was
laid before her. Some malicious or ignorant persons
haye accused her, as they generally do all favourites,
of insincerity, but never any with less truth. She
was sincere, because the could not be otherwise. She
could neither flatter her best friends, nor use any
artifice to secure herself against her severest enemies."
There is an interesting allusion about the early attach
ment between Sarah Jennings and John Churchill :
" nor was it any blind or unreasonable passion
that inclined her to prefer the Duke of Marlborough
to all others, though his fortune then was in its
infancy, but the effect of judgment at an age when
few exercise that faculty. She then saw that good
understanding and those excellent qualities that
have since made him the wonder of the world — his
success being the cause of the one, as his great genius
was the cause of the other. If ever any lady had a
just claim to great genius it is the Duchess of Marl
borough, for she had little, if any, advantage from
education, being put in the Court a child [and] married
very young."
The " Character " ends by extolling the Duchess's
" blameless morals," and by defending her from the
charge of being " cold and careless in matters of
religion," which Mrs. Burnet thought was due to her
aversion to hypocrisy.
There are many of Lady Lechmere's letters at
Blenheim, and they show that she was on confidential
terms with the Duchess — so much so, indeed, that in
one of them she asks for a loan of a thousand pounds.
She had played high at Bath, and dared not tell her
lord of her loss at the tables. In another she begs

444 SARAH IN OLD AGE [Ch. xxiv
the Duchess to read the philosophic writings of John
Locke. She entertains her with an amusing account
of a review of the troops in 1722: " 'Tis melancholy
to see the officers of the Foot such boys — they look
much fitter for dancing minuets than fighting . ' ' Lady
Lechmere quotes Dr. Garth as teUing her that,
" though the Duchess of Marlborough had many
enemies, all of them were people who did not know
her."! She amuses the Duchess on another occasion
with a diverting letter, written in the autumn of
1 724, about the freaks and foibles of the fashionable
crowd at Bath. Steele's play " The Conscious
Lovers " she treats with scorn, calling it " low
nonsense," and expressing her wonder that the
theatre should be crowded for eighteen nights in
succession .
" My Lady Mary Wortley said she had gone four
times, and it was like so many doses of physic. She
declared that the reason why she had submitted
was obedience to Mr. Wortley, whose friend Sir
Richard was."
Lady Lechmere adds :
" If the author's circumstances did not demonstrate
the contrary, one would believe that, instead of being
paid himself, he had paid others for seeing his play,
for I know no other rational account to be given for
anybody's sitting patient at such a performance."
The Duchess wrote complaining of sleepless nights,
and consulting Lady Lechmere about the completion
of the palace. In reply, the latter wrote telling Her
Grace not to catch cold in going out so much to see
what the workmen were about, and adding:
" I am glad you think of putting up inscriptions
at Blenheim, for 'tis not only a proper ornament for
such a place, but a useful History to Posterity. I
believe you could engrave some mighty sentences,
! Blenheim Papers.

1730-1744] THE DUCHESS' SUITORS 445
but the times are dangerous, and 'tis not worth going
to the Tower for it, or else one might — cut deep.
Large as Blenheim is, there may be, with justice, so
much said of the Duke of Marlborough that the walls
might be filled without flattery. The fine spirits are
all in the dust, and none succeed them." !
Amongst other ladies whom the Duchess held in
regard were the Duchess of Devonshire, the Countess
of Burlington, and her own niece, Lady DUlon. The
men who had most influence with her after the deaths
of Sidney, Earl of Godolphin, and Arthur Mayn
waring, were Philip, Earl of Chesterfield, and Charles,
first Duke of Manchester, who, when he was Ambas
sador at Venice in 1708, was commissioned by the
Duchess to purchase at Genoa no less than 3,500
yards of damask and velvet in yellow, blue, scarlet,
green, and crimson, for the adornment of the palace.
The Duke of Manchester's son afterwards married
Lady Anne Spencer, granddaughter of the Duchess.
Shortly after she became a widow. Duchess Sarah's
hand was sought in marriage by the Duke of Somerset,
but the proffered honour was waved aside by the
declaration that if he were the Emperor of the World
she could not allow him to " succeed in that heart
which had been devoted to John, Duke of Marl
borough." She always remained, however, on terms
of cordial friendship with the Duke of Somerset,
and even, it is said, suggested to him the lady whom
he might make his bride. She placed great reliance
in old age on the judgment of Hugh, Earl of March-
mont, to whom she bequeathed two landed estates in
Buckinghamshire . The Duchess prided herself on her
medical knowledge, and treated cavalierly most of the
physicians, even men as eminent as Radcliffe and
Mead and Sir Henry Sloane, who were called on various
occasions into consultation. The only one of them
1 Blenheim Papers.

446 SARAH IN OLD AGE [Ch. XXIV
who was really able to hold his own with her was Sir
Samuel Garth, who, professional skill apart, had a
keen sense of humour and knew how to amuse her.
It is recorded that Garth, when the Duke's illness was
critical, wanted him to take a draught against which
he rebelled. The Duchess joined her persuasions to
those of the physician, exclaiming, so it is said: " I'll
be hanged if it does not do you any good." " Take
it, your Grace," said Garth, " for in any case it will
do you good." The Duchess laughed, and the Duke
surrendered. She, though not as a rule partial to the clergy,
was at least on cordial terms with four of them —
Bishop Burnet, Bishop Hoadly, Dr. Samuel Clarke,
and Dr. Francis Hare. Burnet was quite as much
a politician as a prelate, and the Duchess admired
him for the stand which he made against Dr. Sac
heverell. Hoadly was what would now be described
as a Broad Churchman, and that, with the circum
stance that he was a polished courtier, attracted the
Duchess, who was always glad to welcome him to
Blenheim. Bishop Hoadly flattered his hostess with
comphments. In one letter he exclaims: " Nothing
can equal my Lady Marlborough at Court but my
Lady IVIarlborough in the country."! j^ .^^g j^^ ^^^jg
manner that Hoadly announced, on the 14th of
September, 1721, his translation from the See of
Bangor to that of Hereford :
" If Your Grace (then at Blenheim) on your return
to London stays at all at Windsor I hope to give
myself the pleasure of waiting upon you there.
Another reason is that I have a fancy Your Grace
wiU not believe the piece of news relating to myself,
unless you have it under my own hand. ISI or would
I venture to tell it you myself till the ceremony of
kissing the King's hand for it is over. And I have
one very peculiar pleasure in writing to Your Grace
! Blenheim Papers.

1730-1744] BISHOP HOADLY 447
at Blenheim, that I am to be Bishop of Hereford,
because it puts me in mind that Blenheim lies so
little out of the road to that city, that it can hardly
be avoided in my passage to it or from it, as long as
I have so much inclination to pay homage there, and
as long as the Lord and Lady of the Castle don't deny
the entrance." !
A year later, when the Duke died. Bishop Hoadly
indicted a letter of condolence which might have
been written by one pagan to another. Although
Hoadly always protested that he had received more
kindness from her than all his other friends put
together, when she grew old and could no longer
do anything to obtain for him further preferment,
he forgot, to borrow his own phrase, to pay homage;
otherwise this bitter endorsement would not have
been written on a packet of his letters by Her Grace :
" This man I made a Bishop by my perpetual
solicitation after King George came into England.
I gave him money when he was in distress, and lived
with him many years as a true friend. But when
times changed, and he did not want me, he left off
visiting me, tho' I never had the least quarrel with
him. But when I was out of fashion with the present
King and Queen (George II. and Carohne) he never
took any notice of me." ^
Dr. Samuel Clarke was Chaplain to Queen Anne,
and in that way was brought into close association
with the Duchess. He was a man of more lofty
qualities than Hoadly, a keen controversialist, a
sound classical scholar, and a philosopher of so high
a reputation that he was offered the post of Master
of the Mint on the death of Sir Isaac Newton, an
appointment which he declined because he thought
it was incompatible with his work as a clergyman.
His letters to the Duchess, which are still at Blenheim,
show that he was proficient in the art of courtly
though never subservient correspondence.
» Blenheim Papers. ^ Ibid.

448 SARAH IN OLD AGE [Ch.xxiv
But it was Dr. Francis Hare who, amongst the
clergy, had most influence with the Duchess; and if
he had outlived her it seems probable she would have
entrusted to him the task on which she had set her
heart in her last days — an authoritative biography
of the Duke, with full appeal to the State, Military,
and Family Papers at Blenheim. Dr. Hare, who in
later hfe was in turn Dean of St. Paul's, Bishop of
St. Asaph, and finally Bishop of Chichester, was a
personal friend of the Duke, and did his best to
vindicate him by a volume in reply to Swift's " Con
duct of the Allies "in 171 1, the first edition of which,
even in those days, was exhausted in five hours.
Dr. Hare was almost the only man, whether cleric
or lay, who ventured to point out her faults to the
Duchess. He took the privilege of an old friend in
her closing years, and she had the good sense not to
resent his candour.
In a letter dated the 26th of August, 1726, he
writes to her with a fine union of courtliness and
courage :
" 'Tis the fate of great persons to be generaUy
entirely ignorant of the sentiments their friends have
of their conduct with regard to anything that is amiss
in it, and therefore 'tis possible nobody may have
never taken the liberty I now do. I hope and be
lieve, Madame, I need not tell Your Grace that I
have the most affectionate esteem for you. I not only
esteem, but really admire you for your fine under
standing and good sense, and for the just and noble
sentiments which you express on all occasions in the
best language and in the most agreeable manner.
But the more I esteem and admire what is excellent
in Your Grace, the more concerned I am to see any
blemishes in so great a character. Ill-grounded
suspicions and a boundless liberty of expressing
resentments of persons without distinction, from
the Prince downwards, in the most public manner
and before servants, are certainly blemishes, and not
only so but are attended with great inconveniences.

1730-1744] DR. FRANCIS HARE 449
They limit exceedingly the influence, persons of Your
Grace's fortunes and endowments would otherwise
have, and unavoidably create enemies. It is, I think,
confessedly one of the most prudent truths of life for
persons in all stations not to give needless and un
necessary offence, since no person is so great as not
to want, on many occasions for themselves, relations
or friends, the favour and good-will of others. Least
of all is it desirable to incur the settled displeasure
or ill-will of a Prince, since he seldom can want long
for an opportunity of making it felt in some degree or
other."! It would have been better for the Duchess if other
people who were entitled to speak freely to her had
expressed with the same manliness and tact their
real opinions of her own unguarded and often reckless
speech. She had so much courage of her own that
she appreciated it in others, but the pity was her
humour was so sardonic and her tongue so caustic
that Dr. Hare's example was very seldom followed.
The majority of those around her habitually used the
language of compliment, and often that of adulation,
little dreaming that when they departed she placed
most of them in one or other of her favourite cate
gories — fools or knaves. When she met with people
who were simple, natural, quietly independent, and,
as she deemed, honestly outspoken, her mood relaxed,
she forgot to rail, and became, in a genial sense,
confidential. The pity is that it was but seldom she
met men or women who knew how to strike the right
note in social intercourse with her. There was no
question that she was considerate, and even kind, to
her dependents, so long as they did their duty and
treated her with the respect due to her years and
rank. Sickness or calamity never failed to evoke
her practical sympathy, and if she thought that any
of her servants had been wronged by others who
1 Blenheim Papers. 29

450 SARAH IN OLD AGE [Ch. XXIV
stood above them, her sense of justice came instantly
into play. It was not customary in the eighteenth
century to leave bequests to footmen and maids, but
the Duchess, by the terms of her wiU, did not forget
the most lowly of her dependents.
Another cleric who was a frequent guest at Blen
heim in the last days of the Duke was Dr. Barzillai
Jones, Fellow of All Souls and Dean of Lismore,
who, as a Non-juror, had been deprived of the latter
preferment. He married a distant kinswoman of
the Duke of Beaufort, and this, together with the
patronage of the Duke of Ormonde, paved the way
for his advancement. He was a jovial, boisterous,
easy-going man of the world, short of stature, ruddy
of countenance, and rotund in person. It is con
jectured that he met the Duke of Marlborough at
Bath, and, as he told a story uncommonly well,
possessed easy manners, and played skilfully at cards,
the Duke took a fancy to him, and all the more since
his career had been broken at the Revolution. The
Duke appointed him domestic chaplain at Blenheim,
somewhat to the chagrin of the Duchess, who only
tolerated him because he helped to beguile the tedium
of her lord. When La Guerre was decorating the
grand salon, he gratified the ubiquitous chaplain by
painting his portrait on the walls, and there it
remains to this day. A suite of rooms on the ground-
floor of the palace also had painted in gilt letters
on the oak door " Dean Jones' Rooms," and they
have always been used by succeeding chaplains.
Although the Duke liked the man, other people did
not share his opinion. He seems to have been a
fussy, inquisitive, domineering person, and he might
have been the original of the parson with uplifted
hands in one of the famous pictures in which Hogarth
delineated Marriage a la Mode. The Duchess always
thought him a " great hypocrite," and declared that

1730-1744] THE DEAN OF LISMORE 451
" he had so many disagreeable qualities that I did
not like him."! gj^g ^^^^ ^j^^^ Dean Jones had a
good deal of wit and said a great many comical
things, which used to make the poor Duke of Marl
borough laugh.
" And for this reason only I had him often in the
country and the town. He used to be like a sort of
domestic in the house, always shrugging up his
shoulders and finding fault that with such a father
and mother the children could have so bad a be
haviour."^ After the Duke's death, the Duchess, for senti
mental reasons, would probably have allowed Dean
Jones to remain at Blenheim, at least for a time.
But she suddenly got rid of him, and not with
out cause. She declares that she discovered that
" he was playing a double game," since he was
on confidential terms with Lord Bolingbroke. She
opened by mistake a letter that was put into her
hand just after the Duke's death, to find that it was
meant for Dean Jones, and that it was written by
Bolingbroke .^
" I have had demonstration since that no one
person has contributed so much as Dean Jones has
done — with all his holiness — to possess all sorts of
people with every falsehood that could do me mis
chief, which must be purely to please my Lady G.
(Henrietta, Duchess of Marlborough) because I never
had any quarrel with him, and have served him and
his family in everything he desired for more than
eight years."*
After the Dean quitted Blenheim the Duchess only
saw him once, and then for the space of " two
minutes," and she intimates she had not wished to
see him at all. Her friend Lady Lechmere shared
her opinion of the discredited chaplain. She met him
at Bath, and in a letter to the Duchess says :
» Blenheim Papers. ^ Jbi^. " Ibid. * Ibid.

452 SARAH IN OLD AGE [Ch. XXIV
" Dean Jones will always be Dean Jones, and
therefore in no danger of deceiving anybody that
knows him, for falsehood, I believe, is inseparable
from his composition, and I fancy 'twould be as easy
to make his inside as fair as it ought to be as his
outside clean."!
But that may have been mere spiteful gossip.
The Dean must have had some good qualities, or the
Duke, who was an exceptionally keen judge of men,
would not have made him chaplain. It is clear,
however, that he was not a favourite with the ladies,
probably, in part at least, because he was too much
interested in himself, and was not, to put it mildly,
the soul of discretion.
Addison, of course, knew the Duchess, and the
autograph manuscript of his poem on Rosamond is
still at Blenheim, with a courtly dedication in his
own handwriting. Steele, whom the Duke befriended
as a young officer who had not yet won his spurs in
letters, was on cordial terms with her. Pope used to
visit the Duchess in her widowhood, and she greatly
appreciated his witty letters to her. Voltaire made
a pilgrimage to Blenheim to see the palace and pay
his respects to its mistress.
Pope, when the Duchess was at Wimbledon, seems
to have driven over frequently from Twickenham,
and it is certain, from one of his own letters at Blen
heim, that, though he was not exactly a " distressed
poet," he was under substantial obligations to her.
In one of them he says :
" I owe you more than I daresay you remember.
First I owe you my house and gardens at Twickenham,
for you would have purchased them for me when you
thought me fond of them. Secondly, I owe you a
coach and horses, notwithstanding I fought you down
to an arm-chair, and the other day I but named a
house in town, and I saw with what attention you
listened to it, and what you meant by that attention." ^
^ Blenheim Papers. 2 jf)id.

1730-1744] ALEXANDER POPE 453
He adds that he had found the price so exorbitant
that he had determined to buy another house, which
he declared was not unlike himself, since it was
" pretty old and very crazy." Then he ends :
" What can I say to Your Grace ? You think the
same things, read the same books, hke the same
people that I do. Be so good to like me a httle and
be assured I shall love you extremely * * * and I wUl
declare myself to all the world for your devoted
friend."! In another he gives her a broad hint. She had
been unwell, and he wrote to ask after her health:
" I shall only add I sincerely wish it better than my
own and you younger than I, that the tables may be
turned and I leave you a legacy at my death. "^ On
another occasion we find him declaring that " the
Duchess has loaded me with presents," and that he
loved her better than her venison. He banters her
about Socrates, whom he calls her " ghostly father,"
and in another lively epistle expresses the wish that
she would drive over to Twickenham to see his grotto
and make him happy at least for a few hours by her
company.^ The Duchess had not the chance of
leaving Pope a legacy, for he died before her. It
would be well for his reputation if the story of his
friendship with the Duchess ended there. But to
wards the close of his life, when, as he wittily put it,
he was dying of a hundred favourable symptoms, and
the Duchess was in much the same case, he crawled
to her bedside and read the brilliant but bitter verses
on the character of Atossa. This poem was after
wards inserted in the last edition of the " Moral
Essays " which he placed in the hands of his
executors. Bishop Warburton states that Pope told the Duchess
that the character of Atossa was meant to describe the
1 Blenheim Papers. ^ Ibid. ' Ibid.

454 SARAH IN OLD AGE [Ch. XXIV
Duchess of Buckingham. Horace Walpole adds that
he read it also to that lady, and assured her that he
intended it for the Duchess of Marlborough. The
latter suspected that it was intended to describe
herself, and, as Walpole asserts, gave the despicable
poet a thousand pounds for its suppression. It is
certain that late in hfe Pope received that sum from
her, but there is no direct evidence that the gift
was conditional. However that may be, his conduct
was unpardonable, for the letters already cited show
plainly that the Duchess always treated him with
great generosity. His conduct appears all the worse
when it is borne in mind that he printed off an entire
edition of " Moral Essays," which included " Atossa."
He died in May, 1 744, and the Duchess only survived
him a few months. Ill as she was when she heard of
his death, she asked Lord Marchmont to find out
whether Pope had written any satire on the Duke
or herself. Marchmont properly appealed to BoUng
broke, whom Pope had made his literary executor.
Bolingbroke at once recognized that the unflattering
portrait of Atossa was intended for the Duchess.
But the volume was printed, and it duly appeared.
Bolingbroke's words to Marchmont are significant;
they seem, indeed, to show that the thousand pounds
had been given expressly for its suppression. He
said: " There could be no excuse for Pope's design of
publishing it — after the favour you and I know."
If any further proof is needed of Pope's ingratitude,
it is supplied by a comment, added in pencil by
Marchmont 's executor, to the sentence from his letter
to Bolingbroke just cited — " £1,000." There needs
no comment; the facts speak for themselves.
Voltaire, when he was at Blenheim, was curious to
see the Memoirs which gossip asserted that the
Duchess was writing. His visit took place in the
autumn of 1727, when, turning to her, he asked if

1730-1744] VOLTAIRE 455
he might be honoured with a glimpse of the manu
script. " Wait a little," exclaimed the Duchess.
I am at present altering my account of Queen Anne's
character. I have begun to love her again since the
present lot have become our governors."! She was
flattered, however, that a man of such genius should
take an interest in her literary avocations, and accord
ingly, with sudden impulsiveness, asked the philoso
pher if he would accept the task of putting her materials
into shape. Oliver Goldsmith, who tells the story,
states that Voltaire was at first inclined to accept the
commission, but, when he had examined the docu
ment, drew off, and remonstrated with the Duchess
on the bitter note which dominated them, and the
grave indiscretion which would be committed by her
in the publication of secrets which were communicated
under the seal of friendship. The Duchess, who up
to this point had regarded him as an agreeable man,
broke off her overtures with a show of indignation.
" I thought," she said afterwards, " the man had
sense, but I find him at bottom either a fool or a
philosopher." It was a loss to the world, for Voltaire's
description of all that passed between Mrs. Morley
and Mrs. Freeman in the days when they first wor
shipped and then scorned each other would have
been not less brilliant than piquant, though there are
parts of the story over which, with all his shining
gifts, he would have tripped, as is conclusively
shown by his passing allusions to it in " The Age of
Louis XIV."
But on other grounds Voltaire had good reason to
remember his visit to Blenheim. He was busily
engaged at the time in writing his " History of
Charles XIL," which was afterwards published in
Paris in 1731. The Duchess was always ready to
talk about the achievements, military or diplomatic,
1 Goldsmith's Works, ed. Cunningham, vol. iv., p. 24.

456 SARAH IN OLD AGE [Ch.xxiv
of Marlborough, and when her guest turned the
conversation to the Duke's historic mission to Sweden
in 1707, she appears to have given Voltaire a vivid
account of what had happened on that occasion, as
well as Marlborough's impressions of the King. Her
statements were so valuable and detailed that it is
asserted Voltaire obtained " many of his facts first
hand from the Duchess of Marlborough."!
At the beginning of the reign of George II. the
Duchess told Queen Caroline that she intended to
walk in the state procession at the Coronation, even
if, through her lameness, she had to do so on crutches.
Her Majesty expressed her concern, but the Duchess
carried out her purpose, and walked with other
peeresses in her robes of state. In Palace Yard the
procession was brought to a prolonged halt, and the
Dowager-Duchess of Marlborough, who was nearly
seventy, demanded a drum from one of the military
bands, and calmly seated herself upon it, much to the
amusement of the crowd, who loudly cheered the
indomitable lady.^ Queen Caroline declared at the
time of the Coronation that the Duchess had more
money at her disposal than she had herself, and yet
she badgered Her Majesty for appointments at the
Court for her relatives.
Her chief distractions in old age, apart from the
purchase of landed estates, were the completion of
Blenheim, the writing of her memoirs about her
relations with Queen Anne, and the arrangements
of the Duke's voluminous papers for an authorita
tive biography which she commissioned, but which
ultimately came to nothing. Her first concern after
the Duke's death was to carry out, in accordance
with the terms of his will, the great design which
1 Tallentyre, " Life of Voltaire," p. 61.
* See the testimony of an eyewitness, M. Cesar de Saussure,
in " A Foreign View of England in the Reigns of George I. and
George II. " (1902).

