CHAPTER XVIII.

Old age and decline of the Duchess—Her incessant wrangling with Sir Robert Walpole—Her occupations—The compilation of her Memoirs.

It is now necessary to touch upon the closing scene of the Duchess’s long and eventful life. Let it not be supposed that it passed in a calm retirement from the turmoils of the world, or in the agitating though small sphere of domestic faction. She was a politician to the last; but the gales which had in early life driven her along, now blew from a different direction. She despised and reviled the Whig administration of Sir Robert Walpole, with as much inveteracy as she had formerly manifested towards Lord Rochester and Lord Oxford. She considered the mode of managing public affairs to be disgraceful to her country.[383] She professed to deem it a sacred duty to use every exertion to defeat the measures of the minister, Walpole; and perhaps that profligate minister had, in the three kingdoms, no enemy more potent, as far as the influence of property was concerned, and certainly not one more determined, than Sarah Duchess of Marlborough.

It was in vain that the minister attempted to conciliate her by proffered honours. Few of the favours which he had to confer came up to her ideas of what her family and her influence merited. Sir Robert had revived the order of the Bath, a measure described by his son as an “artful bank of thirty-six ribbons to supply a fund of favours in lieu of places.” “He meant too,” adds the lively historian, “to stave off the demands for garters, and intended that the red should be a step for the blue, and accordingly took one of the former himself.” He offered the new order to the Duchess for her grandson, the Duke, and for the Duke of Bedford, who had married one of her granddaughters. The answer he received was a haughty intimation that her grandson should take nothing but the garter. “Madam,” answered Sir Robert, “they who take the Bath will sooner have the Garter.” He proved the sincerity of this assurance, by taking the garter himself in the year following, with the Duke of Richmond, who, like himself, had been previously installed knight of the Bath.[384]

On the accession of George the Second, the hated ascendency of Walpole, greatly to the wrath of the Duchess, gained fresh strength. The King doubtless preferred another man, but the Queen’s influence was all-powerful; she had long desired Sir Robert, whose stability in power was, in this instance, based upon his knowledge of mankind, and who proffered to her Majesty that respectful devotion which the rest of the world assigned to the mistress, not to the wife of George the Second. The Queen repaid this proof of discernment by a preference which ceased only with the existence of the minister. Before the real choice of the King had become public, and when it was still supposed that Sir Spencer Compton was to be premier, the King and Queen received the nobility at their temporary abode at Leicester-house. Lady Walpole, as her son relates, could not make her way between the scornful backs and elbows of her late devotees, nor approach nearer to the Queen than the third or fourth row. But no sooner did the gracious Caroline perceive her, than she exclaimed, “There, I am sure, I see a friend.” The crowd fell back, and, “as I came away,” said her ladyship, “I might have walked over their heads.”[385]

This predilection would, independent of her injuries, be sufficient to account for the Duchess’s aversion to the very Princess whom, some years before, she had extolled as a model of excellence. The Queen, it might have been thought, would have possessed a hold over her good opinion, from the very nature of her education, which she received from the careful and judicious hands of the electress Sophia, the “nursing mother” of the Hanoverian interests. But nothing could mitigate the aversion and contempt of the Duchess towards the new school of Whiggism, which, to her penetrating view, but little resembled the disinterested spirit of Godolphin, or the unflinching adherence of her son-in-law Sunderland to what he termed patriotism. That word had now gone quite out of fashion, and it consisted with Sir Robert Walpole’s notions of perfect good-breeding, upon which it was his weakness to pique himself, to laugh generally at those high-minded sentiments which the Duchess, to her credit, ever professed, and the absence of which, however often they might be violated in the frailty of human nature, could not be compensated by the “pompous pleasantry”[386] with which Walpole satirised all that is good and great.

The Duchess has left on record the workings of her powerful mind. With an intellect unenfeebled by age, whilst she described herself, in 1737, as a perfect cripple, who had very little enjoyment of life, and could not hold out long, she gave ample proof that her reasoning faculties were unimpaired, her discernment as acute as it had ever been; and that wonderful power, the result of both qualities, of seeing into the events of futurity as far as the concerns of this world are involved, had in her arrived at a degree of perfection which can scarcely be too much admired.

It was her practice to write down her impressions and recollections of the various circumstances in which she had been engaged, and to entrust them to such friends as were likely to be interested in those details. Many of these productions she put into the hands of Bishop Burnet. Her character of Queen Anne; her able account of Sacheverell, written with impartiality and clearness; her character of Lord Halifax, of the Duke of Shrewsbury, Lord Somers, Lord Cowper, Swift and Prior, and others, have been preserved among her papers, and were composed expressly for her friends.[387] It was during the Duchess’s residence abroad that she is supposed by Dr. Coxe to have written her long letter in vindication of her general conduct to Mr. Hutchinson; from which unpublished document many facts in this work have been taken. But in 1788, a little book, called “Opinions of the Duchess of Marlborough,” collected from her private papers, was printed, but not published, with a preface, and notes by an anonymous editor, known to be Sir John Dalrymple, afterwards Lord Hailes. These memoranda, for they scarcely deserve a more imposing name, were commenced in the year 1736, and terminated in 1741. They are undoubtedly genuine, and are written with a spirit and fearlessness which plainly speak their source.[388] The learned antiquary and eminent historian who collected and honoured them with a preface, was not an admirer of the high-spirited lady, upon whose political conduct he has commented unsparingly in his memorials of Great Britain. Yet he could scarcely have done more to place the Duchess on a footing with the many other female writers who have added to the stores of British literature, than in preserving, as the shadow of his name must preserve, these specimens of the occupations of her solitary hours.

The aversion of the Duchess to Sir Robert Walpole appears to have been the ruling passion of her mind. “I think,” she writes, “’tis thought wrong to wish anybody dead, but I hope ’tis none to wish he may be hanged, for having brought to ruin so great a country as this.” Yet she declares herself still partial to the Whig principles, observing, nevertheless, that both parties were much in fault; and the majority in both factions she calls by no milder term than “knaves,” ready to join with each party for the sake of individual benefit, or for the purpose of carrying any particular measure.[389]

Like many other old persons, the Duchess viewed the world through the medium of a dark veil, which years and disappointments had interposed before her intellectual perceptions. The world was no longer the same world that it had been. Honour, patriotism, loyalty, had fled the country, and she, “though an ignorant old woman,” as she called herself, could anticipate that national degradation begins with laxity of principle. She upheld stoutly the purity of former times, of that “well-intentioned ministry,” of which Swift had successfully sapped the foundations. Deceived by everybody, as she averred, and not able to depend upon a thing which she heard, she yet perceived that, as long as Walpole continued in power, the general demoralisation was progressing; and that he would continue in power until the Queen died, she was equally and mournfully certain.

The Duchess was not a character to sit still and complain, and her efforts to resist what she justly deemed the influence of a corrupt administration were earnest and laudable. She resolved, as she said, for the good of her country, that wherever she had an ascendency, the partisans of the hated minister should meet, in the elections, with a spirited resistance. It was in her power to procure the return or the rejection of any members that she pleased, in Woodstock and in St. Albans. On one occasion she managed to defeat an objectionable candidate, in a manner truly ingenious and characteristic. A certain Irish peer having put up at St. Albans, daring to brave her dislike to him and to his party, she took the following method to vanquish him. His lordship had formerly written and printed, at his own expense, a play. He had also offered it to the managers of one of the theatres, by whom it had been rejected. It was, however, circulated, but treated with so much contumacy by the critics, that the peer bought it up; and some curiosity being excited upon the subject, the copies that remained dispersed became extremely valuable, and were sold for a guinea a piece. Expensive as they were, the Duchess resolved to collect all she could, even at that price. She was even at the expense of having a second edition printed, and hundreds of them given to the freemen of St. Albans, and people hired to cry them up and down the town whilst the election was going on. The result was, that the unfortunate nobleman lost his election, through the ridicule that was thus skilfully pointed at him with his own weapons.[390]

The Duchess at first hailed with delight the rising talents of Lord Carteret, whose disinterested and aspiring mind excited her lively admiration. Upon the motion of censure upon Sir Robert Walpole, made by Mr. Sandys, her hopes of the country revived, yet she dreaded lest the influence of the minister behind the throne might continue, after a “golden bridge” had been made for him to pass over to his unhonoured retirement. She lived to see Sir Robert Walpole driven to the very threshold of the Tower, and to learn that he had been compelled to the expedient, almost unparalleled in effrontery, of offering through the Bishop of Oxford a bribe to the Prince of Wales of fifty thousand pounds, to detach him from the party by whom he had been espoused. The indignant refusal of the Prince to accept of any conditions while Sir Robert Walpole remained at the head of affairs, completed the downfal of the despised, but still indefatigable minister. The Duchess had the mortification of seeing him, in spite of contempt, protected by the sovereign, and honoured by a peerage; and still more, of learning that he had succeeded by bribes and insinuations to corrupt and divide his foes, and to frustrate the scheme of his impeachment, the only proof of public honour that had been signalised for many years.[391]

Lord Carteret, her favourite, who had spoken against Walpole, in her grace’s opinion, as well as man could, who had exerted against the minister the powers of what was, in the estimation of an incomparable judge,[392] the ablest head in England, was, with Mr. Sandys, the first to embrace the offers of a court, and to accept employments and honours, upon the condition that Walpole should remain unpunished. This the Duchess, in her own manner, foretold. She who knew courtiers and statesmen well, “was confident that there was nothing Sir Robert Walpole so much desired as to secure himself by a treaty of quitting with safety;” and “that there were some so desirous to have the power, that they would give him a golden bridge to go over; and that there would be a scheme to settle a ministry from which she could not believe that England would receive any good.” Events proved the justness of this prediction.

It was not until two years before her death that the Duchess ventured to give to the world what she considered as a complete vindication of herself. When the work, entitled “An Account of the Dowager Duchess of Marlborough, from her first coming to Court in the year 1710,” was published, she was eighty-two years of age. Her conviction must have been that she could not live long; to life she had, according to her own statement, become indifferent, but she still cherished a desire for justification in the eyes of posterity. The charges alleged against her were avarice, insolence, and ingratitude to her royal mistress. Doubtful of her own powers of executing a complete and connected work, the Duchess selected as the nominal historian of her life, Nathaniel Hooke, best known as the compiler of a Roman history, and long the companion, and in some respects a dependent, of the great and learned. Hooke had been a sufferer in the South Sea bubble, after which epidemic infatuation he described himself, in a letter to the Earl of Oxford, as in some measure happy to find himself at that time “just worth nothing;” that being considered, at the period in question, as an escape compared with the heavy burden of debts. The cause of the Duchess’s preference to Hooke is not discoverable, since he was a Quietist and a Mystic, and had evinced the sincerity of his religious opinions by taking a Catholic priest to Pope on his deathbed, to the great annoyance of Bolingbroke.[393] The Duchess did not object to Hooke on that account, and gave him the large sum of five thousand pounds, on condition that he would aid her in her work. She would not, however, allow him to make use of all her letters, and they were, according to the historian’s statement, sadly garbled at her grace’s desire.[394] In the course of their mutual task, however, certain conversations arose, in which the Duchess perceived, or fancied she perceived, an intention on the part of Hooke to beguile her into popery. The result was a violent quarrel; but whether before or after the completion of the work does not appear. Hooke, in extenuation of the quarrel, stated, on his own part, that finding her grace without religion, he had attempted to infuse into her mind his own opinions.

Whether this account be true or not, it is acknowledged that by the united efforts of the Duchess and the historian in her pay, a work was produced of singular power and interest. A reference to the passages from this curious narrative, quoted in this work, will prove the truth of the foregoing observation. The distinctness of the statements, the nervous simplicity of the language, and the fearlessness of the sentiments of the work, convey to the mind a conviction of the sincerity and conscious rectitude of the writer. No traces of mental decay are evident; but it is not difficult to perceive in the abrupt termination of some passages, the curtailing hand of some cautious critic, according to Horace Walpole, that of the historian.

No sooner did the “Account” appear, than it was attacked by various anonymous writers. The Duchess had compiled her work in the form of a letter, and a similar framework was adopted in the construction of several of the answers to her Vindication. It is remarkable that she addressed her justification to Lord Cholmondeley, the third Earl of that name, the son-in-law of Sir Robert Walpole. The public eagerly perused the publication, yet it is said not to have made any considerable impression in favour of the Duchess at the time in which it appeared.

The “Vindication of her Conduct,” as it is entitled, was not, however, the only work that the Duchess compiled in her own defence. Several of her manuscript narratives are now for the first time made serviceable in compiling this work. But there appears, from a passage in one of her letters to Mr. Scrope, to have been another book, which she showed only to a few confidential friends, and, among the number, to Mr. Scrope.

“I am going,” she writes to him, “to make you a more unreasonable request than I ever have yet done, or I hope ever shall, which is, that you will give me one hour of your time to read the enclosed book, some time when you happen to have so much leisure, and send it me back when you have done with it; for though it is printed, I would not by accident have it made public. When I printed a letter to vindicate my own conduct, when I had the honour of serving Queen Anne, I thought it necessary to say something upon the subject of the enclosed book; but after it was done I thought it was better to show it to a few of my particular friends, because they were so near relations that would be exposed by it, for all the facts are as well proved as what I think is possible you may have read in the accounts given of my honest endeavours to serve her Majesty Queen Anne; and as to all that relates to accounts, from your own office, you must know the relation is true.”

To this communication Mr. Scrope replies, after, in his answer, referring to other matters, “I herewith return to your grace the book you were pleased to send me, which I read with an aching heart.”[395]

Happily for her grace’s fame, she was vindicated by one man of ability, Henry Fielding, whilst her traducers, except in one instance, were devoid of talents sufficient to bear down the testimony of her plain facts, or to weaken the effect of her shrewd arguments.[396] The Duchess was unfortunate in provoking the malignant wit of Horace Walpole, whose satire, couched in terms of playful gossip, like nauseous medicines in sweet syrup, has been spread far and wide in his universally popular works. Horace Walpole is an instance, that to be what Dr. Johnson calls a “good hater,” it is not necessary to cherish the brooding enmities of a misanthropic retirement, in which the angry and vindictive passions are supposed to be fostered with propitious care. The only proof of attachment which he evinced to his family was his bitterness towards their foes, a bitterness indulged with all the rancour of a worldly man, who knows not the virtue of forbearance. His estimate of the Duchess’s character is well known. He allows her not one good quality, and seems to experience a gratification such as fiends might betray, when, in a tone of exultation, he announces her death.

The dislike which the Duchess manifested for Sir Robert Walpole was attributed by his son to a base spirit of revenge. Among the few favourites whom she possessed among her relations, was Lady Diana Spencer, afterwards Duchess of Bedford. It became, according to Horace Walpole, a scheme of the Duchess of Marlborough to marry this young lady to Frederic Prince of Wales. She offered her to his royal highness with a fortune of a hundred thousand pounds. He accepted the proposal, and a day was fixed for the nuptials, which were to be solemnized secretly at the Lodge in the Great Park at Windsor; but Sir Robert Walpole gained intelligence of the plot, and “the secret was buried in silence.”[397]

In the gloom of the sick chamber, to which by the infirmities of old age she was frequently confined, the unbroken spirit of the Duchess showed itself still. “Old Marlborough is dying,” writes Horace Walpole to his friend Sir Horace Mann; “but who can tell? Last year she had lain a great while ill, without speaking; her physicians said she must be blistered, or she would die; she called out, ‘I won’t be blistered, and I won’t die.’ If she takes the same resolution now, I don’t believe she will.”[398]

This passage forms a melancholy sequel to hints of infirmities, and reflections on approaching death, contained in the Duchess’s Opinions. As on this subject the least reserved of our species are seldom disposed to converse, since the stranger knoweth not the heart, and “intermeddleth not” with its joys or sorrows, we may receive, as her genuine sentiments, the plaintive reflections of the feeble and declining Duchess, couched in such terms as these.

“It is impossible,” she writes in 1737, “that one of my age and infirmities can live long; and one great happiness there is in death, that one shall never hear more of anything they do in this world.”

In another passage, she expresses herself so weary of life, that “she cared not how soon the stroke was given, and wished only that it might be given with as little pain as possible.”

Her grace’s amusements became yearly more and more circumscribed. In former years she had occupied her shrewd and masculine mind with purchases of land, which she bought in the firm belief, or at least with the excuse of belief to her own mind, that a “sponge” might do away with all the funded property, and that land would “hold longest.” It appears from her will that she was incessantly making additions to the immense landed property in which she possessed a life interest, and even went to the city herself, when nearly eighty years of age, to bid for Lord Yarmouth’s estate. Her quarrels with Sir Robert Walpole began, as we have seen, upon the subject of “_trust-money_,” and they seem to have hinged upon that same matter even so late as the year 1737.[399]

As the darkened day drew to its close, the poor Duchess was fain to be contented to amuse herself by writing in bed, in which shackled position much of her “Vindication” was penned by her.[400] She frequently spoke six hours a day, in giving directions to Hooke. Then she had recourse to a chamber-organ, the eight tunes of which she was obliged to think much better than going to an Italian opera, or an assembly.[401] Society seems to have afforded her little pleasure. Like most disappointed and discontented persons, she became attached to animals, especially to her three dogs, who had those virtues in which human beings, in her estimation, were so greatly deficient. Satiated with the world, the Duchess found, in the numerous visitants to Marlborough-house, few that were capable of friendship. Hers was not a mind to cull sweetness from the flowers which spring up amid the thorns of our destiny. She knew no enjoyment, she declared, equal to that accompanying a strong partiality to a certain individual, with the power of seeing the beloved object frequently; but she now found the generality of the world too disagreeable to feel any partiality strong enough to endear life to the decrepit being that she describes herself to have become.

The Duchess, during the latter years of her life, changed her residence frequently. Sometimes she remained at Marlborough-house, but exchanged that central situation for the quiet of Windsor-lodge or of Wimbledon. Yet at Windsor-lodge she was tantalised with a view of gardens and parks which she could not enjoy; and Wimbledon, she discovered, after having laid out a vast sum of money on it, was damp, clayey, and, consequently, unhealthy.[402] Wrapped up in flannels, and carried about like a child, or wheeled up and down her rooms in a chair, the wealthy Duchess must, nevertheless, have experienced how little there was, in her vast possessions, that could atone for the infirmities of human nature.

A very few months before her death she requested an extension of the lease of Marlborough-house, the term of which had been extended in the reign of George the First. This residence had been built at the entire expense of the Duke of Marlborough, who had likewise paid Sir Richard Beelings two thousand pounds for what the Duchess calls a pretended claim which he had upon the land; so that she considered that she had as just a claim “to an extension as any tenant of the crown could have;” yet she deemed it prudent to make the application to government whilst Mr. Pelham was at the head of the Treasury, “he being the only person in that station who would oblige her, or to whom she would be obliged;” adding to this remark, that Mr. Pelham “had been very civil to her, and was the only person in employment who had been so for many years.” The letter in which this petition was contained was written in June 1744, and the Duchess died in October. Such was the clearness of her faculties, and so strongly were her desires still fixed upon all the privileges which she thought she merited.

Had she been blessed with an exalting and practical faith, such a faith as elevates the heart, and chastens those angry passions and wilful discontents which embitter the dark valley of old age far more even than bodily suffering, the Duchess, looking around her upon those whom she had the power to bless, might have been happy. But, without by any means imputing to her that scepticism with which it was the fashion of the day to charge her, it must be allowed that there is no reason to suppose that the Duchess’s path in life was illumined by those rays which guide the humble and practical Christian through the changes and chances of the world. Her views were all bounded to the scene before her: a spoiled child, the victim of prosperity, as well as its favourite, she received the bounties of Providence as if they had been her due, whilst she aggravated its dispensations of pain by a murmuring spirit.[403]

In the midst of her unenjoyed wealth, some acts of charity employed her later days. Such persons as had fallen into decay, were never, if they bore good characters, repulsed by her.[404] Imposition of any kind she detected instantly, and exposed it in her own eccentric and fearless manner. Having, on one occasion, sent a costly suit of clothes to be made by a certain fashionable dressmaker, Mrs. Buda, the Duchess, on the dress being completed, missed some yards of the expensive material which she had sent. She discovered and punished the fraud in the following manner. Mrs. Buda had a diamond ring which she valued greatly, and wore frequently when attending the Duchess’s orders. The Duchess pretended to be pleased with this ring, and begged a loan of it as a pattern. Having kept it some days, she sent it to Mrs. Buda’s forewoman, with a message importing that it was to be shown to her, as a token between her grace and Mrs. Buda that a certain piece of cloth should be returned instead. The woman, knowing the ring, sent the Duchess the remnant of cloth which had been fraudulently kept by Mrs. Buda; upon which the Duchess sent for Mrs. Buda, and putting the ring into her hand, said, that since she had now recovered the cloth which had been stolen from her, Mrs. Buda should regain the ring which the Duchess had kept.[405]

As she grew older, the firm grasp with which she had ever endeavoured to hold her temporal possessions became more tenacious. She seems to have tired out the Treasury with frequent complaints respecting disputed points which concerned her office of Ranger of Windsor Park, and to have been wonderfully grateful to the powers that had the ascendant for civility to which for years she had been unaccustomed. “You have drawn this trouble upon yourself,” she writes to Mr. Scrope, secretary to Mr. Pelham, “by a goodness I have not found in any body these many years.”[406] And with corresponding humility she begs him to excuse the length of her letter, for, having none of her servants in the way, she found herself obliged to make use of a female secretary, who was not very correct; “but the hand,” adds the poor old Duchess, “is plain enough to be read easily; the worst of it is, that it looks so frightfully long, that a man of business will turn it before he reads it.”[407] Such was the subdued tone in which the Duchess, a year before her death, addressed the official whom in former days she would have commanded.

