CHAPTER II.

COURT OF CHARLES II.—1677 to 1681.

Marriage of the Princess Mary—Marriage of Colonel Churchill and Miss Jennings—Characters of Anne and Mary—Friendship of Anne for Lady Churchill—Appointment of the latter to be Lady of the Bedchamber to the Princess—Death of Charles the Second.

It was fortunate for the subject of this Memoir that her introduction into the great world took place under the auspices of a young and virtuous Princess, almost of the same age with herself. It is true, that to the charge of Katharine, the neglected wife of Charles the Second, no graver crime could be alleged than her subserviency to the King’s pleasures; for in her own conduct she was irreproachable. When first she became Queen of England, she endeavoured, with such judgment as she possessed, to reform the manners of her adopted country, and to introduce propriety of demeanour into the court. Unhappily Katharine was not endowed with those graces which are likely to recommend virtue. She is described by a contemporary as “a little ungraceful woman, so short-legged, that when she stood upon her feet you would have thought she was on her knees, and yet so long-waisted, that when she sat down she appeared like a well-sized woman.”[39]

Brought up in a monastery, the simple-minded Katharine vainly hoped to reform her dissolute husband, whose inconstancy at first grieved and shocked her virtuous notions. Unlike her rival, Anne Duchess of York, a shrewd and worldly woman, who strove to fill her saloons with the young and the fair, Katharine was surrounded by her countrywomen, old, stiff, ungainly, repulsive Portuguese ladies, of birth and pride, who soon became the subjects of infinite merriment to King Charles’s court. These exemplary ladies came possessed with the notion that they should quickly bring the English to conform to their new customs; but Charles speedily undeceived them, and by his express order they were soon shipped off again for Portugal.[40]

The injured Queen was, at the time that Sarah and Colonel Churchill became acquainted, sinking fast into the obscurity which was alone redeemed from oblivion, after Charles’s death, by her patronage of musical science, and by the concerts which she gave at Somerset House, whither she retired, to reside until she returned to Portugal.[41]

Charles, impoverished in circumstances, and governed at this time almost wholly by the Duchess of Portsmouth, who was under the influence of France, astonished both his subjects and the foreign courts, by the alliance which he selected for his niece, the Princess Mary, at this time in her fifteenth year. It was whilst Colonel Churchill and his future wife were in all the uncertainties of suspense, that the nuptials of William of Nassau with Mary were solemnised. This young Princess is said to have owed the decision which gave her a husband to whom she was entirely subservient, to a sudden prepossession of her royal uncle in favour of the Prince. The King is reported to have said to Sir William Temple these characteristic words:—“I never yet was deceived in judging a man’s honesty by his looks; and if I am not deceived in the Prince’s face, he is the honestest man in the world, and I will trust him, and he shall have his wife; and you shall go immediately and tell my brother so, and thus it is a thing resolved on.”[42]

This mode of deciding an union highly agreeable to the English, although unwelcome to the Duke of York, was adopted and carried instantly into effect, in order to avoid the importunities of the Duchess of Portsmouth, who was entirely an instrument in the interests of France. Louis the Fourteenth, when informed of the marriage being declared in council, could not help marking his resentment towards the Duke of York, through the English ambassador, Lord Darnley,—who justified James by saying that “he did not know of the King’s decision until an hour before it was proclaimed, nor did the King himself above two hours previously.” Upon which Louis uttered these prophetic words: that “James had given his daughter to his greatest enemy.”[43]

In the ensuing year, 1678, the marriage of Sarah Jennings and Colonel Churchill is presumed to have taken place.[44] Secret their union certainly was, for a letter addressed by Colonel Churchill to his wife, from Brussels, April 12, 1678, is directed to Miss Jennings; but the epistle was carefully preserved by his wife, who left, in her own handwriting, these words on the back: “I believe I was married when this was written, but it was not known to any but the Duchess” (of York.) In the same year he writes to her, addressed to Mrs. Churchill, at Mintern, his father’s seat, where probably the young bride had taken up her abode in the intervals of her attendance at court; or perhaps that attendance was discontinued, and not constantly resumed until a year or two afterwards. The ceremony took place in the presence of Mary Duchess of York, who bestowed presents of considerable value on the bride; and some months afterwards the marriage was avowed.[45]

Little of domestic comfort for several years seems to have been the portion of Colonel Churchill in his marriage. His first absence was on occasion of the Duke’s retiring, first to Brussels, and afterwards to the Hague, accompanied by the Duchess of York, and by the Princess Anne; an event which took place in the beginning of the year 1678. But although at this time attached to the service of the Duke of York, and ignorant of the Duke’s designs upon the religion and the liberties of England,[46] Colonel Churchill’s interests with Charles appear not to have suffered; for he obtained in February a regiment of foot, and was shortly afterwards sent on a mission of importance to the Prince of Orange. The following letter from him to his wife breathes sincere affection. It is dated Brussels, April 12th.