I730-I744] COMPLETION OF BLENHEIM 457
Vanbrugh had begun . Personally slie cared very little
for the palace, but she desired to have it completed,
since she said it was the Duke's " passion " to have
it done, and in that, as in everything else, his wishes
were sacred to her. In the closing years of her hfe
she was seldom in residence at Blenheim. The
place was haunted with memories, and she never
could forget how Queen Anne, at a time when Harley
and Lady Masham* were in ascendancy, had flouted
the Duke and stopped the works by the simple process
of refusing to grant further supplies. When George I .
came to the throne the matter was settled on more
generous lines. The Crown took the chief responsi
bility, but the Duke was held responsible for part
of the charges. The private and state apartments
were finished before the Duke's death, but the rest
of the palace and its immediate surroundings were
still in confusion. The Duchess determined that,
since Blenheim was to go down to posterity as an
enduring memorial of his military genius, nothing
should be left undone to render it at once stately
and impressive. She declared that she toiled to
crown the edifice in the early days of her widow
hood as if she were " labouring for her bread." Her
motive was not personal, for she much preferred
the Old Lodge at Windsor, her new residence at
Wimbledon, and Marlborough House. But since
Blenheim was to stand foursquare to all the winds
that blew, in remembrance of a man she had always
loved, in her own fashion, with an undivided heart,
she bent her energies without stint to the task of
making it a house that would appeal to the imagina
tion of succeeding generations, as well as be a worthy
! Samuel Masham, husband of Abigail Hill, was one of the
twelve Tory peers created in 1712. Contemporary opinion of
Lady Masham is shown by the contemptuous epithet applied to
her — " an upstart of yesterday." See " Queen Anne Vindicated,"
London, 1714, p. 26.

458 SARAH IN OLD AGE [Ch.XXIV
home for her own descendants. She completed and
enriched, not merely the palace, but its picturesque
surroundings. She completed the great library — one
of the most spacious and imposing rooms in England,
which was originally intended for a ballroom and
picture-gallery — and adorned it with a statue of
Queen Anne in her Coronation robes, a sufficient
proof that her resentment against her royal mistress
had softened with the flight of years.
Literature and art made their appeal on the waUs
of Blenheim in the choice collection of classical books,
known as the Sunderland Library, and in many famous
pictures, the most renowned of which was a master
piece of Raphael's, the Ansidei Madonna, which is
now one of the chief treasures of the National Gallery.
William Hazlitt left on record his opinion that Blen
heim Palace, with one exception, was the finest house
in England for the display of works of art. He laid
stress on the masterpieces by Rubens, and declared
that some of the greatest triumphs of that painter
were on the walls of Blenheim.
" The old Duchess of Marlborough was fond of the
historical pieces of this great painter; she had, during
her husband's war and negotiations in Flanders, a
fine opportunity of culling them ' as one picks pears,'
saying, ' This I like, that I like still better,' and from
the selection she has made it appears that she under
stood the master's genius well."!
The great critic is also responsible for the statement
that the Titians at Blenheim were discovered in an
old lumber-room by Sir Joshua Reynolds. They were
presented to the first Duke by the King of Sardinia,
for whose ancestor they were painted.
The Sunderland Library was the outcome of that
passion for collecting which was not the least ad
mirable trait in the character of Charles, Earl of
'¦ Hazlitt, " Criticisms on Art," 1843.

1730-1744] BLENHEIM PALACE 459
Sunderland. He was the greatest bibliophile of his
time, and spared no expense in making a collection
of manuscripts and early printed books which even
tually found its way — in acknowledgment, it is
said, of a financial loan from his father-in-law — into
the possession of the Churchills. The Duchess cared
little for literary rarities or sumptuous first editions.
She declared in her own impulsive fashion her only
books — it was not strictly true — were men and cards,
and when, in her widowhood, the King of Denmark
proffered the sum of £30,000 for the collection, she
was all for closing with the royal offer. The Sunder
land Library — it was created between the years
1 710 and 1728 — remained at Blenheim until 1872,
when it was sold under the hammer by John Winston,
sixth Duke. It realized roughly £30,000, the sum
which the King of Denmark more than a century
earlier had offered for it. The palace, happily, is
still adorned by many fine historical portraits of the
Churchills and the Spencers, by Vandyck, Kneller,
Closterman, in a later generation by Romney and
Reynolds, and in modern times by Carolus Duran and
Sargent. About one of these pictures a story is told
which, since it concerns Sarah, Duchess, may be cited.
Closterman was commissioned to paint a great
canvas which still hangs at Blenheim, representing
John, Duke, Sarah, Duchess, and their children.
The Duchess grew fatigued at the artist's demands
for sittings, and in a certain pique expressed her
revolt. The Duke afterwards declared that he had
had as much trouble in bringing the painter and his
wife to terms as in fighting a battle.
The palace is rich in sculpture, and, besides a
magnificent marble bust by Rysbrack, of John, Duke
— a marvellous work of art which is alive with ex
pression — contains not a few examples of classic
workmanship. Blenheim, moreover, is being en-

46o SARAH IN OLD AGE [Ch.XXIV
riched by the present Duke by a choice collection of
books which perhaps in time may rival the Sunder
land Library. The allegorical frescoes by La Guerre
which adorn the grand salon retain to this day their
exquisite colouring, and have always been regarded
as the masterpiece of that painter, whilst the painted
ceiling of the hall, which commemorates the victory
of Blenheim in 1704, is one of the most famous
examples of the artistic powers of Sir James ThornhiU.
The Duchess finished the private chapel, and
erected within it a splendid marble monument, by
Rysbrack, to the memory of the Duke, and con
structed beneath its tessellated floor the vault,
where she now rests beside the illustrious soldier.
The bridge across the lake, though she thought it
ridiculous, was completed at a cost of £30,000 because
the Duke had favoured the scheme. It contains
a number of chambers, which were intended by
Vanbrugh as a place of retreat in the hot days of
summer; but the Duchess thought the idea fantastic,
and from her day to the present time no attempt has
been made to render them habitable. The bridge
gives access from the splendid portico, with its lofty
pillars, on the north front of the palace, to the broad
avenue, which leads over thickly-wooded rising
ground to the magnificent column of Victory, which
she built on the most commanding spot in the park.
It rises to a height of 130 feet, and is surmounted by
a colossal figure of Marlborough, in Roman costume.
It is a finely fluted Doric pillar, springing from a
massive pedestal. On three sides of the pedestal are
inscribed the Acts of Parliament which conferred the
estates and honours on Marlborough and his descen
dants. On the remaining side, which faces the palace,
is engraved an eloquent and masterly summary of
the Duke's mihtary achievements, which tradition
asserts was written by Lord Bohngbroke in the days

1730-1744] BLENHEIM PALACE 461
when he had made peace with the Duchess. It ends
with the words :
" These are the actions of the Duke of Marlborough,
performed in the compass of a few years — sufficient
to adorn the annals of ages. The admiration of other
Nations will be conveyed in latest posterity in the
Histories even of the enemies of Britain. The sense
which the British Nation had of his transcendent
merits was expressed in the most solemn, most
effectual and desirable manner. The Acts of Parlia
ment inscribed on this PiUar shall stand as long as the
British name and language last, illustrious monuments
of Marlborough's glory and of Britain's Gratitude."
The triumphal arch by which the park is ap
proached from Woodstock was erected, like the
monument, by the Duchess immediately after the
light of her life went out. It is an extremely graceful
trophy, on strictly classical lines of Corinthian archi
tecture, and bears on one side an inscription in Latin,
and on the reverse in English, which runs as follows :
" This Gate was built the year after the death of
the most illustrious John, Duke of Marlborough, by
order of Sarah, his most beloved wife, to whom he
left the sole direction of the many things that re
mained unfinished of this fabric. The services of this
great man to his country the Pillar will tell which the
Duchess has erected for a lasting monument of his
glory and her affection for him. MDCCXXII."
The gardens at Blenheim are, in their way, un
rivalled, and it is only fair to remember that the
Duchess created them. This was the subject of her
last consultation with Vanbrugh. He told her that
she could not do better than summon to her aid the
best landscape gardener in England. She took the
hint, and, after making inquiries, commissioned
WiUiam Kent, who seems to have been recommended
to her by the Earl of Burlington. Kent was an
architect as well as a landscape gardener; indeed, he

462 SARAH IN OLD AGE [Ch.xxiv
excelled in many directions, for he was painter to
George 1 1., and chiselled the statue of Shakespeare
in Poets' Corner. He also designed the Horse Guards,
and Devonshire House, Piccadilly, and his advice
must have been valuable to the Duchess when she
took upon herself the task of completing Blenheim.
It has been claimed for Kent that the modern park
in England was his discovery, and his triumphs as
a landscape gardener, not merely at Blenheim, but
at Esher and at Kensington, were largely due to the
respect which he showed towards Nature. In the
happy phrase of Horace Walpole, Kent was the first
"to leap the fence and show that the whole of Nature
is a garden." It was Nathaniel Hawthorne who
declared that the Garden of Eden could scarcely have
been more beautiful than the private grounds at
Blenheim : ' ' The sunshine that I saw there rests upon
my recollection of it, as if it were eternal. The
lawns and glades are like the memory of places where
one has wandered when first in love."
The Blenheim lake, which the Prince de Ligne,
who was an authority, extolled, was the work of
Lancelot Brown, gardener of Hampton Court. When
" Capability Brown," as he was commonly called,
made the Blenheim lake by covering a narrow valley
in the park with water, obtained by arresting the flow
of the Glyme, he was so delighted with his success
that he exclaimed: "O Thames! thou wilt never
forgive me 1" He was as much of an autocrat as the
Duchess, but she gave him a free hand, and their
strong wills never clashed. He was so independent
that he declined to improve the gardens at Hampton
Court when requested to do so by George II. , giving
as his reason that he had too much respect for himself
and his profession.
Blenheim park is 2,700 acres in area and twelve
miles in circuit. Dr. Johnson extoUed its beauties.

1730-1744] BLENHEIM PARK 463
He wandered through its leafy glades with Boswell
In the summer of 1776, and, impressed with the
magnificence of the scenery, exclaimed: " You and I,
sir, have, I think, seen together the extremes of what
can be seen in Great Britain — the wild rough Island
of Mull and Blenheim Park." Many of the magnifi
cent forest trees which it contains, notably some
immemorial oaks, give it a sylvan charm of rare
beauty. The trees on the rising ground near the
column of Victory give that historic monument an
appropriate setting. They were planted some years
after the fight at Blenheim, in clumps which roughly
represented the disposition of the troops in Marl
borough's mighty battle.

CHAPTER XXV
in DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS
Addison, in his poem on " Blenheim," extols the
calm and serene spirit of Marlborough, and in a famous
simile describes him in the stress of battle as one who
" rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm." The
Duchess lived in the whirlwind, and failed conspicu
ously to direct the storm. The Duke was often at
war, but the Duchess was never at peace. The spirit
of revolt ran high in her, on her own admission. " I
find it a perpetual war in this world to defend oneself
against knaves and fools." That sweeping assertion
touches her own weakness to the quick. Great things
failed to ruffle Marlborough ; small things were enough
to break the peace of the Duchess. Her self-imposed
tasks in old age made a direct demand upon her
restless brain. One was the publication of her
political Memoirs, and the other the preparation of
the Duke's voluminous papers for the authoritative
biography which was the dream of her last days. It
was no sudden impulse which led her to write the once
famous but now half-forgotten book, entitled " An
Account of the Conduct of the Dowager-Duchess of
Marlborough from her First Coming to Court to the Year
1710," which startled the world in 1742, when " Old
Sarah," as Horace Walpole called her, was supposed
to be dying. She lived two years longer, in spite of
the physicians, who, in a confidential aside, whispered
in her chamber: " Her Grace must be blistered, or
she'U die." She rose in her bed, for deafness was not
464

[Ch. XXV] THE " VINDICATION " 465
one of her infirmities, and exclaimed, " I won't be
blistered, and I won't die !" and once more cheated
the doctors.! The book is divided into three parts.
The first, which describes the relations of the Princess
Anne to her sister Queen Mary and WiUiam III., was
written at the suggestion of Bishop Burnet, when he
was collecting material for his " History of His Own
Time." The second part, or rather the first draft
of it, was written when the Duchess was abroad with
the Duke in the years 1 712-14. The original title
proposed was " A Vindication of the Duchess of
Marlborough," and, as it covered the whole period
of her ascendancy at the Court of Anne, she intended
to print it immediately, but, on the advice of Sir
Robert Walpole, abandoned the idea, and eventually
altered some of its statements. The third part took
the shape of a refutation of the slanders about the
abuse of her power as Mistress of the Robes, with
which Swift and other writers had poisoned the public
mind. In her old age the Duchess, in spite of the burden
of fourscore years, read over all the letters that had
passed between herself and Queen Anne and other
people, and endorsed the most important of them
with comments. Then she turned to the manuscripts
which she had written when smarting, in 1711, over
her last dismissal by the Queen, and saw that there
was ample material, if she could enlist the aid of a
competent writer, for a book, which she was sanguine
enough to think would set her right with the world.
It was at this juncture that she turned to Pope. She
was probably spurred to the task by Lord Boling
broke, who had startled her by a request for materials
for papers relative to the War of the Spanish Succes
sion. Bolingbroke declared that he wanted to write
! " Letters of Horace Walpole," edited, with notes, by Mrs.
Paget Toynbee; 16 vols., Oxford, 1905, vol. i., p. 140. 30

466 IN DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS [Ch. XXV
a book which might be " hung up " in the Temple of
Truth, and he hinted that he proposed to do justice
to certain parts of the Duke's career that had been
censured. But the Duchess, though she was now on
amicable terms with that statesman, and could never
forget that the Duke had helped him at the start of
his brilliant career, and was at one time warmly
attached to him, was not to be drawn into any sur
render of confidential documents. It is thought that
she feared to what use he might turn such materials.
Pope advised her to employ Nathaniel Hooke, a
barrister of Lincoln's Inn, of ready pen, with whom
he was on easy terms. The Duchess liked the man,
and, as she never did anything by halves, offered
him, in the days when Grub Street was still a reality,
£5,000 to take down from her lips the story as she
ultimately determined to tell it. He had only partial
access to her papers, for the Duchess, propped up
in bed, retained most of them in her own hands,
making them the text of a revised version which she
dictated with extraordinary energy, sometimes for
six hours at a stretch.
The first draft of the " Vindication," or " Account
of the Conduct" as it was afterwards called, of the
Duchess of Marlborough was written shortly after
her retirement from Court. If ever the phrase, " a
veritable human document," was applicable, this
historic manuscript merits such an accusation. Per
haps the most intolerable charge that can be brought
against any man or woman of honour in the service
of the Crown is that of an abuse of privilege. When
Harley and Mrs. Masham between them compassed
the downfall of the Duchess, slander was instantly let
loose in dastardly pamphlets and lampoons which
did their best to stab a woman's reputation. The
Duchess was cut to the quick by these effusions of
anonymous scribblers. Marlborough regarded his

Ch. XXV] WALPOLE'S OPINION 467
own traducers for the most part with disdain, and
met their attacks with silence. But the Duchess was
more thin-skinned, and winced, not a little under what
she regarded as the deliberate affront of attacks which
assailed in the direction where she justly felt herself
to be beyond suspicion. Hence, released from
authority, she took up her pen and, to borrow her
own phrase, " tumbled her mind out on paper " with
pardonable resentment and undeniable vigour. Shi;
did well to be angry, if indignation is righteous when
man or woman is charged with misdemeanours in the
public service of which they are guiltless. She had
at her elbow in 171 1 her trusted friend and secretary,
Arthur Maynwaring, who, though in failing health,
had still at his command shrewd judgment and a
clever pen. Between them — the Duke was still
abroad — this document was written, and before
citing some passages from it, it may be as well to
state why it was not published. The Duchess, at the
time it was written, was on intimate terms with Sir
Robert Walpole, afterward first Earl of Orford.
Walpole had been one of the Council of Prince George
of Denmark when the latter was Lord High Admiral,
and in that way she was brought into association with
the rising young statesman. Feeling the need of
advice on so delicate a matter, the Duchess submitted
her manuscript to Sir Robert . He read it and declared
that he was favourably impressed by it, but advised
her not to publish it at the moment, adding that the
Ministry would employ " all the pens of the most
scurrilous people whom they had in their pay to
write against her." Arthur Maynwaring declared
that such an argument was ridiculous, and carried
no weight, since aU the lies against her that
" malice could invent " were already in circulation.
He left, of course, the decision to the Duchess, and
she, believing Walpole, as she put it, " extremely her

468 IN DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS [Ch. xxv
friend," yielded to his advice, though much against
her inclination. But in the winter of 171 3-14, when
she was with the Duke at Antwerp, she went over the
manuscript again, but was brought to a halt because
the letters which she intended to cite were in England ;
but in spite of the lack of such papers, she indited,
with the help of a M. St. Priest, whom she employed
as her amanuensis, a brief but vigorous refutation of
the charges brought against her by scribblers in the
press. Arthur Maynwaring was dead by this time.
If he had lived, it was his purpose to have written,
with a damaging appeal to facts in his possession, a
circumstantial story of the treatment meted out, not
merely to the Duchess, but the Duke. Whatever
faults the Duchess of Marlborough possessed she was
a woman of strict integrity. When she came to power
at the Court of Anne, she urged the Queen to make
an Order in Council, forbidding the mischievous
system of selling preferments which had prevailed in
previous reigns. She states that when she was
appointed Mistress of the Robes, the only patronage
at her disposal was three posts of Pages of the Back
Stairs. These appointments, insignificant though
they were, were naturally coveted by the sons of rich
people eager to mount the first step on the ladder at
Court. Up to that time such appointments had been
sold at a thousand guineas a piece. The Duchess put
a stop to such transactions. " I filled them up with
three gentlemen unknown to me, who were admitted
into them without paying a farthing to anyone
whatever." She mentions their names, and adds
that Lady Fitzharding, Lady Plymouth, and another
lady of the Court recommended them. " The Queen
had always duplicates of the accounts which she-
signed, and gave me receipts for all the money I paid
to her own hand." Ambitious people not unfre
quently approached the Duchess willing to purchase

Ch. XXV] A CRUEL SLANDER 469
a title for a consideration, but she invariably refused
to lend herself to their designs. The Duchess states
that she has been " compeUed to mention these detaUs
because so much has been printed concerning my
selling offices and getting money." It was a- cruel
slander, and she met it with spirit. " I take occa
sion to declare that I never in the whole reign had one
shilling or the value of it, directly or indirectly, or
any other consideration from any person, for any
employment or other favour that ever I did them.
I can appeal to the Queen herself if I have not often
begged of Her Majesty never to let her favour be
sold. But as she is the fountain of honour to give it,
for a reward to great merit, and to men who would
be a support to the Crown, which nobody would ever
think himself that paid for his own advancement."
Her own statement of the reason why she lost
favour, though at best but a half-truth, merits cita
tion: " My several employments, as they were very
considerable, were very much envied, and it was
natural for those who had a mind to them to do me
all the prejudice they could." Yet twenty Mrs.
Mashams would never have driven her from power
if her own mood had not been so haughty and un
accommodating. But apart from a conflict of tem
peraments, the Duchess was forced into retirement
because Harley and Bolingbroke were determined to
strike at Marlborough's most vulnerable point, which,
from first to last, was the wife whom he adored.
The original document — it has never been printed —
opens as follows :
" I hope it will not be said that I pretend to be an
author because I think myself obliged to publish this
paper to the world. No one is more sensible than I
am how ridiculous that vanity is in a woman; but
what is to follow may easily be written by anybody,
being only a plain account of matters of fact. Yet I
cannot help lamenting the misfortune I am under in

470 IN DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS [Ch. xxv
being forced to make such a public vindication of
myself, and I hope I may be forgiven if I complain a
little of the times which make it necessary for me to
give proofs of my integrity, after more than twenty
years faithful service."!
She proceeds to allude -to the " scandalous false
hoods " which had been written against her, and
which were " clearly designed to take away my repu
tation." ^ No woman ever suffered more cruelly in
this respect, for all sorts of infamous accusations were
brought against her, especially by the notorious
Mrs. Manley, a worthless creature, whom Swift
patronized, and who attacked the Duchess even on the
score of morals in the pages of " The New Atalantis."
But the Duchess, whose character in that respect was
beyond challenge, could afford to treat such charges
with disdain. She had lived for twenty years in the
fierce light of a Court, and her reputation was abso
lutely unsullied. The charges against her, which
really cut her to the quick, were that she had accepted
bribes in return for titles or appointments at Court,
and had enriched herself at the expense of the
Crown. Here it may be as well to cite her own
words :
" The chief accusations that have been made
against me are either in relation to my accounts of
the Robes and the Privy Purse, or in respect to the
advantages which I have been paid to make of the
Queen's favour, and particularly in the disposing of
titles and employments."
It is a pity that the first draft of her " Vindication "
was not published in the lifetime of Queen Anne, who
declared that cheating was not one of the Duchess
of Marlborough's faults. It was set aside, however,
in deference to Walpole 's advice, and it was only when
her life was ending that the Duchess, who did not
' Blenheim Papers. 2 jjjj^

Ch.xxv] lord MACAULAY 471
wish to go down to posterity as a woman who had
misused her power, resumed, after nearly thirty years,
her interrupted task. Scarcely any citations from
the book which she published in 1 742 have been made
in these pages, and for a deliberate reason. It is
possible to defend the Duchess without making an
appeal to what she ^vrote when her judgment was
warped and her powers were failing.
" The Account " is rich in intimate sidelights on
her own character, as well as all that happened at
Court when she was Mistress of the Robes. But
candour compels the admission that some of its state
ments were unguarded, and inaccuracy crept into the
narrative, and the rankling sense of injustice has to
be borne in mind in view of certain sweeping asser
tions. But when so much is admitted, it is unques
tionably an honest statement of the facts as she re
caUed them with the clouded brain of old age . There
were plenty of people alive in 1 742 who did not love
her, and if she had not told the truth, old as she was,
they would have assailed her. But, though attempts
of this kind were made, her integrity came out of the
controversy unharmed. Lord Macaulay, who did'
more than any other historian to damage the Duke's
reputation, pretends to regard the Duchess of Marl
borough's " Account " with " constant suspicion,"
and thinks it ought to be read with reserve, except
when she relates some instance of her own " malig
nity and insolence." That is quite worthy of a man
who exhausted his unrivalled powers of invective
and rhetoric in denouncing Marlborough and making
charges against him, which were refuted in his own
hfetime, though he had not a sufficient sense of justice,
to say nothing of chivalry, to withdraw them when
they were proved to be erroneous. The truth is that
the greatest soldier that, in the opinion of the Duke
of WeUington, ever led an army into action, and the

472 IN DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS [Ch. XXV
most brilliant woman that ever shaped the whispers
of a Throne, have been grossly maligned by men like
Swift and Macaulay, who by the magic of style turned
slander into current coin.
Concerning Swift's charges let Thackeray speak,
and all the more since his verdict in " Esmond " on
the Duke does not lean to mercy.
" The power of satire ever hardly displayed itself
in so mean and disgusting a form as in Swift's charac
ter of the Duke and his lady. The father of lies him
self could not have invented sneers more diabolical.
The Dean's strictures are scandalously mean, and
what adds to their baseness is the fact manifested in
many places in Swift's Diaries that he entertained the
highest admiration for Marlborough."!
Yet for party purposes Swift did his best to be
smirch both the reputation of Marlborough and the
Duchess. Concerning Macaulay, both Carlyle and John
Stuart Mill spoke in no uncertain terms. The
Chelsea sage is reported to have said that " four
hundred editions " of the greatly belauded " His
tory " could " not lend it any permanent value,"
since there was " no depth of sense in it."^ The dis
tinguished political economist asserted that Ma
caulay's volumes might be pleasant reading, but were
not exactly history.^
Allusion has been made to the capacity of the
Duchess as a woman of business. Perhaps in this
connection it may be as well to cite one of her letters,
especially as it incidentally reveals that in old age she
did honour at Blenheim to the memory of Queen Anne.
It is dated the 8th of August, 1738, and is as follows:
1 "Stray Papers," by W. M. Thackeray, edited by Lewis
Melville; London, 1901, pp. 82-83.
* "History and Historians in the Nineteenth Century," by
G. P. Gooch; Longmans, 1913, cited pp. 303-4.
^ " Mill's Letters " ; London, 1910, vol. i., pp. 188-9.