The vigour and clearness of intellect which had ever distinguished the Duchess, were spared to her until the last. Even in her letters to Mr. Scrope, written mostly in 1743, there is an exactness, distinctness, and force not often to be met with in female correspondence at an earlier age. Her letters on business, and she seems to have passed her days in writing them, are peculiarly clever; sufficiently explicit, but without a word too much. Throughout the Duchess’s letters there is, notwithstanding the asperity of her general remarks, no appearance of discourtesy. In her correspondence with Mr. Scrope, she begins as if addressing a stranger, but, on perceiving that he to whom she wrote entered kindly into her concerns, she becomes gracious, then friendly, and, lastly, even confidential.

To her other concerns was added the charge of Windsor Park, and all the affairs contingent on that office, which the Duchess rendered, when she had nothing else to employ her, a source of irritation, and of occupation.

Queen Caroline, as we have seen, upon the refusal of the Duchess to sell some part of her property at Wimbledon to her Majesty, threatened to take away the annuity of six hundred pounds a year, coupled with the office of Ranger. The threat, to the disgrace of that eulogised Princess, was put into execution; and during Mr. Pelham’s administration, and very shortly before her death, the Duchess applied, through Mr. Scrope, for the restitution of her salary. “Though,” she says, “I have a right to the allowance, I have no remedy, since the crown will pay, or not pay, as they please.” Her arguments for her claims are written with admirable clearness, but couched in terms of earnestness at which one cannot but smile, when we reflect that the writer, now upwards of eighty, who displayed such solicitude for the restitution of the sum of six hundred pounds yearly, not to talk of arrears, which she seems to think were hopeless, was in the receipt of an annual income of at least forty thousand pounds. But it was her right; and the pleasure, perhaps, of triumphing over the injustice of Queen Caroline, then in her grave, moved her to exertion on this subject.

“I have a right,” says this pattern of exactness, “by my grant, to five hundred pounds a year for making hay, (in Windsor Park,) buying it when the year is bad, paying all tradesmen’s bills, keeping horses to carry the hay about to several lodges, and paying five keepers’ wages at fifteen pounds a year each, and some gate-keepers, mole-catchers, and other expenses that I cannot think of. But as kings’ parks are not to be kept as low as private people’s, because they call themselves kings’ servants, I really believe that I am out of pocket upon this account, besides the disadvantage of paying ready money every year for what is done, and have only long arrears to solicit for it.”[408]

A more satisfactory and genial occupation, one would suppose, than wrangling for rights and sums of money which would soon be useless to her, might have occupied many of the Duchess’s declining days. In the month of September, previous to her death, she describes herself as having entered into a “new business,” which entertained her extremely; tying up great bundles of papers to assist very able historians to write a Life of the Duke of Marlborough, which would occupy two folios, with the Appendix.

The arrangement of these papers seems to have afforded the Duchess considerable pleasure. Her feelings were rendered callous by age, and she could now peruse with a poignant regret the correspondence of her husband and of Godolphin. The Lord Treasurer, occupied and harassed as he always was, took no copies of his letters, but desired his friend to keep them, so that they had been carefully preserved, and amounted to two or three hundred in number.

Such materials, together with the minute accounts of all continental affairs, would form, the Duchess felt assured, “the most charming history that had ever yet been writ in any country; and I would rather,” she adds, in a spirit with which all must sympathise, “if I were a man, have deserved to have such an account certified of me, as will be of the two lords that are mentioned, than have the greatest pension or estate settled upon me, that our own King, so full of justice and generosity, will give to reward the quick and great performances brought about by my Lord Carteret, and his partner the Earl of Bath.”

With this reverence for the dead, and contempt for the living, the Duchess proceeded with her task; observing, (then in her eighty-fourth year,) “that it was not likely that she should live to see a history of thirty or forty years finished.”

As autumn approached, her strength seemed more and more to fail. In answer to Mr. Scrope’s inquiries respecting her health, she replies, “I am a little better than I was yesterday, but in pain sometimes, and I have been able to hear some of the letters I told you of to-day; and I hope I shall live long enough to assist the historians with all the assistance they can want from me: I shall be contented when I have done all in my power. Whenever the stroke comes, I only pray that it may not be very painful, knowing that everybody must die; and I think that whatever the next world is, it must be better than this, at least to those that never did deceive any mortal. I am very glad that you like what I am doing, and though you seemed to laugh at my having vapours, I cannot help thinking you have them sometimes yourself, though you don’t think it manly to complain. As I am of the simple sex, I say what I think without any disguise; and I pity you very much for what a man of sense and honesty must suffer from those sort of vermin, which I have told you I hate, and always avoid. I send you a copy of a paper, which is all I have done yet with my historians. I have loads of papers in all my houses that I will gather together to inform them; and I am sure you will think that never any two men deserved so well from their country as the Duke of Marlborough and my Lord Godolphin did.”

One of the last topics of courtly gossip which seems to have disturbed the Duchess’s mind, was the quarrel between George the Second, his son, and the Princess of Wales, upon occasion of the Princess’s sudden and hazardous removal from Hampton Court to St. James’s, previous to the birth of his Majesty George the Third. The Duchess warmly espoused the part of the Prince and Princess, wished them well out of their difficulties, and esteemed Queen Caroline a very hard-hearted grandmother, because, instead of being mightily glad that the Princess’s hour of trial was “well over,” she was extremely angry with the Prince for not consulting the usual ceremonies on this momentous occasion.

Several charitable institutions perpetuate the Duchess’s bounty, and the principal of these, the almshouses of St. Albans, was founded upon a scheme equally benevolent and judicious. It was intended for decayed gentlewomen, and until, for electioneering purposes, the character of its inmates was changed, it retained its useful character of a respectable home and shelter for gentlewomen whose pecuniary circumstances rendered such an asylum desirable.

Several other anecdotes of her benevolence and generosity are recorded; among others, one of munificent generosity is supplied by the newspapers of the day. One of the firm of the Childs was oppressed, nearly to his ruin, by an opposition from the Bank. Upon this occasion, a member of the family stated his case to the Duchess of Marlborough, who placed the following order in his hand:—

“Pay the bearer the sum of one hundred thousand pounds.

“SARAH MARLBOROUGH.

“To the Governor and Company of the Bank of England.”

It is needless to state that the Bank dropped the quarrel; but their persecution made the fortune of the banker.

Until the beginning of October, 1744, the Duchess of Marlborough appears to have continued capable of transacting business; for we find, on the sixth of that month, a letter written to her from Mr. Scrope, whom she had presented with her picture, begging for an interview with her grace; and in a previous letter he intimates that he has some message from Mr. Pelham to deliver to the Duchess. Thus, to the last, her concerns, those of Windsor Lodge, the renewal of the lease of Marlborough-house, and the more commendable, but too late deferred task of compiling the memoirs of her husband, engrossed her mind. What portion of her thoughts was given to the Maker who had sent her into the world endowed with singular faculties, who had entrusted her with many talents, for which soon she would be responsible to her God, does not appear. She sank, at length, to rest. Her death took place at Marlborough-house, on the 18th of October, 1744.[409]

The personal qualities of this remarkable woman require little comment; in the narrative of her life they are sufficiently displayed. The advantages with which nature qualified her to play a conspicuous part in society have been rarely combined in woman. Of extraordinary sagacity, improved alone by that species of education which the world gives, her mind displayed almost masculine energy to the latest period of her existence. Her judgment, though biassed by her passions, exemplified itself in the clear and able estimate which she made of the motives, opinions, and actions of her contemporaries. Time has proved the value of her observation.

To an extraordinary capacity for business, the Duchess of Marlborough united great facility in expressing, and in making others comprehend, all that she desired them to understand. From her earliest years, her mind soared above the pursuits of her young companions. The puerile recreations of a court could not shackle the vigorous intellect which disdained the captivity of etiquette. Compelled by circumstances to endure the society of a Princess whom she despised, her mind never sank to the level of that of the placid and unaspiring Anne. Even amidst the irksome duties of perpetual attendance on one who had little to recommend her except good nature, the grasping intellect of the youthful favourite was gaining opinions on topics generally connected with politics, and with such themes as affected her interest and that of her future husband. The capacity of Anne remained stationary; and that of her companion, amid similar occupations to those of her young mistress, and enjoying only the same opportunities, like a plant entangled amongst others of slower growth, although shackled, yet acquired vigour.

With few opportunities of mental culture, except such as society offered her, with scarcely the rudiments of education, Sarah Duchess of Marlborough became, at an early age, the affianced wife of a man who was, like herself, practical, not erudite, the scholar of the world, the pupil of fortune. At the time of this early engagement, she probably possessed, along with the vivacity, the sweetness and attractions natural to her sex. The world, and a love of politics, that bane to delicacy and grace in woman, had not then hardened her nature, and increased the acrimony of her temper. She became the wife of Marlborough, the associate of his associates, the companion, the friend of the eloquent, of the lettered, and the brave. Her capacity grew in the congenial sphere now formed around her. Her observation, by nature accurate, was exercised upon subjects worthy of her inspection. She learned, by conversation, by experience, to think and to reason. For many years she took but a trivial share in the public events which agitated the nation; but she viewed from “the loophole of retreat” all that was important, with a mind enlightened by the sound and moderate opinions of Godolphin, from whom she was, in fact, much more rarely separated than from her husband. The Lord Treasurer could never, indeed, teach her to love William the Third, who had graciously overlooked his defection; but he restrained her vehemence, he regulated her expressions; and it was not until Godolphin had sunk under the cruel disease which consumed him, that the Duchess became intractably violent. Thus, formed by circumstances into a reflecting, shrewd, and energetic being, the Duchess of Marlborough, when her mind attained, along with her frame, its full growth, and that lasting vigour for which both were remarkable, began to turn with disgust from the irksome duties which her offices at court imposed upon her unwilling mind. The daily round of ceremonials which she was compelled to witness became revolting to her; the monotony of Anne’s mind inspired her with contempt. It was with difficulty, as she confessed years afterwards, that she brought herself to endure the society of one whose conversation consisted, like that of James her father, in a constant repetition of one favourite idea; a species of discourse far more dispiriting than absolute silence.

The imperious temper of Sarah was fostered by the meek disposition and mean understanding of her royal mistress. As she grew into political importance, she probably ceased to be the engaging and attractive woman whose loveliness gained universal admiration. Henceforth, her empire, excepting with regard to her husband, appears to have been over the intellect alone; and whilst she was at once the pupil and the adviser of Godolphin, she was no longer beloved as a parent; her influence over the affections of those with whom she was connected melted away when politics absorbed her thoughts.

There can be no doubt but that, whilst the virtues of the Duchess were not many, her faults were egregiously exaggerated by contemporary writers. The principal accusations against her relate to avarice, ingratitude towards Anne, arrogance of demeanour, and a spirit of intrigue. The grounds upon which this formidable array of demerits rests, have been fully discussed in the foregoing portion of this work. That the Duchess was of a most grasping disposition, that she coveted money, thirsted for power, place, honour, everything that could raise her to a pinnacle in that world which she loved too well, cannot be denied. The attempts at peculation, and the corrupt and dishonest practices with which she has been charged, are, however, succinctly and satisfactorily disproved by her. Though greedy to an excess of wealth, she was not dishonest. Queen Anne truly said that cheating was not the Duchess’s crime; and no individual could be a more exact or competent judge than the Princess who uttered that sentence. It appears, indeed, that the Duchess endeavoured very diligently to reform the royal household; that she caused an order to be passed, prohibiting the sale of places; that she never exceeded, and, in some instances, refused the usual perquisites of her office; that, far from encroaching on royal bounty, she refused frequently large sums from the Queen when Princess; and that, after Anne’s accession, the value of her presents to the Duchess was so contemptible that the latter, in her letter to Mr. Hutchinson, has given a list of them, which borders, from its meanness, on the absurd.

The conduct of the Duchess towards her sovereign has been, by party writers, severely stigmatised, and not without justice. There was, on both sides of this memorable quarrel, much to blame. A long course of arrogance, imprudence, and negligence, on the part of the Duchess, led to the alienation of Anne. Yet even the Queen specifically declared, and reiterated, that she had no fault to allege against the haughty Sarah, except “inveteracy to poor Masham.” It was not in the Duchess’s nature to check that inveteracy. A generous, high-minded line of conduct was beyond her power. Yet, at any rate, the alleged cause of her disfavour was not a crime of heinous character. It was the mode in which she revenged the injuries which she received, that constitutes her delinquency. Her character of her royal mistress was written in the spirit of revenge; her pen was fledged with satire as it traced the lines in which the follies and defects of Anne are described. Years failed to soften the bitterness of her vindictive spirit. Death had not the power to disarm her rancour. The publication of certain letters, an act with which she frequently threatened the Queen;[410] the careful insertion in her narrative of every circumstance that can throw ridicule upon a mistress once her benefactress, one who descended from her high rank to claim the privileges of friendship: these are acts which must be heavily charged upon the Duchess. Age and affliction ought to have taught the relentless writer a better lesson. The Queen was no more—the Duchess tottering towards the tomb. Their mutual animosities should not by the survivor have been dragged forth to gratify revenge.

Such a breach of confidence, such an outrage upon the sacred name of friendship, society ought not to pardon. Such an offence, of too frequent occurrence, where disgust has superseded confidence, renders affection a snare to be dreaded by the unsophisticated mind, and must entirely preclude those who hold offices of responsibility from the necessary relief of confidence; and, were such acts of treachery excused, monarchs might indeed tremble, before they indulged the amiable inclinations of minds not corrupted by the intoxicating possession of power.

The office which the Duchess held about the person of the Queen rendered silence an imperative claim of honour; but, with an unrelenting coarseness, the Duchess laid bare the very privacies of the closet, the foibles, the vacillations, the manœuvres, the weaknesses, the peculiarities of her sovereign. No self-justification could be worth such a price—revenge upon the memory of one silent in the grave.

As a wife and as a mother, the Duchess stands not pre-eminently high. She was born for the public, and to the public she was devoted. Her sentiments of patriotism, however commendable, would have been well exchanged for duty to her husband, and patient affection for her children. Her gross partiality to some of her grandchildren, in preference to others, revealed the source of her misfortunes as a mother. Wherever such a noxious fungus as injustice grows within the domestic sphere, peace and affection take their leave. Hence those divisions which the possession of a large fortune in the hands of a family entails upon the junior branches, among whom there is not the foundation of a happy confidence. The precise sources of those irritating bickerings does not appear in the published correspondence relating to the domestic concerns of the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough; but it is too probable that the miserable dissensions between his wife and daughters, which embittered the Duke’s life, originated in jealousies on pecuniary matters.

In what is commonly termed purity of morals, the character of the Duchess of Marlborough has descended to posterity without a stain. Whatever direction the calumnies of the day may have taken in that respect, their influence was ephemeral. No historian of respectability has dared to attach a blemish to the purity of her lofty deportment. She esteemed the probity, and she was powerfully influenced by the sterling sense, of Lord Godolphin; but her attachment was in no degree greater than that of the Lord Treasurer’s affectionate friend, her husband. No similar aspersion with respect to any other individual appears in the lampoons of the day. In a moral sense, in so far as it comprises the purity of a woman’s conduct, the Duchess is therefore unimpeached. She was in that respect worthy of being the wife of the great hero who worshipped her image in absence, with the romantic devotion of love, unabated even by indifference. But when we speak of female excellence, to that one all-important ingredient must be added others, without which a mother, a wife, and a friend, cannot be said to fulfil her vocation. Sweetness, forbearance, humanity, must grace that deportment, in the absence of which virtue extorts with difficulty her need of praise. The lofty temper which could scarcely be restrained in the presence of the staid and decorous Queen Mary, expanded into acts of fury, when time and unlimited dominion over her sovereign and her husband had soured that impetuous spirit into arrogance.

In reviewing the long life whose annals we have written, it is not easy to point out the benefits which the Duchess conferred upon society. Endowed with natural abilities of a very uncommon order; with a person so remarkably beautiful, that it would have bestowed a species of distinction upon a female in a humble station; possessing a most vigorous constitution, which seemed destined to wear out, with impatience, her heirs and her enemies; raised to rank, her coffers overflowing with wealth; she appeared marked out by destiny to effect some signal good for a country in whose concerns she took an active part. What distress might she not, with her enormous wealth, have relieved; what indigent genius might she not have brought forth to light; what aids to learning by endowments might she not have bestowed; what colleges might she not have assisted; what asylums for the miserable might she not have provided! Of these laudable undertakings, of intentions so beneficent, we find, compared with her enormous means, but few instances. There are some laudable endowments, some impulses of benevolence recorded, which make one hope that there may have been more, unseen, unknown. But a truly amiable mind would not have been solely occupied by what she deemed her claims and her wrongs; it would, when the fervour of the noon-day was over, have delighted in those kind acts which cheer the evening of life. To the last she was grasping, accumulating, arranging. To the world, in its worst sense, she gave up the powers of a mind destined for higher things. The immense accumulation of her wealth spoke volumes against the extension of her charity. To each of her heirs, Charles Duke of Marlborough, and to his brother, Lord John Spencer, she bequeathed a property of thirty thousand a year, besides bequests to others, particularly enumerated in her singular will.[411]

But taking into account all the errors that she committed, and the good acts which she omitted, Sarah Duchess of Marlborough had still some noble qualities to command respect. Her hatred of falsehood stands foremost in bold relief among these attributes. Supposing that the great world of those days resembled, in its leading features, the luxurious and fashionable portion of the community in these, her sincerity was a virtue of rare occurrence. Her motives, her very foibles, were laid bare for the inspection of her associates. Her unadorned and accurate account of all those affairs in which the busy portion of her life was passed, was never attacked for untruth. She resolutely exposed all that she hated and despised; but she was equally averse to duplicity in her own personal conduct, and resentful towards it in others. Her plain dealing with the Queen, even her loss of temper and occasional insolence, rise high in estimation when contrasted with the vile duplicity of Mrs. Masham, and the servility and intriguing meanness of Harley. That she was not able to cope with such enemies as these, is to her credit. With her indignation at the stratagems by which she was secretly undermined, we must cordially sympathise. There was something high-minded in her endeavours to prevent the Duke from ever taking office again; and in the last conditions to her will, that those who so largely benefited by it should forfeit their share if they ever took office under a monarch whom she disliked, and a ministry whom she despised. Her virtues, like her faults, were of the hardy order. There was nothing amiable in the Duchess’s composition, to present her good qualities in fair keeping, or to render her an object for affectionate veneration in her old age. Her sincerity was ever too busy in unveiling the faults of others: it was unaccompanied by charity. Her resentments ended only with her existence.

The Duchess of Marlborough was interred in the sumptuous monument at Blenheim, in the chapel, in the same vault which contained the remains of the Duke, after they were removed thither from Westminster Abbey.

In the Duchess’s will, which occupied eight skins of parchment, she ordered that her funeral should be strictly private, and with no more expense than decency required, and that mourning should only be given to those servants who should attend at her funeral.

She appointed Hugh Earl of Marchmont, and Beversham Filmer, Esq., her executors, to whose charge she left in trust her almost countless manors, parsonages, rectories, advowsons, lands, tenements, and hereditaments, in no less than eleven counties.

By a proviso in her will, she rendered it void, as far as he was concerned, if ever her grandson Lord John Spencer should become bound or surety for any person, or should accept from any King or Queen, of these realms, any office or employment, civil or military, except the rangership of the Great or Little Park at Windsor. She left ample bequests to many of her servants, not forgetting twenty pounds a year to each of her chairmen. One of the most remarkable items of her codicil was the sum of ten thousand pounds to William Pitt, Esq., afterwards Earl of Chatham, for the noble defence he had made in support of the laws of England, and to prevent the ruin of his country. But the sum of twenty thousand pounds to Philip Earl of Chesterfield, accompanied by the bequest of her best and largest diamond ring, appears sadly disproportioned to the small sums which she bequeathed to near relations. Those who are desirous of further particulars can satisfy their curiosity by referring to the Appendix. The Duchess was said to have left, besides her numerous legacies, property to the amount of sixty thousand pounds per annum to be divided amongst her two grandsons, Charles Duke of Marlborough, and his brother Lord John Spencer. It is remarkable that one clause in her will prohibits the marriage of any of her grandsons under the age of twenty-one, on penalty of losing the annuity bequeathed to them, and of having half of the proposed sum transferred to their wives.