“I writ to you from Antwerp, which I hope you have received before now, for I should be glad you should hear from me by every post. I met with some difficulties in my business with the Prince of Orange, so that I was forced to write to England, which will cause me to be two or three days longer abroad than I should have been. But because I would lose no time, I despatch all other things in the mean time, for I do, with all my heart and soul, long to be with you, you being dearer to me than my own life. On Sunday morning I shall leave this place, so that on Monday night I shall be at Breda, where the Prince and Princess of Orange are; and from hence you shall be sure to hear from me again; till then, my soul’s soul, farewell.”[47]

Colonel Churchill had, however, the enjoyment of passing the summer of this year with his wife at Mintern, where he had the happiness of finding her reconciled to his parents; but this transient enjoyment of domestic quiet was not of long duration. The Colonel was obliged to repair to London, where he received instructions to join the allied troops in hostilities against France, and received a commission from the Duke of Monmouth, appointing him, as British commander-in-chief in the Netherlands, to the command of a brigade in Flanders. But, happily, being driven back by contrary winds to Margate, Colonel Churchill learned, in time to prevent his proceeding to the Continent, that the Prince of Orange had signed a treaty with the French, and that a general peace was the result.[48]

The dissolute rule of Charles was now drawing to a close; but its last years were disturbed by faction, and disgraced by acts of rigour, which were with justice imputed to the influence of the heir apparent. Colonel Churchill and his wife remained, however, attached to the service of the Duke and Duchess of York, and accompanied their royal highnesses to the Hague and to Brussels—a journey which was undertaken by James in compliance with a request addressed to him from his brother, that he would for a time absent himself from the British dominions.

This may probably be considered as the happiest epoch in the life of Churchill, and of the partner of his bright fortunes. Although confided in by James in all important points, notwithstanding the difference of their religious faith, Churchill took no share in political intrigues, and with a calm dignity retained his own opinions, unbiassed by example, or by what might be deemed interest. “Though I have an aversion to popery,” thus he explained his sentiments to a confidential friend, “yet I am no less averse to persecution for conscience sake. I deem it the highest act of injustice to set every one aside from his inheritance upon bare suppositions of intentional evils, when nothing that is actual appears to preclude him from the exercise of his just rights.”[49]

On the other hand, Mrs. Churchill had at present no important part in life to act, no dreams of greatness to disturb her routine of duty and service to a mistress who appears to have treated her with the utmost kindness. The Princess Anne, indeed, accompanied her father to the Continent, and shared with her stepmother the attentions and the society which afterwards became so essential to the future Queen of England. But Anne’s importance was at present overshadowed, and her chances of future elevation were remote, even in her own anticipations.

During the course of the summer, James was recalled to England by the illness of his brother; but finding that Charles was likely to recover, he returned to Flanders, in order to bring over his family to the British Isles,[50] although he was not permitted by the King to remain in London. Colonel Churchill, meantime, was despatched to Paris upon diplomatic business, with an especial recommendation from James, who designated him in his letter “master of the wardrobe.”[51] It was not, however, considered expedient by Charles or his advisers that the Duke of York should continue in England, and accordingly it was given out, by authority, that the Duke having represented to his Majesty that it would be more proper that he should remain in his Majesty’s dominions than in those of any other Prince, the King had consented to his Royal Highness’s removal to Scotland.

The Duke and Duchess of York, therefore, with a numerous suite, composed of many of the nobility and persons of distinction, departed for Edinburgh, leaving the Princess Anne, and Isabella, her half-sister, at St. James’s. In this tedious journey, which, performed with much parade, lasted a month, Churchill and his wife accompanied the Duke and Duchess,[52]—Colonel Churchill, from the desire of escaping those contentions which then agitated public men, and occupied both Houses, concerning the succession,[53] prudently avoiding a seat in parliament, which he might readily have obtained.

It was for some years the occupation of Churchill, and of his wife, to follow the footsteps, and in some measure to share the anxieties, of the Duke and Duchess of York. During the present year, James returned to London; but he was again driven to Scotland by the efforts of the adverse party, and was again accompanied by Churchill.

After a year spent on the part of Churchill in many important missions, he had the happiness of hearing, on his return to Scotland after one of these embassies, that he had become a father. The infant Henrietta, afterwards Duchess of Marlborough, was born in London, whither Mrs. Churchill had accompanied the Duchess of York, July the tenth, 1681.[54]

The character of the Duchess of Marlborough as a mother remains yet to be developed; but the letters of Colonel Churchill to her, at this period, bespeak a sense of domestic happiness, and prove that she was still, as indeed she ever was, ardently beloved by his, the most affectionate, as it was the bravest heart.