Ch. XXV] HER BUSINESS CAPACITY 473
" I have made a very fine statue of Queen Anne,
which will soon be brought to Blenheim. You would
oblige me very much if you would send me an exact
Drawing of the Bow-window in the GaUery: I only
mean the bottom figured so that I may know how
much Room there will be to go round the Figure
when it is set up; and I should be glad likewise to
have the measure of the Hall, the Length of it from
the coming in to the Door into the Apartment and
the Breadth, not taking in the Place which was once
to have been a stair-case, where the marble Table
stands. I have an account from Blenheim that you
have finished the wall about the water; but they
tell me the weeds are as bad as ever. I desired Mr.
Armstrong to speak to you to make a computation
what it would cost to finish that Gate which they
call Bladon Gate, where a woman has a House that
looks ugly. There is stiles for foot-people to come
over, and I would only have a strong plain Gate no
more than such as Gentlemen' commonly have in
their Parks to let Coaches in, or anything else when
I please, without any House. I should be glad if you
would let me, as soon as you can, have your accounts,
that all things may be evened by your Friend and
humble Servant, S. Marlborough."!
When her granddaughters one by one married,
the Duchess grew more and more lonely, and lavished
her affections, so she states, on three little dogs :
" I am very fond of my three dogs; they have all of
them gratitude, wit, and good sense — things very
rare to be found in this country. They are fond of
going out with me ; but when I reason with them and
tell them it is not proper, they submit, and watch for
my coming home, and meet me with as much joy as if
I had never given them good advice." ^
She took long solitary walks when her physical
powers were equal to them, though seldom going
farther than her own domains. She went little into
^ Exact copy from the original document in possession of the
writer. =¦ This was written in 1737, and is given m a curious little
volume, entitled " Opinions of the Duchess of Marlborough."

474 IN DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS [Ch. XXV
society, and towards the end was powerless to do so,
for she was crippled with rheumatism, and when she
wished to sun herself had to be carried from her apart
ments by her servants. She was passionately fond of
music and of cards, and spent long hours, when the
curtains were drawn and the wax candles were lighted,
in reading and arranging old letters and scribbhng her
comments — they were often caustic — on men and
manners. When at Marlborough House, she often
went to the Opera ; and when driven to Windsor
Lodge by illness, she purchased a chamber organ,
the finest of its kind in England, which Handel had
praised, and sat in a high chair listening to its
music. She had lived so much at the centre, and retained
so active a mind, that it was difficult for her to dwell
at the circumference with unruffled composure. The
dull monotony of a country life often irked her; but
when it did so she used to laugh, and say she was out
of humour with the town, and to add that an old
woman counted for nothing in the world of fashion.
The great haunting questions of a future life made
their appeal to her, and in her perplexity she turned
to Pope and Bolingbroke, only to find that they were
dumb oracles. She found her chief solace in a trans
lation of Socrates; and her faith, such as it was, in
immortality never wavered. She has often been
described as a hard, worldly woman; but no one can
think that who has seen her private papers. Once,
in old age, one of her friends, who was on sufficient
terms with her, entered in the twilight, unannounced,
the room in which she commonly sat. In the growing
darkness he stumbled over something on the floor,
and, to his consternation, found it was the Duchess.
He asked if she were ill, and she replied: " No, I am
only praying. I am so wicked a woman that I he
on the floor rather than kneel." However it may

Ch.xxvj SELINA, lady HUNTINGDON 475
have been in the days of her splendid and almost
unrivalled power, Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, in
old age, as that act of self-abasement shows, was con
scious of her own frailty. Her own words may be re-
alled in this connection : " I am not so partial to myself
as not to know that I have many imperfections."
Selina, Countess of Huntingdon, crossed her path
towards the end of her life. She was the patron
of George Whitefield, and a woman whom religion
made radiant. The Duchess had known many
courtly latitudinarian Bishops, agreeable, accom
plished men of the world, who were ready to talk
about anything but religion. When she heard that
Whitefield preached with impassioned ardour, she
betrayed a sudden desire to hear him. But illness
prevented her. So Lady Huntingdon came to see her,
and improved the occasion. The Duchess afterwards
wrote to her:
" God knows we all need mending, and none more
than myself. I have lived to see great changes in
the world, have acted a conspicuous part, and now
hope in my old days for mercy. Your Ladyship must
direct me. You are all goodness and kindness, and
I often wish I had a portion of it. Women of ^yit,
beauty and quality cannot bear too many humiliating
truths — they shock our pride — but we must die. I
always feel more happy and contented after an hour's
conversation with you, than after a whole week's
round of amusements. Perhaps my wicked heart
may get some good from you in the end." !
Religion, in the spiritual acceptation of the term,
hardly seems to have touched her.
It cannot be said of her that she conquered the art
of growing old gracefuUy; but she became more
kindly and considerate to those about her, and when
she saw unmerited distress was quick to reheve it.
1 "Life and Times of Selina, Countess of Huntingdon"; two
vols., London, 1840; vol. i., p. 25.

476 IN DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS [Ch. xxv
When in Antwerp in 171 3-14, the Duchess, on the
testimony of an eyewitness, won the hearts of rich
and poor alike by her acts of mercy to the sick and
afflicted . We are assured that she went up and down
the city on errands of mercy, and was accustomed
to carry money and other gifts with her own hands
to anyone whom she discovered in desperate straits.
When the Duke and herself quitted the city on their
return to England, there was an outburst of regret
at their departure. It found expression on the lips
of the Governor, the Marquis of Terracena, who,
when they embarked at Ostend, told them that " if
they were received at London with the same joy as
they had been taken leave of with grief at Antwerp,
the Ministry would have just cause to take umbrage
at their popularity."! Few people in that hard
century troubled themselves at all deeply with the
social condition of the poor. The Duchess of Marl
borough was an exception to this rule. She built
almshouses at St. Albans, as has already been stated.
She clothed old men and women at Woodstock, and
in her last iUness at Marlborough House one little
incident at least can be cited which reveals her warm
heart. She was too ill to leave her apartment, and,
as the chimney of her sick-chamber was defective,
a mere child was introduced with his brush to put it
right. She watched from her bed the little fellow
disappear, and return when his task was accomplished.
He was miserably clad and looked half famished, and,
ill as she was, she gave orders that the poor climbing
boy was not merely to be fed, but clothed and shod.
It was a small thing in itself, but the Duchess has so
often been depicted as a callous and selfish woman
that a circumstance which reveals her in another
light ought assuredly to be recorded.
Shortly after the Duke's death, in 1722, the Duchess
! " Queen Anne Vindicated," London, 1714, pp. 29, 30.

Ch. XXV] STEELE AND MALLET 477
was urged by his friends to entrust to some competent
hand the preparation of an authoritative book de
scriptive of his military career. The proposal was one
which entirely chimed in with her own wishes, and,
accordingly, waiving aside other writers who be
sieged her with requests to be entrusted with the
papers for such a purpose, her choice fell on Lord
Molesworth. Here it becomes necessary to correct
an error which occurs in Dr. Johnson's " Lives of
the Poets," in a chapter devoted to the literary work
of Mallet. He states that after Lord Molesworth
died the Duke's papers, which were in his possession,
were " transferred with the same design to Richard
Steele, who, in some of his exigencies, put them in
pawn." The last part of this statement is probable
enough, for Steele was habitually careless as well as
impecunious; but it is certain they could not have
been in his possession after Molesworth 's death, since
the latter outlived the essayist by more than thirty
years. The truth seems to be that Steele was en
trusted with certain important papers for a book
which he proposed to write on " The War in Flanders,"
from the date of Marlborough's commission of Captain-
General and Plenipotentiary to his dismissal on the
31st of December, 1711. This proposed book was
publicly announced as in preparation by Steele as
eariy as the spring of 1714, and it was stated that it
would be based on authentic materials which appear
to have been placed at his discretion by the Duke,
who held him in high regard .
Steele made no effort to carry out his self-imposed
task, and the papers which he had treated so cava
lierly were eventually recovered by the indignant
Duchess. They were then handed to Richard, third
Viscount Molesworth, who was one of Marlborough's
famous officers. The Duchess held Molesworth in
peculiar esteem, for he had not only fought by the

478 IN DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS [Ch. XXV
Duke's side at Blenheim, but at Ramillies had, as His
Grace's Aide-de-Camp, saved his life at the risk of his
own. Lord Molesworth was a soldier who rose ulti
mately to the rank of Field-Marshal, but, though a
brilliant swordsman, he had not the pen of a ready
writer. The materials with which he was confronted
were, moreover, far more voluminous than those
which had once been in the risky possession of
Steele, and towards the close of the Duchess's
life he seems reluctantly to have abandoned the
project. Her choice ultimately fell on David Mallet, a poet
and miscellaneous writer, who held a secretarial
appointment under Frederick, Prince of Wales. With
Mallet was associated Richard Glover, another in
different poet, who was stoutly opposed to Sir Robert
Walpole, and therefore found favour in the eyes of
the Duchess. He was afterwards M.P. for Wey
mouth, but his qualifications for such a task as writing
a Life of Marlborough were not conspicuous. The
Duchess declared that she was convinced that Mr.
Glover was a very honest man, and that he had the
welfare of England at heart. She accordingly be
queathed a handsome legacy both to Glover and
Mallet, and left directions that they were to have
access to all necessary papers. She stated in her will
that she was " particularly anxious that it should be
pointed out in the book that the Duke wished justice
to all mankind," and added that he left James II.
with " great regret " because he would do nothing
to " settle Popery " on the nation. But the two
writers were not to be aUowed to use their own un
fettered discretion. The Duchess states in her will
that she was " extremely desirous " that the work
should be done well, and therefore she requested the
Earl of Chesterfield, who was substantially remem
bered in that document, to supervise their labours.

Ch.XXV] dr. coxe AND THE AUTHOR 479
Glover appears to have resented this proviso, and he
honourably declined the proposal. Mallet accord
ingly received the legacy, toyed with the voluminous
papers, gave himself for years an air of consequence,
and, though he outlived the Duchess by more than
twenty years, died, to his lasting disgrace, without
doing anything. Dr. Johnson's comment merits
citation :
" Mallet, I believe, never wrote a single line of his
projected Life of the Duke of Marlborough. He
groped for materials, and thought of it till he had
exhausted his mind. Thus it sometimes happens that
men entangle themselves in their own schemes. "'
The odd thing is that Mallet had the audacity to
tell Hume that the book was ready for the press.
" That is more than I or most people expected " was
the historian's dry comment .^
Meanwhile unauthorized biographies, great and
small, duly appeared as the eighteenth century ran
its course; but it was left to Archdeacon Coxe to
classify not all, but the majority of, the Blenheim
Papers in the reign of George III. Dr. Coxe, for a
considerable term of years, was constantly at Blen
heim, arranging the documents and making extracts
from them. They were scattered at that time in
various parts of the palace, and it is clear that he at
best only made a hasty and superficial examination
of many of the packets. Moreover, long after he
had completed his labours, many other packets
came to light. Out of the papers which he arranged
and classified. Dr. Coxe obtained the materials from
which he wrote his authoritative " Memoirs of the
Duke of Marlborough," illustrated with portraits,
maps, and military plans. The first edition appeared
1 Boswell's " Life of Johnson," edited by George Birkbeck Hill,
D.C.L.; Oxford, 1887; six vols., iii., p. 86. See also note ou
Mallet and Hume on same page. ^ Ibid.

48o IN DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS [Ch. XXV
in 1818-19, in three quarto volumes, and was at once
recognized, not merely as a biography of singular
merit, but as an historical work of reference, which
threw vivid side-lights on the reigns of William III.
and Queen Anne. The present writer can bear witness
to the fidelity and care of Archdeacon Coxe, and feels
it is his duty to do so, as he is the only person
since the beginning of last century who has had the
opportunity of examining in detail the original
materials which form the basis of the book.
Dr. Coxe's arrangement of the historical and family
papers at Blenheim had fallen, by the middle of the
Victorian era, into hopeless confusion, and the clue
to its interpretation had been lost. In 1889 the late
Duke of Marlborough honoured the writer by asking
him to solve the difficulty, which, at first, seemed in
superable. There were press-marks on many of the
packets, showing that part, at least, of the great
collection of papers had been examined and sorted;
but there were hundreds of packets which bore no
such endorsement. After prolonged search at the
Palace, the writer came across Dr. Coxe's original
manuscript catalogue, and at once the press-marks
on the packets mentioned became clear. Most of
the papers indicated were identified, but not all, and
certain packets had evidently been removed. It
was on the basis of Dr. Coxe's catalogue that the
present greatly expanded classification took shape
and was carried to completion. When the task was
nearly completed, the Duke found in a roomy for
gotten cupboard at Blenheim a great mass of papers
which, it soon became apparent. Dr. Coxe had never
seen. Some of them were large brown-paper parcels,
bearing labels in faded ink, " Of No Importance,"
" Household Accounts," etc. When these bundles
were opened, they justified, for the most part, such
endorsements. But mixed up with butlers' accounts,

Ch. XXV] DEATH OF THE DUCHESS 481
estate papers of little significance, and other memor
anda of a great house, were several documents of
permanent and unique historical value, which are now
placed in their proper sequence in the collection.
Among these documents, recovered in 1889-90 by the
writer, were the original parchment appointing Sarah
Duchess of Marlborough, Mistress of the Robes to
Queen Anne,! and another small bit of vellum which
proved to be the first military commission of Marl
borough. The latter bears the sign-manual of
Charles II. , and appoints John Churchill " Ensigne
in our own Company of Foote in our Regiment of
Guards, commanded by Colonel John RusseU, given
at our Court of WhitehaU, September 14th, 1667." 2
Many parcels also came to light, chiefly dealing with
military organization and the movements of the
troops in Flanders, which had remained untouched
since they had been arranged under Marlborough's
own supervision towards the close of his life. It was
left to the present writer to unbind the red tape which
had held them since the beginning of the reign of
George I., and to place their contents in their proper
sequence amongst the archives, now preserved in the
fireproof muniment-room, which the present Duke
constructed some years ago for the proper custody
of the priceless historical records of the Churchills.
The present work could not, of course, have been
written if the Duke of Marlborough had not given
the writer unfettered access to the papers, which he
arranged twenty-five years ago for the late Duke.
In the summer of 1744 it became plain to those
about the Duchess that the end was approaching.
She had entered her eighty-fifth year, had warmed,
in Lander's phrase, both hands at the fire of life,
and now that it burnt low was ready to depart. A
new generation had come into possession of all that
1 Blenheim Papers. ^ Ibid. 31

482 IN DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS [Ch. XXV
made life worth living to her. The man who had
adored her had been dead for more than twenty
years, and the only children whom she had really
loved had vanished from her sight long before Marl
borough had been carried to his grave in Westminster
Abbey. It was forty years after the Battle of Blen
heim had been fought, and since the splendour of that
victory she had had enough of human praise and
blame. Her own words are significant: " If I could
have walked out of this world, I would have departed
long ago if only to get rid of so many tiresome
people."! She was weary in mind and crippled in
body, and as summer passed into autumn she felt
that her own long and wonderful day was over, and,
like a tired child, longed for rest. The end came
gently on the 19th of October, 1744, at Marlborough
House, and the grief of her household was so deep
and real as to show that those who were most con
stantly about her had learnt to care for her in a sense
that no money could have purchased.
William Pitt, afterward first Earl of Chatham,
had only been nine years in the House of Commons
when the Duchess died, and so far chiefly distin
guished himself by his fierce invectives against Wal
pole. The Great Commoner was then a man of six-
and-thirty, with his way to make in public life; but
the Duchess was shrewd enough to see his promise,
and to believe without stint in his patriotic devotion
to England. She therefore, by the terms of her will,
surprised the world, as well as the young statesman,
by bequeathing £10,000 to William Pitt, as weU
as landed property in Buckingham, Suffolk, and
Northamptonshire, stating that she had done so " on
account of his merit in the noble defence he had made
for the support of the laws of England and to prevent
the ruin of his country." The political prescience of
1 Blenheim Papers.

Ch.XXV] her INTEGRITY 483
the Duchess, as well as her patriotism, are apparent
in that timely gift to a pubhc man who at that stage
of his career was slenderly endowed by fortune.
The Duchess was laid to rest by her own instructions
in the private chapel at Blenheim, and it was charac
teristic of her that, in an age when large sums were
lavished on the obsequies of great people, she directed
that her own funeral should be marked by simplicity.
Her last wishes were fulfilled shortly afterwards by
the removal of the Duke's body from Westminster
to the vault where it now lies in victorious peace side
by side with that of the woman that he loved with
unfaltering devotion.
There is no need, in view of all that these pages
reveal, for an elaborate estimate of the character of
Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough; but, even at the risk
of the charge of repetition, some of her outstanding
characteristics ought, in these final pages, to be cited.
The world often seizes upon the weak aspects of a
great reputation, and the verdict of history has been
merciless in regard to her freaks and foibles. She
was assailed in her lifetime by mean and scurrilous
writers, and since then a hundred pens have found
ample material for ridicule and scorn in the petulant
outbursts of a woman of quality, who always wore her
heart on her sleeve and never pretended to conceal
her personal resentments. The Duchess acted often
in so high-handed a manner, and spoke so frequently
unadvisedly with her lips, that it is, after all, the
easiest thing in the world to dismiss her as an im
perious woman with a bitter tongue. It speaks little
for the chivalry of Horace Walpole, and less for the
judicial impartiality of Lord Macaulay, that the
Duchess of Marlborough should be mentioned in the
letters of the one and in the history of the other in
terms of bitter contempt. It is more easy to under
stand why Swift, and his despicable creature Mrs.

484 IN DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS [Ch. xxv
Manley, assailed the reputation of the most brilliant
and powerful woman of their age. The Duchess of
Marlborough blocked the way of Harley and St. John
at the Court of Queen Anne; she could neither be
bribed nor coerced, and therefore Swift directed his
satire against her, and Mrs. Manley, a woman without
a scrap of moral reputation, trumped up a story
against her chastity. The Duchess could afford to
toss her head at such vile imputations, and the worst
charges that were brought against her are as dead as
Queen Anne. That is not to say that the Duchess of
Marlborough was in other directions impeccable . She
had her faults, and that they were grievous it is im
possible to deny. The pity is that the majority of
writers have magnified and caricatured them without
any recognition of the other side of the question.
They have tried to laugh the Duchess out of court by
insisting on her caprices, most of which are self-
revealed. There has been a conspiracy of silence in
literature concerning the shining qualities and the
patriotic services of a woman who has left her mark
on the annals of the English Court .
The Duchess of Marlborough has heightened the
gaiety of mankind by her foibles, her freakish limita
tions, her contempt for authority, her open and
unabashed determination to do as she liked. Even
Dr. Johnson, who admired vigour in a man, but was
inclined to resent it in a woman, could find nothing
worse to say of her after her death than that she was
bold, and knew how to make the most of her oppor
tunities in life. Mrs. Morley has been accepted with
the plaudits of one generation after another as " Good
Queen Anne "; it is surely high time that Mrs. Free
man should have fair play, and all the more because
of the manner in which her services as weU as her
virtues have been ignored. That she was a great
woman in no common acceptation of the term —

Ch.XXV] her CHARACTERISTICS 485
perhaps the greatest who has ever held authority at
the English Court — is a contention which, though
long ignored, cannot now be seriously challenged.
It has been claimed for her, and with justice, that
through some of the most glorious and difficult years
in the national annals she steadied the hand which
upheld the sceptre. In an age of political venality
and moral licence she led the fearless and open life
of one who had no cause for shame.
No shadow rests upon her integrity when Mistress
of the Robes, and though great sums of public money
passed through her hands, she was able to account for
every shilhng. Queen Anne did her only simple
justice when she acknowledged her strict probity.
Yet no charges were too disgraceful for hireling
scribblers to bring against " Queen Zarah," as they
called her, except the dastardly attacks which such
malicious pens made on " Prince Mirabel," as they
were pleased to call the Duke. Marlborough at the
moment when he had reached a dazzling pinnacle of
fame in Europe was hounded out of public life. The
irony of it all was that he might have baffled his
adversaries at home as splendidly as he had van
quished the enemy abroad but for the blazing indis
cretions of the Duchess. Bishop Burnet, perhaps the
most shrewd of all the spectators of Marlborough's
dismissal, believed that Harley and St. John would
not have gained their way if the Duchess had been
more discreet. The irony of life leaps to light in such
an admission, for no one can question the devotion of
the Duchess to her husband, though it was never
marked by the wise patience and delicate chivalry
which distinguished his attitude to her.
Insolent slander apart, what were her faults ?
Swift accused her of avarice, but the poison of asps
was under the Dean's tongue. Fielding, writing in
her old age, laughed to scorn such an imputa-

486 IN DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS [Ch. xxv
tion. He declared that the Duchess of Marlborough
had filled her high place at the Court of Anne with
absolute fidelity. He held that she was guiltless of
mean as well as dishonest acts, and adds : " She saved
the Queen vast sums of money, which might have
sunk into her own pocket." He did not believe that
any charge, whether of " public rapaciousness or
private exaction," could possibly be substantiated.
As to the charge of avarice, he declared that he did
not believe that any man or woman of that epoch
had equalled the Duchess of Marlborough in acts of
private munificence, and he pointed not only to
individuals, but to families, who owed their pre
servation to her generosity. Fielding called the
Duchess of Marlborough a " glorious woman," and
added that he never contemplated her character
except with admiration. She helped a distressed poet
in the person of John Gay, author of " The Beggar's
Opera," when the luckless fellow's fortunes had sunk
/ to a disastrous ebb. She cared for the poor at her
own gates, and sent her charity far afield by the
timely gift of a thousand pounds to help a number of
Swiss peasants to emigrate to America . She advanced
a great sum of money to the Government to ward off
a financial crisis, and she came to the help of Child's
Bank when there was a run on its resources.
When it is added to all this that the Duchess gave
away in her widowhood upwards of a quarter of a
million of money, it will be seen that, though the
charge of avarice may be brought against the Duke,
it breaks down absolutely in regard to her. What,
then, were her faults ? Perfect people are fatiguing
company, and the Duchess was altogether too honest
to wish, living or dead, to be numbered with them.
She said herself, " I have plenty of faults," but, like
the rest of us, she was inclined to regard some of her
most repellent traits as virtues. Everybody knows