In closing this narrative of a long life—this estimate of a remarkable person, it must be observed that many allowances are to be made for the errors and failings displayed by the individual whose character has been described. Her youth witnessed an age of self-indulgence, and of moral degradation: the period of her maturer years was marked by civil strife, and by the anarchy of faction. A perilous course of prosperity attended the middle period of her career. Disappointment, dissensions, calumny, misfortune, and neglect, commenced with her decline, and accompanied her slow decay, to the last moment of her existence. Those who hopelessly covet wealth, honour, and celebrity, may read the life of Sarah Duchess of Marlborough with profit, and rise from the perusal, resigned to fate.

APPENDIX.

_The following letter is taken from the Coxe Manuscripts, vol. xv. p. 123. It is referred to by the Duchess, in her Account of her Conduct._

THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH TO THE QUEEN.

I have said something in answer to the letters I had the honour to receive last from your Majesty in one of these very long papers, and there remains nothing to observe more, but that your Majesty seems very much determined to have no more correspondence with me than as I am the Duke of Marlborough’s wife, and your groom of the stole. I assure your Majesty I will obey that command, and never so much as presume, as long as I live, to name my cousin Abigail, if you will be pleased to write me word in a very short letter that you have read this history, which is as short as I could make it, and that you continue still of the same opinion you were as to all your unjust usage of me. You will know all I have writ is exactly the truth, and I must desire that you will be pleased to do this before you receive the holy sacrament; and my reason for it is this: everybody considers that as the most serious and important thing they have to do in the world; and in order to prepare themselves for it in such a manner as the greatness of the mistery requires, they are directed to take a strict account of their lives, and to be sorry for any wrong thing they have done, and to resolve never more to do the same; and I know your Majesty on that occasion always observes the great rule of examining yourselfe, and, justly considering what a sacred work you are going about, constantly makes use of that opportunity to search and try your wayes, and take a solemn view of your actions. Now, upon the head of examination which I find in “The Whole Duty of Man,” I observe there are these that follow Neglecting lovingly to admonish a friend; forsaking his friendship for a slight or no cause; unthankfulness to those that admonish, or being angry with them for it; neglecting to make what satisfaction we can for any injuries we have done him. And we are directed, in the same place, to read this catalogue carefully over, upon days of humiliation, and to ask our own hearts as we go along, Am I guilty or not of this? And when we are guilty, to confesse it, particularly to repent of it, and to make what amends we can, as the nature of the fault requires.

This rule is what I would beg your Majesty would be pleased to observe upon the four articles which I have now written exactly as they stand in that book, and upon the first to ask your own heart seriously whether you have ever told me of any fault but that of believing, as all the world does, that you have an intimacy with Mrs. Masham; and whether those shocking things you complain I have said, were any more than desiring you to love me better than her, and not to take away your confidence from me after more than twenty-five years’ service and professions of friendship.

Upon the second, whether you have not forsaken my friendship upon slight or no faults?

Upon the third, whether you have ever taken well any kind advice that I have endeavoured to give you, but have been always angry at me for it?

Upon the fourth, whether you have attempted ever, by the least kind word, to make me any amends upon all the just representations I have made of the wrong done me in the business of my office, in Mrs. Masham’s using my lodgings, and all that you have said upon those occasions?

I beg your Majesty will be pleased to weigh these things attentively, not only with reference to friendship, but also to morality and religion; and that if ever I have said anything to you, of the truth of which you are not convinced, you will be so favourable to let me know what it is.

In the warning before the Communion, in the Common Prayer Book, we are enjoined so to search and examine our consciences that we may come holy and cleane to such a heavenly feast, and to reconcile ourselves, and make restitution to those that we have done the least injury to; and if we have given any reall cause of complaint, to acknowledge our fault, in order to regain the friendship of those we have used ill, and not to think it a disparagement to speak first, since ’tis no more than our duty; and I have read somewhere, that God himself does not forgive the injurys that are done to us, till we are satisfied and intercede for those that did them, who are afterwards obliged to make suitable returns by all offices of Christian love and friendship. The Scripture itself does explain this matter in these words:—First be reconciled to thy brother, and then offer thy gift. The meaning can be no other but that if at any time we are going to receive, and remember that we have used any one ill, we should first endeavour to make satisfaction, it being but reasonable and just that whoever has done wrong should confess and acknowledge it, and to the utmost of his power make reparation for it. To this purpose I beg leave to transcribe a passage in Dr. Taylor. “He that comes to the holy sacrament must, before his coming, so repent of his injurys as to make actual restitution, for it is not fit for him to receive benefit from Christ’s death, as long as by him his brother feels an injury; there is no repentance unless the penitent, as much as he can, makes that to be undone which is done amiss, and therefore because the action can never be undone, at least undoe the mischiefe. Doe justice and judgement. That’s repentance. Put thy neighbour, if thou canst, into the same state of good from whence by thy fault hee was removed,—at least, make that it should be no worse. Doe no new injury, and cut off the old. Restore him to his fame and his lost advantages.”

And I beg leave to quote one other passage of the same author.

“Examine thyself in the particulars of thy relation, especially where thou governest and takest accounts of others, and exactest their faults, and art not so obnoxious to them as they are to thee; for princes and masters think more things are lawful to them towards their inferiors than indeed there are.”

Upon the whole, it appears by the authority of this great man, that the first steps towards a reconcilliation should always be made by those that did the injury, and not by those that received it. On the first part, there should be shown some effects of repentance—some returns of kindness and friendship, and then it will be the duty of the other to remember it no more. This is as far as any one can go in this matter by the rules of justice. If anything I have written now, or at any time, appears to bee too familiar from a subject to a sovereign, I hope your Majesty will think it less wrong, if you consider its coming from Mrs. Freeman to Mrs. Morley, which names you so long obliged me to use that it is not easy for me now quite to forget them; and I still hope I have a better character in the world than Mrs. Masham tells your Majesty of inveteracy and malice, as I mentioned before, for I do not comprehend that one can be properly said to have malice or inveteracy for a viper, because one endeavours to hinder it from doing mischief: for I think when I know there is such an one, and do not acquaint you with it, I should fail in my duty, and I can’t see how that can be called being malicious. But since you make so ill returns for all the information which I have given you, which I know to be right from the dear-bought experience of that ungrateful woman, I will never mention her more, after I have had what I desire at the beginning of this, that you will say upon your word and honour that you have read these papers in the manner desired, and that you are not changed, though I wish you may not repent it and alter your opinion of this wretch, as you did of Mr. Harley, when it is too late: and I do assure your Majesty that I have not the least design of recovering what you say is so impossible (your kindness) in the letter of the twenty-sixth of October. What I have endeavoured is only with a view of your own safety and honour, and the preservation of the whole. I have but one request more, and then I have done for ever, upon the conditions I have written, and that is, that you will not burn my narratives, but lay them somewhere that you may see them a second time; because I know, sometime or other, before you die, if you are not now, you will be sensible how much you have wronged both yourself and me; but after you have read these papers and performed what Dr. Taylor recommends, whatever you write I will obey.

If I continue in your service, I will come to you noe oftener than just the business of my office requires, nor never speake to you one single word of anything else. And if I retire with the Duke of Marlborough, you may yet be surer that I will come no oftner than other subjects in that circumstance do.

1711.

_A statement written by the Duchess of Marlborough relating to her removal from St. James’s; respecting which many curious anecdotes had been circulated._ Taken from the Coxe MS., vol. xv. p. 143.

I have given some account in a former paper of what the Queen said, when she desired Lord Marlborough’s things should be removed out of St. James’s, and of the way I took to make Mrs. Cowper tell the Queen that her lodgings were part of my grant, that, for her own case as well as mine, she might get for herself some rooms in St. James’s, before they were all disposed of; and I think I have observed in that paper, how much civiller her Majesty’s answer was upon this occasion than in the message the Duke of Shrewsbury reported to Mr. Craggs, when she ordered my lodgings to be cleared; which confirms me in my opinion that his grace did not speak to the Queen in the manner that he ought to have done, though he pretended to think her Majesty was in the wrong. But the answer I received from Mrs. Cowper was to this effect.

After I had desired her to acquaint the Queen with what I have said, she came to me the next morning and told me that her Majesty having been spoken to, was pleased to say, I would have you tell the Duchess of Marlborough, that I do know your lodgings are in her grant, _and I will be sure to give you some others before I go out of town_. It did not appear by this that the Queen was angry, as indeed she had no reason to be; and to show that Mrs. Cowper had no thoughts of that, she sent me a very civil message, a day or two before she went to Windsor, that she had often put the Queen in mind of giving her some lodgings, and her Majesty had always said she would do it, one day after the other, but it was to be hoped she would name them the next day, being the last she should stay in town, and as soon as it was done, I should certainly have notice.

After this had passed, which I thought very void of offence, the next thing I heard was that my Lord Oxford having offered her Majesty a warrant to sign for money to go on with the building at Woodstock, she had refused it, saying, that she would not build a house for one that had pulled down and gutted hers, and taken away even the slabs out of the chymneys, and had lately sent a message by Mrs. Cowper, which she had reason to be angry at. This last is as I have mentioned it just now; and the other ground of offence is still more extraordinary, because her Majesty went herself through all those that were my rooms just before she left the town, and must therefore see with her own eyes that there was no one chymney piece, floor, or wainscote touched, but every thing in good order, and every room mended, and nothing removed but glasses and brass locks of my own bringing, and which I never heard that anybody left for those that came after them; nay, the very pannels over the doors and chimneys were whole, the pictures having been only hung upon the wainscote; yet her Majesty suffered my Lord Oxford to send Lord Marlborough word that he would endeavour to serve him, and get over this great offence as soon as he could, but that at present the Queen was inexorable. This he said to a friend of Lord Marlborough’s, desiring he might be acquainted with it, making at the same time great professions, and wishing to hear of some good success, which he said would set all things right, and declaring how well he could live with Lord Marlborough; and when the person he spoke to represented the diffycultys Lord Marlborough was under, and complained of the libels that came out against him, My Lord Oxford replyed, that he must not mind them, and that he himself was called _rogue_ every day in print, and knew who did it, yet he should live fairly with that person; adding, that the Examiner himself had been upon him lately; which was so very ridiculous that it made me laugh, since it is certain that all the lyes in that paper are set about by himself. Now, whether he invented these last for the pleasure of telling them, and hurting me with Lord Marlborough, or for a pretence to get off from his promise of finishing Blenheim, I can’t tell; but this I am sure of, that before he found out that excuse, he had lost the best season for the work, for this answer was given in the beginning of July, and if they had actually ordered money then, the winter would have come on so fast before stones and materials could have been got, that little or nothing could have been done. But as it was natural for me to endeavour to clear myself, when I know such a message had been sent to Lord Marlborough, and such lyes were made about myself, I made my servant write in my name to the housekeeper of St. James’s, and desire he would examine all the lodgings, and send word in what condition he found them, that I might know whether my servants had observed my orders, which were to remove nothing but what is usual, and called by all people furniture. Upon this the housekeeper took with him the servant I sent with the letter, and after he had gone through all the lodgings, he sent me word that they were in very good order, and that the report of my having taken anything out of them that did not belong to me, was false and scandalous. Having received this account, I desired Mr. Craggs, who had been with me at St. Albans, where I then was, to go to the Lord Chamberlain, who was the proper officer to apply to upon such occasions, and to give him an account of what had been reported, and to desire that he would send somebody to examine the lodgings; but my Lord Chamberlain not being in town, Mr. Craggs went of himself to my Lord Oxford, and told him what misrepresentations had been made to her Majesty about the lodgings; to which he answered, that there could be none, since the Queen had viewed them herself, and had been much displeased at the taking away the brass locks, which she believed _were mostly her own_; but as to the message by Mrs. Cowper, he knew nothing of it, only he understood it was something that had disturbed her Majesty. Mr. Craggs told him there was no message from me to the Queen, but only a discourse, that was very natural with Mrs. Cowper, and necessary to her getting some lodgings for herself, since those she had were in my grant, as her Majesty was pleased to say she knew they were; who made a very civil answer upon the subject of my conversation with Mrs. Cowper. It was some comfort, however, to find that all the outcry that was made about the chymnies and getting the lodgings were let fall, and ended only in her Majesty being angry at my taking away brass locks, which she only _thought were mostly her own_, and therefore was in some doubt whether they were not mine; but when so much disagreeable noise had been made about this matter, I thought it would be right to have the housekeeper of St. James’s sign a paper to the same effect with what he had said; upon which I sent him such a one, which I desired him to sign for the justification of my servants, who had orders to remove nothing but furniture, and if he had any difficulty in doing it, I desired him to ask my Lord Chamberlain if he might not sign to what was the truth; and if it were not true, then he had but to show where my servants had done wrong, and I would punish them for it. The housekeeper at first was unwilling to give anything under his hand, notwithstanding what he had declared by word of mouth, and the message he had sent to me; but he was afraid, I suppose, of being put out of his place: yet upon my sending him the paper I mentioned just now, which was all true, and nothing but the fact, he signed it at last, though it was directly contrary to what my Lord of Oxford reported from the Queen, in which he said, _there could not possibly be any mistake, since her Majesty had been in the lodgings herself_; but, in the conclusion, his lordship was so good as to say he was sorry anything should happen to put the Queen out of humour, and the best way was to say no more of it, for he had prevailed with her Majesty to sign a warrant for twenty thousand pounds to go on with Blenheim, and he would order weekly payments forthwith; but the same person that writ me this account, added, that his lordship’s airs and grimaces upon this occasion were hard to represent, and that it was pretty difficult to make anything out of what he had said, or to guess what was the occasion of this quick turn, and so far I agree with him; yet if I had not taken so much pains to expose his lyes....

Soon after my Lord Oxford had made a merit to my Lord Marlborough of his having prevailed with the Queen to continue money for the building, I received a letter from abroad, dated the 26th of July, by which it appeared there was no hope that the French would give such a peace as even so bold a villain as my Lord Oxford durst accept, and therefore ’tis probable he ordered this money to delude Lord Marlborough, so far as to make him continue 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; and besides that, a whole year is lost.

I hear the money is to be paid in such little sums, if at all, that it looks like a design rather to keep still some hold of Lord Marlborough, rather than to do him any good; and for what concerns the Queen’s part in this whole affair, there is nothing surer than that Lord Oxford and Mrs. Masham did first persuade her Majesty to stop the warrant, and afterwards instruct her in those fine reasons which she gave for doing it, for she has no invention of her own, as I have often told you; but then she makes up that defect by thorough industry, in getting by heart any lesson that is given to her; and though she would not therefore, of herself, have told all these storys about gutting of the lodgings, and pulling down the marble chymney pieces, nor ever intended to have stopt any money upon it, yet as soon as she heard Mrs. Masham say it was wrong in me to presume to remove anything, she would not fail to echo to that, and to say that truly she believed the brass locks were _mostly her own_; and if by chance she had heard my Lord Oxford or Mrs. Masham say that I had taken anything else out of the lodgings which she knew to be still there, she would be so far from doing me justice, that she would have said anything they would have put into her mouth, to make that falsehood be believed; nor is it in her nature to make any reparation for injuries of this kind, nor to be sorry or ashamed for what she has done wrong at any time, but, on the contrary, to hate the persons she has prejudiced, especially if they endeavour to vindicate themselves, and by that, to put her in the wrong, or those that govern her.

_Character of Queen Anne written by the Duchess, and inscribed on the statue at Blenheim._[412]

Queen Anne had a person very graceful and majestic; she was religious without affectation, and always meant well. Though she believed that King James had followed such counsells as endangered the religion and laws of her country, it was a great affliction to her to be forced to act against him even for security. Her journey to Nottingham was never concerted, but occasioned by the sudden great apprehensions she was under when the King returned from Salisbury.

That she was free from ambition, appeared from her easiness in letting King William be placed before her in the succession; which she thought more for her honour than to dispute who should wear first that crown that was taken from her father. That she was free from pride, appeared from her never insisting upon any one circumstance of grandeur more than when her family was established by King Charles the Second; though after the Revolution she was presumptive heir to the crown, and after the death of her sister was in the place of a Prince of Wales. Upon her accession to the throne the Civil List was not encreased, although that revenue, from accidents, and from avoiding too rigorous exactions, (as the Lord Treasurer Godolphin often said,) did not, one year with another, produce more than five hundred thousand pounds. Yet she paid many pensions granted in former reigns, which have since been thrown upon the publick. When a war was found necessary to secure Europe from the power of France, she contributed, for the ease of the people, in one year, out of her own revenue, a hundred thousand pounds. She gave likewise the first fruits to augment the provisions of the poorer clergy. For her own privy purse she allowed but twenty thousand pounds a year, (till a very few years before she died, when it was encreased to six and twenty thousand pounds,) which is much to her honour, because that is subject to no account. She was as frugal in another office, (which was likewise her private concern,) that of the robes, for in nine years she spent only thirty-two thousand and fifty pounds, including the coronation expense, as appears by the records in the Exchequer, where the accounts were passed.

She had never any expense of ostentation or vanity; but never refused charity when there was the least reason for it. She always paid the greatest respect imaginable to King William and Queen Mary. She was extremely well bred, and treated her chief ladies and servants as if they had been her equals. To all who approached her, her behaviour, decent and dignified, shewed condescension without art or manners, and maintained subordination without servility.

SARAH MARLBOROUGH.

1738.

_Papers relating to Blenheim._ _Description of the Buildings and Gardens at Woodstock._

LORD GODOLPHIN TO THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.[413]

Woodstock, Sept. 25th, 1706.

Before I left Windsor, I writ to you so fully for two or three posts together, that I shall have nothing left to say from hence but of what belongs to this place.

The garden is already very fine, and in perfect shape; the turf all laid, and the first coat of the gravel; the greens high and thriving, and the hedges pretty well grown.

The building is so far advanced, that one may see perfectly how it will be when it is done. The side where you intend to live is the most forward part. My Lady Marlborough is extremely prying into, and has really not only found a great many errors, but very well mended such of them as could not stay for your decision. I am apt to think she has made Mr. Vanburgh a little[414] ... but you will find both ease and comfort from it.

Lady Harriot and Wiligo have walked all about the garden this evening. I hope, when we do so again, we shall have the happiness of your company.

SIR J. VANBURGH TO THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH.[415]

(_Extract._)

June 11, 1709.

Madam,—As to the main concern of the whole, madam, which is as to the expense of all, I will, as I writ your grace yesterday, prepare in a very little time a paper to lay before you that I hope will give you a great deal of ease upon that subject, notwithstanding there is 134,000_l._ already paid. But I beg leave to set your grace right in one thing which I find you are misinformed in. The estimate given in was between ninety and a hundred thousand, and it was only for the house and two office wings next the great court; for the back courts, garden walls, court walls, bridges, gardens, plantations, and avenues were not in it, which I suppose nobody could imagine would come to less than as much more. Then there happened one great disappointment; the freestone in the park quarry not proving good, which, if it had been, would have saved fifty per cent. in that article. And besides this, the house was (since the estimate) resolved to be raised about six feet higher in the principal parts of it. And yet, after all, I don’t question but to see your grace satisfied at last; for though the expense should something exceed my hopes, I am most fully assured it will fall vastly short of the least of your fears. And I believe, when the whole is done, both the Queen, yourself, and everybody (except your personal enemys) will easilyer forgive me laying out fifty thousand pounds too much, than if I had laid out a hundred thousand too little.

I am your Grace’s most humble And obedient servant, J. VANBURGH.

SIR JOHN VANBURGH TO THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.[416]

Oxford, Oct. 3, 1710.

My Lord Duke,—By last post I gave your grace an account from Blenheim, in what condition the building was, how near a close of this year’s work, and how happy it was that after being carried up in so very dry a season, it was like to be covered before any wet fell upon it to soak the walls. My intention was to stay there till I saw it effectually done; the great arch of the bridge likewise compleated and safe covered, and the centers struck from under it. But this morning Joynes and Robart told me they had read a letter from the Duchess of Marlborough to put a stop at once to all sorts of work till your grace came over, not suffering one man to be employed a day longer. I told them there was nothing more now to do in effect but just what was necessary towards covering and securing the work, which would be done in a week or ten days, and that there was so absolute a necessity for it, that to leave off without it would expose the whole summer’s work to unspeakable mischiefs: that there was likewise another reason not to discharge all the people thus at one stroke together, which was, that though the principal workmen that work by the great, such as masons, carpenters, &c., would perhaps have regard to the promises made them that they should lose nothing, and so not be disorderly; yet the labourers, carters, and other country people, who used to be regularly paid, but were now in arrear, finding themselves disbanded in so surprising a manner without a farthing, would certainly conclude their money lost, and finding themselves distressed by what they owed to the people where they lodged, &c., and numbers of them having their familys and homes at great distances in other countys, ’twas very much to be feared such a general meeting might happen, that the building might feel the effects of it; which I told them I the more apprehended, knowing there were people not far off who would be glad to put ’em upon it; and that they themselves, as well I, had for some days past observed ’em grown very insolent, and in appearance kept from meeting, only by the assurances we gave them from one day to another that money was coming. But all I had to say was cut short by Mr. Joynes’s shewing me a postscript my Lady Duchess had added to her letter, forbidding any regard to whatever I might say or do.