“I writ to you,” he says in one of these unpremeditated epistles, “last night by the express, and since that I have no good news to send you. The yachts are not yet come, nor do we know when they will, for the wind is directly against them, so that you may believe I am not in a very good humour, since I desire nothing so much as being with you. The only comfort I had here was hearing from you, and now, if we should be stopped by contrary winds, and not hear from you, you may guess with what satisfaction I shall then pass my time; therefore, as you love me, you will pray for fair winds, that we may not stay here, nor be long at sea.

“I hope all the red spots of our child will be gone against I see her, and her nose strait; so that I may fancy it to be like the mother, for she has your coloured hair. I would have her to be like you in all things else. Till next post-day farewell. By that time I hope we shall hear of the yachts, for till I do, I have no kind of patience.”[55]

The constant services of Churchill were at length rewarded with an elevation to the peerage, an honour which he owed entirely to the recommendation of James in his favour. He was created Baron Churchill of Eyemouth in Scotland, and made also Colonel of the third troop of Guards.[56]

Weary, probably, of a courtier’s life, it was now Lord Churchill’s desire to withdraw Lady Churchill from the court, and to enjoy with her the privacy which their mutual affection might have rendered delightful. But so peaceful a lot was not to be the portion of this remarkable pair, who were destined to act a conspicuous part in the great sphere of public action.

It is not stated what were Lord Churchill’s particular motives for thus wishing to withdraw from the greatness which was “thrust upon him,” at a time when James, his patron, was restored to his royal brother’s favour, and when his own influence was daily increasing. But we may look into the history of those fearful times for a solution of this inquiry. The feelings, upright and humane, of Churchill, and even of his less sensitive wife, had doubtless been harrowed by the occurrences of the preceding year. The Rye House Plot, and its melancholy termination, must have saddened the heart even of the strictest adherent to James, and probably opened the eyes of Churchill to the real dispositions of that Prince, whose indifference to the value of human life gave the character of retribution to his subsequent misfortunes. Russell sacrificed, and the unhappy Essex, impelled by a fear of his impending fate, forced to commit suicide, it is no wonder that Churchill was sickened by the events of those calamitous days, and that he longed to withdraw her who was dearest to him from a scene in which the events of tragedy were mingled with the heartless merriment of a festive court.

Whilst Lord Churchill was advancing his fortunes, the influence of his young wife over the pliant mind of the Princess Anne was equally advancing, though unseen, and establishing for Lady Churchill an ascendency which fixed her destiny in the public walks of life.

From childhood, Anne had been accustomed to the society of her future favourite. A slight difference of age, Lady Churchill being the elder of the two, aided, rather than impeded, the happy intimacy of girlhood. Anne was accustomed to depend for amusement upon her new friend; and as they grew up, and became severally absorbed in the cares of womanhood, Anne, as well as Sarah, found that hopes and disappointments, on the all-engrossing subject of wedlock, were the portion of the Princess as well as of the subject.

Anne, like others of her high rank, was spared the perplexity of choice. Already, at an early age, she had been addressed, in secret, with professions of attachment by the young Earl of Mulgrave, afterwards Marquis of Normanby, one of the most accomplished and amiable noblemen of his time. But these proposals were checked as soon as they were discovered, yet not before Anne had imbibed a partiality, or, in the cold words of the historian of her reign, an “esteem,” for the young man, which continued in the form of a kindly regard, until party and politics broke the charm which the recollection of an early attachment had created.[57]

George the First, at that time possessing very slender hopes of becoming King of England, visited this country with the intention of marrying the Princess Anne, but left the British shores somewhat dishonourably, without justifying the hopes which he had excited.[58] At the period when he married his cousin, the ill-fated Dorothea, there was indeed a third daughter of James Duke of York living, the Princess Katharine, who died in 1671. Anne, therefore, was by no means an object of so much importance in the eyes of European princes as she became upon the failure of issue to Mary, and after the abdication of her father. Her uncle, Charles the Second, undertook, however, the disposal of her fate, as he had already decided that of her elder sister.