Ch. XXV] HER LACK OF SELF-COMMAND 487
the direction in which her weakness lay. Scores of
clever pens, which the world credits with historical
accuracy, have magnified her weaknesses, ridiculed
her acts of indiscretion, and fashioned their indict
ment, of one of the most fearless and capable women
in English history, into the cruel coin of literary
contempt, with the result that, as a recent writer put
it, " the Duchess has come down to us scolding."
The real charges that could be brought against her
were not lawless passion, avarice, or fraud. They
were, with one exception, the kind of weaknesses
which do not waken reprobation, but are provocative
of satire. Every educated man and woman, since the
days of George II. to the present time, has found in
them food for reflection when in serious mood, and
material for mirth in more careless hours. Her
faults were pride of will, an imperious, exacting,
unaccommodating temper, an appalling freedom of
speech, which was too often made the vehicle of quick
and unwarrantable suspicions and bitter and cen
sorious opinions. Her common-sense was shrewd,
hard, intuitive, and it seldom failed her; but it was
linked with a careless disdain of other people's feelings
which was sometimes pushed to the point of sheer
and almost brutal callousness. The liberty of speech
which the Duchess claimed for herself was seldom
aUowed by her to others. Her self-assertion was
boundless; she was as fearless in her strife of
words as ever Marlborough was amid the clash of
swords. What she lacked was the Duke's imperturb
able coolness, his perfect courtesy, his invincible
patience .
In Queen Anne's closet at Windsor, where Her
Majesty received the first tidings of Blenheim — the
little alcove now forms part of the Royal Library —
there may be seen a small but handsomely-bound
volume, which was presented to Queen Anne by

488 IN DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS [Ch. XXV
John, Duke of Marlborough. It is a copy of Henry
Peacham's once-famous book, " The Compleat Gentle
man," and it contains an autograph inscription by
the Duke. Marlborough himself might have borne
that title. He was on the testimony of one of his
officers the " best bred man in the nation."! We
are also told, on the same authority, how the Duke
cared for the common soldiers who served under him,
many of whom, when they enlisted, were the " dregs
of the nation." He infused into them " a spirit above
the vulgar," and made brave and well - disciplined
troops out of such unpromising material. It is re
corded that, shortly after the Duke gave " The Com
pleat Gentleman " to Queen Anne, he was galloping
across open ground — when the siege of Menin was in
progress in 1 709 — in order to reconnoitre the enemy's
position. General Cadogan was at his side, and the
equerries were in attendance. Marlborough suddenly
dropped his glove, and, instead of telling one of the
equerries to pick it up, he turned to Cadogan, and
told him to dismount and bring it back, an order
which was instantly obeyed . That night in camp the
Duke asked Cadogan if he recalled the incident,
adding that he wished a battery to be thrown up on
the spot, and had not desired at the moment to speak
openly of his purpose. Cadogan replied that he had
already given instructions for the erection of a battery.
The Duke expressed his surprise that the gallant
soldier had divined his intention. Cadogan thereupon
exclaimed that he knew his chief to be too much a
gentleman to ask him to pick up a glove without some
hidden purpose, and he had guessed what the Duke
meant. That incident reveals one secret of Marl
borough's power — the confidence which he inspired
! " The Life and Actions of His Grace, John, Duke of Marl
borough, with some Remarks on his Conduct," by an Old Officer
in the Army; London, 1711.

Ch. XXV] LORD MACAULAY'S CHARGES 489
in the men who served under him, from his favourite
General down to the meanest trooper.
The Duchess, unlike the Duke, never won such
implicit trust, and it was largely due to the fact that
she did not possess, like him, the faculty of self-
command, and was too emphatic and insistent about
trifles . An accusation which had been made against
her — by one of her own sex — is strictly true, and
therefore ought in all candour to be cited: "In her
excessive approval of her own openness, she came at
last to the belief that self-restraint was treason to
sincerity." i Marlborough has been accused of in
ordinate ambition. No one now believes the ridiculous
charge which Swift made, that the real motive of the
Duke in desiring the post of Captain-General for life
was that he might be in a position, if need be, to seize
the Crown. His own letters to the Duchess, written
for her eye alone, remain at Blenheim to refute such
an accusation, as well as to prove that Lord Macaulay
did not know what he was writing about when he had
the temerity to state that the Duke had so little
education as to be unable to spell the most ordinary
words in his own language . Mariborough had ambition ,
but it was not of the mean sort which his assaUants
have urged. It was the ambition of a man of action,
supremely well versed in affairs, and of wide and
alert political vision. Historians have stumbled one
after another in the laboured attempt to prove
that his ambition was chiefly personal, and at
best only slightly patriotic. As a matter of fact, it
was the other way. The Duke's ambition was to
assert the authority of England in the councils of
Europe, to vindicate the Common Cause of the
Allies, to shatter the inordinate claims of France, to
maintain the Protestant Succession, to bring the war
¦ ! " Famous Ladies of the EngUsh Court," by Mrs. Aubrey
Richardson; London, 1899, p. 342.

490 IN DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS [Ch. XXV
to a victorious conclusion, and then, and not till then,
to rest on his laurels at Blenheim with the woman
he loved. He succeeded in the majority of these high
purposes, and, to his credit, he had nothing whatever
to do with the weak and shameful terms of the Peace
of Utrecht.
If this were more than a study of John, Duke, and
Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, it would be easy to
add to what has been written in vindication of the
matchless soldier who combined the imagination of
a Napoleon with the cool judgment of a Wellington.!
Swift, a bitter and uneasy cleric at war with his own
calling, who assuredly did not throw away ambition,
charges Marlborough with inordinate desire for self-
advancement. Pope, who, in spite of his courtly
platitudes, was not a shining example of generosity
either in deed or word, accuses him of avarice, yet he
twice refused the Government of the Netherlands,
though it carried with it the princely income of
£60,000 a year,^ and emptied his private purse after
the Battle of Malplaquet in order to meet the crying
necessities of wounded French officers.^ Bolingbroke,
who intrigued more deeply and more dishonourably
than any other statesman of his age, seeks to fasten the
charge of treason on the Duke. Harley, who, accord
ing to common testimony, cringed before Anne and
flattered her to the top of her bent, had the audacity
to assert that Marlborough condescended to the
basest forms of adulation. Macaulay, who was no
toriously prejudiced in his historical verdicts, and
has in consequence been described, with perhaps an
excess of candour, as the " arch-manipulator of
truth," exhausted his rhetorical arts in order to show
that Marlborough was a double-minded man, unstable
1 " History of English Patriotism," by Esme Wingfield"
Stratford; London, 1913; two vols., vol. i., p. 455.
2 Alison, vol. i., p. 283. ^ j^id., vol. ii. p. 395.

Ch.XXV] MARLBOROUGH'S "MOTIVES" 491
in all his ways, and guilty, moreover, of a " hundred
villainies." !
Here it may be as well to examine a little closely
the accusations brought against Marlborough by
Macaulay in his " History of England " with regard
to the supposed betrayal of General Talmash, when
that gallant soldier was in command of the expedition
to Brest in 1694. If that was the worst of Marl
borough's " hundred villainies " — and the historian
expressly states that it was — the vague rhetorical
charges of Macaulay, as well as his simulated moral
indignation, break down hopelessly. This was con
clusively proved as far back as 1859 by the late John
Paget, a London stipendiary magistrate, accustomed
to sift evidence, of dispassionate temper, and marked
literary aptitudes. He published in Blackwood's
Magazine for June in the above year a vindication
of the Duke of Marlborough, which was afterwards
republished, with other historical and judicial essays,
in a volume entitled " Paradoxes and Puzzles."^
Lord Macaulay was alive when Paget brought against
him a charge of grave inaccuracy, but, so far as can
be ascertained, he made no reply, and subsequent
editions of his book retain without alteration the
untrue and damaging statements which Paget, by an
appeal to contemporary documents, unquestionably
refuted. Macaulay imputes mean and ungenerous
motives to Marlborough, about which he knew no
more than any other modern man. If the question
of motives is to take the place of direct historical
evidence, there is no personage in the world's annals
who might not be assailed in hke fashion. Sir Leslie
Stephen, who was by no means a eulogist of the
Duke, states, in his article on Marlborough in the
" Dictionary of National Biography," in speaking
of the historian's method in this case, that " such
' "History of England," chap. XX., p. 489. 2 Blackwood, 1864.

492 IN DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS [Ch.xxv
insight into secret motives is only granted to men of
Macaulay's omniscience."
There is no proof that Marlborough was jealous of
Talmash; his whole record as a soldier is enough
answer to such a charge, since it reveals that, whatever
his faults were, he was incapable of despicable mean
ness of that kind. Oldmixon, who is the only
authority whom Macaulay can cite, was, on his own
showing, a writer of small credit. Macaulay, indeed,
when it suits his purpose, dismisses Oldmixon with a
left-handed compliment: " It is notorious that, of all
our historians, he is the least trustworthy." And yet,
in spite of the silence of more responsible writers,
some of whom were only too eager to blacken Marl
borough's character, Macaulay elaborates with
malevolent art the unsupported statement of this
obscure and forgotten scribe. But what was it that
Macaulay alleged in his attempt to prove that Mari
borough was " a prodigy of turpitude " ? ! Oldmixon
states that Talmash, when he was carried to Plymouth
mortally wounded, exclaimed: " I die contented,
having done my duty in the service of a good Prince."
" He knew who were the traitors, and named them
to a person who stood at his bedside, that he might
discover them to Queen Mary in His Majesty's ab
sence, that she might be upon her guard against
those pernicious counsellors who had retarded the
descent, and, by that means, given France time so
to fortify Brest as to render all approaches to it
impracticable."^ Macaulay states that the " real criminal " was
Marlborough, and gives as his authority the Stuart
Papers, which were first published, in two large
volumes, by James Macpherson in 1775.^ It is
notorious that the exiled Court at St. Germains kept
1 " History," voL ii., p. 515. 2 Oldmixon, " History," p. 392.
' " Original Papers containing the Secret History of Great
Britain from the Restoration to the Accession of George I." (1775) ¦

Ch. XXV] A FALSE ACCUSATION 493
itself uncommonly well posted up, by means of secret
emissaries, concerning all that was passing in England,
alike in the reigns of WiUiam III. and of Anne. One
of the spies who was sent by James was a certain
Captain Floyd, and he was in London in active com
munication with some of the most prominent of the
" pernicious counsellors," who at the moment stood
high in the confidence of William. The " real
criminal " who betrayed the secret of the expedition
to Brest was one or the other of these statesmen, for
Marlborough clearly was out of the running, since he
was in disgrace with WiUiam, and was, in consequence
of Mary's open hostility to his wife, about the last
man to whom she would turn in an emergency. The
actual " counsellors " with whom Floyd was in secret
communication at that crisis were Shrewsbury,
Russell, and Godolphin. These three men were in
high and responsible posts of authority; they had
the confidence of William, and were conversant with
his military projects. Two of them directly, and one
indirectly, assured Floyd in unmistakable terms of
their allegiance to James and their desire to promote
his interest. Godolphin was curiously outspoken.
He told Floyd that Russell, who was Admiral of the
Fleet as well as First Lord of the Admiralty, " would
infallibly appear before Brest," and that this infor
mation afforded " a just pretext " to Louis to send
troops to that place. This conversation took place
somewhere about the middle of AprU, 1694, and it
reached VersaiUes from St. Germains on the ist of
May. It is true that Floyd, when in England, saw
Marlborough, but he was not in a position to make
any disclosures, and as a matter of fact, beyond the
usual protestations, he said nothing.
There is a letter in the "Shrewsbury Correspond
ence "! which shows conclusively that WiUiam III.
1 Coxe, " Shrewsbury Correspondence," p. 45.

494 IN DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS [Ch. XXV
was perfectly aware, and therefore, presumably,
Russell and Talmash as well, that the French were not
likely to be taken by surprise at Brest. The letter
is to Shrewsbury, and is dated the i8th of June, a fort
night after the disaster. In it the King expressly says
that the French " were long apprised of our intended
attack, and made active preparations for defence."
That seems to show that any information which Floyd
carried back merely justified the alarm which already
existed at the French Court. What, then, was the
head and front of Marlborough's offending — in other
words, the point in the Stuart Papers upon which
Macaulay fastens in his attempt to prove this " worst
of his hundred villainies " ? It is a letter which
Marlborough wrote to James on the 4th of May, the
day before the expedition actually sailed. He states
that ' ' only to-day I have learnt the news I now write
to you," which shows that he could not have been the
" real criminal " who betrayed a secret which was in
the possession of Louis XIV. three or four days before
Marlborough set pen to paper. When Marlborough
wrote, the fact of the expedition was common property
in England. He might almost be said to be only
repeating coffee-house tattle of the hour. He cer
tainly, therefore, stands clear of being the first to
divulge William's plans directly to James, and there
fore to Louis. It would have been more honourable
if he had held his peace even then, but nearly every
prominent man at that time was open to the charge
of divided allegiance. Louis XIV. must have fore
seen such an attack, even before Floyd's letter
reached him on the ist of May. This is borne out by
a passage in Luttrell's " Diary " :
" The French certainly knew of our design, having
about 10,000 Foot and 4,000 Horse veteran soldiers
encamped there ever since 22 April, and 10,000 militia

Ch. XXV] VIRTUES OF THE DUCHESS 495
within the town. Vauban, the engineer, was also
there, and fortified every pass."!
Yet, with such evidence open before him, Macaulay
has the audacity to charge Marlborough with un
paralleled treachery, and to denounce him as the
murderer of Talmash. As for his reliance on the
writer whom he found it convenient to his purpose to
cite, it is enough, to borrow Macaulay's own words,
though made in another connection: " Oldmixon 's
assertion, unsupported by evidence, is of no weight
whatever."^ The same remark applies to Macaulay's
own unsupported assertions.
Thackeray, who apparently derived his historical
information chiefly from Macaulay, with almost
child-like credulity has not scrupled to depict in
magic ink, with all the dangerous licence of the
novelist, in the pages of " Esmond," a portrait of
Mariborough which is as vivid as it is misleading.
One of the charges brought against the Duchess
with parrot-like insistence is that of ingratitude to
Queen Anne. It cannot be denied that she was
furious when driven from the Court, and, as she was
always herself, she cried aloud, and spared not, in a
way that scandalized even the Duke. But it might
surely be urged that the Queen was ungrateful to her,
since through a long term of critical years, when the
burden of the crown was heavy, the Duchess was set
under authority, with all that that meant at such a
Court. It is a common saying that distance lends
enchantment to the view, and long before the close
of her own life the Duchess sensibly modified her
verdict of the Queen. Otherwise she would not have
erected the statue at Blenheim to Her Majesty, which
proclaimed in marble the indebtedness of the
Churchills to Queen Anne. Another of the accusa-
» Luttrell, " Diary," vol. iii., p. 328 (June 14, 1694).^
= Macaulay, " History," vol. iii., chap. xi.

496 IN DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS [Ch. XXV
tions brought against Her Grace was that all the
statements about her generosity to the HUl family
contained in " The Conduct " rest entirely on her
own declarations, which Macaulay, in a characteristic
passage, broadly hints are not to be trusted, except
when they afford evidence of her own malevolence or
folly. Here again it is possible to repel, from docu
mentary evidence at Blenheim, such insinuations.
There exists among the archives a letter from old
Mrs. Hill, Abigail's mother, alive with expressions of
gratitude for the Countess of Marlborough's goodness
to her children. She expresses her gratitude, not
only because Lady Marlborough had " me in your
most compassionate thoughts, but also my children,
for whom is my greatest concern." She states
further, in view, apparently, of some gift :
" I give my humble thanks for your kind token
received in your letter. I confess I want words to
express the thankful sense I have of your favour,
but never a heart to pray the Almighty to multiply
His choicest blessings upon you. I give my particular
thankful acknowledgement that you are pleased to
have such good intentions towards my daughter." !
It ends: " Madam, your most affectionate aunt
and humble servant, Elizabeth Hill." There is
another letter at Blenheim, which has never been
published, which merits citation. It is from Abigail
herself at a later stage, when she was Mrs. Masham,
climbing by devious ways into favour with the Queen,
and it contains the following significant admission :
" Falsehood and folly were never great strangers
about courts, and yet Your Grace is so far happy
that your greatest enemies never reproached you
either with want of sense or sincerity." ^
No attempt has been made in these pages to dis
guise the freaks and foibles of the Duchess. The
^ Blenheim Papers. a Ibid.

Ch. xxv] a GREAT ENGLISHWOMAN 497
worst that can be urged against her, and on that point
she cannot be defended, were her implacable resent
ments against two of her own children — Lady Godol
phin and the Duchess of Montagu. But in all
quarrels there are two sides, and they assuredly were
cross-grained and undutiful daughters.
But what about the virtues of the Duchess ? They
have been ignored with a shrug of the shoulders as if
they were negligible. But they were real and cannot
be lightly dismissed. She held the reins of authority
with strong, masterful, but clean hands. She was a
capricious, exacting, but loving and devoted wife. The
purity of her life was conspicuous in an age of licence.
She had a high sense of public duty, and was not to
be bribed when other gold keys than the one which
she wore at her waist opened most doors. She had a
patriotic love of England, insular perhaps, but none
the less real. For those who were in her service her
sympathy was open-handed and unparaded. She was
endowed with practical capacity, and revealed it in
small things as well as in great, and her allegiance to
the claims of honour when she was in a responsible posi
tion is not open to challenge. She was almost inclined
to forgive Swift all his bitter attacks because " Gulh-
ver's Travels " was the surprise and delight of her
old age. She wished the man had known the Duke
and herself at closer quarters when their battle ran
hard. " The brave old Duchess," as Thackeray
described her, was kind, not irK an emotional or
sentimental, but in a practical and lavish way, especi
ally to dependents, and she was superb in her devotion
to the memory of the man who worshipped her.
Fielding was right : Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough—
when all that can be urged against her on the score
of temper, ambition, and arrogance, is admitted —
stands on the page of history as a briUiant figure,
and was in truth, a " glorious woman." 32

498 IN DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS [Ch. xxv
This book opened with Sarah Jennings; it shaU
close with John Churchill, who loved her with an
undivided heart. England to-day is not merely
proud of the achievements, but can afford to be
generous to the faults, of the man whom William III.
on his death-bed, at the dawn of the eighteenth
century, described as of " cool head and warm
heart," when he advised the Princess about to succeed
to the sceptre to entrust to Marlborough the destinies
of the nation in the tremendous struggle which was
then impending with the inordinate claims of France.
The genius of the great soldier rose to the occasion.
His resistless sword broke the power of Louis XIV.,
defended the United Provinces, saved the Empire
of Leopold I., and raised England to supremacy in
the councils of Europe.
Brief as the reign of Anne was, Marlborough made
it illustrious. It is the magic of his name and the
splendour of his services which lend to its annals
their chief distinction. It requires a certain moral
hardihood to attempt to pass judgment on another's
motives. Actions lie open, but what determined
them is concealed. Human nature is swayed to
and fro when the " tide in the affairs of man "
runs deep and swift. The point to determine is
whether that which was noble and unselfish, or that
which was less worthy, prevailed. The magnitude
of Marlborough's shining achievements is not all that
can be urged on his behalf. What turns the scale
in his favour is his devotion to duty, the goodness of
his heart, the patience and chivalry which were
conspicuous in his life . If it be true that Marlborough
is an instance of that " strange dualism in men which
makes them partly good and partly bad, sometimes
strong and sometimes weak,"! it can at least be
claimed that the ruling motives of his life were
! "Miscellanies," by Viscount Morley; vol. iv., p. 187.

Ch. xxv] MARLBOROUGH'S QUALITIES 499
noble, even though there were moments when his
conduct, like that of other men less highly placed,
less greatly tempted, was open to question. He had
his weaknesses ; no attempt has been made in these
pages to conceal them. He intrigued, like all the
prominent statesmen of an age when there were rival
claimants for the throne and no one could forecast
what would happen in the realm. But the final and
over-mastering impression which Marlborough leaves
— apart from his ardent devotion to the Queen, and his
far-reaching services to the Common Cause — is that
of quiet, even-tempered, heroic strength — a strength
which proved superior to the cruel strain of adverse
fortune, no less than to the insidious pitfalls which
lurk in the path of unrivalled triumph.

TABLE OF THE CHURCHILL FAMILY.

Sir Winston Churchill, b. circa 1620 ; d. 1688= Elizabeth, daughter of Sir John Drake, Bart., of Ashe, Devonshire.

John, ist Duke of=Sarah, daughter of

Marlborough
K.G. ; b. May 24,
1650 ; d. June
16, 1722.

Richard Jennings,
of Sandridge,
Co. Herts ; b. 1660 ;
d. 1744.

George, b. 1654 ;
d. 1710;
Admiral R.N.

Charles, b. 1656 ;
d. 1714 ;
General.

Arabella, b. 1648 ; d. 1730 ;
mistress of James 11.

4 other sons and
3 other daughters.

[Arabella married afterwards Colonel Charles
Godfrey, Master of the Jewel Office.]

James Fitzjames, Duke of Berwick ; b. 1671 ; d. 1734. Henry Fitzjames, Duke of Albemarle ;* b. 1673 ; d. 1702.

John, Marquess
of Blandford ;
b. 1686; d. 1703.

Henrietta, b. 1681 ;=Francis, 2nd

1733 (succeeded
her father as
Duchess of Marl
borough 1722).

Earl of
Godolphin.

I
Anne, ¦
b. 1682 ;
d. 1716.

Wilham. Marquess of
Blandford ; d. 1731.

Charles Spencer,t
3rd Earl of
Sunderland.

Elizabeth, =Scroop, 4th Earl of Mary, = John, 2nd

b. 1685
d. 1714

Bridgewater
(created Duke of
Bridgewater 1720) ;
d. 1745.

b. 1687 ;
d. 1751.

Duke of
Montagu,
KG.;
d. 1749-

Two sons,
died young.

Anne, d. 1763 ; mar.
(i) Wriothesley,
3rd Duke of Bedford ;
(2) William, 3rd
Earl of Jersey.

Isabella, mar.
( I) William,
Duke of
Manchester ;
(2) Edward,
Earl Beaulieu.

Mary, d. 1775 ;
mar. George, 4th
Earl of Cardigan
(created Duke of
Montagu, 1766).

Robert, 4th Earl of
Sunderland ;
b. 1704 ; d. 1729.