Your grace won’t blame me if, ashamed to continue there any longer on such a foot, as well as seeing it was not in my power to do your grace any farther service, I immediately came away.

I send this letter from hence, not to lose a post, that your grace may have as early information as I can give you of this matter; _which I am little otherwise concerned at, than as I fear it must give you some uneasyness_. I shall be very glad to hear no mischief does happen on this method of proceeding; but ’tis certain so small a sum as six or seven hundred pounds to have paid off the poor labourers, &c., would have prevented it; and I had prevailed with the undertakers not to give over till the whole work was covered safe.

I shall, notwithstanding all this cruel usage from the Duchess of Marlborough, receive, and with pleasure obey, any commands your grace may please to lay upon me; being with the defference I ever was,

Your Grace’s most humble And most obedient servant, J. VANBURGH.

SIR JOHN VANBURGH TO THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH.[417]

_Extract from a Letter, dated Blenheim, July 27, 1716._

* * * * *

And I hope you will, in almost every article of the estimate for finishing this great design, find the expense less than is there allowed. Even that frightful bridge will, I believe, at last be kindlier looked upon, if it be found (instead of twelve thousand pounds more) not to cost above three; and I will venture my whole prophetic skill in this one point, that if I lived to see that extravagant project compleat, I shall have the satisfaction to see your grace fonder of it than of any part whatsoever of the house, gardens, or park. I don’t speak of the magnificence of it, but of the agreeableness, which I do assure you, madam, has had the first place in my thoughts and contrivance about it: which I have said little of hitherto, because I know it won’t be understood till ’tis seen, and then everybody will say, _’twas the best money laid out in the whole design. And if at last_ there is a house found in that bridge, _your grace will go and live in it_.

_A Letter respecting a Suit in Chancery, which one Gardiner had commenced against her._

(This probably relates to the expenses of Blenheim. Supplied by W. Upcott, Esq.)

Marlborough-house, the 9th of July, 1712.

Sir,—I thank you for your letter which I received yesterday, which makes me have a mind to tell you what perhaps you may not have heard concerning Gardiner, who has acted, I think, with as much folly as knavery. You must have heard, I don’t doubt, that he began his suit in chancery with a charge upon me of nothing but lies, which I am told the law allows of, as a thing of custom. I was always pressing to have it come to a conclusion; but a thousand tricks were plaid for him to delay it; and at last, when they could hold out no longer, he begun a suit at common law. The court would not suffer a suit for the same in two courts, so he was obliged to make his election which court he would choose, and he chose the Exchequer. I thank you for your civil offer of being ready to do me any service; but my cause is so good and so strongly attested, that I have no occasion for anything more than I have already. But I have a curiosity to know whether Gardiner did subpœna you to be a witness, because I have never yet known him tell the truth in anything, and what he has lately done seems very extraordinary. In the first place, he made an excuse to my lawyer for having delayed the hearing, but said it should come on in Mic. Term, and yet, immediately after that, surprised him with a notice of trial for to-morrow. Some of my witnesses being nearly eighty miles off, it was a very difficult thing for me to bring them on so short a notice. However, I did compass it; but while the master was striking a special jury, Gardiner countermanded it. However the master finished it; and Gardiner’s reason for countermanding it was, because he said his witnesses had disappointed him. I don’t care what they do. And what he will do next I cannot guess; but I think he must pay considerable costs, not having given notice time enough to prevent my witnesses coming to London; for he countermanded the trial last Monday night, which was to be on Friday following, and Dr. Farrar came to London on Tuesday.

I am, Sir, Your humble servant, S. MARLBOROUGH.

_Correspondence relative to the destruction of the old Manor of Woodstocke._

SIR JOHN VANBURGH TO THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH.[418]

Thursday, June the 9th, 1709.

Madam,—Whilst I was last at Blenheim I set men on to take down the ruins at the old manor, as was directed; but bid them take down the chapell last, because I was preparing a little picture of what had been in general proposed to be done with the descent from the avenue to the bridge, and the rest of the ground on that side, which I feared was not perfectly understood by any explanation I had been able to make of it by words. This picture is now done, and if your grace will give me leave, I should be glad to wait upon you with it, either this morning, or some time before the post goes out to-night; for if you should be of opinion to suspend any part of what they are now executing, I doubt the order would be too late if deffered till Saturday.

I hope your grace will not be angry with me for giving you this one (and last) moment’s trouble more about this unlucky thing, since I have no design by it to press or teaze you with a word; but only in silent paint to lay before and explain to you what I fear I have not done by other means, and so resign it to your owne judgment and determination, without your ever hearing one word more about it from

Your Grace’s Most obedient humble servant, J. VANBURGH.

SIR J. VANBURGH TO LORD GODOLPHIN.[419]

(_Extract._)

Your Lordship will, I hope, pardon me if I take this occasion to mention one word of the old mannor.

I have heard your Lordship has been told there has been three thousand pounds laid out upon it; but upon examining into that account, I find I was not mistaken in what I believed the charge had been, which does not yet amount to eleven hundred pounds, nor did there want above two more to complete all that was intended to be done, and the planting and levelling included. And I believe it will be found that this was by one thousand pounds the cheapest way that could be thought on to manage that hill, so as not to be a fault in the approach. I am very doubtful whether your Lordship (or indeed my Lord Duke) has yet rightly taken the design of forming that side of the valley, where several irregular things are to have such a regard to one another, that I much fear the effects of so quick a sentence as has happened to pass upon the remains of the manour. I have, however, taken a good deal of it down, but before ’tis gone too far, I will desire your Lordship will give yourself the trouble of looking upon a picture I have made of it, which will at one view explain the whole design, much better than a thousand words. I’ll wait upon your Lordship with it as soon as I come to town, and hope in the mean time it won’t be possible that the pains I take in this particular, should be thought to proceed only from a desire of procuring myself an agreeable lodging. I do assure your Lordship that I have acted in this whole business upon a much more generous principle, and am much discouraged to find I can be suspected of so poor a contrivance for so worthless a thing; but I hope the close of this work will set me right in the opinion of those that have been pleased to employ me in it.

I am Your Lordship’s, &c. J. VANBURGH.

(Endorsed thus by the Duchess.)

Nov. 9.

All that Sir J. V. says in this letter is false. The manour house had cost me three thousand pounds, and was ordered to be pulled down, and the materialls made use of for things that were necessary to be done. The picture he sent to prevent this was false. My Lord Treasurer went to Blenheim to see the trick: ... and it is now ordered to be pulled down.

_Reasons offered for preserving some part of the Old Manor, by Sir J. Vanburgh._[420]

June 11, 1709.

There is, perhaps, no one thing which the most polite part of manhood have more universally agreed in, than the vallue they have ever set upon the remains of distant times: nor amongst the several kinds of those antiquitys are there any so much regarded as those of buildings; some for their magnificence and curious workmanship; and others as they move more lovely and pleasing reflections (than history without their aid can do) on the persons who have inherited them, on the remarkable things which have been transacted in them, or the extraordinary occasions of erecting them. _As I believe it cannot be doubted, but if travellers many ages hence shall be shewn the very house in which so great a man dwelt, as they will then read the Duke of Marlborough in story; and that they shall be told it was not only his favourite habitation, but was erected for him by the bounty of the Queen, and with the approbation of the people, as a monument of the greatest services and honours that any subject had ever done his country—I believe, though they may not find art enough in the builder to make them admire the beauty of the fabric, they will find wonder enough in the story to make ’em pleased with the sight of it._

I hope I may be forgiven if I make some slight application of what I say of Blenheim, to the small remain of Woodstock manor. It can’t indeed be said it was erected upon so noble or so justifiable an occasion; but it was raised by one of the bravest and most warlike of the English kings; and though it has not been famed as a monument of his arms, _it has been tenderly regarded as the scene of his affections_. Nor amongst the multitude of _people who came daily to view what is raising to the memory of the great Battle of Blenheim, are there any that do not run eagerly to see what ancient remains may be found of Rosamond’s Bower. It may, perhaps, be worth some little refection upon what may be said, if the very footsteps of it are no more to be found._

But if the historical argument stands in need of assistance, there is still much to be said upon other considerations.

That part of the park which is seen from the north front of the new building has little variety of objects, nor does the country beyond it afford any of value. It therefore stands in need of all the helps that can be given, which are only five; buildings and plantations—those indeed, rightly disposed, will supply all the wants of nature in that place: and the most agreeable disposition is to mix them, which this old manour _gives so happy an occasion_ for, that were the enclosure filled with trees, principally fine yews and hollys, promiscuously set to grow up in a wild thicket, so that all the building left, which is only the habitable part, and the chapel, might appear in two risings amongst them, it would make one of the most agreeable objects that the best of landskip painters cou’d invent. And if, on the contrary, this building is taken away, there remains nothing but an irregular, ragged, and ungovernable hill, the deformitys of which are not to be cured but at a vast expense; _and that at last will only remove an ill object, and not produce a good one_. Whereas, to finish the present wall for the inclosures, to form the slopes and make the plantation, (which is all that is now wanting to complete the design,) wou’d not cost two hundred pounds.

I take the liberty to offer this paper, with a picture to explain what I endeavour to describe, that if the present direction for destroying the building shou’d hereafter happen to be repented of, I may not be blamed for neglecting to set in the truest light I cou’d, a thing that seemed to me at least so very materiall.

J. VANBURGH.

_Remarks upon this Letter by the Duchess._

The enclosed paper[421] was wrote by Mr. Robard, who lived always at Blenheim, and, as I have said, was taken into Mr. Bolter’s place. He wrote these directions from the Duke of Marlborough’s own mouth. And when he was gone, for fear of any contest, I suppose, in which he must disobey my Lord Marlborough’s orders, or disoblige Sir John Vanburgh, he brought it to me, and I wrote what you see under the instructions, which anybody would have thought might have put an end to all manner of expense upon that place. The occasion of the Duke of Marlborough’s giving these orders was as follows:—

Sir John Vanburgh having a great desire to employ his fancy in fitting up this extraordinary place, had laid out above two thousand pounds upon it, which may yet be seen in the books of accounts; and without being at all seen in the house, excepting in one article for the lead, which I believe is a good deal more than a thousand pounds of the money. Mr. Traverse, who calls himself the superintendent and chief of Blenheim works, let this thing go on (I will not call it a whim because there has been such a struggle about it) till it was a habitation; and then he came and complained of the great expense of it to me, desiring me to stop it; and Sir John having another house in the park where he lived, and where he had made some expense, Mr. Traverse was unwilling to think he designed this other for his own use, and very prudently wrote to my Lord Marlborough into Flanders, to ask for this old manour for himself, he having no place for the dispatch of his great business in carrying on these great works. The Duke of Marlborough made no answer, but when he came into England, I remember upon a representation that these ruins must come down, because they were not in themselves a very agreeable sight, but they happened to stand very near the middle of the front of this very fine castle of Blenheim, and is in the way of the prospect down the great avenue, for which a bridge of so vast an expense is made to go into. Upon this the Duke of Marlborough went down to Blenheim, and there was a great consultation held, whether these ruins should stand or fall; and I remember the late Earl of Godolphin said, that could no more be a dispute than whether a man that had a great wen upon his cheek would not have it cut off if he could. And upon hearing all people’s opinion, and the Duke of Marlborough seeing the thing himself, he gave this paper of directions, which prevented anything more from being done upon the ruins; but it had not the intended effect of pulling them down.

In August third, 1716, when I was at the Bath, Mr. Robart wrote to me that Sir John Vanburgh had ordered some walling about the old manour to plant some fruit-trees upon, which he would pay for. This, I suppose, was to save himself, because of the orders he had to do nothing there; and by the advance of what is done at that place, I believe it must have been begun a good while before I had this notice of it. I am sure it was upon the nineteenth of June, which was never mentioned by Sir John either to Lord Marlborough or to me. I thought this a little odd, but I had so great a mind to comply with Sir John, (if it were possible,) that I took no notice of this, nor wrote any to Mr. Robart concerning it, only that I was sure the Duke of Marlborough would never let Sir John pay for anything in his park, and I heard no more of it till I came here; only that I observed that several officers and people that had come by Blenheim to the Bath, when they talked of this place, and of the workmen that were employed about it, could hardly keep from laughing.

Since Sir John went to London, the Duke of Marlborough and I, taking the air, went to see these works, where there is a wall begun; I wish my park or some of my gardens had such another; the first having none but what you may kick down with your foot, nor the fine garden but what must be pulled down again, being done with a stone that the undertakers must know would not hold; but it was not their business to finish, but rather to intail work. If one may judge of the expense of this place by the manner of doing things at Blenheim, there is a foundation laid for a good round sum. There is a wall to be carried round a great piece of ground, and a good length of it done, with a walk ten feet broad that is to go on the outside of this wall on the garden side, which must have another wall to enclose it. There are to be fruit-trees set, but the earth not being proper for that, it is to be laid I know not how many feet deep with stone, and then as much earth brought to be put upon that, to secure good fruit. And there is one great hole that I saw in the park that must be filled up again, already occasioned by making mortar for that part of the wall that is already done. What I have wrote, I saw myself, and upon my commending the fancy of it, the man was so pleased at my liking it, who lives in the house, and has some care of the works about the causeway, that he told me with great pleasure the whole design.

_Correspondence between the Duchess of Marlborough and Sir John Vanburgh on the subject of a Marriage between the Lady Harriot Godolphin and the Duke of Newcastle._

SIR JOHN VANBURGH TO THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH.[422]

January 16, 1714.

Madam,—Sir Samuel Garth mentioning something yesterday of Lord Clare with relation to my Lady Harriot, made me reflect that your grace might possibly think (by my never saying anything to you of that matter since you did me the honour of hinting it to me) I had either forgot or neglected it: but I have done neither. ’Tis true, that partly by company being in the way, and partly by his illness when I was most with him, I have not yet had an opportunity of sounding him to the purpose. What I have yet done, therefore, has only been this,—I have brought into discourse the characters of several women, that I might have a natural occasion to bring in hers, which I have then dwelt a little upon, and, in the best manner I could, distinguished her from the others. This I have taken three or four occasions to do, without the least appearance of having any view in it, thinking the rightest thing I could do would be to possess him with a good impression of her before I hinted at anything more. I can give your grace no further accounts of the effect of it, than that he seemed to allow of the merit I gave her; though I must own he once expressed it with something joined which I did not like, though it showed he was convinced of those fine qualifications I had mentioned; and that was a sort of wish (expressed in a very gentle manner) that her bodily perfections had been up to those I described of her mind and understanding. I said to that, that though I did not believe she would ever have a beautiful face, I could plainly see it would prove a very agreeable one, which I thought was infinitely more valuable; especially since I saw one thing in her, which would contribute much to the making it so, which was, that we call a good countenance, than which I ever thought no one expression in a face was more engaging. I said further, that her shape and figure in general would be perfectly well; and that I would pawne all my skill, (which had used to be a good deal employed in these kind of observations,) that in two years time no woman in town would be better liked. He did not in the least contradict what I said, but allowed I might very probably be right.

Your grace may depend upon me that I will neglect nothing I can do in this thing, for I am truly and sincerely of opinion that if I coud be an instrument in bringing it about, I shoud do my Lord Clare as great a piece of service as my Lady Harriott.

I am your Grace’s Most humble and obedient Servant, J. VANBURGH.

SIR J. VANBURGH TO THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH.[423]

Whitehall, Nov. 6, 1716.

Madam,—When I came to town from Blenheim, I received a letter from the Duke of Newcastle out of Sussex, that he wou’d in a day or two be at Claremont, and wanted very much to talk with me. But I, having engaged to Mr. Walpole to follow him into Norfolk, cou’d not stay to see him then. At my return from Mr. Walpole’s, which was Friday last, I found another letter from the Duke, that he was at Claremont, and deferred returning back to Sussex till he could see me; so I went down to him yesterday.

He told me the business he had with me was to know if anything more had passed on the subject he writ to me at Scarborough, relating to Lady H., and what discourse might have happened with your grace upon it at Blenheim. I told him you had not mentioned one word of it to me. He said that was mighty strange, for you had talked with Mr. Walters upon it at the Bath, and writ to him since, in such a manner as had put him upon endeavouring to bring about a direct negotiation. _He then told me, that before he cou’d come to a resolution of embarking in any treaty, he had waited for an opportunity of discoursing with me_ once more upon the qualities and conditions of Lady H. For that, as I knew his whole views in marriage, and that he had hopes of some other satisfaction in it than many people troubled themselves about, I might judge what a terrible disappointment he should be under, if he found himself tied for life to a woman not capable of being a usefull and faithful friend, as well as an agreeable companion. That what I had often said to him of Lady H., in that respect, had left a strong impression with him; but it being of so high a consequence to him not to be deceived in this great point, on which the happiness of his life wou’d turn, he had desired to discourse with me again upon it, in the most serious manner, being of opinion (as he was pleased to say) that I cou’d give him a righter character of her than any other friend or acquaintance he had in the world: and that he was fully persuaded, that whatever good wishes I might have for her, or regards to my Lord Marlborough and his family, I wou’d be content with doing her justice, without exceeding in her character, so as to lead him into an opinion now, which, by a disappointment hereafter, (should he marry her) wou’d make him the unhappiest man in the world.

He then desired to know, in particular, what account I might have heard of her behaviour at the Bath; and what new observations I might myself have made of her at Blenheim; both as to her person, behaviour, sense, temper, and many other very new inquiries. It wou’d be too long to repeat to your grace what my answers were to him. It will be sufficient to acquaint you, that I think I have left him a disposition to prefer her to all other women.

When he had done with me on these personal considerations, he called Mr. Walters (who was there) into the room, and acquainted him with what had passed with your grace through me at several times, and then spoke his sentiments as to fortune, which Mr. Walters intends to give your grace an account of; so I need not.

And now, madam, your grace must give me leave to end my letter by telling you, that if the Duke of Newcastle was surprised to find you had said so much to Mr. Walters at the Bath, and nothing to me on the subject at Blenheim, I was no less surprised than he, after the honour you had done me of opening your first thoughts of it to me, and giving me leave to make several steps about it to his friends and relations, as well as to take such a part with himself as you seemed to think might probably the most contribute towards disposing his inclinations the way you wished them.

I don’t say this, madam, to court being further employed in this matter, for matchmaking is a damned trade, and I never was fond of meddling with other people’s affairs. But as in this, on your own motion, and at your own desire, I had taken a good deal of very hearty pains to serve you, and I think with a view of good success, I cannot but wonder (_though not be sorry_) you should not think it right to continue your commands upon

Your obedient, humble Servant, J. VANBURGH.

LETTER FROM THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH TO SIR JOHN VANBURGH.[424]

Woodstock, Thursday night.

I am sure nobody can be more surprised at anything than I am with your letter of the sixth of this month, in which you seem to think I have proceeded in a very extraordinary manner concerning Mr. Walter. I will therefore go back to the very beginning of the negotiation, that you or anybody else may be able to judge whether there is any ground for the reproaches which you have made me.

Some time after I came from Antwerp, having a great mind to dispose of Lady Hariot well, and knowing that you had opportunity of speaking to the Duke of Newcastle, I desired your help in that affair, if you found he would marry, and were persuaded, as I was, that he could not find a young woman in all respects that was more likely to make him happy than she is, for I never imagined that you would endeavour to serve me upon any other account. This you engaged in very readily, and I thought myself much obliged to you for it, and I shall always be thankful for any good offices upon that subject, though ’tis no more than justice and speaking the truth. After the conversation, you may remember that I allowed you to say that you knew my mind in this concern, and you said you would speak to Mr. Walpole; but we agreed that you should manage it in such a manner as not to give the Duke of Newcastle the uneasiness of sending any message to me, in case he did not like the proposal. Some time after this, you came to me, and gave me an account of your conversation with Mr. Walpole, in which there were some civil things said as to the alliance, but at the same time you said, what they expected for her fortune was forty thousand pounds; and from that time till you wrote to me from Scarborough, I never spoke to anybody of this matter, nor so much as thought of it; for I concluded that the Duke of Newcastle or his friends thought that great demand the most effectual way of putting an end to my proposal, since Lady Harriot is not a citizen nor a monster, and I never heard of such a fortune in any other case, unless now and then, when it happens that there is but one child. After this I had the most considerable offer made me that is in this country, and, considering all things, I believe, as to wealth, as great a match as the Duke of Newcastle, and in a very valuable family; but to show that money is not the chief point, this match was refused, where I could have had my own conditions; and I had not then the least imagination that I should hear any more of what I am now writing of. But when I was at the Bath, you gave me an account of a letter you had from the Duke of Newcastle, which lookt as if he wanted to hear something more from you concerning Lady Harriot: and upon that I writ to you, that I was not so much at liberty as I had been to give her a portion when I first proposed this match, having many other children that were so unhappy as to want my help; but that I still liked it so well that there was nobody who I could imagine had power with the Duke of Marlborough that I would not endeavour to make them use it in compassing this thing, which I thought so very agreeable; and some other reasons I gave, which ought to induce my Lord Marlborough to come into it; which you approved of entirely in your answer to this letter, and concluded by giving me an expectation of hearing from you when you had heard from the Duke of Newcastle, or rather when you had seen him, for you repeated something of his having desired you to cast an eye upon some of his houses in your way home; but from that time till your letter of the sixth of November, though you were here some days, you never writ a word of this matter, nor mentioned it to me. And I think it was your turn to speak, after what I had written; and not at all reasonable for you to find fault with what passed between Mr. Walter and me at the Bath. I never saw him in my life before I was there; but upon his giving me an occasion, it was not very unnatural, and not unreasonable, I think, in me to own how much I wished an alliance with the Duke of Newcastle. He professed a great value and respect for him, seemed to think this match, as you did, as good for him as for anybody else; and since you left Blenheim, he writes to me upon that subject, but not what you mention of letting me know the Duke of Newcastle’s sentiments as to the fortune; but he said something civil from the Duke of Newcastle, and deferred the rest till we met in town, thinking it was better to speak than to write of such matters.