Charles. 5th Earl of Sunderland— Elizabeth, daughter
(succeeded his aunt Henrietta of Thomas, Lord
as 3rd Duke of Marlborough Trevor.
in 1733)- George, 4th Duke, and
from him succeeding Dukes of
Marlborough in direct descent.

Anne, b. 1702 ;
d. 1769 ; mar.
William, ist
Viscount Bateman.

Diana, d. 1735 ;
mar. John, 4th
Duke of Bedford.

John, b. 1708 ;
d. 1746 ; mar.
Georgiana,
daughter of
Earl Granville
(ancestor of the
Earls Spencer).

* Title created by James II. after the Revolution, and therefore never recognized in this country.
•^ Charles, 3rd Karl of Sunderland, was the grandson of Henry, 3rd Lord Spencer of Wormleighton, wbo was created Earl of Sunder
land in iS*^. and ^was killed at Newbnrv in the same vear. *

INDEX

" Account of the Conduct of the
Duchess of Marlborough," 326,
455; Voltaure asked to edit it,
455; its contents described,
464 foil. ; its original title, 465 ;
Lord Macaulay's criticism of
it, 471
Act of Settlement, 58, 62, 95, 393
Addison, loi ; on Henrietta
Churchill, 118, 419; poem on
the Battle of Blenheim, 271;
made Under-Secretary of State,
271 ; allusion to the relationship
between Harley and Abigail
Hill, 272; writes for the Whig
Examiner, 344; dedicates his
poem " Rosamund " to the
Duchess of Marlborough, 452;
description of Marlborough in
his poem, " Blenheim," 464
Albans, St., almshouses built by
the Duchess of Marlborough,
440, 476. See also Holywell
House
Albemarle, Lady, " the English "
of. 93
Albemarle, Lord, attacked by the
French at Denain, 390
Almshouses at St. Albans, built
and endowed by the Duchess of
Marlborough, 440, 476
Anne, Queen: birth, 3; girlhood,
7, 11; first meeting with the
future Duchess of Marlborough,
7, 8; marriage, 36, 40; allegiance
to Protestantism, 32, 36, 37;
confidence in Lady Churchill,
38, 39; characteristics, 38, 72,
102, 103, 149, 265, 266; kind
ness to Lady Churchill, 39;
liking for the Earl of Mulgrave,
40; Elector of Hanover a
suitor for her hand, 41; rela
tions with her husband, 42;
visit to The Hague, 42 ; dishke

of the Countess of Clarendon,
43, 44; flight from London, 52;
banquet in her honour at
Nottingham, 52 ; apartments
allotted to her in St. James's
Palace, 56; birth of a son,
created Duke of Gloucester,
41, 56, 85; letter to the Princess
of Orange in defence of Lady
Marlborough, 61; her abandon
ment of form and ceremony in
her friendship with Lady Marl
borough, 64, 65 ; takes the name
of " Mrs. Morley," 64; dislike
of the Prince of Orange, 66 ; her
Protestantism, 67; coldness to
wards her sister Mary, 72, 73,
75; assures her father of her
" duty and submission," 76; let
ter to Lady Marlborough on the
Duke's imprisonment in the
Tower, 77, 79; impassioned ap
peal to Lady Marlborough to re
main at Court, 80, 83 ; com
plains to her sister of neglect,
80, 82; removes to Berkeley
House, 84; final meeting with
her sister, 85; implores Lady
Marlborough not to leave her,
89; reconciliation with King
William, 91, 93; removes to
St. James's Palace, 92, 94; her
opinion of her son the Duke of
Gloucester, 95; death of her
son, 95; her accession, loi;
some features of her brilliant
reign, loi, 102; coronation, 101,
106; distrust of the Whigs,
103, 130, 308; devotion to
the Established Church, 103,
149, 151; first speech from
the throne, 104; her scruples
about her brother at St. Ger
mains, 104, 106, 265; incident
after her coronation, io6; de-

501

S02

INDEX

Clares war against France, 107;
gift to Henrietta Churchill, 117;
confers a dukedom on Marl
borough, 113; her sympathy
with the Marlboroughs on the
death of Lord Blandford, 123;
repugnance to Dissenters, 131;
founds " Queen Anne's Bounty,"
131; her exacting demands
upon the Duchess of Marl
borough, 138, 140; criticizes
the great men of the Court,
139; early relations with Abi
gail Hill, 145 ; warns the
Duchess of Marlborough against
Abigail, 145, 146; afflicted with
gout, 146; resents the Duchess's
long absences from Court, 148,
230; difierence of opimon with
tiie Duchess on religion and
politics, 149, 152; distrust of new
ideas, 149; obstinacy, 149, 302;
her chief wealaiess, 149; high
Toryism, 149; Kneller's portrait
of her, 161; protests inviolable
attachment to the Duke and
Duchess of Marlborough, 163;
her reception of the news of the
Battle of Blenheim, 209; gift
to Colonel Parke, 209; con
gratulatory letter to Marl
borough, 210; returns thanks
at St. Paul's, 211; confers the
Manor of Woodstock upon
Marlborough, 213; orders Blen
heim Palace to be built, 214;
letter of encouragement to
Marlborough in the campaign
of 1705, 235; returns thanks at
St. Paul's for the victory at
Ramillies, 246; letters to Marl
borough after the Battle of
Oudenarde, 256, 259; her char
acter compared with the
Duchess of Marlborough's, 265,
266; loss of her children, 265;
reproaches herself for deserting
her father, 265; fondness for
tittle-tattle, 267; attends the
secret marriage of Abigail Hill,
269; letter, appealing for for
bearance, to the Duchess, 270;
growing coolness between her
and the Duchess of Marlbor
ough, 271, 276; protests her at
tachment to the Duchess, 271;
letter to Marlborough on the
coolness and neglect of his

Duchess, 275; scene at an in
terview with the Duchess, 279;
alleged secret correspondence
with Hau-ley, 281; grief at the
death of Prince George, 281;
her unconcern about the Battle
of Malplaquet, 300; charges the
Duchess of Marlborough with
attempting to ruin Mrs.Masham,
302; her secret packet, 307,
396; attitude towards the prob
able succession of the House
of Hanover, 307; preferences
for a Coalition Government, 307;
dislike of Lord Sunderland,
308; her promotion of Jack
Hill, 310, 311; supports Sache
verell and the High Church
party, 312; her last conversa
tion with the Duchess, 323-326;
asks the Duchess for the return
of her letters, 327; her ap
pointment of the Duke of
Shrewsbury, 329 ; dismisses
Sunderland, 331; proposes a
reconciliation between Godol
phin and Harley, 337; letter
to Marlborough announcing
Godolphin's dismissal, 338 ;
gives Marlborough an audience,
348; her dismissal of Marl
borough, 355, 360; appoints
the Duchess of Somerset Mis
tress of the Robes, and Mrs.
Masham Keeper ' of the Privy
Purse, 356; presents Prince
Eugene with a sword, 366;
prohibits any further payments
for the building of Blenheim
Palace, 370; speech from the
throne on terms of peace with
France, 374; illness and death
(1714), 388, 389; her preferences
for the Pretender as her suc
cessor, 392, 397; partiality for
the Duke of Shrewsbury, 405
Antwerp, surrendered to Marl
borough's army, 244
Arbuthnot, Dr., marriage of Abi
gail Hill at his lodgings, 269,
319
Argyle, Duke of, helps to bring
about the Hanoverian succes
sion, 405
Athlone, Earl of: his recognition
of Marlborough's ability as a
commander, iii; death, 157,
171

INDEX

503

" Atossa," Pope's, said to have
represented the . Duchess of
Marlborough, 453
Atterbury, 343
Bateman, Lady {nie Lady Anne
Spencer) : takes part in private
theatricals at Blenheim Palace,
412; relations with her grand
mother, the Duchess of Marl
borough, 434; marries William,
Viscount Bateman, afterwards
second Duke of Manchester,
434
Bavaria, Elector of, ally of
France, 171, 250; loss of troops
at Ramillies, 244
Bedford, Anne, Duchess of, grand
daughter of the Duke of Marl
borough. See also Egerton,
Lady Anne.
Bedford, Duke of, marries Lady
Anne Egerton, 430
Bedford, fourth Duke of, marries
Lady Di Spencer, 431; helps
the Duchess of Marlborough
with her correspondence, 431;
death, 431
Berkeley House, residence of the
Prince and Princess of Den
mark, 84
Berni, Marquis de, attachment
to Frances Jennings, 4, 6
Berry, Duke of, in the campaign
of 1708, 251 ; watches the
Battle of Oudenarde from a
church steeple, 255
Berwick, Duke of, his victory at
Almanza, 248; commands on
the Rhine, 250; Marlborough's
political relations with him, 387 ;
urges that Prince James (Pre
tender) should take a seat in
the House of Lords, 403; pro
poses to " dish the Whigs," 404
Blague, Mistress, married to Sid
ney Godolphin, 33
Blandford, Charles, Marquis of,
son of the first Duke of Marl
borough, 68, 70, 120; his death,
69, 79, 120, 123; Godolphin's
impressions of him, 120; traits
of character, 120; portrait by
Kneller, 120; companionship
with the Duke of Gloucester,
120; at Cambridge, 120, 122;
letter to his father, 121; monu
ment at King's College, 123

Blandford, William, Marquis of,
son of Henrietta, Duchess of
Marlborough, 434; marriage
with a burgomaster's daughter,
434; death at Oxford, 435
Blayney, Lady, friendship with
the Duchess of Marlborough,
440
" Blenheim," poem by Addison,
271, 464
Blenheim, Battle of, preparatory
movements of the armies, 190,
191; Marlborough warned
against venturing an engage
ment, 191 ; strength of con
tending armies, 192; weakness
of the French-Bavarian army,
193; Marlborough's plan of
attack, 193; religious services
in the regiments, 194; de
scription of the battle, 194-202 ;
the issue, 202 ; efiect on France,
207; reception of the news of
victory by Queen Anne and the
Duchess of Marlborough, 208,
209; depicted on the Blenheim
tapestry, 381; depicted on the
ceiling of Blenheim Palace hall,
460
Blenheim Palace, ordered by
Queen Anne to be built for the
i3uke and Duchess of Marl
borough, 214; its architect, 216;
described by Voltaire, 218;
foundation-stone, 219; bow-
window room, 220, 222, 382;
performance of plays, 220; sup
ply of stone for its building,
220; alteration of plans, 220;
extent of its park, 221; its
general plan described, 222; the
long library, 223, 458; entrance
arch erected by the Duchess,
223 ; pillar-monument, 223 ; de
molition of the old Manor House
in the park, 283; building work
suspended, 345, 357; ;£20,ooo
allowed by the Queen for con
tinuing the building, 357; Marl
borough orders the work to
be resumed, 359; further pay
ments prohibited by the Queen,
370; tapestries, 380-382; the
bow - window room with De
Vest's masterpiece, 382; quar
rel between the Duchess and
Vanbrugh on the expense of
building, 409; a " chaos " in

504

INDEX

1716, 410; Act of Parliament
acknowledging the Crown's re
sponsibility, 410, 457; money
laid out by the Duke, 411;
Godolphin's authorization of ad
ditional expenditure, 411; the
question of expenditure thrown
into Chancery, 411; sum of
money settled by the Duke on
the Duchess for its completion,
411; total cost, 411; plays per
formed in the bow -window
room, 412; the Duchess, in her
old age, attends to its comple
tion, 456, 457; statue of Queen
Anne, 458; costly pictures, 458;
Sunderiand library, 458; Ra
phael's Ansidei Madonna, 458;
historical portraits by Vandyck,
Kneller, Romney, Reynolds,
and others, 459; story about
Closterman's family group,
459; Rysbrack's marble bust of
the Duke, and other sculpture,
459 ; the present Duke's literary
collection, 460; La Guerre's al
legorical frescoes, 460; Sir James
Thornhill's Battle of Blenheim
on the ceiling of hall, 460 ; monu
ment in private chapel to the
memory of the Duke, 460;
bridge across the lake, with its
chambers, 460 ; portico, 460;
column of Victory, 460, 461 ; tri
umphal arch, 461 ; gardens,
planned by W. Kent, 461, 462;
the lake, 462; extent of the
park, 462 ; clumps of trees repre
senting the arrangement of
troops at the Battle of Blen
heim, 463; muniment-room, 481
Blenheim Papers, classified by
Dr. Coxe, 479; classification by
the present author, 480; dis
covery of important documents,
480
Blenheim village, held by Tallard
and his army, 191; fortified,
193; destroyed, 200
Bolingbroke, Viscount, his leading
characteristics, 137, 393; Secre
tary of War in Godolphin's
Ministry, 166; attitude towards
the Duchess of Marlborough,
229; fulsome letter to Marl
borough (1708), 258; driven
from of&ce, 262; accession to
power (1710), 304, 339; cham

pion of the Church, 340 ; starts
the Examiner, 343 ; raised to the
peerage, 350 ; rivalry with Lord
Oxford, 389; his part in the
negotiations for peace, 391, 393;
intrigues with the Pretender,
392, 396; appointed Prime
Minister, 396; dismissed from
ofi&ce, 397; letter to Swift, 397;
Pope's literary executor, 454;
said to have written an inscrip
tion for the column of Victory at
Blenheim, 460 ; requests the loan
of papers from the Duchess for
a book on the War of the Span
ish Succession, 465; charges
Marlborough with treason, 490
Bonn, capitulation of, 159
Bouchain, capture of, 353, 377;
siege depicted on the Blenheim
tapestry, 381 ; surrendered to
the French, 391
Boufflers, French Field-Marshal,
surrenders Lille, 257; supports
Villars at Malplaquet, 295; his
retreat before Marlborough, 298
Boyne, Battle of the, 58
Bribe, ofiered to Marlborough by
Louis XIV., 292, 354, 395
Bridge in Blenheim Park, 460
Bridgewater, Earl (afterwards
Duke) of, 69; appointed Cham
berlain to the Prince of Wales,
406
Bridgewater, Elizabeth, Countess
of, third daughter of the first
Duke of Marlborough, mar
ries Scroop Egerton (afterwards
Earl and Duke of Bridgewater) ,
69, 118, 419; characteristics,
119, 228, 386, 417, 425; death,
70, 119, 386, 425; her mother's
favourite daughter, 119, 417;
her marriage gift from Princess
Anne, 119
Bringfield, Colonel, Marlborough's
chief Aide-de-Camp, 178; killed
at Ramillies, 178, 243
Brown, Lancelot, gardener at
Hampton Court, makes the lake
in Blenheim Park, 462
Bruges, entry of the Duke of
Vendome's army, 251
Brussels, surrender of, 244; in
vested by the Duke of Ven
dome's army, 257; relieved by
Marlborough, 257
Buckingham, Duchess of, her

INDEX

SOS

character said to have been re
presented in Pope's " Atossa,"
454
Burgundy, Duke of, joint com
mander of the French forces in
1708, 250; captures the line of
the Scheldt, 251 ; conflict of
opinion with the Duke of Ven
dome on approaching Oude
narde, 252; watches the Battle
of Oudenarde from a church
steeple, 255; death, 371
Burlington, Countess of, friend
ship with the Duchess of Marl
borough, 455
Burlington, Earl of, recommends
William Kent to the Duchess of
Marlborough as designer of the
Blenheim gardens, 461
Burnet, Bishop, on William's
dismissal of Marlborough, 75;
appointed Governor to the Duke
of Gloucester in conjunction
with Marlborough, 94; friend
ship with the Duchess of Marl
borough, 153, 446; His " His
tory," 317, 465; suggests the
writing of a part of the " Ac
count of the Conduct," etc.,
465 ; on the indiscretions of the
Duchess, 485
Burnet, Mrs., friendship with the
Duchess of Marlborough, 440;
her political influence over the
Duchess, 442, 443
Byng, Admiral Sir George, frus
trates projected French inva
sion of Scotland, 250
Cadogan, General, Quartermaster-
General in Marlborough's army,
188; at RamiUies, 240; com
mands the advanced guard at
Oudenarde, 252; entrusted by
Marlborough with money for
investment, 378; sued by the
Duchess of Marlborough, 378;
appointed Master of the Horse,
406; incident of picking up
Marlborough's glove at the
siege of Menon, 488
Cairnes, Miss. See Blayney, Lady
Cambridge, Duke of (afterwards
George II.), in the campaign
of 1708, 251; Marlborough pro
poses that he should take a seat
in the House of Lords, 403 . See
also George II.

Cardonnel, Adam, secretary to
Marlborough, 178, 239
Carlyle, T., his opinion of Mac
aulay, 472
Carmarthen, Lord, implicated in
a plot for the restoration of
James, 76
CaroUne, Queen: her support of
Walpole rouses the resentment
of the Duchess of Marlborough,
439; on the Duchess's wealth,
and her appeals for appoint
ments for relatives at the Court,
456
Carteret, Lady Georgiana, mar
ried to Jack Spencer, 431
Charles II., Restoration, i, 2;
his treaty with Louis XIV., 9,
11; appoints John Churchill
Colonel, 18; alleged secret mar
riage with Lucy Walters, 34;
relations with the Duke of York,
36; a Papist in secret, 36;
approves of the marriage of
Princess Anne with Prince
George of Denmark, 41; his
opinion of Prince George, 41 ;
death, 43 ; remark on a charac
teristic of the Stuarts, jocular
remark to the Duke of York, 45
Charles II. of Spain, and the ques
tion of his successor, 97; the
dismemberment of his kingdom
proposed, 98; bequeaths his
dominions to the Duke of
Anjou, 98; death, 98
Charles of Austria, Archduke,
nominated by Leopold I. to
succeed Charles II. of Spain,
97, 98; proclaimed King of
Spain, 168; presents his sword
to the Duke of Marlborough,
169; visits England, 169; pre
sents a valuable ring to the
Duchess of Marlborough, 169;
recalled to Austria, and suc
ceeds to the throne as the Em
peror Charles VI. , 169, 351, 372 ;
acquires the possessions of
PhiUp V. in Italy and the
Netherlands by the Treaty of
Utrecht, 394
Chesterfield, Lord, on some of
Marlborough's characteristics,
115, 180; proposes for the hand
of Lady Diana Spencer, 432;
influence over the Duchess of
Marlborough, 433, 445; re-

So6

INDEX

quested by the Duchess to
supervise the preparation of a
Life of Marlborough, 478
Chevalier de St. George. See
Pretender, Old
Churchill, Anne, second daughter
of the Duke of Marlborough,
marries Lord Spencer (after
wards Earl of Sunderland), 69,
117, 151. See also Sunderland,
Anne, Countess of
Churchill, Arabella, daughter of
Sir Winston Churchill, and sister
of the Duke of Marlborough,
4 ; Maid of Honour to the
Duchess of York, 4, 13 ; relations
with the Duke of York, 5, 15
Churchill, Charles, enters the
Army, 13; reputation as a
soldier, 13; accompanies his
brother to Holland, 170; com
mands the infantry (1704), 176
Churchill, Elizabeth, third daugh
ter of the Duke of Marlborough.
See Bridgewater, Countess of
Churchill, George, enters the
navy, 13; rises to the rank of
Admiral, 14; position at the
Admiralty, 14; death, 14; an
indiscreet Tory, 138
Churchill, Henrietta, eldest daugh
ter of the Duke of Marlborough,
68 ; marries Lord Rialton, after
wards second Earl of Godolphin,
68, 117, 419; becomes second
Duchess of Marlborough, 419.
See also Marlborough, Henri
etta, second Duchess of
Churchill, John. See Marl
borough, John, Duke of
Churchill, Mary, youngest daugh
ter of the Duke of Marlborough,
marries Viscount Monthermer
(afterwards Duke of Montague),
69, 226, 419. See also Monta
gue, Mary, Duchess of
Churchill, Theobald, army chap
lain, 14
Churchill, Sir Winston, impover
ished patrimony, 13; death,
13; his family, 13-16; comp
troller of the Board of Green
Cloth, 14; father of Arabella
Churchill, and John Churchill
(afterwards Duke of Marl
borough), 14; opposed to the
marriage of John Churchill to
Sarah Jennings, 19, 23

Cibber, Colley, his reminiscence
of Lady Churchill at Notting
ham, 52, 53
Clarendon, Countess of, unsym
pathetic nature, 39, 43
Clarendon, Earl of, made Viceroy
of Ireland^ 44
Clarke, Dr. Samuel, chaplain to
Queen Anne, friendship with
the Duchess of Marlborough,
153, 446; declines the post of
Master of the Mint, 447
Clayton, Mrs. See Sundon, Lady
Cleveland, Duchess of, intrigues
of, 16
Column of Victory, in Blenheim
Park, described, 223, 460
Compton, Henry, Bishop of Lon
don, his influence over the Prin
cesses Mary and Anne, 33, 36
" Conduct of the Allies," the,
answer of Dr. Hare to, 123, 448
Congreve, the poet, loi ; influ
ence over Henrietta, second
Duchess of Marlborough, 419
Cornbury, Lord Rochester's seat
near Woodstock, 214, 220
Courtin, Honor6, French Ambas
sador, describes the beauty of
Frances Jennings (afterwards
Duchess of Tjrrconnel), 3
Coxe, Archdeacon, classifies the
Blenheim Papers, 479 ; his
" Memoirs of the Duke of Marl
borough," 479
Craggs, Mr., Secretary, on the
estrangement between the
Queen and the Duchess of
Marlborough, 358
Cutts, Lord, his soldierly quali
ties, 177; nickname, 177; or
dered to open the Battle of
Blenheim, 193, 196; leads second
attack, 197
D'Arco, General, holds the Schel
lenberg, 182
Declaration of Indulgence, 47, 50
Declaration of Rights, 48, 55
Defoe, loi
Denain, engagement between the
Dutch and the French at, 390
Denmark, King of, ofiers to buy
the Sunderland Library, 459
Derby, Lady, 90
Devonshire, Duchess of, friend
ship with the Duchess of Marl
borough, 445