This letter I answered in my usual way, professing all the satisfaction imaginable in the thing, if it should happen to succeed, (which, by the way, I have not thought a great while that it will). I have now given a very true relation of this whole proceeding, and if any third person will say that I have done anything wrong to you in it, I shall be very sorry for it, and very ready to ask your pardon; but at present I have the ease and satisfaction to believe that there is no sort of cause for your complaint against

Your most humble Servant, S. MARLBOROUGH.

I have two letters of yours concerning the building of this place, which I will not trouble you to answer after so long a letter as this; besides, after the tryal which I made when you were last here, ’tis plain that we can never agree upon that matter.

Upon the receiving that very insolent letter upon the eighth of the same month, ’tis easy to imagine that I wished to have had the civility I expressed in this letter back again, and was very sorry I had fouled my fingers in writing to such a fellow.

_Explanatory Letter from Sir John Vanburgh, concerning his disagreement with the Duchess of Marlborough._[425]

The Duke of Marlborough being pleased, some time since, to let me know by the Duke of Newcastle he took notice he had never once seen me since he came from Blenheim, I was surprised to find he was not acquainted with the cause why I had not continued to wait on him as I used to do; and I writ him a letter upon it, in which I did not trouble him with particulars, but said I wou’d beg the favour of your lordship, when you came to town, to speak to him on that occasion.

And since your lordship gave me leave to take this liberty with you, I will make the trouble as little as I can, both to yourself and to the Duke of Marlborough, by as short an account as possible of what has happened since his grace’s return to England, in two things I have had the honour to be employed in for his service, purely by his own and my Lady Duchess’s commands, without my applying or seeking for either, or ever having made any advantage by them. I mean, _the building of Blenheim_, and _the match with the Duke of Newcastle_.

As to the former, as soon as the Duke of Marlborough arrived in England, I received his commands to attend him at Blenheim, where he was pleased to tell me, that when the government took care _to discharge him_ from the claim of the workmen for the debt in the Queen’s time, he intended to finish the building at his own expense. And, accordingly, from that time forwards he was pleased to give me his orders as occasion required, in things preparatory to it; till, at last, the affair of the debt being adjusted with the Treasury, and _owned to be the Queen’s_, he gave me directions to set people actually to work, after having considered an estimate he ordered me to prepare of the charge, to finish the house, offices, bridges, and out-walls of courts and gardens, which amounted to fifty-four thousand pounds.

I spared for no pains or industry to lower the prices of materials and workmanship, on the reasonablest considerations of _sure and ready_ payment, which before (as experiments show) was _precarious_. I made no step without the Duke’s knowledge while he was well; _and I made none without the Duchess’s after he fell ill_; and was so far, I thought, from being in her ill opinion, that even the last time I waited on her and my Lord Duke at Blenheim, (which was last autumn,) she showed no sort of _dissatisfaction on anything I had done_, and was pleased to express herself to Mr. Hawkesmore (who saw her after I had taken my leave) _in the most favourable and obliging manner of me_; and to enjoin him to _repeat to me_ what she had said to him.

Thus I left the Duke and Duchess at Blenheim. But a small time after I arrived in London, Brigadier Richards showed me a packet he had received from her grace, in which (without any new matter having happened) she had given herself the trouble, in twenty or thirty sides of paper, to draw up a charge against me, beginning from the time this building was first ordered by the Queen, and concluding upon the whole, that I had brought the Duke of Marlborough into this unhappy difficulty, either to leave the thing unfinished, and by consequence useless to him and his posterity; or, by finishing it, to distress his fortune, and deprive his grandchildren of the provision he inclined to make for them.

To this heavy charge I know I need trouble the Duke of Marlborough with nothing more in my own justification than to beg he will just please to recollect that I never did anything without _his approbation_; and that I never had the misfortune to be once found fault with by him in my life.

As to the Duchess, I took the liberty, in a letter I sent to her on this occasion, to say, “that finding she was weary of my service, (unless my Lord Duke recovered enough to take things again into his own direction,) I would do _as I saw she desired_, never trouble her more.”

I thought after this I could not wait on the Duke when she was present; and that if I endeavoured to do it at any other time, she would not like it. There has been no other reason whatever why I have not continued to pay my constant duty to him.

The other service I have mentioned, which her grace thought proper to lay her commands upon me, was the doing what might be in my power towards inclining the Duke of Newcastle to prefer my Lady Harriot Godolphin to all other women who were likely to be offered him. Her grace was pleased to tell me, on the breaking of this matter, I was the first body she had ever mentioned it to; and she gave me commission to open it to the Duke of Newcastle’s relations, as well as to himself, which I accordingly did, and gave her from time to time an account of what passed, and how the disposition moved towards what she so much desired.

Her grace did not seem _inclined to think_ of giving _such a fortune_ as should be any great inducement to the _Duke’s prefering this match_ to others which might probably be offered; but she laid a very great and very just stress on the extraordinary qualifications and personal merits of my Lady Harriot, which she was pleased to say she thought might be more in my power to possess him rightly of than any other body she knew; and did not doubt but I would have that regard for the Duke of Marlborough, _and the advantage of his family_, as to take this part upon me, and spare no pains to make it successful.

This thing her grace desired I should do was so much with my own inclination, and what I was to say of the personal character of my Lady Harriot so truly my own opinion of her, that I had no sort of difficulty in resolving to use all the credit I had with the Duke of Newcastle to prefer the match to all others.

His grace received the first intimation with all the regard to the alliance that was due to it, and the hopes of having a posterity descended from the Duke of Marlborough had an extraordinary weight with him; but I found he had thoughts about marriage not very usual with men of great quality and fortune, especially so young as he was. He had made more observations on the bad education of the ladies of the court and towne than any one would have expected, and owned he shou’d think of marriage with much more pleasure than he did, if he cou’d find a woman (fit for him to marry) that had such a turn of understanding, temper, and behaviour, as might make her a usefull friend, as well as an agreeable companion; but of such a one he seemed almost to despair.

I was very glad to find him in this sentiment; agreed entirely with him in it, and upon that foundation endeavoured, for two years together, to convince him the Lady Harriot Godolphin was, happily, the very sort of woman he so much desired, and thought so difficult to find.

The latter end of last summer he writ to me to Scarborough, to tell me he was come to an absolute resolution of marrying somewhere before the winter was over, and desired to know if I had anything new to say to him about my Lady Harriot.

Upon this I writ to the Duchess of Marlborough at the Bath, and several letters past between her grace and me on this fresh occasion, in which she thought fit to express her extreme satisfaction to find a thing revived she so much desired, though for some time past had retained but little hopes of.

Not long after, I waited on her and the Duke of Marlborough at Blenheim; but not happening to be _any time alone with her_, and being to see the Duke of Newcastle before there you’d be anything new to speak upon, I did not wonder she said nothing to me of that matter. But when I came to London, I was much surprised to find the cause of it.

I met with two letters from the Duke of Newcastle, expressing a great earnestness to see me. I went immediately to him to Claremont, where he told me his impatience to see me had been to know what I might have further to say of Lady Harriot; what I had learnt of her conduct and behaviour at the Bath; what I might have observed of her at Blenheim; and, in short, that if I knew anything that could reasonably abate of the extraordinary impression I had given him of her, I would have that regard to the greatest concern of his life not to hide it from him, for that if he marryed her, his happiness would be entirely determined by her answering, or not answering, the character he had received of her from me, and upon which he solely depended. That he had therefore forborne making any step (though prest to it by Mr. Walters) that cou’d any way engage him, till he saw me again, and once for all received a confirmation of the character, so agreeable to his wishes, I had given him of my Lady Harriot.

As I had nothing to say to him on this occasion but what was still to her advantage, he came _to an absolute resolution of treating_: and asking me what the Duchess of Marlborough had said to me at Blenheim about the fortune, the letter at Scarborough having (amongst other things) been on that subject, I told him she had not said a word to me of it, or anything relating to the matter in general.

The Duke seemed much surprised to hear me say so, and told me he took it for granted she had let me know what lately passed through Mr. Walters, whom she had accidentally fallen acquainted with at the Bath, and engaged him in this affair. That he had even pressed him to enter into a direct treaty, but that he had made pretences to decline it, being undetermined till he had once more had an opportunity of talking the whole matter over with me, especially on what related personally to my Lady Harriot, having resolved to make that his decisive point.

I told him it was very extraordinary the Duchess of Marlborough, after two years employing me, and finding I had succeeded in the very point she judged me fittest to serve her in, and by which point almost alone she hoped to bring this match about, shou’d drop me in so very short a manner; and that I cou’d conceive no cause good or bad for it, unless she was going to dismiss me from meddling any more in the building, and so judged it not proper to employ me any further in this other part of her service.

The Duke seemed inclined to hope I might be mistaken in that thought, and so desired I wou’d continue to act in this concern with her; upon which (calling Mr. Walters into the room) he was pleased to relate all that had passed through me from the beginning, with the Duchess of Marlborough, Lord Townsend, Mr. Walpole, &c., and ended in desiring we wou’d both join in bringing the matter to a conclusion, he being now determined to treat; and that we wou’d both write to the Duchess of Marlborough the next post.

I writ accordingly, and in the close of my letter mentioned the surprise I had been in to find she had not been pleased to continue her commands to me in a thing I had taken so much pains to serve her, and not without success.

But when I came to London, I heard of the charge her grace had thought fit to send up against me about the building, and so found I had not been mistaken in what I had told the Duke of Newcastle I apprehended might be the cause of her dropping me in so very easy a manner in what related to him.

_The following Remarks were added by the Duchess to the above Letter._

Upon this false assertion of what the Duchess of Marlborough had said to Mr. Hawkesmoor, she met him at Mr. Richards’ at Black Heath, and told him what Sir John Vanburgh had said as to the Duchess of Marlborough’s message by him, upon which Mr. Hawkesmoor protested, as he had never seen her after Sir John went away, he never said any such thing to him; and that it had given him a great deal of trouble very often to see the unreasonable proceedings of Sir John.

What he repeats out of his own letter is quite different, as may be seen.

My Lady Harriot Godolphin had twenty-two thousand pounds to her portion, procured by the Duchess of Marlborough.

FROM THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.[426]

Friday.

Sir,—I beg pardon for troubling you with this, but I am in a very odd distress; too much ready money. I have now 105,000_l._ dead, and shall have fifty more next weeke: if you can imploy it any way, it will be a very great favor to me.

I hope you will forgive my reminding you of Mr. Sewell’s memorial for a majority; if any vouchers are wanting for his character, I believe Mr. Selwin will give him a very good one. I am, with great truth,

Your most obliged And obedient servant, MARLBOROUGH.

LORD CONINGSBY TO THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH.[427]

December 11, 1712.

The shortest day of the year dates this letter, and to me the most melancholy, because it is the first after I heard of thirty-nine’s (Marlborough’s) leaving the kingdom (under God) he had saved. I who have not a friend left, now he is gone, (yourself excepted,) have this only comfort, that I am sure his greatest enemies on the side of the water where he now is, will be much kinder to him than many of the pretended friends he left behind him have been for some years past. They have, however, their full reward, and being true Irishmen, by cutting the bough they stood upon themselves, have fallen from the very top of the tree, and have broke their own necks by their senseless politics of breaking his power, who alone had acquired by his merits interest enough to support theirs. Though I know more of this than any man now alive, yet I shall never make any other use of it but to beg that you, during his absence, will never trust to anything they, or any one they can influence, shall either say or do, since, to my certain knowledge, they were ever enemies to you and yours; and so thirty-nine (Marlborough) knows I have told him long; and if I had been so happy to have been credited, others had travelled, and not dear thirty-nine (Marlborough.) But past time is not to be recalled. God preserve him wherever he goes.

It is time to return my thanks for the paper I have received about the chaplain, and to assure you that now thirty-nine (Marlborough) is gone, there is nobody behind him in this kingdom more heartily concerned for the happiness of you and yours, &c.

LORD CONINGSBY TO THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH.[428] _Letters of Lord Coningsby to the Duchess of Marlborough, after the death of the Duke._ (Referred to in vol. ii.)

Hampton Court in Hertfordshire, Oct. 14, 1720.

I received with the greatest pleasure imaginable your grace’s commands, as I shall ever do to the last moment of my life, and obey them with a readiness as becomes one to do, who, with all his faults, has not those fashionable ones of fickleness and insincerity, which the dear Duchess of Marlborough has, to my knowledge, so often met with in this false world.

I am sure your grace is overjoyed to hear the Duke is so well, and the more so because it is truth beyond contradiction, that as we owe our liberties to him, so he, under God, owes his life to the care and tenderness of the best of wives.

My dearest girls order me to present their duty to your grace, and their services to Lady Dy and Lady Hun.

There is not upon the face of the earth anybody that is more than I am, and ever will be, &c.

LORD CONINGSBY TO THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH.[429]

Did I not know myself to be so entirely innocent as never to have had a single thought, that if you had known it would have given the least umbrage of offence to your grace, the usage I have lately met with would be to me insupportable; but since that is my case, I can, though with great uneasiness, bear it now, as I did once before, till the happy time will come when your grace will be convinced that I am incapable of being otherwise than your faithful servant; and that those who have persuaded you to believe the contrary are as great enemies to your grace, as I know they are to the true interest of their country. In the mean time, I beseech Heaven to let me learn by degrees to be without that agreeable conversation which I valued more than I can express. I can say no more, but conclude with assuring your grace, that, use me as you will, it is not in your power to make me otherwise than your grace’s, &c.

Saturday, Six o’Clock.

_Letters between Mr. Scrope and the Duchess of Marlborough._[430]

MR. SCROPE TO THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH.

April 20, 1744.

Madam,—The letter which I had the honour to receive from your grace the 26th, hath given me great uneasiness, for I have always made it a rule not to intermeddle in family affairs, even of my relations and friends, and I should not have been so unguarded in what I presumed to mention to your grace about the Duke of Marlborough, had you not been pleased to hint what you inclined to do for his son, and had not my veneration for the name of a Duke of Marlborough, and my passion and desire to have it always flourish, and make a figure in the world, provoked me to say what I did, which I hope your grace will pardon. I know nothing of the Duke’s affairs, nor how or with whom he is entangled; but sincerely wish he had your prudence and discretion, for the sake of himself and family. I herewith return to your grace the book you pleased to send me, which I read with an aching heart.

I am, with the utmost duty and esteem, Madam, Your Grace’s most dutiful and obedient humble servant, J. SCROPE.

THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH TO MR. SCROPE.[431]

June 4, 1744.

Sir,—Your repeated civilities to me persuade me that you would willingly employ yourself to do me any reasonable service; and what I am now going to trouble you about is, I think, not unreasonable; at least I am told it is very customary, and almost a matter of form. I mean the prolongation of my term in Marlborough-house. I had it prolonged, I think, in the late king’s time, and am now desirous to prolong it again for as long as I can, paying what is usual upon such occasions. Some years ago I asked Sir Robert Walpole to add the term of years that was lapsed to my lease of Marlborough-house, and likewise to do another little favour for me: he answered me, that as to Marlborough-house he would do it, because he could do it himself, but that for the other he must ask it of the king. Somebody then advised me to wait a little, and they would be both done together; and I was fool enough to take that advice. However, I have still half the term left. The house was entirely built at the Duke of Marlborough’s expense, and moreover, I paid two thousand pounds to Sir Richard Beeling, for a pretended claim which he had upon part of the ground, so that I think I have as just a claim as any tenant of the crown can have. The late Lord Treasurer, I remember, granted a new term in a house upon crown land to Lord Sussex, an avowed enemy to the government, even when his first term was within a month of expiring, saying, it would be too great a hardship to take it from him. I am sure I am no enemy to the government, though possibly no friend to some in the administration, and therefore I hope that what would have been thought too hard in that case, will not be thought reasonable in mine. I am always sincere, and, for aught I know, some people may think me too much so; and I confess to you freely, that I take this opportunity, while Mr. Pelham is at the head of the Treasury, he being the only person in that station who, I believe, would oblige me, or to whom I would be obliged; and this I find, by the answer I have already mentioned from Sir Robert Walpole, is entirely in his power to do. He has been very civil to me, and the only one in employment who has been so for many years. I therefore desire you to mention this affair to him at a proper time, of which you are the best judge, and I put off my application till now, in order to be as little troublesome to him as possible, knowing that he has much less business in the summer. Your assistance and friendship in this matter will very much oblige

Your most faithful, and most obliged, humble servant, S. MARLBOROUGH.

THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH TO MR. SCROPE.[432]

June 7, 1744.

I am very much obliged to you for your application in my behalf to Mr. Pelham, and to him for his civil answer to it. I desire you will make him my compliments and acknowledgements. I would much rather have the lease under the exchequer seal only, and not trouble his Majesty about this affair; but as you desire me to ask advice of counsell thereupon, I have accordingly sent it to my lawyer for his opinion. I shall employ one Mr. Keys, who is used to matters of this kind, to attend this affair through the offices, and he will draw up my memorial in the proper form to be presented to the treasury. Mr. Keys informs me that the lease of the Duke of Richmond’s and the Montague’s houses in Whitehall, and many others, are only under the exchequer seal; so that I make no doubt but that the opinion of my counsell will agree with my own inclinations. As I cannot express, as I would do, my acknowledgements to you for the kindness you have shewn, and the trouble you have taken in this affair, I will only say that I am, with great esteem and truth,

Your most faithful, humble servant, S. MARLBOROUGH.

THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH TO MR. SCROPE.[433]

September 11, 1744.

Sir,—’Tis a great while since I have troubled you with either thanks for the favours you have done me, or with any solicitations. The first, I believe, you don’t care for; and I know, you have so much business that I was willing to delay, as long as I could, giving Mr. Pelham or you any trouble concerning Windsor parke. You know the whole history about that matter, how Queen Caroline took the allowance away, which her Majesty sent me word she would do, if I would not let her buy something out of my estate at Wimbledon, which was settled upon my family. This I refused, but in a very respectful manner. After this she kept her word, and took the allowance away, which I have in my grant. And I am sure you know that I never gave any occasion for it by bringing any bills for what I did there on my own account. I certainly have as much right to this allowance in my grant as I have to any part of my own estate, and there is no person that has a grant from the crown, that has not an allowance more or less for taking care of his Majesty’s deer. I desire no favour, but only strict justice; and you will oblige me extremely if you will direct me in what manner I should proceed. I lost a considerable arrear, which his present Majesty did not think right to pay me, when King George the First died; saying, he was not obliged to pay his father’s debts. And since the Queen stopped the allowance, I have been at great expenses. I have a right by my grant to five hundred pounds a year for making hay, buying it when the year is bad, paying all tradesmen’s bills, keeping horses to carry the hay about to several lodges, and paying five keepers’ wages at fifteen pounds a year each, and some gate-keepers, mole-catchers, and other expenses that I cannot think of. But as kings’ parkes are not to be kept so low as private peoples’, because they call themselves king’s servants, I really believe that I am out of pocket upon this account, besides the disadvantage of paying ready money every year for what is done, and having only long arrears to sollicit for it. But I think, by your advice, this matter may be settled better, and that the treasury will either comply with my grant, or allow me to send the bills of what is paid upon his Majesty’s account. If they think anybody will do it honester or cheaper than I have done, I shall be very glad to quit the allowance, and I should have quitted the parke long ago, if I had not laid out a very great sum in building in the great parke, and likewise in the little parke, where John Spencer lives.

I have another small trouble at this time with Mr. Sandys the cofferer. The custom has ever been to serve venison for the royal family and the nobles; and the cofferer sends to know what venison the parks can furnish. My Lord Sandys, to shew his breeding, made a letter be sent to ask this question, I believe from some footman. I sent to the keepers to know what they could furnish without hurting the parke; the number was a very great one, but I have always chosen to send more by a great many than any other ranger ever did. However, his lordship was pleased to sent warrants for two more than the number, which I ordered the keepers to comply with. Since that, he has given out four warrants more above the number, which I forbade them to serve. For this year has been so bad for venison in all parkes but my own at Blenheim, that it has been seldom good. And Mr. Leg sent one of these warrants from the cofferer, who gave me a great deal of trouble, by being very impertinent in drawing warrants himself upon this park, signing only “_Leg_.” He certainly is a very great coxcomb; but I will say no more of that. The keepers send me word that it has been so bad a season this year, that I must buy a great deal of hay for the deer, or they will be starved this winter;—for though ’tis a great parke, it is full of roads; and there is nothing beautiful in it but clumps of trees, which, if Mr. Pelham does not prevent it, will be destroyed by the cheats of the surveyors, which in a great measure I have prevented for more than forty years.

Pray forgive me this long trouble, and be assured that you never obliged anybody in your life that is more sincerely, though I am insignificant,

Your friend and humble servant, S. MARLBOROUGH.

THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH TO MR. SCROPE.[434]

September 17, 1744.

Sir,—I give you many thanks for your enquiring after my health to-day. I am a little better than I was yesterday, but in pain sometimes, and I have been able to hear some of the letters I told you of read to-day; and I hope I shall live long enough to assist the historians with all the information they can want of me; but it is not possible for me to live to see a history of between thirty and forty years finished. I shall be contented when I have done what lies in my power.

* * * * *

I cannot make up this letter without telling you something I have found in these papers, in the few I have heard read. My Lord Godolphin was prodigious careful to save all he could of the money of England, and to make the allies bear their proportion, according to the advantages they were to have, not to allow of anything that the parliament did not appropriate—and there were proper vouchers, and no douceurs. I have not found yet no more than so many crowns asked upon some occasions; now, one hears nothing but one hundred and fifty thousand pounds repeated over and over. That I suppose has been occasioned by the great success we have had, and that it was reasonable that one commander should have a great share himself, for his courage in standing all the fire, and for his wisdom in directing the whole matter. There is one letter of my Lord Godolphin’s that pleased me much, though of no great consequence, but it shewed his justice and humanity. There was some money returned from England, the value of which was more in that country than it was here, and Lord Godolphin writes to the Duke of Marlborough that the advantage of that gain should be to England, or given amongst the soldiers, and that the paymaster should not have it. Contrary to that notion, I have been told, and I believe it is true, that Mr. Hanbury Williams had a place made for him, quite unnecessary, with fifteen hundred a year salary, and that it is lately found out that he has cheated the government of forty thousand pounds. I am not sure that this last part is true, but I hope it is, for I am sure there is not a more infamous man in England than he is in every part of his character.

THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH TO MR. SCROPE.[435]

September 20, 1744.

Sir,—Since I have heard from you, I have heard a great many things read which you seem to think would be of use in the history, and besides what I have mentioned before, of the great numbers writ in his own hand of my Lord Godolphin’s to the Duke of Marlborough, I have found a great number of books of the Duke of Marlborough’s letters, copied by Mr. Cardenoll; some of them to my Lord Godolphin, treasurer, Mr. St. John, Mr. Harley, and to a great number of others. My Lord Godolphin’s own letters shew that he was a very knowing minister in all foreign affairs; though you never heard, I believe, that he boasted of the great respect that the Princess abroad had for him, nor did he tell ever any of the lords of the cabinet counsell that they knew nothing, and that France trembled at his name. I need not say anything of my Lord Godolphin’s management and honesty in the treasury, for you know enough of that; but perhaps you do not know that he was so far from having pensions and grants, that if his elder brother had not died just before Mr. Harley turned him out, he must have been buried, as a great man in Plutarch’s Lives was, by the public or his friends; though he never spent anything himself, excepting in charity and generosities to any of his friends that happened to be poor; for he was not so ingenious as some people are in making places for insignificant people, and quartering them upon the crown; and by some of the letters I have heard read, I find the demands he consented should be paid in the war were sometimes so many livres, and I have not yet come to anything higher than crowns, neither of which amounted to any very great sum. I believe there are at least twenty great books, of Mr. Cardenoll’s copying, of the Duke of Marlborough’s letters to the minister at home, and to the Princes abroad; and, in short, to those in England that were at all useful to contribute anything to the good of the common cause. It is impossible to read what I have done lately, without being in vapours, as you call it; to think how these two men were discarded after serving so many years, when she was Princess, and assisting her when she was perfectly ignorant what was to be done in a higher station. My Lord Treasurer was taken leave of by a letter sent by a groom. That was because I suppose Mrs. Harley was ashamed to see him after all the expressions she had made to him, and for all his disinterested services. When Mr. Freeman was discharged, it was by a letter also; though he was so remarkable for having always a great deal of good temper, it put him into such a passion, that he flung the letter into the fire; but he soon recovered himself enough to write her an answer, a copy of which I can shew you whenever you care to read it. One would think that my Lord Sandys had been at the head of the councill upon these occasions. Mr. Freeman had nothing to do with the management of the money, but only the war for the security and grandeur of the Queen and England, and had gained more than twenty sieges and pitched battles. How this business will end by the great undertaking of C. and his partner D., I cannot pretend to say, but I could say something in behalf of Lord ——, if he had not taken the last grant for the pension, after he had taken all the money out of the treasury. I am sure you can’t suspect my being partial to him, and he really has some good qualities that made me love him extremely, as my Lord Marlborough and my Lord Godolphin did for many years, but I know they both thought he had not good judgment; and I thought he did not want it so much as to be persuaded by his friend C. to take the last pension, since his family was so vastly provided for. I thought he would have chosen rather to be his own master, and to have contributed what he could to secure his own great property, by endeavouring to recover our very good laws, and secure our once happy island.

I am glad to find I have so much judgment as to trouble you no longer at this time, but I must beg of you that you will read one paper more, which I will send as soon as I can; who am

Your most obliged and troublesome Humble servant, S. MARLBOROUGH.

MR. SCROPE TO THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH.[436]

September 21, 1744.

Madam,—When your grace can spare a quarter of an hour, I should be extremely obliged to you if you would give me leave to wait on you to return my humble thanks for the pleasure and honour of your picture and your other favours, and to acquaint your grace what progress is made in the commands you were pleased to commit to the care of,

Madam, Your grace’s most faithful and most Obliged humble servant, J. SCROPE.

LETTER ADDRESSED BY THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH TO THE DUKE OF NEWCASTLE.

_Communicated by W. Upcott, Esq._[437]

Marlborough House, August 25, 1735.

My Lord,—I was ill in bed (as I frequently am) when I received the honour of your grace’s letter. I find by it, notwithstanding the many civil expressions you are pleased to make use of, that I must be forced to sitt down contented with a refusal, and the Duke of St. Albans is to be gratified at my expense. Some people, perhaps, may wonder it should be so, but I have for a long time ceased wondering at anything.

If I enter any farther into this affair, ’tis not, I assure you, with the least view that anything I can urge will have an effect; but ’tis some satisfaction to show that I apprehend myself still in the right, though I should have the misfortune not to prevail by doing so. There can be but three considerations to induce the Duke of St. Albans to insist on this point, which are, that he believes he has a right to it, or that it will be of use to him, or that it will mortifie me. I think I have already sufficiently proved that he has not the least glimmering of right to it. I have beat him, if I may say so, out of his fortifications, and forced him in his castle to yield up the constable’s pretensions; and I will now as plainly shew that it can be of no use to him: and then the third reason alone will subsist, which is, that ’tis done to mortifie me, against which there is no arguing. All I can say is, I think I have not deserved it. The Duke lives, as other constables have done, at the Keep; and, unless he chooses to goe out of his way, (which for ought I know he may,) I can’t see the least benefit it can be to him. It is not his road to London, neither is there any road through the park, and I hope none will ever be made, and for this reason, as I told you before, nobody but the royal family and ranger were ever suffered to goe in with their coaches. The Duke of Marlborough gave the Duke of St. Albans a key to walk in it at his pleasure, but little imagined to have his civility requited in the manner it was, by having other keys made from it, the Duke distributing them as he thought fit, coming into the park with his coach and chaise, and making use of it in many other respects, just as if he had been the ranger. But your grace tells me this favour could not well be refused him, and that he is not to go through the park in right of his office, but by her Majesty’s leave. I am sorry your grace imagined that this way of turning it softened the point, because, in my poor apprehension, it seems extremely to aggravate the injury. To give the Duke leave, contrary to my earnest representations and entreaties, (who am ranger of the park,) when he owns he has no right to it, seems so manifest a partiality in his favour, that it cannot be but exceeding mortifying to me. If his grace’s merit be not very great, it is natural to conclude my demerit must be so; and as I am not conscious of having deserved this disregard, I am the more concerned to find it. I have formerly been in courts as your grace is now, and I there observed that the ministerial policy always loaded people with favours in proportion to their abilities, and the use they could be of in return to them. Perhaps I may be mistaken, but I ask your grace, Is the Duke of St. Albans a man of that high importance as to be worth making a precedent for—which may be attended with ill consequences, and in process of time bring difficultys on the crown itself? How can others who live at Windsor be refused this favour, which has been granted to the Duke of St. Albans, simply as such? His predecessors in his office, I may say without wronging him, have some of them been as distinguished as himself. Prince Rupert, son to the Queen of Bohemia, and nephew to King Charles, was one of them that frequently resided at the Keep, and never desired nor ever enjoyed this privilege; the Dukes of Northumberland and Kent, Lord Cobham, Lord Carlisle, and others, never thought of asking it; but though his predecessors never had it, will his successors for the future ever be content without it? No, though they should not be of equal merit with his grace. So that, in truth my lord, you see I am not pleading on my own account singly, but I’m endeavouring to support the true interest of the crown, and making a stand against an innovation that will hereafter bring difficultys upon them. But I cannot flatter myself that anything I can say will gett this leave revoked; therefore I should be glad to have it explain’d how far, my lord, it is to extend. Is the Duke to have the privilege of giving keys, as he actually has done, to whomsoever he pleases? Are they all to come into the park with their coaches and chaises? This will greatly prejudice the park, but may be done if her Majesty pleases to order it. But as to his putting cattle, and authorising his gamekeepers to kill game for his own use and the Dowager Duchess of St. Albans, this I take to be an encroachment on my grant, and that I presume is not intended, nor can I be content to suffer it. I am sensible I have made this letter too tedious; but ’tis extremely natural to say all one can in defence of what one takes to be one’s right. This, my lord, must plead my excuse, and engage you to pardon

Your Grace’s most obedient And most humble servant, S. MARLBOROUGH.

To the Duke of Newcastle.

_An Abstract of the last Will and Testament of Sarah Duchess of Marlborough._

This is the last Will and Testament of me, Sarah Duchess Dowager of Marlborough, made this eleventh day of August, in the year of our Lord, 1744.

My will and desire is that I may be buried at Blenheim, near the body of my dear husband John late Duke of Marlborough; and if I die before his body is removed thither, I desire Francis Earl of Godolphin to direct the same to be removed to Blenheim aforesaid, as was always intended.

And I direct that my funeral may be made private, and with no more expense than decency requires; and that no mourning be given to any one, except such of my servants as shall attend at my funeral.

As concerning my estate, I give the same in manner and form following.

I devise to Hugh Earl of Marchmont, and Beversham Filmer, of Lincoln’s Inn, Esq., their heirs, &c., all my manors, parsonage, rectory, advowsons, messuages, lands, tenements, tithes, and hereditaments in the several counties of Surrey, Oxford, Buckingham, and Huntingdon, which were lately the several estates of Richard Holditch, Francis Hawes, William Astell, and Robert Knight, Esqrs.

And also my manors, &c., in the said county of Buckingham, which were late the estate of Richard Hampden, Esq., deceased.

And also my manor, rectory, &c., in the county of Buckingham, which were some time the estate of Sir John Wittewronge, Bart., deceased.

And also my manor, &c. in the same county, formerly the estate of Sir Thomas Tyrrel, Bart., deceased.

And also my manor, &c. in the county of Bedford, which were late the estate of Sir John Meres, Knight.

And also my freehold and copyhold messuages, &c. in the county of Bedford, which were late the estate of Bromsall Throckmorton, Esq.

And also my manor, &c. in possession and reversion, in the county of Bedford, which were late the estate of Edward Snagg, Esq.

And also my rectory and tithes of Steventon, in the county of Bedford, which were late the estate of Peter Floyer, Esq.

And also my lands, &c. in the county of Bedford, which were the estate of John Culliford, Esq., and Mary his wife.

And also my manor, &c. in the county of Berks, which were the estate of Richard Jones, Esq.

And also my manor, &c. in the county of Berks, which were the estate of Robert Packer, Esq.

And also my messuage, lands, &c. in the county of Berks, which were late the estate of Thomas Bedford, clerk.

And also my manor, &c. in the county of Oxford, which were late the estate of Sir Cecil Bishop, Bart.

And also my manors, &c. in Northamptonshire, which were late the estate of Mrs. Elizabeth Wiseman.

And also my manor, &c. in the county of Northampton, late the estate of Sir William Norwich, Bart.

And also my manor, &c. in the county of Northampton, late the estate of Nathaniel Lord Crewe, Lord Bishop of Durham.

And also that part of my estate at St. Albans still retained by me.

And also my manors, &c. in the county of Stafford, which were the estate of Viscount Fauconberg.

And also my manor, &c. freehold and copyhold, in the county of Norfolk, late the property of Gabriel Armiger, Esq.

And also my manors, &c. in the county of Leicester and Northampton, which were the estates of Sir Thomas Cave.

And all other my manors, &c. in the counties of Surrey, Oxford, Huntingdon, Buckingham, Bedford, Berks, Northampton, Hertford, Stafford, Norfolk, and Leicester, (always subject to charges made by indenture on the marriage of my grandson, John Spencer, Esq. to Georgiana Carolina, his now wife, daughter to Lord Carteret.)

John Spencer, the son of my said grandson John Spencer, shall have, arising from the said estates &c., an annuity (during the life of his father) of 2,000_l._, which he shall be empowered legally to enforce.

And whereas the late Duke of Marlborough directed by his will that a yearly sum of 3,000_l._ should be charged upon the estates devised upon Hugh Earl of Marchmont, and Beversham Filmer, for each and every of the sons which may be born to Charles Spencer, (now Duke of Marlborough,) and the grandson of the same; I, with a desire to carry out such intention, hereby direct that the said sum be chargeable upon the said estates so devised, during the joint lives of the said Charles Duke of Marlborough and such son or grandson: Always provided that such son or grandson shall not covenant to do or do any act which shall set aside or bar any intent declared or expressed in the will of the late Duke of Marlborough; in which case such annuity shall utterly cease.

Upon such son or grandson marrying and attaining the age of twenty-one years, the said annual sum of 3,000_l._ shall no longer be paid to him; but an annual charge not exceeding 1,500_l._ shall be paid to any woman with whom he shall marry, for the term of her life.

Provided always, that my said estates shall never be chargeable with more than one such annuity, as a provision for any such woman, at one and the same time.

And all my said manors, &c. devised to Hugh Earl of Marchmont, and Beversham Filmer, subject to the annuities and charges therein expressed, I will and direct the same to be in TRUST for my grandson John Spencer, for and during the term of his natural life; and after that, to the USE of the said Hugh Earl of Marchmont, and Beversham Filmer, and their heirs, during the natural life of John Spencer, in TRUST, to preserve the contingent uses thereof; the said John Spencer to receive the rents and profits thereof, (with similar covenants relating to John Spencer the younger, and succeeding heirs.)

And whereas the dean and chapter of Christ’s Church—Canterbury, did lease unto me the scite and court lodge of the manor of Agney, in the county of Kent, I hereby bequeath the said court lodge, &c.

And also my lands, &c. held on lease in the county of Buckingham.

And also all other my leasehold estates (excepting such as I shall otherwise dispose of) to the USE of the said Hugh Earl of Marchmont, and Beversham Filmer, in TRUST for such uses and persons as are herein expressed concerning my various manors and freeholds.

ITEM, I give unto Hugh Earl of Marchmont, and Beversham Filmer, all my manor of Wimbledon, &c. in Surrey.

And also my leasehold rectory of Wimbledon, for their USE, and in trust, &c. (with similar covenants respecting John Spencer and his heirs.)

And my will is, that all my household goods, pictures, and furniture that shall be in my said buildings and gardens at Wimbledon, shall be considered as heirlooms.

And my will is, and I hereby expressly declare, that if the said John Spencer (my grandson) shall become bound or surety for any person or persons whatever for any sum or sums of money, or if he, or any person or persons in _trust_ for him, shall take from any king or queen of these realms any pension, or any office or employment, civil or military, (except the rangership of the great or little parks at Windsor,) then shall all these my intents and covenants in behalf of the said John Spencer become void, as if he were actually dead.

(_The same with regard to John Spencer the younger._)

And whereas by lease from the crown I am possessed of all that capital messuage which I now inhabit, called _Marlborough-house_, with all its appurtenances, within or near the parishes of St. James, the liberty of Westminster, and St. Martin in-the-Fields, in the county of Middlesex, for the term of fifty years:

Now I hereby give and bequeath all my interest in the said capital messuage, &c. unto my executors (subject to such charge thereon as is hereinafter mentioned) upon the TRUSTS following: That is to say, in _trust_ for the said John Spencer the father, for so long a period of the fifty years as he shall live; and then in trust for George Spencer, commonly called Marquis of Blandford, eldest son and heir apparent of Charles Duke of Marlborough; and after his decease, in trust for any son of the said George Spencer who shall attain his majority.

Provided the said George Spencer shall have no son, then in _trust_ for Charles Spencer, second son of Charles Duke of Marlborough, and his son, (with similar provisions, provided Charles Spencer shall have no son, conferring the interest upon such other son of Charles Duke of Marlborough as shall attain his majority.)

Provided always, that should any attempt be made by any of these legatees to dispose, let, exchange, or give up possession in any manner of Marlborough-house, or commit any act likely to subvert any of the declared intentions of the late Duke of Marlborough with respect to his will, such bequest shall become utterly void, and my executors are hereby empowered to dispose of all my interest in the said messuage, and pay over the money as part of my personal estate.

I am likewise possessed of another lease from the crown, bearing date Feb. 13, 1728, not yet expired.

Now I give and bequeath the said lease to my executors in _trust_ for the holder of Marlborough-house for the time being, and subject to the same conditions and limitations.

And whereas I am empowered by the Duke of Marlborough’s will to dispose of such goods as are my own in Marlborough-house, and of which there is an inventory:

Now I bequeath all such goods, furniture, pictures, &c., to my grandson John Spencer, his executors, &c.

ITEM, I give unto my grandson, Charles Duke of Marlborough, all my furniture, pictures, &c., which shall be in Blenheim-house, in Oxfordshire, at the time of my decease; but upon the express condition that he do not remove any of the goods or furniture from Althorp-house, but permit the same to be enjoyed by my grandson, John Spencer, except the same shall be of greater value than those in Blenheim-house; then may he remove such part thereof as shall leave no more in value than shall be equal to that which at the time of my decease was in Blenheim-house; and should he not perform this condition, then I leave the said furniture, &c. in Blenheim-house, to John Spencer my grandson, his executors, &c.

And my will is, that all my goods, &c. in my mansion-house at Holywell, in St. Albans, in the county of Hertford, shall continue there, and be always held therewith, as far as the law will permit of.

And whereas by letters patent on the 18th day of July, in the eighth year of her reign, her late majesty Queen Anne granted me the _rangership of Windsor Great Park_, giving the said place in TRUST to James Craggs, Samuel Edwards, and Charles Hodges, for me and my heirs:

Now I will that the said Samuel Edwards shall hold the same in trust for my grandson John Spencer, his heirs, &c.

And I give all the goods, &c., which may be in the chief lodge, belonging to me, to my said grandson John Spencer. (_Similar provisions with regard to the Little Park._)

I give unto my granddaughter Isabella Duchess Dowager of Manchester all my piece of ground and the messuage thereon in Dover-street, in the county of Middlesex; together with all the goods, furniture, &c., in the said messuage.

I give unto Hugh Earl of Marchmont, and Beversham Filmer, Esq., and James Stephens, all my leasehold piece of ground and brick messuage in Grosvenor-street, in the parish of St. George’s, Hanover-square, in _trust_ for _John Spencer the son_.

ITEM, I hereby give unto Hugh Earl of Marchmont, Beversham Filmer, Thomas Lord Bishop of Oxford, and James Stephens, my joint executors, 2,000_l._ each, for their care and trouble about this my will.

All other property whatsoever, comprising money, mortgages, securities, &c., after payment of my just debts, and such bequests as herein before or after in any codicil mentioned, I bequeath to my said executors, in trust for John Spencer, my grandson.

* * * * *

This will, which occupies in the original eight skins of parchment, is witnessed by the following persons, and signed and sealed by the Duchess.