INDEX

507

Dillon, Lady, friendship with the
Duchess of Marlborough, 445
Dissenters, Queen Anne's view of,
131; enactment against them,
152
Donawerth, captured by Marl
borough, 188; siege depicted
on the Blenheim tapestry, 381
Douay surrendered to French
army, 391
Dunkirk to be garrisoned by Eng
lish troops, 374
Durel, Colonel, one of Marl
borough's Aides-de-Camp, 210
Egerton, Lady Anne, takes part
in private theatricals at Blen
heim Palace, 412; married to
the Duke of Bedford, 430
Egerton, Scroop. See Bridge-
water, Earl (afterwards Duke)
of
Ely, Bishop of, persuades Church
ill to join the Prince of Orange,
54
Eugene, Prince, his high estimate
of Marlborough, 155; concerts
secretly with Marlborough the
plan of campaign (1704), 167,
174; appointed to the supreme
command of the Imperial
troops, 179; reasons for enter
ing the service of the Emperor
Leopold, 179; friendship with
Marlborough, 180; opinion of
Marlborough's troops, 180;
takes command on the Rhine,
181 ; disposition of his troops at
the Battle of Blenheim, 192;
storms the enemy, 201; carries
on the war in Italy, 231; de
layed by Court formalities in
joining Marlborough (1708),
251 ; joins Marlborough at Oude
narde, 252; unfavourable to
Marlborough's project for the
invasion of France, 257; sup
ports Marlborough at Malpla
quet, 293, 295; his horse shot
under him, 296; his share in
winning the Battle of Malpla
quet, 300; recalled from the
Netherlands on the accession of
Charles VI., 351; visit to Eng
land, 365; loyalty to Marlbor
ough, 365, 366; said to be joining
with Marlborough in a con
spiracy, 367; quits England in

indignation, 367; captures
Quesnoy, 373; deserted by Or
mond, 373; besieges Landre
cies, 390; defeated at Denain,
390; qualification at the be
quest to him of Marlborough's
sword, 437
Examiner, the, started by Henry
St. John, 343
Exclusion Bill, 34
Fenwick, Sir John, Jacobite con
spiracy of, 115
Ferguson, Brigadier, at the Battle
of Blenheim, 197
Fielding, his admiration for the
Duchess of Marlborough, 486;
calls her a " glorious woman,"
486, 497
Fishe, Captain, one of the Duke s
equerries, talces part in theatri
cals at Blenheim Palace, 412
Fitzharding, Lady, 91, 127, 275;
picture at Blenheim, 128
Floyd, Captain, 491
France, strength of the army
massed against Marlborough.
171; the army hoodwinked by
Marlborough's movements
(1704), 175; at the Battle of
Blenheim, 192-202; losses at
Ramillies, 244; strength of the
army in 1708, 250; on the verge
of despair after the Battle of
Oudenarde, 289; indignation at
the stipulations of the Allies
for peace, 293 ; panic created by
the Battle of Malplaquet, 298;
a French officer's opinion on
the skill and courage of the
Allies, 300; settlement of the
throne, 374; conditions of the
Treaty of Utrecht, 389 ; song of
the women about Marlborough,
390
Frescoes at Blenheim Palace, 460
Gardens at Blenheim Palace,
planned by W. Kent, 461 ; de
scribed by Nathaniel Haw
thorne, 462
Garth, Sir Samuel, attachment to
Marlborough, 407; knighted
with Marlborough's sword, 408 ;
letters to the Duchess on the
Duke's health, 408; on the
Duchess of Marlborough's ene
mies, 444; wins a point against

So8

INDEX

the Duchess in the Duke's last
illness, 446
Gaultier, Abbe, secret political
agent of France, 395, 404
Gay, John, author of the " Beg
gars' Opera," helped by the
Duchess, 486
George I., as Elector of Hanover,
proposes for the hand of Prin
cess Anne, 41; accession of, 388
George II., on the Stuart Sove
reigns, 266. See also Cam
bridge, Duke of
George of Denmark, Prince, mar
ried to Princess Anne, 36, 40;
character and manners, 38, 40,
41, 85, 141 ; Charles II.'s opinion
of him, 41; his death, 42, 211,
265, 281 ; joins the Army of
William III., 51 ; " Mr. Morley,"
65; friendship with the Marl
boroughs, 70, 211; slighted by
King William, 70, 73 ; nickname
applied to him by James II.,
85; escape from death in the
Irish Rebellion, 85 ; story of his
fealty to the Queen, 106; the
Duchess of Marlborough's criti
cism of him, 141; congratu
latory letter to Marlborough on
the victory at Blenheim, 210
George of Hanover, Prince. See
Cambridge, Duke of; and
George II.
Gertruydenberg, conference at,
301, 328, 395
Ghent, surrender of, to Marl
borough, 244; surrendered to
the French, 251
Gibraltar ceded by Spain to Eng
land by the Treaty of Utrecht,
394
Gloucester, Duke of, son of Prin
cess Anne and Prince George of
Denmark, 41, 56, 86; made
Knight of the Garter by Wil
liam III., 86; under the tuition
of Bishop Burnet, 94, 95; his
mother's opinion of him, 95;
death, 95
Glover, Richard, chosen by the
Duchess, in association with
Mallet, to prepare a Life of Marl
borough, 478
Godolphin,Francis, Lord (second) :
marries Henrietta, eldest daugh
ter of the Duke of Marlborough,
68, 117; dismissed from Court,

339; reinstated at Court, 406;
declines to act as peacemaker
between the Duchess of Marl
borough and her daughters,
427
Godolphin, Lady. See Churchill,
Henrietta; also Rialton, Lady;
and Mariborough, Henrietta,
second Duchess of
Godolphin, Lady Henrietta,
granddaughter of the Duke
and Duchess of Marlborough,
marries the Duke of Newcastle,
430
Godolphin, Lady Mjiry (grand
daughter of the Duke and
Duchess of Marlborough), mar
ries the Duke of Leeds, 430
Godolphin, Sidney, Lord, mar
riage, 33; friendship with John
Churchill, 33, 115, 116; im
plicated in a plot for the restora
tion of James, 76; appointed
Lord High Treasurer, 114, 129;
Charles II.'s opinion of him,
115; confidential friend of the
Duchess of Marlborough, 116;
impressions of Lord Blandford,
120; called " Mr. Montgomery,"
139, 271; intrigues of his Cabi
net, 162; contemplates resigna
tion, 162; authorizes Vanbrugh
to build Blenheim Palace, 219;
demands the removal of Harley
and St. John from office, 262;
skilful management of the fi
nances, 263; confidential let
ters to Marlborough, 273; in
terest in the building of Blen
heim Palace, 287; candour to
wards the Queen, 288; resents
the influence of Harley, 288;
precarious position in 1709, 289;
dismissed from office, 303, 332,
336, 337; his opinion of the age,
305 ; early Tory principles, 308 ;
causes the prosecution of Sa
cheverell, 311; circumstances
leading to his fall, 328, 330; last
illness and death, 374-376;
Smollett's opinion of him, 376;
Pope's eulogy on him, 376;
compared with Aristides, 383
Goldsmith, Oliver, his story of the
Duchess of Marlborough re
questing Voltaire to edit her
" Memoirs," 455
Goor, General, Dutch officer,

INDEX

509

mortally wounded at the storm
ing of the Schellenberg, 184
Graham of Claverhouse, leader of
rising in Scotland against Wil
liam III., 57
Grand Alliance, the, formation of,
99
Griffith, Edward, husband of
Barbara Jennings, 3; becomes
secretary to Prince George of
Denmark and Comptroller of
the Board of Green Cloth, 31
Guerre, La, decorates Marl
borough House, 384; his por
trait of Dean Jones, 450; his
frescoes at Blenheim Palace,
460
Guildhall, London, colours and
standards captured at Ramillies
placed there, 246
Guiscard attempts to assassinate
Robert Harley, 350
Halifax, Lord, implicated in ne
gotiations for the restoration
of James, 76; urges a continua
tion of the war vrith France,
370
Hamilton, Anthony, author of
the De Grammont Memoirs, 5
Hamilton, Captain Sir George,
marries Frances Jennings, 5;
killed in battle, 6
Hammond, Mrs., attempts to
reconcile the Duchess of Marl
borough and the Duchess of
Montague, 429
Hanover, House of. See George
I.; George II. ; Sophia, Elec
tress
Hare, Dr. Francis, 120; tutor to
the Marquis of Blandford, 120;
Chaplain-General to the Forces,
123, 178; defends Marlborough
against Svrift's accusations, 123,
448 ; points out to the Duchess
her faults, 124, 448, 449; pro
jects a Life of Marlborough,
124; his "Journal" quoted,
205 ; influence with the Duchess
of Marlborough, 448
Harley, Robert. See Oxford,
Earl of
Hawthorne, Nathaniel, his im
pressions of the gardens at
Blenheim Palace, 462
Hay, Lord John, distinguished
officer under Marlborough, 177;

captures the Royal Standard
of France at Ramillies, 246
Hazlitt, W., opinion of the Blen
heim pictures, and of the
Duchess as an art collector, 458
Hedges, Sir Charles, aims at the
overthrow of Godolphin's
Government, 162; dismissed
from the Government to make
way for the Earl of Sunderland,
226
Henrietta Maria, Queen, takes
charge of Princess Anne when
a child, 42
Hensius, Antoine, urges Marl
borough to accept a dukedom,
iii; declines the overtures for
peace from Louis XIV., 290,
291
Hesse, Prince of, at the Battle
of Malplaquet, 298
" High-Fliers," the, 137
Hill, Abigail. See Masham, Mrs.
Hill family, the, generosity of the
Duchess of Marlborough to
them proved by letters. 278,
496
Hill, Francis, father of Mrs.
Masham, 142
Hill, Jack, befriended by the
Duchess of Marlborough, 143;
a page in the Household of
Prince George, and afterwards
Groom of the Bedchamber, 143;
enters the Army, 143; his in
gratitude to the Marlboroughs,
143; proposed promotion to an
important regiment, 310, 311
HiU, Mary, sister of Mrs. Masham,
142; placed in the Duke of
Gloucester's household, 144
Hoadly, Dr. Benjamin, friend
ship with the Duchess of Marl
borough, 153. 446; burnt in
effigy after Sacheverell's trial,
313; vsrrites the prologue for a
play performed at Blenheim
Palace, 412; his compliments to
the Duchess of Marlborough,
446; announces his translation
to the See of Hereford, 446;
letter of condolence to the
Duchess, 447; neglect of the
Duchess in her old age, 447
Hochstadt, position of the French
and the Bavarians at, 191
Holland, supported by British
troops against France, 34; in^

SIO

INDEX

subordination of Dutch Gener
als during Marlborough's record
campaign, 157; interference of
Field Deputies in the war, 157,
171, 234; self-interestedness of
its statesmen, 170, 257; in
competency of Generals, 170;
negotiations for peace with
France, 292; obtains fortresses
by the Treaty of Utrecht, 389,
394; cedes Sicily to the Duke
of Savoy, 394
Holstein, Prince of, at the Battle
of Blenheim, 198
Holywell House, built by the
Duke of Marlborough, 68; be
queathed by the Duchess of
Marlborough to Jack Spencer,
431
Hooke, Nathaniel, employed by
the Duchess of Marlborough to
edit her " Memoirs," 466
Huntingdon, Countess of. ap
pealed to by the Duchess of
Marlborough for reUgious con
solation, 475
Huntingdon, son of the Earl of
Cromartie, a suitor for the
hand of Lady Mary Churchill,
226
Huy, captured by Villeroy, 219,
234; retaken by Marlborough,
235
Hyde, Lady Anne, married to
James, Duke of York, 3
Ingoldsby, General, military re
nown, 177
Ingoldstadt, fortress of, 189; re
duced by Prince Lewis of Baden,
190
Ireland, revolt against William
III-. 57. 58; Battle of the Bojme,
58
Jacobites, the, plots of, 63, 75, 76,
115. 150. 306
James II., marriage with Anne
Hyde, and issue, 3; relations
with Arabella Churchill, 5, 15;
marriage with Mary of Modena,
8, 9, 10, II, 32; reception into
the Roman Catholic Church,
32; unpopularity when Duke
of York, 34, 35, 42; ordered by
Charles II. to The Hague, 34;
recognizes John Churchill's
abilities, 35; relations with

Charles II., 36; harsh and perse
cuting instincts, 36; confidence
in John Churchill, 38; accession.
43; unpopularity as King. 45,
47; feared by his children, 46;
birth of his son, 48; at Salis
bury, 50; his flight, and his
reason for it, 54, 55 ; supported
by Louis XIV., 57; lands in
Ireland, 58; death, 58, 96, 99
Jansen, Sir Theodore, sells the
Manor of Wimbledon to the
Duchess of Marlborough, 440
Jennings, Mrs., mother of the
Duchess of Mcirlborough, 3;
accepts apartments at St.
James's Palace, 6; relations
with her daughter Sarah, 12
Jennings, Barbara, second daugh
ter of Richard Jennings, 3;
married to Edward Griffith, 3;
monument to her memory, in
the Abbey Church of St. Albans,
3; death of her child, 31
Jennings, Frances, 3. See Tyr
connel, Duchess of
Jennings, Richard, ancestry, 2, 3;
Member of Parliament, 2; mar
riage, 3; family, 3, 4; death, 6
Jennings, Robert, letters from the
Duchess of Marlborough to
him, 382
Jenyns, John, grandfather of the
Duchess of Marlborough, 2
Johnson, Dr. Samuel, remark to
Boswell on Blenheim Park, 463 ;
erroneous statement in his
" Lives of the Poets " as to
Steele's possession of some of
the Marlborough papers, 477,
479; his opinion of the Duchess
of Marlborough, 484
Jones, Dr. Barzillai, Dean of Lis
more, appointed by Marl
borough domestic chaplain at
Blenheim, 450; character and
manners, 450-452; portrait on
the walls of Blenheim, 450;
the Duchess of Marlborough's
opinion of him, 451; dismissed
by the Duchess, 451
Joseph, Electoral Prince of Ba
varia, possible successor to
Charles II. of Spain, 97; death,
98
Joseph I., Emperor, death, 169,
351; succeeds Leopold I., 225;
protests against the dismissal of

INDEX

Sunderland, 334; terms of peace
with Louis XIV., 394
Kane, General, at the Battle of
Blenheim, 202
Kent, William, plans the gardens
at Blenheim Palace, 461, 462;
his skill as an architect, a
painter, and a sculptor, 462;
Horace Walpole's opinion of
him, 462
Kneller, Sir Godfrey, 102; pic
ture of the Duchess of Marl
borough and Lady Fitzharding,
128 ; his portrait of Queen Anne,
161 ; portrait of the Duke of
Marlborough, 413; portrait of
the Duchess bequeathed to
Grace Ridley, 442
Lake in Blenheim Park, 214; the
work of Lancelot Brown, 462 ;
admired by Prince de Ligne,
462
Landrecies besieged by Prince
Eugene, 390
Lechmere, Lady, friendship with
the Duchess of Marlborough,
440; correspondence with the
Duchess, 443, 444; criticism
of Steele's " Conscious Lovers,"
444; suggests inscriptions for
Blenheim Palace, 444; her
opinion of Dean Jones, 452
Leeds, Duke of, marriage with
Lady Mary Godolphin, 431
Leigh, Dr., of Balliol, death of
WilUam, Lord Blandford, at
his house, 435
Leigh, Lady, her " Memorials of
Old Warwickshire " cited, 435
Leopold I., Emperor: his claims
to the Crown of Spain, 97;
satisfaction with Marlborough's
attempts to save his crown,
211; confers the Princedom of
Mindelheim on Marlborough, 212
Les Diguieres, Due de, eulogy on
Marlborough, 380
Lewis of Baden, Prince, charac
ter, 171 ; joins Marlborough with
his troops, 181; leads the
charge at the Schellenberg, 184 ;
reduces Ingoldstadt, 190; fails
to support Marlborough in
1705, 231
Library at Blenheim Palace, 458,
459

S"

Li6ge, fall of, 108, 234; invested
by the French, 219; siege raised
by Marlborough, 235
Ligne, Prince de, opinion of the
lake in Blenheim Park, 462
Lille, siege of, 257
Locke, John, 102, 415
Louis XIV., his treaty with
Charles II., 9, 11 ; appoints John
Churchill a Colonel in the French
army, 18; ambitious aims, 56,
106; proclaims the son of
James II. King of England,
58, 96, 99; claims the throne of
Spain for his grandson, 97, 98;
plan of campaign in 1704, 172;
his inadequate estimate of
Marlborough's military skill,
1 74 ; his remark to Villeroy after
the defeat at Ramillies, 247;
refuses the terms of peace
offered by the Allies, 247; opens
negotiations with the States-
General for peace (1709), and
afterwards to the Allies, 290
foil.; refuses the stipulations
of the AlUes, 292, 328; appeals
to his people, 293; wishes to
head his army, 295; secret
terms of peace ofiered to him,
353. 354. 360; exclamation on
hearing of Marlborough's dis
missal, 356; copy at Blenheim
Palace of his letter to Cardinal
de Noailles, 362; seeks to can
cel the secret negotiations for
peace, 370; loses his daughter.
Duchess of Burgundy, her hus
band, and the Dauphin, 371;
fresh proposals to England for
peace, 372 ; satisfaction with the
terms of the Utrecht Peace,
393 ; gift to Queen Anne, 394
Love-letters of Marlborough, 19
foil.
Love-letters of Sarah, Duchess of
Marlborough, 20; entrusted to
Grace Ridley, 20 foil.
Lumley, General, distinction as
a soldier, 177; at the Battle of
Blenheim, 197
Luther. Dr.. Oxford physician,
one of Marlborough's medical
attendants, 408; letter to the
Duchess on the Duke's illness,
409
Macaulay, Lord, his opinion of

512

INDEX

the Duchess of Marlborough's
" Account of the Conduct," etc.,
471 ; his attacks on Marlborough,
XX, 471, 491; contempt for the
Duchess, 483; charges Marl
borough with a " hundred vil
lainies," 491
Mackay, General, crushes the re
bellion in Scotland against
William IIL, 58
Macpherson, James, the Stuart
Papers, 492
Maintenon, Madame de, 168; on
the panic created in France by
the Battle of Malplaquet, 298;
on the terms of peace offered to
France in 1709. 354; her com
ment on Marlborough's vic
tories. 354
Mallet. David, entrusted by the
Duciiess of Marlborough with
the task of writing a " Memoir "
of the Duke, 478
Malplaquet, Villars entrenches his
army at, 294; Battle of, 295-
298; described as a " deluge of
blood," 298; losses in the battle,
298; capture of La Cornette
Blanche standard, 298; battle
depicted on the Blenheim tapes
try, 381
Manchester, second Duke of, mar
ries Lady Isabella Montagu,
430
Manchester, Charles, first Duke of,
influence over the Duchess of
Marlborough, 445
Manley, Mrs., attacks the Duchess
of Marlborough in " The New
Atlantis," 377, 470, 484
Marchmont, Earl of, friendship
with the Duchess of Marl
borough, 445; consults Boling
broke as to the identity of
Pope's character of Atossa,
454
Marlborough, Charles Spencer,
third Duke of, 419, 436; sol
dierly qualities, 437; dies in
Westphalia, 437; marriage with
Miss Trevor, 437. See also
Sunderland, fifth Earl of
Marlborough, Henrietta, second
Duchess of. character, 70, 117,
228, 418; popularity, 369; suc
cession as Duchess on the death
of her father, 419; difier-
ences with and letters to her

mother, Sarah Duchess of
Marlborough, 419-421; her
liking for Congreve, 419; death,
436. See also Churchill, Hen
rietta; also Rialton, Lady; also
Godolphin, Lady
Marlborough, John, Duke of,
parentage and early life, 5;
page to the Duke of York, 5;
enters the Army, 1 4 ; at Tangiers ,
15; his appearance described
by Grammont, 15; as a courtier,
16; serves under the Duke of
Monmouth in Flanders, 16;
soldierly qualities, 17; Turenne's
opinion of him, 17; appointed
by Louis XIV. a Colonel in the
French army, 18; advanced by
Charles II., 18; courtship of
Sarah Jennings, 18-30; created
Earl of Marlborough, 21, 56;
marriage, 30 ; mission to William
of Orange, 30, 33; commander
of a brigade in Holland, 34;
in attendance upon the Duke of
York in Holland, 34; and in
Scotland, 35; mission to Paris,
35. 5°; created Baron ChurchiU
of Aymouth, 36 ; religious prin
ciples, 37; created Baron
Churchill of Sandridge, 48; at
titude towards James II., 48;
political views, 49, 133; cause
of his desertion of James, 49,
50, 53; letter to James, 54;
takes sides with William.
54 ; appointed Lieutenant-
General of the Forces, 56;
fighting in Ireland and in
Flanders, 58, 74; relations with
William IIL, 59, 74; Prince of
Vaudemont's opinion of him,
63, 64; "Mr. Freeman," 65;
country seat at St. Albans, 68 ;
his children, 68-70; dismissed
by King William, 75; sent to
the Tower, 76, 77; released from
the Tower, 77, 87; restored to
William's favour, 94; govemor
to the Duke of Gloucester in
conjunction with Bishop Bur
net, 94; appointed Commander-
in-Chief, 96; indignation with
the Whigs at their plot to ig
nore the rights of Anne to the
throne, 105; placed in supreme
command of the Army, 107;
Order of the Garter conferred

INDEX

513

upon him. 107; his first vic
tories over the French. 108;
letters to his wife during the
campaign, 108; narrowly es
capes capture by the French,
no; accepts a dukedom, 114,
136; traits of character de
scribed by Voltaire and Lord
Chesterfield, 115; friendship
with Godolphin, 1x5, ii6; grief
at the death of Lord Blandford,
120, 124; passion for liberty,
133; coolness and patience, 134,
267; devotion to the Duchess,
134. 135; discretion and fore
sight as a commander, 136; his
opinion of Jack Hill, 143; ad
vises the Duchess on her atti
tude to Abigail Hill, 148; op
posed to the marriage of his
daughter Anne with Charles
Spencer, 151 ; obstacles facing
him in the War of the Spanish
Succession, 154; his ill-disci
plined army, 154; magic of his
personality over his troops,
155, 156; foremost place held
by his military genius, 155;
Lord Roberts on the causes of
the devotion of the Army to
the Duke, 155; his campaigns
between 1703 and 1707. 156,
157; letters to the Duchess
from abroad, 158 foil.; compels
Bonn to capitulate, 159; pre
sents the Duchess with horses,
161; seeks to be independent
of political parties, 162; as
sailed by the Tories for his con
duct of the war, 163; hints to
the Duchess his wish to be re
lieved of his command, 163;
differences of opinion with the
Duchess, 164, 165; hostility to
the Jacobites. 165; seeks the
support of both political par
ties in the conduct of the war.
166; obtains the dismissal of
Nottingham and other Tories.
166; obtains the support of the
Cabinet and the Parliament.
and reorganizes his army, 167;
presented with a sword by the
Archduke Charles. King of
Spain, 169; returns to Holland
(1704), 169; effect upon him of a
letter from the Duchess. 170;
his retort to the Field Deputies

about Alexander the Great,
171; plan of campaign, 172;
reveals his secret plans to Go
dolphin. 172; contentions with
Field Deputies, 172; march to
Coblenz, 173; letters to the
Duchess (1704), 174 foil.; Eng
land alarmed by his plan of
campaign, 176; friendship with
Prince Eugene, 180; storms the
Schellenberg, 183 ; his report to
the Queen of the engagement,
185; takes Donawerth, 188;
joins Eugene's army on the
Danube, 190; warned against
attempting an attack at Blen
heim, 191; receives the Sacra
ment, 192; his plan of attack
at Blenheim, 192 ; orders the
advance, 196; narrow escape
from death, 196; critical posi
tion of his troops, 197 ; refuses a
parley, 201 ; his victory, 202 ;
letter to the Duchess conveyed
by Colonel Parke, 203; re
joinder to Tallard, 204; accepts
the Princedom of Mindelheim
from the Emperor Leopold, 212,
221 ; retakes Laundau, and cap
tures Treves and Trarbach,
212; mission to Berhn, 212;
visits The Hague, 212; arrives
in England with Tallard, 212;
receives the thanks of ParUa
ment, 212; rides to Westminster
Hall with captured standards.
213; presented with the Manor
and Honour of Woodstock, 213,
214; campaign of 1705, 219;
deprived of the principality of
Mindelheim. 221; his interest
in the building of Blenheim
Palace. 221, 232. 245. 261. 275;
miscarriage of his plan of cam
paign in 1705. 230; his depres
sion. 232; retakes Huy. raises
the siege of Liege, 235; thinks
of resigning his command,
235; forces the line at Tirle
mont, 236; his narrow escape
at Tirlemont, 237 ; his opinion of
Harley, 238; visit to Vienna,
and audience with Joseph I.,
238; urges the Duchess to ba
lenient with their daughters.
238. 418; attacked by pam
phleteers, 239. 247; opposes
Villeroy's army, 240; unhorsed
33