FANE. EDMUND LONDON. W. LEE. JOHN SCROPE.

THE CODICIL.

This is a CODICIL to the last will and testament of me, _Sarah Duchess Dowager of Marlborough_, which I duly made and published, bearing date the eleventh day of August instant, and which will I do hereby ratify and confirm in all respects.

Whereas I am possessed of several long annuities, amounting to the yearly sum of two thousand six hundred pounds,

Now I bequeath the same to my executors, in _trust_ for the following uses—

To James Stephens, 300_l._ yearly.

To Grace Bidley, 300_l._ yearly.

To Robert Macarty, Earl of Clancarty, the yearly sum of 1000_l._

To Elizabeth Arbor, the yearly sum of 200_l._

To Anne Patten, the yearly sum of 130_l._

To Olive Lofft, the yearly sum of 40_l._

To John Griffiths, the yearly sum of 200_l._

To Hannah Clarke, the yearly sum of 200_l._

To Jeremiah Lewis, the yearly sum of 50_l._

To John Dorset, the yearly sum of 50_l._

To each of my two chairmen, John Robins and George Humphreys, the yearly sum of 20_l._

To Walter Jones, the yearly sum of 30_l._, and to each of my footmen that shall continue in my service to the time of my decease, the yearly sum of 10_l._

To Margaret and Catherine Garmes, the yearly sum each of 10_l._

The overplus of such long annuities to be paid to John Spencer.

I give to John Spencer ALL my gold and silver plate, seals, trinkets, and small pieces of japan.

I give to the wife of John Spencer, the son of my said grandson, (if he should live to be married,) my diamond pendants, which have three brilliant drops to each, and all the rest of my jewels which I shall not otherwise dispose of; and in case he die unmarried, I give the same to his father.

I give to my granddaughter, Mary Duchess of Leeds, my diamond solitaire, with the large brilliant diamond it hangs to; also the picture in water colours of the late Duke of Marlborough, drawn by Lens.

I give to my daughter, Mary Duchess of Montagu, my gold snuff-box, that has in it two pictures of her father, the Duke of Marlborough, when he was a youth. Also a picture of her father covered with a large diamond, and hung to a string of small pearls for a bracelet, and two enamelled pictures for a bracelet of her sisters, Sunderland and Bridgewater.

I give to Thomas Duke of Leeds 3000_l._

I give to my niece, Frances Lady Dillon, 1000_l._

I give to Philip Earl of Chesterfield, out of the great regard I have for his merit, and the infinite obligations I have received from him, my best and largest brilliant diamond ring, and 20,000_l._

I give to William Pitt, Esq., the sum of 10,000_l._, upon account of his merit in the noble defence he made for the support of the laws of England, and to prevent the ruin of his country.

I give to Mr. Burroughs, Master in Chancery, 200_l._ to buy a ring.

I give to my executors 500_l._ each to buy them rings.

I give to the Earl of Clancarty, above what I have already given him, 1000_l._

Whereas John Earl of Stair owes me 1000_l._ upon bond, and his wife bought me some things in France, but always declined telling me what they cost, I desire him to pay my Lady Stair, and to accept the residue of the 1000_l._, together with such other sums as I have lent to him.

I give to Juliana Countess of Burlington my bag of gold medals, and 1000_l._ to buy a ring, or something in remembrance of me.

I give to the Duchess of Devonshire my box of travelling plate.

I give to James Stephens, over and above what I have already given him, the sum of 1300_l._, and as a further compensation for the great trouble he will have as my acting executor, the yearly sum of 300_l._

To Grace Ridley I give, over and above what I have already given, the sum of 15,000_l._; an enamelled picture of the Duke of Marlborough; a little picture of the Duke in a locket, and my own picture by Sir Godfrey Kneller, and my striking watch, which was the Duke of Marlborough’s.

I give to Anne Ridley the sum of 3000_l._

I give to Mrs. Jane Pattison my striking watch, which formerly belonged to her mistress, Lady Sunderland.

One half of my clothes and wearing apparel I give to Grace Ridley, and the other half equally between Anne Patter and Olive Lofft.

I give to each of my chairmen 25_l._

I give to each of my servants one year’s wages.

I give to the poor of the town of Woodstock 300_l._

I desire that Mr. Glover and Mr. Mallet, who are to write the history of the Duke of Marlborough, may have the use of all papers and letters relating to the same found in any of my houses. And I desire that these two gentlemen may write the said history, that it may be made publick to the world how truly the late Duke of Marlborough wished that justice should be done to all mankind, who, I am sure, left King James with great regret, at a time when ’twas with hazard to himself; and if he had been like the patriots of the present times, he might have been all that an ambitious man could hope for, by assisting King James to settle Popery in England.

I desire that no part of the said history may be in verse.

And I direct that the said history shall not be printed without the approbation of the Earl of Chesterfield and my executors.

I give to Mr. Glover and Mr. Mallet 500_l._ each for writing the history.

(Here follows a contingent provision for the younger children of Charles Spencer, Duke of Marlborough.)

I give to Thomas Duke of Leeds my estate near St. Albans, and my freehold at Romney Marsh, Kent.

I give to Philip Earl of Chesterfield my manor at Wimbledon, and also my manors in Northampton and Surrey.

I give to the Earl of Clancarty my manors and lands in the county of Buckingham.

To William Pitt I give my manor, &c., in the county of Buckingham, late the estate of Richard Hampden, Esq.; and leasehold in Suffolk; and lands, &c. in Northampton.

And to —— Bishop, Esq., my grandson, my manor, &c. in Oxford, with the furniture, &c.

To Hugh Earl of Marchmont, my manor, &c. in Buckingham, late the estate of Sir John Witteronge, Bart.; and also my manor, &c. in the same county, late the estate of Sir Thomas Tyrrel.

To Thomas Lord Bishop of Oxford, my manor, &c. in Bedford.

To Beversham Filmer, Esq., my manors, &c. in Leicester and Northampton, late the estates of Sir Thomas Cave.

To Dr. James Stephens, my estates, &c. in Berks and Huntingdon.

And all other undisposed of estates or effects to John Spencer, his heirs, &c.

SARAH MARLBOROUGH.

Dated August 15th, 1744.

(Witnessed by)

SANDWICH. GEO. HEATHCOTE. HENRY MARSHALL. RICHARD HOARE.

THE END.

Footnote 1:

Royal and Noble Authors, art. Peterborough.

Footnote 2:

Pope’s Letters to Swift, p. 76.

Footnote 3:

Noble, vol. ii. p. 43.

Footnote 4:

The Earl married, first, Carey, daughter of Sir Alexander Frazer, and, secondly, the accomplished Anastasia Robinson, the daughter of a painter. The story of his lordship’s lovesuit to this lady shows at once the licentiousness and the eccentricity of his character. Whilst he admired the virtues of Miss Robinson, and her efforts in her vocation as an opera singer and a teacher of music and Italian, to support an aged father, he did not deem it beneath him to endeavour to make her his mistress. His arts were unsuccessful, and Anastasia became privately his wife. In 1735 it suited his fancy to proclaim his marriage. Being at Bath, in the public rooms, a servant was ordered to call out distinctly, “Lady Peterborough’s carriage waits;” on which every lady of rank and respectability rose, and wished the new Countess joy.—Granger, vol. ii. p. 45.

Footnote 5:

Private Correspondence, vol. i. p. 4.

Footnote 6:

Lady M. W.’s Letters, vol. ii. p. 168.

Footnote 7:

Coxe, vol. i. p. 232.

Footnote 8:

Cunningham, b. vi. p. 328.

Footnote 9:

Noble, vol. ii. p. 36.

Footnote 10:

Boyer, App., p. 46.

Footnote 11:

Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 197.

Footnote 12:

Cunningham, b. vi. p. 328.

Footnote 13:

Boyer.

Footnote 14:

Walpole’s Letters, vol. ii. p. 401.

Footnote 15:

Coxe, vol. i. p. 284.

Footnote 16:

Cunningham, book vi. p. 350.

Footnote 17:

Conduct, p. 159.

Footnote 18:

Conduct, p. 141.

Footnote 19:

Burnet.

Footnote 20:

Conduct, p. 171.

Footnote 21:

Conduct, p. 172.

Footnote 22:

Coxe.

Footnote 23:

Cunningham, b. vi. p. 351.

Footnote 24:

Ibid.

Footnote 25:

Examiner, No. 26.

Footnote 26:

Boyer, p. 472.

Footnote 27:

Coxe, p. 280.

Footnote 28:

Coxe, p. 279.

Footnote 29:

Ibid.

Footnote 30:

Coxe, p. 294, and Cunningham.

Footnote 31:

Cunningham, b. vi. p. 369.

Footnote 32:

Conduct, p. 145.

Footnote 33:

Somerville, vol. i. p. 48.

Footnote 34:

Coxe, p. 295.

Footnote 35:

Conduct, p. 145.

Footnote 36:

Conduct, p. 156.

Footnote 37:

Burnet, vol. v. p. 157.

Footnote 38:

Conduct.

Footnote 39:

Burnet.

Footnote 40:

Coxe, vol. i. p. 239.

Footnote 41:

Cox, vol. i. p. 246.

Footnote 42:

Ibid.

Footnote 43:

Lediard, vol. i. p. 365.

Footnote 44:

As prisoners.

Footnote 45:

Cunningham, b. vii. p. 402.

Footnote 46:

Coxe, vol. i. p. 306.

Footnote 47:

Lediard.

Footnote 48:

Ibid.

Footnote 49:

Cunningham, p. 402.

Footnote 50:

History of Europe. Lediard. Coxe.

Footnote 51:

History of Europe. Lediard. Coxe.

Footnote 52:

Lediard, p. 478.

Footnote 53:

Cunningham, book viii. p. 442.

Footnote 54:

Conduct, p. 147.

Footnote 55:

Lediard. Cunningham.

Footnote 56:

Conduct, p. 156.

Footnote 57:

Conduct, p. 150.

Footnote 58:

Conduct, p. 155.

Footnote 59:

Cunningham, p. 456.

Footnote 60:

See Conduct. Somerville, chap. vi. p. 113.

Footnote 61:

Conduct, p. 159.

Footnote 62:

Cunningham, p. 458.

Footnote 63:

Cunningham.

Footnote 64:

Lediard, vol. iii.

Footnote 65:

Cunningham, b. viii. p. 461.

Footnote 66:

Lediard, vol. ii. p. 3.

Footnote 67:

Cunningham, p. 452.

Footnote 68:

Conduct, p. 161. Cunningham. Lediard.

Footnote 69:

Conduct, p. 170.

Footnote 70:

Ibid. p. 165–167.

Footnote 71:

Conduct, p. 173.

Footnote 72:

Ibid. p. 174.

Footnote 73:

Coxe, p. 515.

Footnote 74:

He was made Lord Keeper in 1705, and Lord Chancellor in 1707.

Footnote 75:

MSS. Letters British Museum, Coxe Papers, 45, 4to. p. 2.

Footnote 76:

Conduct, p. 171.

Footnote 77:

Ibid. p. 176.

Footnote 78:

Conduct, 161.

Footnote 79:

Other Side, p. 259.

Footnote 80:

Ibid. p. 261.

Footnote 81:

Conduct, p. 162.

Footnote 82:

Other Side, p. 261.

Footnote 83:

Cunningham, b. ix. p. 77.

Footnote 84:

Cunningham, p. 77.

Footnote 85:

Cunningham, p. 55, and Biographia Britannica.

Footnote 86:

Conduct.

Footnote 87:

Conduct, p. 177–181.

Footnote 88:

Lediard, vol. ii. p. 2.

Footnote 89:

Letters on the Study of History. Letter IV.

Footnote 90:

Conduct, p. 176.

Footnote 91:

In her letter (supposed to Bishop Burnet) endorsed “An answer to the person that asked what first stuck with me,” in the Coxe MSS. the Duchess calls Mr. Hill “a merchant, or projector,” who was in some way related to Mr. Harley, and by profession an Anabaptist.—Coxe MSS. vol. xlv. p. 11.

Footnote 92:

Conduct.

Footnote 93:

Coxe MSS., vol. xlv. p. 11.

Footnote 94:

Ibid.

Footnote 95:

Political pamphlet, entitled a “Continuation of the Review of a late Treatise,” &c. London, 1741, p. 31.

Footnote 96:

MSS. B. M. Coxe Papers, vol. xliv.

Footnote 97:

Conduct, p. 183.

Footnote 98:

Mr. Masham was first page of honour to Queen Anne and to Prince George, and also equerry to the latter. In 1710 he was preferred to the command of a regiment of horse, and advanced to the rank of brigadier-general. At the famous creation in 1711, he was made a peer, by the title of Lord Masham of Oates, in the county of Essex. By his lady, who died in 1734, he had three sons and two daughters. Anne, his lordship’s eldest daughter, married, in 1726, Henry Hoare, grandson of Sir Richard Hoare, formerly Lord Mayor of London.—_London Chronicle._

Footnote 99:

Conduct, p. 181.

Footnote 100:

MS. Letter to Mr. Hutchinson, B. M.

Footnote 101:

Conduct, p. 185.

Footnote 102:

Coxe, Papers vol. xlv. p. 13.

Footnote 103:

Conduct, p. 190.

Footnote 104:

Other Side of the Question, p. 311.

Footnote 105:

Private Correspondence, vol. i. p. 63.

Footnote 106:

Ibid. p. 105.

Footnote 107:

MS. Letter, British Museum.

Footnote 108:

Preface to Lord Wharncliffe’s Ed. of Lady M. W.’s Letters, p. 74.

Footnote 109:

Conduct, p. 197.

Footnote 110:

Cunningham, b. ix. p. 82.

Footnote 111:

Lediard, vol. ii. p. 5.

Footnote 112:

Other Side, p. 316.

Footnote 113:

B. ix. p. 80.

Footnote 114:

Conduct, p. 70.

Footnote 115:

Lediard.

Footnote 116:

Conduct, p. 191.

Footnote 117:

Conduct, p. 202.

Footnote 118:

Coxe Papers, vol. xliv.

Footnote 119:

London Chronicle, 1763.

Footnote 120:

MS.

Footnote 121:

See Appendix.

Footnote 122:

Conduct.

Footnote 123:

Conduct.

Footnote 124:

Coxe, book i. p. 377.

Footnote 125:

Burnet, vol. v. p. 358.

Footnote 126:

Coxe, p. 370–372.

Footnote 127:

Correspondence, vol. i. p. 83.

Footnote 128:

Ibid. p. 84.

Footnote 129:

Cunningham, b. ix. p. 141.

Footnote 130:

Cunningham, vol. x. p. 132.

Footnote 131:

Burnet, p. 373.

Footnote 132:

Burnet.

Footnote 133:

See Lives of St. John Lord Bolingbroke, by Goldsmith. Biog. Britannica, &c.

Footnote 134:

Cunningham.

Footnote 135:

Letters on History.

Footnote 136:

See Lives of Bolingbroke—Coxe, Burnet, Lediard.

Footnote 137:

Lediard, vol. ii. p. 9.

Footnote 138:

Lediard, vol. ii. p. 9.

Footnote 139:

Burnet, b. v. p. 384.

Footnote 140:

Conduct, p. 214.

Footnote 141:

Ibid. 216.

Footnote 142:

Ibid.

Footnote 143:

Conduct, p. 222.

Footnote 144:

Conduct, p. 219.

Footnote 145:

Aug. 19, 1708.

Footnote 146:

Conduct, p. 222.

Footnote 147:

Preserved in the Coxe MSS. B. M., and given in the Appendix to this volume.

Footnote 148:

Burnet, vol. iv. p. 247.

Footnote 149:

Conduct. Also Narrative, by the Duchess, of the events which took place after the Prince of Denmark’s death. Coxe, vol. iv. p. 234.

Footnote 150:

Macauley. History of England from the Revolution, p. 218.

Footnote 151:

Cunningham.

Footnote 152:

Cunningham, book ii. p. 300.

Footnote 153:

MS. Letter to Mr. Hutchinson. This curious and natural account of an amusing scene is contained in a manuscript Vindication of the Duchess, addressed to Mr. Hutchinson, preserved in the Coxe MSS. in the British Museum, and has never before been quoted or published.—See Coxe Papers, vol. xliv. p. 2. “The good-nature yet weakness of Anne’s character is strongly exemplified in the details in the text.”

Footnote 154:

Lady Hyde, afterwards Countess of Rochester, from whom the Duchess states herself to have received many affronts on the back-stairs.—Coxe MSS. vol. 44.

Footnote 155:

The Duchess of Somerset, wife of the proud Duke of Somerset, so called from his excessive pride of rank and ostentation, was a Percy; and, as such, considered to merit precedence, and great deference, both by her husband and by the Duchess of Marlborough, who always called her “the great lady.” There seems to have been a friendly understanding between the two Duchesses, for Mr. Maynwaring, in one of his letters to the Duchess of Marlborough, says, “I am glad the Duke and Duchess of Somerset were to dine with you, for notwithstanding the faults of the one, and the spirit of Percy blood in the other, I think they both naturally love and esteem you very much.”—Coxe MSS. vol. xli. p. 248.

Footnote 156:

MS. Letter. Coxe Papers, p. 44.

Footnote 157:

Conduct, p. 230.

Footnote 158:

Conduct, p. 230.

Footnote 159:

Cunningham, b. xii. p. 279.

Footnote 160:

Cunningham, b. xii. p. 279.

Footnote 161:

Cunningham, b. xii. p. 279.

Footnote 162:

Cunningham, book xii. p. 282.

Footnote 163:

Conduct, from p. 238 to 244.

Footnote 164:

See another account of this scene, in Private Correspondence of the Duke of Marlborough, vol. i. p. 295.

Footnote 165:

Conduct, p. 244.

Footnote 166:

Burnet’s History, b. iv. vol. vi. p. 314.

Footnote 167:

Biographia Britannica, art. Gilbert Burnet.

Footnote 168:

Biographia Britannica.

Footnote 169:

The Countess de Soissons was one among many ladies of rank, and some belonging to the court, who, merely to satisfy curiosity, ever powerful in female hearts, visited a woman of the name of Voisin, who carried on a traffic in poisons, and was convicted by the _Chambre Ardente_, and burnt alive on the twenty-second of February, 1680. This woman kept a list of all who had been dupes to her imposture; and in it were found the names of the Countess de Soissons, her sister the Duchess de Bouillon, and Marshal de Luxembourg. In order to avoid the disgrace of imprisonment without a fair trial, the Countess fled to Flanders; her sister was saved by the interest of her friends; and the Marshal, after some months’ imprisonment in the Bastile, was declared innocent.—_See_ _Beckman’s History of Inventions_, vol. i. p. 94, 95.

Footnote 170:

Burnet, Hist. p. 290.

Footnote 171:

Conduct, p. 254.

Footnote 172:

Cunningham, Burnet, Tindal.

Footnote 173:

Private Correspondence, vol. i. p. 317.

Footnote 174:

Conduct, p. 260.

Footnote 175:

Private Correspondence, vol. i. p. 343.

Footnote 176:

Ibid. p. 351.

Footnote 177:

Private Correspondence, p. 366.

Footnote 178:

Conduct, p. 261.

Footnote 179:

See Cibber’s Apology. Lady M. Wortley Montague, preface.

Footnote 180:

Swift’s Letters, xiii p. 47.

Footnote 181:

Examiner, No. xvii.

Footnote 182:

Conduct, p. 263.

Footnote 183:

Conduct, p. 273.

Footnote 184:

Conduct, p. 279.

Footnote 185:

Conduct, p. 282.

Footnote 186:

Alluding, probably, to the custom of touching for the King’s evil.

Footnote 187:

Cunningham, b. xix. p. 348.

Footnote 188:

Conduct, p. 269. See Appendix.

Footnote 189:

Ibid. p. 270.

Footnote 190:

Coxe, MS. vol. xliii.

Footnote 191:

Lediard, p. 283.

Footnote 192:

Lediard, p. 278.

Footnote 193:

See Coxe—Lediard—Biog. Brit.

Footnote 194:

Warton’s Essay on Pope, p. 119.

Footnote 195:

See Archdeacon Coxe.

Footnote 196:

The Duchess herself remarks it, as an extraordinary occurrence, that her husband should, even upon a most trying occasion, be betrayed into anger. When he received from Queen Anne the letter containing his dismissal, he flung it, she says, “in a passion,” into the fire. Coxe, MS. vol. xliii.

Footnote 197:

Biog. Britannica.

Footnote 198:

Swift’s Works, vol. xiii. p. 36.

Footnote 199:

See Swift’s Letter.

Footnote 200:

Lediard, vol. ii. p. 399.

Footnote 201:

Lediard, p. 391.

Footnote 202:

See Appendix.

Footnote 203:

Lord Cowper’s Diary.

Footnote 204:

Ibid. vol. iv. p. 229.

Footnote 205:

Somerville, chap. xxiii. p. 125.

Footnote 206:

Somerville, p. 554, 555.

Footnote 207:

Sheridan’s Swift, p. 143.

Footnote 208:

Conduct.