SI4

INDEX

at Ramillies, 243; his victory
at Ramillies, 243, 244; letter
to the Duchess on the victory,
244, 245; receives the thanks of
Parliament, 246; his title and
honours decreed to descend to
his daughters and their male
heirs, 246; charged with pro
longing the war for his own
advantage. 247, 290; visits the
Kings of Sweden, Prussia, and
Poland, and the Elector of
Saxony, 249; plan of campaign
in 1708, 250; victory at Oude
narde, 254 ; letter to the Duchess
announcing the victory, 255;
contemplates the invasion of
France, 256; march to the re
lief of Brussels, 257; at the siege
of Lille, 257; thanks of ParUa
ment conveyed to him at Brus
sels by the Speaker, 259; warns
the Queen against deserting
her Ministers, 260 ; his influence
in England begins to be under
mined, 261; buys pictures at
Brussels for Blenheim, 261, 275;
one of his favourite axioms, 267 ;
letters to the Duchess on Mrs.
Masham's influence and Tory
intrigues. 274; longs for quie
tude, 282. 289; orders tapestry
for Blenheim Palace. 286; joint-
plenipotentiary to The Hague
for negotiations of peace. 291 ;
a bribe ofiered him by France,
292, 354, 395; dissatisfied with
the terms proposed by the Al
Ues. 292; captures Tournay,
294; strength of his army at
Malplaquet, 295; his victory,
298; letter to the Duchess on
the battle, 299; piqued at the
Queen's unconcern about the
Battle of Malplaquet, 300; asks
to be appointed Captain-General
for life, 301; popular clamour
against him, 301, 302, 306, 354;
his view of the changed atti
tude of the Queen towards him
and the Duchess, 303; main
ambition to bring the war to a
triumphant conclusion, 309;
differences with the Queen on
the proposed appointment of
Colonel Hill, 310, 311; his dis
missal, 333; on Sunderland's
dismissal, 333; joint letter to

him from Godolphin, Somers,
Halifax, and others, 335; at
tacked by Swift, 342, 344; in
difference as to completion of
Blenheim Palace, 345; captures
Douay, Bethune, and other
places, 346; returns to England
(1711), 348; audience of the
Queen, and his attempt to effect
a reconciliation between the
Queen and the Duchess, 348,
349; begins a new campaign,
350; crosses the Scheldt and
takes Bouchain, 353 ; charges of
peculation against him, 354,
355. 360; dismissed by the
Queen, 355, 361; instructs Van
brugh to resume the works at
Blenheim Palace, 359; letter to
the Queen after his dismissal,
361 ; protests against a separate
peace with France, 362; chal
lenges Earl Poulett to a duel,
374 ; speech on the engagements
of England with the Allies, 374;
his position in 1712, 377; pro
ceedings against him for per
centages, 378; demand upon
him for ^£30,000 for Blenheim
Palace, 378; proposes to live
abroad, 378; entrusts General
Cadogan with money for in
vestment, 378; enthusiastic re
ception abroad, 379; popular
opinion in England of him,
380 ; eulogy on him by the Due
de Les Diguidres, 380; his com
missions to De Vost to produce
tapestries depicting his battles,
380; at Frankfort, 383; de
prived of the revenues of Min
delheim, 386; death of his third
daughter, the Duchess of Bridge-
water, 386; his communications
with the Court of Hanover, 387 ;
his chagrin at the terms of
peace, 391 ; his reception in
London after the Queen's death,
397. 398; gives the Elector of
Brunswick ;£20,ooo, 399; re
appointed Captain-General of
the Forces, 399; relations with
the Pretender, 400-403; efforts
to suppress the Jacobite rising,
400, 406; letters to the Duke of
Berwick, 401 ; paralytic seizures ,
407, 408. 409; present at the im
peachment of Oxford. 411; ex-

INDEX

SIS

clamation on looking at Knel
ler's portrait of himself, 413;
last days and death, 414; Lon
don's estimate of him, 414;
place of burial, 414; removed
to Blenheim Palace, 414, 483;
his attempt to reconcile the
Duchess and his daughter, the
Duchess of Montagu, 414, 427;
bequest of his sword, used in
battle, to Prince Eugene, 437;
his " striking watch," 442; con
test with Dr. Garth about
taking medicine, 446; charges
brought against him by Swift,
Pope, Bolingbroke, Harley, and
Macaulay, 469, 471, 489, 490;
biographies of him, 479; pre
sents a copy of Peacham's " The
Compleat Gentleman "to Queen
Anne, 488 ; incident of dropping
his glove on the battlefield, 4.88 ;
the quality of his ambition,
489; depicted by Thackeray,
495
Marlborough, Sarah, Duchess of,
birth, 2; childhood and youth,
6, 7; first meeting with Princess
Anne. 8; appointed Maid of
Honour to Mary of Modena.
Duchess of York, 9, 11; a belle
of the Court, 11; relations with
her mother, 12 ; courted by John
Churchill, 18-30; marriage, 30;
her view of religion and the
clergy, 37, 66, 67, 131, 152,
474. 475; faith in the Whigs,
37, 129, 133, 152; appointed
Lady of the Bedchamber to Prin
cess Anne, 38; traits of char
acter, 39, 40, 125, 126, 232,
264, 267, 416, 484 foil.; ap
pointed first Lady of the Bed
chamber, 44; ruling spirit in
the household of Anne, 44, 107.
266; accompanies Anne in her
flight from London, 52; the
charm ofier face, 53; antipathy
to the " Dutch Monster," 59.
68; takes the name of "Mrs.
Freeman " in her relations with
Anne, 64; enmity aroused by
her haughty manners, 70. 72.
127; proposes to retire from the
Court. 73, 79; her cognisance
of a Jacobite plot, 76; joins the
Duke in the Tower, 77; ap
pointed Mistress of the Robes,

and Groom of the Stole to Queen
Anne, 108; the old Lodge at
Windsor given to her, 108;
urges her husband to defer
accepting a dukedom, 112;
grief at the loss of her son, Lord
Blandford, 124; position at the
opening of the reign of Anne.
125; her great quaUties. 125,
126, 128, 497; misrepresented,
125, 126, 487; candour of
speech, 127, 128, 140, 487, 489;
devotion to duty, 126, 497;
Kneller's picture of her and
Lady Fitzharding, 128; vigilant
defender of the Protestant Suc
cession, 128; Whig proclivities,
129, 132, 133, 152; on the Tory
Government, 130; resents the
authority of the clergy, 131;
grievances, 134; devotion to
the Duke. 135, 457, 497;
growing influence over the
Queen, 138, 266; passion for
maxims and aphorisms, 139;
on Prince George's easy habits,
141 ; befriends the Hill family,
142, 143; secures an appoint
ment for Abigail Hill as Woman
of the Bedchamber, 144 ; warned
by the Queen against Abigail,
145, 146; beginning of aUena-
tion from the Queen, 148, 149;
long absences from Court, 148,
230. 268; lack of sympathy
with the Queen in religion and
politics. 149; her relations with
Lord Sunderland. 151; indis
creet use of the Duke's letters.
163; her attacks on the Tories,
164; hostility to Harley and
St. John, 167, 229; her influ
ence with the Queen known at
foreign Courts, 168; proposes
to join the Duke at the seat of
war, 173; receives Marl
borough's letter announcing
the victory of Blenheim, 209;
her objections to Vanbrugh's
design for Blenheim Palace,
218, 219; her proud position in
1705, 225; secures the appoint
ment of the Earl of Sunderland
as Secretary of State, 225; ar
ranges a marriage between her
daughter. Lady Mary, and Vis
count Monthermer, afterwards
Earl of Montagu, 226; rela-

Si6

INDEX

tions with her daughters, 227,
228. 415-419; her petulant let
ters of complaint to the Duke.
233, 238; her endorsement on
a fulsome letter from Boling
broke to Marlborough, 258; in
discreet conduct towards the
Queen after the Battle of Oude
narde, 259; moral courage, 264;
her character compared with
the Queen's, 265, 266; inability
to govern herself, 267; con
straint of men and women in
her society, 267; her irritation
at the secret marriage of Abi
gail Hill. 269; the consequences
of her neglect of the Queen.
273; letters of complaint about
Mrs. Masham. 277; expresses to
the Queen her opinion of Mrs.
Masham, 277. 280; indiscreet
conduct on the Oudenarde
Thanksgiving Day, 278; stormy
interview with the Queen, 279;
plain words to the Queen on
forsaking faithful servants, 280 ;
at cross-purposes with Van
brugh, 283; orders the demoli
tion of the old Manor House in
Blenheim Park, 284; builds
Marlborough House, 285, 286;
complains of the Queen's lack
of concern about the Battle of
Malplaquet, 299; her uncon
scious share in accomplishing
the Duke's downfall, 302; no
toriety of her disputes with the
Queen, 302; opinion of Sache
verell, 313; avoids the Court,
313; her intolerable position in
1710 described in a pamphlet,
319; a memorable and last con
versation with the Queen, 322-
326; her endorsement on a
letter from Godolphin, 330;
letter to the Queen on Sunder
land's removal and Mrs. Mas
ham's intrigues. 336. 348; her
account of the dismissal of
Godolphin. 337; refutes Swift's
charges against her, 344;
charged with wrecking her
apartments at St. James's, 356;
disapproves of the heavy cost
of Blenheim Palace, 357; al
lowed to retain her appoint
ment as Ranger of Windsor
Forest, 359; grief at the death

of Maynwaring, 375; nurses Go
dolphin in his last illness, 376;
attacked by Mrs. Manley, 377,
470, 484; her lawsuit against
General Cadogan, 378; joins the
Duke at Maestricht, 380, 382;
her letters to Robert Jennings,
and criticism of foreign manners
and customs, 382, 385; repels
the idea of the Duke supporting
the restoration of the Stuarts,
385; visits Mindelheim with
the Duke, 386; on the influence
of the Duice of Shrewsbury upon
Queen Anne. 405; her anxiety
about the Duke's health. 405;
pleads with the Duke to retire
from public life. 406; grief at
the death of her daughter. Lady
Sunderland. 407; devotion to
the Duke in his last illness. 408;
her quarrel with Vanbrugh, and
her charges against him about
the building of Blenheim Palace,
409 ; wishes to live in a cottage.
411; as examiner of plays per
formed at Blenheim Palace,
412 ; contentions with the physi
cians attending the Duke, suc
cess of her speculations in the
South Sea Scheme, 413 ; ground
less charge against her of send
ing money to the Pretender,
413; her quarrels with the
Countess of Godolphin and the
Duchess of Montagu, 414, 417,
418; as a matchmaker for her
daughters, 419; disapproval of
her daughter Henrietta's in
fatuation for Congreve, 419;
differences with her daughter
Henrietta, 420; her protest to
Lord Godolphin on the conduct
of Henrietta, 421 ; appeals to
Lady Sunderland about the
conduct of Lady Monthermer,
422 ; her reliance on Lady Sun
derland for sympathy, 422;
devotion to Lady Sunderland's
children, 425; her autographic
document at Blenheim describ
ing the treatment she had re
ceived from Lady Godolphin
and the Duchess of Montagu.
426; urges Lord Godolphin to
be a peacemaker between her
daughter and herself. 427; de
clines overtures of peace from

INDEX

517

the Duchess of Montagu. 428;
letter to Mrs. Hammond on the
conduct of the Duchess of
Montagu. 429; resolves to close
all communications with the
Duchess of Montagu. 429;
amicable relations with her
grandchildren. 430; devotion
to Jack Spencer and Lady Di
Spencer, 431 ; her bequest of
Holywell House and Marl
borough House, 431; regard
for Philip, Earl of Chesterfield,
and bequest to him, 433 ; leaves
property in Northampton and
Surrey to Lord Chesterfield,
433; aspires to marry Lady
Diana Spencer to Frederick,
Prince of Wales, 433 ; antipathy
to Queen Caroline and Sir Robert
Walpole, 433, 439; grief at
the death of her granddaughter.
Lady Di. 434; protests against
the marriage of Lord Blandford
with <i burgomaster's daughter.
434; summoned to the death
bed of Lord Blandford at Ox
ford, 435; interview with Dr.
Leigh of Balliol, 435; super
vises the education of Robert.
fourth Earl of Sunderland, heir
to the Marlborough dukedom.
436; her opinion of the physi
cians who attended Lord Sun
derland in his last illness, 436 ;
presents the first Duke of Marl
borough's diamond sword to
Charles, fifth Earl of Sunder
land, heir to the Marlborough
dukedom, 436; her action at
law for preserving Marl
borough's diamond sword, 437;
displeasure at the marriage of
Charles, third Duke of Marl
borough, to Lord Trevor's
daughter, 437; dinner-parties
to her young relatives at Marl
borough House, 437; interest
in politics in her later years,
439; her inordinate desire to
possess landed estate, 439;
buys the Manor of Wimbledon
from Sir Theodore Jansen, and
builds two mansions upon it,
440; builds and endows alms
houses at St. Albans. 440;
friendship with Lady Lech
mere, 440; friendship with

Lady Blayney, Mrs. Burnet, Mrs.
Clayton (afterwards Lady Sun
don), and Lady Mary Wortley
Montagu, 440, 441 ; her story of
the lost tresses, 441 ; leaves the
Duke's love-letters to Grace
Ridley, with instructions to
burn them. 441 ; bequests and
annuity to Grace Ridley. 442 ;
her portrait by Kneller, 442 ;
bequest of the " striking watch,"
442; political views greatly in
fluenced by Mrs. Burnet. 442,
443; addresses the document.
"What first struck me," etc.,
to Bishop Burnet. 442; corre
spondence with Lady Lech
mere. 443. 444; seeks Lady
Lechmere's advice about the
completion of Blenheim Palace.
444; friendships with the
Duchess of Devonshire, the
Countess of Burlington, and
Lady Dillon, 445; influence of
Lord Chesterfield and the Duke
of Manchester over her, 445;
commissions the Duke of Man
chester to buy damask and
velvet at Genoa. 445; her hand
sought in marriage by the Duke
of Somerset, 445; suggests a
bride for the Duke of Somerset,
445; regard for the Earl of
Marchmont, 445; her brusque
treatment of physicians, 445,
446; friendly relations with
Bishop Burnet, Bishop Hoad
ly, Dr. Samuel Clarke, and
Dr. Francis Hare, 446; resent
ment against Hoadly for his
neglect in her old age, 447;
accepts a criticism of her faults
from Dr. Hare, 448, 449; con
sideration for dependents. 450;
her opinion of Dean Jones, 450.
451 ; friendly relations with Ad
dison. Steele, and Pope, 452;
Pope's correspondence with her,
452, 453; said to have been
described by Pope in his char
acter of Atossa, 453; said to
have given Pope i^i.ooo for the
suppression of "Atossa," 454;
her generous treatment of Pope,
454; asks Voltaire to edit
her "Memoirs," 455 ; insists,
though lame, upon walking in
the Coronation procession of

Si8

INDEX

George II., 456; cheered by the
crowd in Palace Yard, 456; at
tends to the completion of
Blenheim Palace. 456; places a
statue of Queen Anne in the
Great Library, 458, 473; in
difference for literature, 459;
story of her reluctance to sit
to Clostermann for his picture
of a family group, 459; her
monument, by Rysbrack, to
the memory of the Duke, 460;
erects the column of Victory
and the triumphal arch at Blen
heim in memory of the Duke,
460, 461; her conflict with
" fools and knaves," 464; rest
lessness in old age, 464; " cheat
ing " the doctors, 464; descrip
tion of her " Account of the
Conduct," etc., 464 foil.; her
endorsements on the letters
from Queen Anne, 465 ; declines
to supply BoUngbroke with
materials for a work on the War
of the Spanish Succession, 466;
offers Nathaniel Hooke ;£5,ooo
for editing her " Memoirs." 466;
charged with accepting bribes.
470; Lord Wellington's opinion
of her. 471 ; affection for her
dogs, 473; her charities, 473,
486; an invalid, 474; fondness
for music and cards, 474; a
reader of Socrates, 474; inci
dent of her self-abasement in
prayer, 474; acquaintance with
the Countess of Huntingdon.
and a letter to her, 475; her
pity for the boy chimney-sweep,
476; entrusts Lord Molesworth
with the task of preparing a
book on Marlborough, and after
wards David Mallet and Richard
Glover, 477, 478; original docu
ment appointing her Mistress
of the Robes, 481; last days
and death. 481. 482; bequest to
William Pitt. 482; place of
burial, 483; instructions for
her obsequies, 483; estimate of
her character. 483 foil.; her
assailants, 483; Fielding's ad
miration for her, 485, 497 ; helps
John Gay, the poet, 486; gift
to Swiss peasants, 486 ; financial
help to the Government and
Child's Bank, 486; total amount

of her gifts during widowhood,
486; charge against her of in
gratitude to Queen Anne, 495;
generosity to the Hill family
proved by letters, 496; delighted
in her old age with " Gulliver's
Travels," 497; " a glorious
woman," 497
Marlborough House, built by the
Duchess of Marlborough, 285,
286; decorated by La Guerre,
384 ; bequeathed by the Duchess
to Jack Spencer, 431
Marsin, Marshal, co-operates with
the army of the Elector, 171;
at the Battle of Blenheim, 192,
201, 202, 203
Mary, Queen, consort of William
III., birth, 3; girlhood, 7, 11;
marriage, 11, 33; accession, 55;
brings about Marlborough's dis
missal in 1692, 60; death, 60, 91 ;
relations with Lady Marl
borough, 60; her beauty and her
popularity, 63; coldness to
wards her sister, 72, 75, 81;
character, 72 ; her attentions to
the Duke of Gloucester, 75, 86;
final meeting with her sister,
85; tries to separate Princess
Anne from Lady Marlborough,
80, 85; forbids public marks of
respect to her sister, 86, 87;
illness, 90; death, 91
Mary of Modena, consort of the
Duke of York (afterwards
James II.), 8, 9, 10, 32; favours
the marriage of Sarah Jennings
and John Churchill, and wit
nesses the marriage, 28, 29, 30;
a matchmaker, 33; in Scotland,
35 ; birth of a son, 48
Masham, Mrs. (afterwards Lady),
141; poverty, and kinship with
the Duchess of Marlborough,
142; she and her family be
friended by the Duchess, 143:
appointed a Woman of the Bed
chamber, 144; early devotion to
the Duchess, 144; wins the
Queen's confidence, 145; her
designs suspected by the Queen,
145. 146; growing influence over
the Queen. 263, 268; character,
268; avoids the Duchess of
Marlborough, 269; her secret
marriage, 269; her Jacobitism,
272, 393, 404; ridiculed in

INDEX

519

lampoons, 279; letter to the
Duchess on their estrangement,
and endorsement by the
Duchess, 319; Harley's influ
ence over her, 319; appointed
Keeper of the Privy Purse,
356; last years and death, 439;
extols the Duchess of Marl
borough's sincerity, 496
Masham, Samuel, equerry to
Prince George of Denmark,
secret marriage with Abigail
Hill, 269; created a peer,
360
Maurice, General Sir Frederick,
206
Maynwaring, Arthur, secretary to
the Duchess of Marlborough,
on the courage of the Duchess,
264; edits the Medley, 314;
Whig sympathies, 314; his let
ters to the Duchess, 314-319;
his opinion of Marlborough,
316; advises the Duchess to
return to Court, 316; describes
a levee, 318; letter addressed
to the Queen before the dis
missal of the Duchess of Marl
borough, 358, 359; illness and
death, 375; takes part in pre
paring tlie "Memoirs" of the
Duchess, 467
Mead, Dr., consulted by the
Duchess of Marlborough, 445
Medley, the editor of, 314
Meredyth, General, one of Marl
borough's officers, 177, 310.
Mill, J. S., his opinion of Mac
aulay, 472
Mindelheim, Princedom of, con
ferred on Marlborough by the
Emperor Leopold, 212, 229;
revenues surrendered by Marl
borough, 386 ; visit of the Duke
and Duchess, 386
Minorca, ceded by Spain to Eng
land by the Treaty of Utrecht,
394
" Mirabel, Prince," name given
to Marlborough by some of his
enemies, 485
Molesworth, Viscount, undertakes
to prepare an account of Marl
borough's military career, but
abandons the task, 477, 478;
saves the life of Marlborough at
Ramillies, 478
Monmouth, Duke of: attempt to

prove his right to the crown,
34; his rebellion, 40
Mons, taken by Marlborough,
244; invested by Marlborough,
294; its surrender ends the
campaign (1709), 300
Montagu, Mary, Duchess of,
youngest daughter of John,
Duke of Marlborough, 69;
marries Viscount Monthermer
(afterwards Duke of Montagu),
69, 226; relations with her
mother, 119, 228, 414, 418, 422;
character, 119, 227, 418, 425;
rivals for her hand, 226; ap
pointed Lady of the Bedcham
ber to the Princess of Wales,
406; described by Pope, 425;
appealed to by her father to be
reconciled to her mother, 427,
428; strategic letter to her
mother, 428
Montagu, first Duke of, marriage
of his son to Lady Mary Chur
chill, 226 ; his stormy career, 227
Montagu, second Duke of, ap
pointment given to him on the
accession of George I., 406.
See also Monthermer. Viscount
Montagu. Lady Isabella, grand
daughter of the Duke and
Duchess of Marlborough, mar
ried to the second Duke of
Manchester, 430
Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley,
friendship with the Duchess of
Marlborough, 441; and the
story of the lost tresses, 441
Monthermer, Lord (afterwards
Duke of Montagu) , marries Lady
Mary Churchill, 69, 226. See
also Montagu, Duke of
Mordaunt. Lord, a suitor for the
hand of Lady Mary Churchill.
226
Mulgrave, Earl of. Uking of Prin
cess Anne for, 40
Namur, surrender of, 58, 94
National Debt, under Godolphin
and under Harley and St. John,
263
Navarre, regiment of, burns the
colours at the Battle of Blen
heim, 201
" New Atlantis, The," 377, 470
Newcastle, Duke of, marriage with
Lady Henrietta Godolphin, 431

520

INDEX

Newton, Sir Isaac, 102, 447
Nimeguen, siege of, Jolin Church
ill at, 17 ; Peace of, 34,
58
Nottingham, Lord, 75, 87, 128;
seeks to undermine Godolphin's
authority, 162; dismissed from
Godolphin's Ministry, 166; mo
tion in the Lords against the
proposed terms of peace with
France, 360
Nova Scotia, Louis XIV. abandons
his claims to, 394
Occasional Conformity Bill, 152,
360
Opdam, Dutch General, 157;
incompetence, 171
Orange, Prince of, his mistake at
Malplaquet, and his successful
charge, 295, 296
Orford, Earl of, refuses to join
Harley's Ministry, 339 ; prevents
the secret marriage of Frederick,
Prince of Wales, with Lady
Diana Spencer, 434; his politi
cal policy rouses the resent
ment of the Duchess of Marl
borough, 439; dissuades the
Duchess from printing the
" Vindication," 465, 467
Orkney, George, Earl of, 170;
military distinction, 177
Ormonde, Duke of, appointed to
succeed Marlborough as Cap
tain-General, 364; ordered to
keep his army out of action,
372; troops refuse to serve
under him, 389; made Warden
of Dover, 396; supports the
claims of the Old Pretender,
405
Ostend, surrendered to Marl
borough's troops, 244
Oudenarde, Battle of, 251-254;
said to have been the most
venturesome battle fought by
Marlborough, 255; depicted on
the Blenheim tapestry, 381
Overkirk, General, in command of
Dutch troops, 157; the most
competent of the Dutch Gener
als, 170; at Ramillies, 243;
his successful movement at the
Battle of Oudenarde, 254
Oxford, Robert Harley, Earl of,
character, 137, 230, 264, 308;
Secretary of State in Godol

phin's Ministry, 166; his pro
tests of devotion to the
Duchess of Marlborough, 229;
effusive compliments to Marl
borough, 229, 238; driven from
oilice, 262; a trimmer.
264; discovers his relationship
to Mrs. Masham. 272 ; wins the
favour and interest of Mrs.
Masham. 272. 287; tries to
poison the Queen's mind against
Godolphin and Marlborough.
272 ; secret audiences of the
Queen. 281, 321; accession to
power (1710). 304. 339; upholder
of the Church, 340 ; influence over
Swift, 342, 343; his secret nego
tiations with Louis XIV., 349,
350, 351; floats the South Sea
Scheme, 350; raised to the
peerage, 350; gives a banquet
to Prince Eugene, 366; pre
varication and duplicity as to
terms of peace with France,
372, 373; rivalry with Boling
broke, 389; intrigues with the
Pretender, 392, 396; a dancing-
master's opinion of him, 393;
dismissed from office, 396;
charge against Marlborough,
397; his impeachment, 411;
death, 439
Packet, secret, carried by Queen
Anne and destroyed at her
death, 307, 396
Paget, John, his vindication of
Marlborough, 491
Panton, Colonel, one of Marl
borough's Aides-de-Camp, 178
Papists disabled from sitting in
Parliament, 34
Parke, Colonel, one of Marl
borough's Aides-de-Camp, 178;
carries Marlborough's letter,
announcing the victory of Blen
heim, to the Duchess, 207; his
reception by Queen Anne and
the Duchess, 209; declines re
ward, 209; the Queen's gift to
him, 209; death, 209
Partition Treaties, 58, 98
Pepys describes a freak of Francis
Jennings at Court, 5
Petre, Father, confessor of James
^11., 47
Philip V. renounces presumptive
rights to the Crown of France,

INDEX

521

374; cedes to the Emperor
Charles his possessions in Italy
and the Netherlands, and to the
Duke of Savoy, Sicily, 394
Philip, Duke of Anjou, nominated
by Louis XIV. as successor of
Charles II. of Spain. 97; be
comes heir to the Spanish
crown, 97, 98
Pictures at Blenheim Palace, 458,
459
Pitt, William, on the Treaty of
Utrecht, 391 ; bequest to him
by the Duchess of Marlborough,
482
Pope, Alexander, loi; his eulogy
on Lord Godolphin, 376; visits
to Blenheim Palace, 452 ; letters
to the Duchess, 452, 453; ex
presses his obUgations to the
Duchess, 453; reads to her
his verses on the character of
Atossa, 453; said to have re
ceived £1,000 from the Duchess
for the suppression of the verses,
454; publishes the character
of Atossa, beUeved to repre
sent the Duchess, 453; advises
the Duchess to employ Na
thaniel Hooke in preparing her
"Memoirs," 466; charges Marl
borough with avarice, 490
Portland, Earl of. opposition to
Marlborough. 88; opposed to
the reconciliation of King
William and Anne, 91, 92
Poulett. Earl, slanders Marl
borough, 373; who challenges
him to a duel, 374
Pretender, the Old. son of James
II.. birth, 48, 104; proclaimed
James III. by Louis XIV., 58,
96, 100 ; his threatened invasion
of Scotland, 250; joins the
French-Bavarian army, 250.
251; supports Villars at Mal
plaquet. 295 ; Louis XIV. agrees
to banish him from France, 374,
394; his refusal to abandon
Roman Catholicism, 387. 401 ;
political relations with Marl
borough, 387
Prior, loi, 343
Prussia, King of, relinquishes his
claims to the inheritance of
WiUiam III., 212; presents
Marlborough with a diamond
ring, 249

" Queen Anne's Bounty," founda
tion of, 131
Quesnoy, capture of, 373; re
captured by the French, 391
Radclifie, Dr., Queen Mary's
physician, 90; consulted by the
Duchess of Marlborough, 445
Rak6czy, Prince, commander of
revolted Hungarians in 1704,
172
RamiUies, battle of, 240-244, 246
Raphael, his Ansidei Madonna
at Blenheim Palace, afterwards
purchased by the nation, 458
Rastadt, Treaty of. 221. 394
Rialton, Lady. See Churchill,
Henrietta; and Marlborough.
Henrietta, second Duchess of
Rialton. Lord, son of the Earl of
Godolphin. See Godolphin,
second Earl of
Ridley, Grace, confidential atten
dant of the Duchess of Marl
borough's, 20, 441 ; bequests
and annuity left to her, 442
Rivers, Lord, appointed Lord
Lieutenant of the Tower, 309
Roberts, Lord, on the causes of
the devotion of the army to the
Duke of Marlborough, 155
Rochester, Earl of, his hostility
to the Duchess of Marlborough,
71, 87; hostility to Godolphin,
129; aims at the overthrow of
Godolphin's Government, 162;
allows stone to be quarried from
his park for Blenheim Palace,
220
Rosamund's bower at Woodstock.
and the story of Rosamund's
life. 214, 215
Ross. Charles, cavahy officer in
Marlborough's army, 177
Ross, General, leader of the
attack at Blenheim, 177
Row, Brigadier, at the Battle of
Blenheim, 196
Rysbrack, his marble bust of the
Duke at Blenheim Palace, 459 ;
his monument to the Duke's
memory in the private chapel,
460
Ryswick, Peace of, 57, 58, 96, 99
Saabruck, Dutch General, 157, 171
Sacheverell, Dr., sermons on the
duty of non-resistance, 303,

522

INDEX

312; his character and trial,
303, 311-313; living of St.
Andrew's conferred upon him,
313; popular disorder after
his trial, 315
St. John, Henry. See Boling
broke, Viscount
St. Priest, M., amanuensis em
ployed by the Duchess of Marl
borough at Antwerp in the
paration of her " Memoirs," 468
St. Simon on the French losses
at Ramillies, 244
Sandridge, birthplace of the
Duchess of Marlborough, 2, 6
Savoy, Duke of, obtains Sicily by
the Treaty of Utrecht, 394
Schellenberg, the, held by General
D'Arco, 183; stormed and cap
tured by Marlborough, 183 ; loss
of troops at, 184, 185
Schism Act, 396
Scotland, revolt against William
III.. 58; Union with England,
loi, 105, 262; threatened in
vasion by the Chevalier de St.
George, 250
Sedley, Catherine, marriage to
John Churchill proposed by Sir
Winston Churchill, 23, 27
Settlement Act, 58, 62, 95, 393
Sharp, Dr., Archbishop of York,
confidential adviser of Queen
Anne, 151 ; advocates the claims
of the Old Pretender, 404
Shrewsbury, Duchess of, 127
Shrewsbury, Earl, afterwards Duke
of, implicated in a plot for the
restoration of James, 76; ap
pointed Lord Chamberlain, 329 ;
his overtures to the Court of
St. Germains, 329; mainly re
sponsible for bringing about the
Hanoverian succession, 397.405;
influence with Queen Anne. 405
Sicily, ceded by Philip V. to the
Duke of Savoy, 394
Sidney, Lady Dorothy, the " Sac
charissa " of Waller's verse and
mother of Lord Spencer, 117
Slangenberg, Dutch General, 157;
his character, 170; deprived of
his command, 171, 237
Sloane, Sir Hans, consulted by the
Duchess of Marlborough, 445
Smollett, his opinion of Lord
Godolphin, 376
Somers, Lord, advises King Wil

liam to be reconciled to Princess
Anne, 92; President of the
Council in the Godolphin Minis
try, 308; intervenes on the
Queen's promotion of Jack Hill,
310; deprecates the dismissal
of Sunderland, 333; refuses to
join Harley's Ministry, 339
Somerset, Duchess of, 127, 275;
appointed Mistress of the Robes,
356; supports the claims of the
House of Hanover, 393, 404
Somerset, Duke of, helps bring
about the Hanoverian succes
sion, 405 ; proposes marriage to
the Duciiess of Marlborough,
445
Sophia, Electress, made successor
of Queen Anne by the Act of
Settlement, 95; death, 394;
confidence in Marlborough, 399,
403
South Sea Scheme, floated by
Harley, 350; successful specu
lations of the Duchess of Marl
borough, 413
Spencer, Lady Anne. See Bate
man, Lady
Spencer, Charles, Lord, after
wards third Earl of Sunderland,
marries Lady Anne Churchill,
69, 117, 151. See also Sunder
land, third Earl of
Spencer, Lady Diana, takes part
in amateur theatricals at Blen
heim Palace, 412; one of the
Duchess of Marlborough's fa
vourite granddaughters, 431;
marries the third Duke of
Bedford, 431; winning charac
ter, 431; her hand asked in
marriage by Philip, Earl of
Chesterfield, 432; answer to
Lord Chesterfield, 433 ; arrange
ment for a secret marriage with
Frederick, Prince of Wales, 434;
death, 434
Spencer, Jack, son of Lord and
Lady Sunderland, one of the
Duchess of Marlborough's fa
vourite grandchildren, 431 ;
marries Lady Georgiana Car
teret, 431; story of his humour
ing the Duchess of Marlborough,
437; M.P. for Woodstock, 437;
jest at a dinner-party, 438
Steele, Richard, loi; " The Eng
lishman's Thanks to the Dulce

INDEX

523

of Marlborough," 368-; his ad
miration of Marlborough, 412;
guest at Blenheim Palace, 412 ;
stage director of private theat
ricals, 412; ingenious manoeuvre
to avoid the giving of vails,
413; Lady Lechmere's criti
cism of his " Conscious Lovers,"
444; befriended by Marlborough,
452 ; friendly relations with the
Duchess, 452 ; proj ect for writing
a book on the War in Flanders,
477
Stephen, Sir Leslie, his article on
Marlborough, 491
Stuarts, the, characteristics of,
103, 265, 266
Sunderland, the " Little Whig,"
48, 228, 268 ; Anne, Countess of,
second daughter of the Duke
of Marlborough, 69; death, 69,
406; character, 69, 117, 407,
418; Addison's allusion to her,
118; warns her mother against
absenting herself from Court,
148, 268; retires from Court,
369; her dislike of Swift, 369;
toasted, 369; letters to her
mother, 421; attachment to
her mother, 421, 422; presenti
ment of death and letter to her
husband, 423; anxiety for her
children's interests,423; recogni
tion of her mother's sterling
qualities, 424
Sunderland, Charles, fifth Earl of
(afterwards Duke of Marl
borough), 69, 419; succeeds to
the dukedom, 69, 436; his col
lection of books and manu
scripts, 45S. See also Marl
borough, third Duke of
Sunderland, third Earl of, 69,
130; brings about a reconciUa
tion between King William and
Anne, 91; an uncompromising
Whig, 138, 151; votes against
proposed annuity to Prince
George, 151; opinions, manners,
and contempt for authority,
151, 152, 289; sent as Envoy
to Vienna. 225 ; raised to Cabi
net rank. 225, 262, 308; ap
pointed Secretary of State, 262,
406; dismissed from office, 331;
declines the Queen's pension,
369 ; appointed Lord Lieutenant
of Ireland, 406

Sunderland, Robert, fourth Earl
of, heir to the Marlborough
dukedom, death at Paris, 436
Sunderland Library, the, collected
by Charles, Earl of Sunderland,
and transferred to Blenheim
Palace, 458, 459; the King of
Denmark offers to buy it, 459;
sold in 1872 by John Winston,
sixth Duke of Marlborough, 459
Sundon, Lady, friendship with the
Duchess of Marlborough, 441
Sweden, declines at Marlborough's
persuasion to enter into alliance
with France, 249, 250
Swift, Dean, loi ; his description
of Sir John Vanbrugh, 216; his
opinion of Marlborough, 309;
on Addison, Steele, and Garth,
314; support of the Tories, 315,
342, 343; character, 341; his
writings against Marlborough,
342, 344, 355; " Journal to
Stella," 343 ; edits the Examiner,
343; slanders the Duchess of
Marlborough, 344 ; admiration
for the Countess of Sunderland,
369; recommends Mrs. Manley
to the patronage of the Minis
try, 377; reason for his satire
on the Duchess of Marlborough,
484 ; accuses her of avarice, 485 ;
charges Marlborough with a
base ambition, 489 ; his " Gulli
ver's Travels " delights the
Duchess in her old age, 497
Swords, the Duke of Marl
borough's, 437
Talbot, Colonel. See Tyrconnel,
Duke of
Tallard, Marshal, preparations for
a march to Vienna, 172; joins
the army of the Elector of
Bavaria, 175; letter to Louis
XIV. on the eve of the Battle
of Blenheim, 191; gains an
advantage at Blenheim, 197;
fatal blunder, 198; captured,
200; exclamation to Marl
borough after his capture, 204;
arrives in London, 212
Tangier, 15
Tapestries, at Blenheim Palace,
the work of Josse De Vost, 380;
described, 380, 381 ; damages by
a French officer, 382
Test Act, of 1673, 32

524

INDEX

Thackeray, portraiture of Marl
borough in " Esmond " by, 472,
495
Thanskgiving service at St. Paul s,
after the Battle of Blenheim,
described by Evelyn, 211; foi
the victory at Ramillies, 246;
for the victory at Oudenarde,
278
ThornhiU, Sir James, depicts the
Battle of Blenheim on the ceil
ing of Blenheim Palace hall, 460
Thornhurst, Sir Gifford, maternal
grandfather of the Duchess of
Marlborough, 2
Tillotson, Archbishop, death of,
90
Tirlemont, Marlborough's victory
at, 236; his narrow escape at, 237
Torcy, sent by Louis XIV. to
negotiate at The Hague, 291;
attempts to bribe Marlborough.
292, 354, 395; proposal for
deciding the conditions of peace,
371; reply to Abb6 Gaultier on
the desire of France for peace.
395
Tories, their position and policy
under Queen Anne, 130. 132,
133. 137. 15°; main difference
between them and the Whigs.
132; accession to power (1710).
150, 304; exaltation of the
Authority of the Crown, 150;
boast of their loyalty to the
" King over the water," 306;
triumph at the General Elec
tion, 339
Tournay, captured by Marl
borough, 294
Townshend, Lord, joint Plenipo
tentiary to The Hague for nego
tiations of peace, 291
Tresses, lost, story of, 441
Treves, Elector of, his compliment
on the condition of Marl
borough's officers, 180
Trevor, Lord, marriage of his
daughter to Charles, third Duke
of Marlborough. 437
TulUbardine, Lord, a suitor for
the hand of Lady Mary Church
ill, 226
Tunbridge, Lord, one of Marl
borough's Aides-de Camp. 178
Turenne, his estimate of John
Churchill, 17
Tyrconnel, Duchess of, eldest

daughter of Richard Jennings,
Maid of Honour to the Duchess
of York, 3 ; " La Belle Jennyns,"
3 ; described by the French Am
bassador, 3 ; her fun and freaks
at Court; marriage with Cap
tain Hamilton, 5; marriage
with Colonel Talbot, afterwards
Duke of Tyrconnel, 6, 33; her
Jacobitism, 138
Tyrconnel, Duke of, marriage with
Frances Jennings, 6, 33; Vice
roy of Ireland, 6; champion of
Irish Catholics who favoured
James II., 57
Utrecht, Treaty of, 370, 389, 393,
394. 395
Vanbrugh, Sir John, 102; archi
tect of Blenheim Palace, 216;
described by Swift, 216; cliairac-
ter and antecedents, 216-218;
as an architect, 218; differences
with the Duchess of Marl
borough, 283, 409; reasons for
wishing to preserve the old
Manor House at Woodstock,
284; instructed by the Duke
to resume the works at Blen
heim Palace, 359; on the
charges brouglit against him by
the Duchess, 410; veneration
for the Duke, 410; claims to
have acted on Lord Godolphin's
authority, 411; thinks the
Duchess ought to be hanged for
her conduct, 411; negotiates
the marriage settlement of
Lady Mary Godolphin, 431 ;
recommends William Kent as
designer of Blenheim Gardens,
461
Vauban, his miUtary engineering
genius, 236, 257
Vaudemont, Prince of, his opinion
of Marlborough, 63, 64
Vendome, Duke of. summoned
from Italy to take command of
the French troops in the
Netherlands, 248. 250; captures
the Une of the Scheldt, 251;
advances against Oudenarde,
251; at cross-purposes with the
Duke of Burgundy, 252, 255;
retreats at Oudenarde, 255;
invests Brussels, 257
Villars, attacks Prince Lewis of

INDEX

525

Baden on the Mottar, 240;
takes the field against the
AlUes, 293, 295; entrenches his
army at Malplaquet, 294;
wounded, 296; his despatch to
Versailles on the Battle of
Malplaquet, 298; frustration of
his plans by Marlborough at
Bouchain, 353; defeats the
Dutch at Denain, 390
Villeroy, Marshal, 171; attempts
to cut off Marlborough's sup
pUes, 191 ; captures Huy and
Li6ge (1705), 219, 234; retires
before Marlborough, 235; ad
vances to Ramillies and is de
feated, 240-244; recalled to
Versailles, 244, 247
" Vindication of the Duchess of
Mcirlborough," original title of
" An Account of the Conduct,"
etc. (q.v.), 465, 466, 470
Voltaire, on Marlborough's varied
qualifications, 1x5; on Blenheim
Palace, 218; on the Battle of
Ramillies, 246; his estimate of
Marlborough's diplomatic ge
nius, 250; visit to Blenheim
Palace in 1726, 454; asked by
the Duchess to edit her " Me
moirs," 455; obtains material
from the Duchess for his " His
tory of Charles XII.," 456
Vost, De, Josse. his tapestries
depicting Marlborough's battles.
380. 381
Wales. Frederick. Prince of, pro
posed marriage of Lady Di
Spencer to, 433
Walpole, Horace, 216; on the
identification of the charac
ter of Atossa, 454; on WilUam
Kent, landscape gardener, 462;
his name for the Duchess of
Marlborough, 464; contemptu
ous attitude towards the
Duchess, 483
Walpole, Sir Robert. See Orford,
Earl of
Walters, Lucy, said to have been
secretly married to Charles II.,
34
War of the Spanish Succession,
events which led to it, 57. 96.
97. 100 ; ended with the Treaty
of Utrecht. 371, 391
Warburton. on the identification

of the character of Atossa,
453
Warming-Pan Plot. 104
" Watch, striking," the Duke of
Marlborough's, 442
Webb, General, Brigadier-General
in Marlborough's army, 177
WeUington, Duke of, his estimate
of the Duke and Duchess of
Marlborough, 155, 471 ; accounts
for TaUard's loss of the Battle
of Blenheim, 201
Westminster Hall, standards cap
tured at the Battle of Blenheim
deposited there, 213
Whig Examiner, 343
Whigs, their plot in favour of the
Elector of Hanover, 105; posi
tion and policy under Queen
Anne, 130, 132, 133, 136; main
difference between them and the
Tories, 132; defence of the
privileges of ParUament, 150;
defence of the Protestant cause,
150; return to power in 1705,
225; their supremacy in the
Government, 262 ; loss of power
in the country, 307; defeat at
General Election of 1710, 339;
their sympathies with the
Elector of Brunswick, 399
Whitefield, George, 475
William III., marriage, 3. 11, 33;
caUed by the Maids of Honour
the "Dutch Monster," 33; a
shrewd judge of men, 35;
knowledge of EngUsh affairs, 46 ;
invited to bring an army to
England, 47; his Declaration,
47; lands at Torbay. 48; enters
London. 55; accession. 55; de
clares war against Louis XIV.,
56; distrust of Marlborough, 59;
his opinion of John Churchill. 59.
64. 100; dislike of the English
climate, 62; phlegmatic tem
perament, 68, 74; his conduct to
wards Prince George of Denmark,
70, 73; parsimony, 72; indiffer
ence to public opinion, 74 ; dis
misses Marlborough, 75; slights
the Princess of Denmark, 86;
fondness for the Duke of Glouces
ter, 86. 92; grief at the death of
the Queen, 91, 92 ; reconciliation
with Anne, 91, 93; lack of
common civility towards Anne,
94; his death. 96, 100; forms the

526

INDEX

Grand Alliance. 99; recom
mends Marlborough to Anne as
Commander of the Army, 100
Wimbledon Manor, bought by the
Duchess of Marlborough, 440, 457
Windsor Lodge, favourite resi
dence of the Duchess of Marl
borough. 359. 457
Withers, Henry, Major-General
in Marlborough's army, 177
Wood. Cornelius, cavalry officer
in Marlborough's army. 177
Woodstock. Manor and Honour
of, presented to Marlborough,
213, 214; historic interest, 214.
215; associations of the Manor
House, 215; its extent. 216; to
follow the Marlborough title
after the death of the Duchess.
246

Worcester. Bishop of. 79. 80
Wratislaw. Count, interview with
Marlborough (1704). 175, 178
Wren, Sir Christopher, 102; re
jection of his plans for Blen
heim Palace, 216; appointed
architect of Marlborough House,
286
Wurtemberg, Duke of, 190; com
mands the Danish cavalry at
Ramillies, 243
York, Archbishop of. See Sharp,
Dr.
York, Duchess of. See Mary of
Modena
York, Duke of. See James II.
Young, Robert, forges signatures
to a Jacobite document, 76,
77

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