Footnote 209:

Coxe MSS. vol. xliv. p. 2.

Footnote 210:

Swift’s Correspondence, vol. xv. p. 111.

Footnote 211:

Swift’s Correspondence, vol. xv. p. 73.

Footnote 212:

Ibid. p. 76.

Footnote 213:

Swift’s Correspondence, vol. xv. p. 77.

Footnote 214:

Swift’s Letters.

Footnote 215:

Coxe, p. 297.

Footnote 216:

Letter of Erasmus Lewes to Swift, vol. xv. p. 108.

Footnote 217:

Boyer, p. 714.

Footnote 218:

Boyer. Arbuthnot’s Letter to Swift, vol. xv.

Footnote 219:

Private Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 147.

Footnote 220:

Her early medical attendant, and that of her family, Dr. Ratcliffe, the singular benefactor of Oxford, was not present at her sick-bed. He died soon afterwards. This humorist, and shrewd physician, had offended her Majesty some time previously, by saying that her complaint was nothing but “_vapours_.” Possibly he was so far right, that repose, not medicine, was what the poor, harassed Queen required. Dr. Ratcliffe had been sent for to Prince George by the Queen’s express desire. On that occasion he had given her Majesty no hopes; telling her that however common it might be for surgeons to use caustics in cases of burning and scalding, “it was irregular for physicians to expel watery humours by the same element.” To this dogmatic assertion he added a promise that the dying Prince should have an easy passage out of this world, since he had been so “tampered with,” he could not live more than six days.—_Ingram’s Memorials of Oxford_, vol. iii. p. 8.

For some further notice of this extraordinary man, see the concluding portion of this volume.

Footnote 221:

Somerville, Appendix II p. 656.

Footnote 222:

Lediard, p. 447.

Footnote 223:

Coxe, vol. vi. p. 296.

Footnote 224:

Ibid. p. 305.

Footnote 225:

Lediard, p. 453.

Footnote 226:

Coxe, p. 6. 308.

Footnote 227:

Macauley. Lediard.

Footnote 228:

Macaulay. Chesterfield.

Footnote 229:

Coxe, vol. iii. p. 610.

Footnote 230:

A portion of that task, namely, her letter to Mr. Hutchison, she is stated, in a note in Dr. Coxe’s handwriting, to have begun during her residence abroad.

Footnote 231:

The principal of Sir J. Vanburgh’s works, besides Castle Howard and Blenheim, were Eastleving, in Dorsetshire; King’s Weston, near Bristol; the Opera House, and St. John’s Church, Westminster—not to mention his own residence at Whitehall, of which Swift writes—

“At length they in the rubbish spy A thing resembling a goose-pie.”

Footnote 232:

Swift’s pun on this occasion was, that he might now “build houses.”

Footnote 233:

Hist. Vanburgh’s House, 1708.

Footnote 234:

This anecdote is pronounced by Mr. D’Israeli, in his “Curiosities of Literature” (1823), to be a mere invention.

Footnote 235:

Vanburgh died in 1726.

Footnote 236:

Coxe MSS., vol. xlvi. p. 76.

Footnote 237:

Coxe MSS., vol. xlvi. p. 76.

Footnote 238:

Coxe Papers.

Footnote 239:

Coxe Papers. See Appendix.

Footnote 240:

Coxe Papers, vol. xlvi. p. 148.

Footnote 241:

This marriage, unhappily for the Duke, was childless, thus disappointing his hopes of being able proudly to deduce the origin of his posterity from the great Marlborough.—Coxe Papers, vol. xlvi. p. 148.

Footnote 242:

This letter, together with the rest of this curious correspondence, is to be seen in the Appendix.

Footnote 243:

Coxe MSS.

Footnote 244:

Coxe MSS., vol. xlvi. p. 148.

Footnote 245:

Ibid. p. 145.

Footnote 246:

See Swift’s Letters.

Footnote 247:

Ibid. vol. xiv. p. 131.

Footnote 248:

Swift’s Letters, vol. xiv. p. 90.

Footnote 249:

Coxe, vol. vi. quarto, p. 615.

Footnote 250:

See Cunningham and others.

Footnote 251:

See Appendix.

Footnote 252:

Coxe, p. 361.

Footnote 253:

See Coxe, p. 619, and also Lord Sunderland’s answer.

Footnote 254:

Coxe, vol. iii. p. 645.

Footnote 255:

Hogarth personated the Ghost of Brutus, but, being wholly deficient in memory, he was unable to commit to memory the few lines which constituted his part. The verses he was to deliver were therefore pasted in very large letters on the outside of an illuminated lantern, so that he could read them as he came on the stage, with that appropriate implement in his hand.

Footnote 256:

Biographical Dict., Art. Hoadly.

Footnote 257:

Coxe.

Footnote 258:

The play-bill of “All for Love; or the World Well Lost,” has been given at length by Dr. Coxe. It runs as follows:

_Marc Anthony_, Captain Fish, Page of the Duchess. _Ventidius_, Old Mr. Jennings. _Sarapion, the High Priest_, Miss Cairnes. _Alexis_, Mrs. La Vie. _Cleopatra_, Lady Charlotte Macarthy. _Octavia_, Lady Anne Spencer. _Children of Marc Anthony_, Lady Anne Egerton, Lady Diana Spencer. (Scene, the Bow-window Room.) (Great screens for changing scenes.)

Footnote 259:

Coxe.

Footnote 260:

His second wife. He married first a Miss Talbot, niece of the Duke of Shrewsbury.—Burke’s Peerage.

Footnote 261:

Coxe.

Footnote 262:

Biographia Britannica.

Footnote 263:

Biographia Britannica.

Footnote 264:

Macauley, p. 290.

Footnote 265:

Coxe.

Footnote 266:

Anecdotes of Lady M. W., edited by Lord Wharncliffe, vol. i. p. 74.

Footnote 267:

Coxe, vol. i. p. 625.

Footnote 268:

Macauley, p. 308.

Footnote 269:

Coxe.

Footnote 270:

Biographia Britannica.

Footnote 271:

Coxe.

Footnote 272:

Political and Literary Anecdotes of his Own Time, by Dr. King.

Footnote 273:

Scott’s Life of Swift.

Footnote 274:

Lord Chesterfield’s Characters.

Footnote 275:

Lord Chesterfield. Horace Walpole.

Footnote 276:

Such was also the case even with the great Lord Clarendon, after many years of exile. See Mr. James’s Life of Louis Quatorze, vol. iii.

Footnote 277:

Coxe, p. 629.

Footnote 278:

Mem. of Lord Walpole. Coxe, p. 8.

Footnote 279:

The origin of Mr. James Craggs is said by Lady Mary W. Montague to be derived from a very low source. His father was footman to the Duchess of Norfolk, and a footman of the old school, who managed his mistress’s intrigues as well as other household affairs.—Lady M. W. M.’s Letters. Hence the epigram in Horace Walpole’s Letters.

Footnote 280:

Coxe, Appendix.

Footnote 281:

Life of Lord Walpole, p. 20.

Footnote 282:

Horace Walpole, Reminiscences.

Footnote 283:

For the rest of this curious letter, see Appendix. It was kindly pointed out to me by Deputy Holmes, Esq. keeper of the Manuscripts, British Museum. That gentleman found it crumpled up among Dr. Coxe’s papers, while he was arranging those manuscripts in their present convenient form. To this letter there is neither date nor address: on the back it is endorsed, “From the Duke of Marlborough;” Mr. Holmes surmises, in the handwriting of Lord Godolphin. Archdeacon Coxe has not noticed the Duke’s perplexity on the point expressed in this letter.

Footnote 284:

See Opinions.

Footnote 285:

Horace Walpole, Reminiscences.

Footnote 286:

Coxe, p. 646.

Footnote 287:

Coxe, vol. vi. octavo, p. 646.

Footnote 288:

“Our bishops,” says the Duchess, writing of the Princess, whose condescension she had so greatly extolled, “are now about to employ hands to write the finest character that ever was heard of Queen Caroline; who, as it is no treason, I freely own that I am glad she is dead. Upon her great understanding and goodness there come out nauseous panegyrics every day, that make one sick, so full of nonsense and lies. There is one very remarkable from a Dr. Clarke, in order to have the first bishoprick that falls, and I dare say he will have it, though there is something extremely ridiculous in the panegyric; for, after he has given her the most perfect character that ever any woman had, or can have, he allows that she had sacrificed her reputation to the great and the many, to show her duty to the King and her love to the country. These are the clergyman’s words exactly, which allows she did wrong things, but it was to please the King,—which is condemning him. I suppose he must mean some good she did to her own country, for I know of none she did in England, unless taking from the public deserves a panegyric.”—Private Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 169. Duchess of Marlborough’s Opinions.

Footnote 289:

See Dr. Coxe, p. 648.

Footnote 290:

Coxe, p. 649.

Footnote 291:

Newspapers of the day.

Footnote 292:

Coxe Papers, vol. xli. p. 76.

Footnote 293:

Warton’s Essay on Pope, vol. ii. p. 303.

Footnote 294:

Swift’s Correspondence, vol. xv. p. 236.

Footnote 295:

Biographia.

Footnote 296:

London Chronicle, November 21, 1758.

Footnote 297:

His avarice has been attributed greatly to the Duchess’s influence.

Footnote 298:

Collins’s Baronage, vol. ii.

Footnote 299:

See Lady M. W. Montague’s Letters.

Footnote 300:

Coxe, p. 653.

Footnote 301:

Coxe, p. 653.

Footnote 302:

See some curious letters in the Coxe MSS., vol. xliii. p. 70.

Footnote 303:

Burke’s Extinct Peerage, art. Coningsby.

Footnote 304:

By Frances, daughter of the Earl of Ranelagh.

Footnote 305:

Oct. 8, 1722. The Duke died June 16, 1722.

Footnote 306:

Coxe MSS., vol. xliii. p. 70.

Footnote 307:

Coxe MSS., vol. xliii. p. 71.

Footnote 308:

Coxe.

Footnote 309:

Private Correspondence, p. 206. Letter from Mr. Maynwaring to the Duchess.

Footnote 310:

Ibid. See also Horace Walpole’s Letters.

Footnote 311:

Burke’s Peerage, art. Somerset.

Footnote 312:

Private Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 147.

Footnote 313:

Private Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 147.

Footnote 314:

Coxe, p. 656.

Footnote 315:

Coxe.

Footnote 316:

Ibid.

Footnote 317:

H. Walpole’s Reminiscences.

Footnote 318:

Warton on Pope.

Footnote 319:

Warton on Pope, p. 141.

Footnote 320:

Macauley.

Footnote 321:

Chesterfield’s Characters.

Footnote 322:

Chesterfield, Smollett, Tindal, &c.

Footnote 323:

See Macauley, p. 225.

Footnote 324:

Private Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 161.

Footnote 325:

Private Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 152.

Footnote 326:

Private Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 495.

Footnote 327:

Private Correspondence, p. 495.

Footnote 328:

Macaulay, p. 370.

Footnote 329:

Private Correspondence, p. 461.

Footnote 330:

Private Correspondence, p. 465.

Footnote 331:

Letter from Lord Godolphin to the Duchess. Private Correspondence, p. 479.

Footnote 332:

Private Correspondence, p. 467.

Footnote 333:

Coxe MSS. vol. xliii. p. 123.

Footnote 334:

Private Correspondence, p. 472, 473.

Footnote 335:

Burke’s Peerage.

Footnote 336:

Horace Walpole, Reminiscences.

Footnote 337:

Chesterfield. Annual Register. Collins’ Baronage.

Footnote 338:

Chesterfield’s Characters.

Footnote 339:

Note in Chesterfield’s Characters, p. 50.

Footnote 340:

Lord Wharncliffe, vol. i. p. 2.

Footnote 341:

Ibid.

Footnote 342:

Collins’s Baronage.

Footnote 343:

Chesterfield.

Footnote 344:

Lady M. W. Montague.

Footnote 345:

This letter is given literally as it is written, without any alteration of grammar or punctuation.—Coxe MSS., vol. xliii. p. 148.

Footnote 346:

Letters to Sir Horace Mann, vol. iii. p. 286.

Footnote 347:

Letters to Sir Horace Mann, vol. ii. p. 144.

Footnote 348:

Dallaway’s Memoirs of Lady M. W. Lord Wharncliffe. Edition of Lady M. W.

Footnote 349:

Horace Walpole mentions this anecdote of Lady Bateman, but a later account specifies Lady Anne Egerton as the heroine of the blackened picture.

Footnote 350:

Those who have read the novels of Richardson, faithful delineations of manners, cannot but recal to mind the descriptions given of parental authority, and of filial fear, by that prolix, but, in some points, incomparable novelist.

Footnote 351:

Coxe MSS., vol. iv.

Footnote 352:

Private Correspondence, vol. i. p. 103.

Footnote 353:

Private Correspondence, vol. i. p. 100–102.

Footnote 354:

Memoirs of the Life of Whiston, p. 102.

Footnote 355:

Private Correspondence, vol. i. p. 6.

Footnote 356:

Lord Wharncliffe, vol. i. p. 76.

Footnote 357:

Life of Colley Cibber, p. 66.

Footnote 358:

Life of Colley Cibber, p. 461.

Footnote 359:

Such was her excellence in the “Provoked Husband,” that the managers made her a present of fifty guineas above her agreement, which was only a verbal one; “for they knew,” says Cibber, “that she was incapable of deserting them for another stage.” One of the many good traits in the character of this erring woman was her refusing to receive her salary, when disabled by illness from performing, although her agreement entitled her to receive it.—Life of Colley Cibber, p. 291.

Footnote 360:

It was not situated exactly on the spot, but near to the summer-house, which has been mentioned in p. 10. vol. i. of this work. The summer-house is also pulled down.

Footnote 361:

In Holywell-house, the Dowager Lady Spencer, mother of the beautiful Duchess of Devonshire, long resided. Her ladyship received among her guests the late antiquary, —— Browne, Esq. of St. Albans, whose death, at a very advanced age, took place very recently. The authoress had the honour of conversing with this venerable antiquary, but could not learn from him that there were any particular traces in Holywell-house of the Duchess or her children, though there are several, as Mr. Browne informed her, of the Spencer and Cavendish family, more especially of the present Duke of Devonshire, whose visits to Holywell in childhood were frequent.

Footnote 362:

From the catalogue, Holywell-house must have been very commodious; but the rooms, though numerous, were not large. The authoress saw it on the eve of its destruction, and, not being at all aware of its peculiar interest to her, was struck by its massive though not picturesque appearance. It commanded a fine view of St. Alban’s Abbey.

Footnote 363:

On this occasion the churchwardens of Kingston paid “twenty pence” for mending the ways when the Queen went from Wimbledon to Nonsuch.

Footnote 364:

The survey taken of it by order of parliament, in 1649, describes it minutely, and is very curious. It is printed in the Archæologia of the Society of Antiquaries, vol. x. p. 399, 8vo., from the original in the Augmentation Office.

Footnote 365:

There is a view of this, the Duchess’s house, in the fifth volume of the “Vitruvius Britannicus.”

Footnote 366:

The following account, supplied by William Upcott, Esq., from some one of the daily papers of that day, is curious. “Woodstock, June 19. Yesterday being Monday, about six o’clock in the evening, was laid the first stone of the Duke of Marlborough’s house, by Mr. Vanbrugge, and then seven gentlemen gave it a stroke with a hammer, and threw down each of them a guinea; Sir Thomas Wheate was the first, Dr. Bouchel the second, Mr. Vanbrugge the third; I know not the rest. There were several sorts of musick; three morris dances; one of young fellows, one of maidens, and one of old beldames. There were about a hundred buckets, bowls, and pans, filled with wine, punch, cakes, and ale. From my lord’s house all went to the Town-hall, where plenty of sack, claret, cakes, &c., were prepared for the gentry and better sort; and under the Cross eight barrels of ale, with abundance of cakes, were placed for the common people. The stone laid by Mr. Vanbrugge was eight square, finely polished, about eighteen inches over, and upon it were these words inlayed in pewter—_In memory of the battel of Blenheim, June 8, 1705, Anna Regina._”

Footnote 367:

Coxe MSS., vol. xlvi.

Footnote 368:

Coxe MSS., vol. xlvi. p. 8.

Footnote 369:

Coxe MSS., vol. xlvi. p. 8.

Footnote 370:

In the possession of William Upcott, Esq.

Footnote 371:

The word is expressed thus + in the original letter.

Footnote 372:

Coxe MSS., vol. xli p. 14.

Footnote 373:

For the correspondence on this subject, hitherto unpublished, see Appendix.

Footnote 374:

Appendix.

Footnote 375:

Coxe MSS.

Footnote 376:

Coxe Papers.

Footnote 377:

Coxe, p. 642.

Footnote 378:

Coxe MSS., vol. xlvi. p. 74.

Footnote 379:

Coxe.

Footnote 380:

Newspapers. Anecdote supplied by W. Upcott, Esq.

Footnote 381:

Letter from Vanburgh to Tonson. D’Israeli’s Curiosities of Literature. 1823.

Footnote 382:

Letter to Mr. Hutchinson, Coxe MSS.

Footnote 383:

Life of Sarah Duchess of Marlborough. Published in 1745.

Footnote 384:

Walpole’s Reminiscences, p. 293.

Footnote 385:

Reminiscences.

Footnote 386:

Chesterfield’s Characters.

Footnote 387:

Private Correspondence, vol. ii.

Footnote 388:

Granger’s Biog. Hist. of Great Britain. Art. Jennings.

Footnote 389:

Private Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 179.

Footnote 390:

Life of Sarah Duchess of Marlborough.

Footnote 391:

Macauley.

Footnote 392:

Lord Chesterfield.

Footnote 393:

Biographical Dictionary.

Footnote 394:

Manuscript Notes in the copy of the Duchess’s Opinions in the British Museum.

Footnote 395:

Coxe MSS., vol. xliii. p. 123.

Footnote 396:

He conducted the paper called the “Champion.” His sister Sarah, a literary character also, was the intimate friend of Dr. Hoadly. Possibly, from her name, she may have been a god-daughter of the Duchess.

Footnote 397:

Reminiscences, p. 308.

Footnote 398:

Letters of Walpole, vol. i. p. 42.

Footnote 399:

Private Correspondence. Life of the Duchess.

Footnote 400:

Manuscript Notes to her Opinions.

Footnote 401:

Private Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 168.

Footnote 402:

Private Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 209.

Footnote 403:

Coxe. Private Correspondence, &c.

Footnote 404:

Life of Sarah Duchess of Marlborough.

Footnote 405:

Life of Sarah Duchess of Marlborough.

Footnote 406:

The details of her grievances are to be found in the Appendix.

Footnote 407:

Coxe MSS., vol. xliii. p. 123.

Footnote 408:

Coxe MSS.

Footnote 409:

As her early and only biographer expresses it, at her house at the Friery, St. James’s. Friery Passage was formerly close to Marlborough-house.

Footnote 410:

Coxe MSS.

Footnote 411:

See Appendix.

Footnote 412:

Coxe MSS., vol. xv. p. 151.

Footnote 413:

Coxe MSS., vol. xli. p. 14.

Footnote 414:

Blank in manuscript.

Footnote 415:

Coxe MSS., vol. xlvi. p. 28.

Footnote 416:

Coxe MSS., vol. xlvi. p. 56.

Footnote 417:

Coxe MSS., vol. xlvi. p. 127.

Footnote 418:

Coxe MSS., vol xli. p. 25.

Footnote 419:

Coxe MSS., vol. xlvi. p. 24.

Footnote 420:

Coxe MSS., vol. xli. p. 31.

Footnote 421:

Coxe MSS., vol. xlvi. p. 29.

Footnote 422:

Coxe MSS., vol. xlvi. p. 76.

Footnote 423:

Coxe MSS., vol. xlvi. p. 68.

Footnote 424:

Coxe MSS., vol. xlvi. p. 142.

Footnote 425:

Coxe MSS. vol., xlvi. p. 148.

Footnote 426:

Coxe MSS., vol. xv. p. 150.

Footnote 427:

Coxe MSS., vol. xlvii. p. 8.

Footnote 428:

Coxe MSS., vol. xliii. p. 63.

Footnote 429:

Ibid. vol. xliii. p. 9.

Footnote 430:

Coxe MSS., vol. xliii. p. 132.

Footnote 431:

Coxe MSS., vol. xliii. p. 133.

Footnote 432:

Coxe MSS., vol. xliii. p. 134.

Footnote 433:

Coxe MSS., vol. xliii, p. 136.

Footnote 434:

Coxe MSS., vol. xliii. p. 142.

Footnote 435:

Coxe MSS., vol. xliii. p. 144.

Footnote 436:

Coxe MSS., vol. xliii. p. 147.

Footnote 437:

This letter is probably in continuation of the Duchess of Marlborough’s to the Duke of Newcastle, of August 1, 1735.—See vol. ii. p. 476.

LONDON: IBOTSON AND PALMER, PRINTERS, SAVOY STREET, STRAND.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. 2. Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed. 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.