In selecting the husbands of his nieces, the profligate, well-bred monarch seems to have searched for qualities as opposite as possible to those displayed in the Stuart line; consigning Mary, at sixteen, to the sickly, reserved, grave, and even austere Prince of Orange; and choosing for Anne a worthy, staid individual, ten years older than herself, and exactly such a man as would have filled with propriety the situation of a country gentleman, and enjoyed the not arduous, but yet not unimportant duties which usually fall to the lot of that respectable class. Prince George of Denmark, recommended to the favour of Charles chiefly by his being of the Protestant faith,[59] had, four years previous to his marriage, visited England; and at the command of his brother, Christian the Fifth of Denmark, he returned to make an offer of marriage to the Princess Anne.[60] It cannot for a moment be supposed that, even with the advantage of these renewed opportunities, there was any great attachment on either side. Never, however, in the annals of royal wedlock, were two characters more completely assimilated than that of Anne and her approved lover. The Prince was brave, good-natured, and not _too_ wise; yet sufficiently sensible to be free from ambition, and to remain contented, in after times, with being the first royal consort that had not shared monarchical power. His patrimony was small, but ample enough to render him comfortable until a settlement was made, and consisted in the revenues of some small islands belonging to the crown of Denmark, which yielded about ten thousand pounds a year.[61] He was inclined to those principles which had recently acquired the name of Toryism, but never took more than a subordinate part in politics; and was so unoffending, that he made not a personal enemy. Neither was the good Prince George without accomplishments. He had travelled much, was a linguist, somewhat of an antiquary, and patronized the arts. Report asserted that an asthmatic complaint, with which he was severely affected during the course of his life, and of which he ultimately died, had its origin in convivial habits, in which Anne, when Queen, has been declared not loath to join.[62] But that propensity, when not carried to excess, was never in England an unpopular quality; and Prince George was eminently qualified to endear himself to the English nation.

The Princess to whom he was affianced possessed a temper almost as replete with good-nature as his own. At the period of her marriage, the qualities which eventually formed the subject of so much vituperation and of so much praise, could not have been developed, even to the scrutinizing observation of her young companion, Mrs. Churchill, who afterwards portrayed her royal mistress with the distinctness of a powerful and sarcastic mind. The education of the Princess had been limited, and her capacity was inferior to that of her sister Mary; yet the characters of both these Princesses, represented differently by different parties, appear to have been possessed of considerable merit. If we set apart, first, her conduct to her father, and afterwards the undue jealousy evinced by Mary towards her sister, few individuals appear in so amiable a point of view as that of the Princess of Orange. Religious without bigotry, gentle yet firm, fond of domestic life, yet coming forward, when occasion called her, into the sphere of public duties with credit to herself and with benefit to the nation, Mary, as a queen and a wife, was a pattern not only to persons of her own elevated station, but to women of every sphere and in every age. This Princess was, at the time of her sister’s marriage, in Holland, with her husband, William of Nassau.

Anne was a personage altogether of an inferior stamp. In many points she resembled strongly the other members of her family who have figured in history. Like Charles the First, she was pious, generous, and affectionate, but obstinate, and not devoid of duplicity when it suited her purpose. Her religion had not, however, the sublimated character of that which consoled the unhappy Charles in adversity; but became, like all her other dispositions, a habit, an implicit faith, a formal observance, rather than a sentiment. Her nature was a strange compound of warm affections and of repelling coldness. As in all weak minds, her friendships were called into being by the gratification of her selfish inclinations; and hence, as the Duchess of Marlborough well describes them, “they were flames of extravagant passion, ending in indifference or aversion.”[63] With those defects which proceeded from deficient cultivation, Anne, however, as a lady of elevated rank, and afterwards as a ruler, possessed some admirable qualities. Her sense of duty supplied the place of strong sensibility. She was a kind mistress; as a wife, incomparable; though lavish to her favourites, (an hereditary trait,) not to be led by them into what she disapproved; just and economical, gracious in her manners, and desirous of popularity. Her nature was placid, her temperament phlegmatic; great designs and lofty sentiments were not to be expected from one of so gentle and easy a temper; but in propriety she equalled, if she could not excel, her reflective and discreet sister. In the early part of her life she was, like the Stuarts generally, extremely well-bred, until unnecessary and indecorous familiarity with her inferiors broke down the effects of early habit.

In person Anne was comely, and of that ample conformation and stature well adapted for royalty. Her love of etiquette, and her exactness in trifles, were convenient and commendable qualities in the rules of a court, in the days of the good old school; and an attention to those forms which are much observed in the monarch of a people prone to free discussion, rendered her a favourite with the public. Her figure, before it became matronly, or in the words of the Duchess, (after their quarrel,) “exceeding gross and corpulent,” was esteemed graceful; her face was agreeable, though, from a weakness in her eyes, her countenance had contracted somewhat of a scowl, described by the Duchess, whilst she admits that “there was something of majesty” in the Queen’s look, “as mixed with a sullen and constant frown, that plainly betrayed a gloominess of soul and a cloudiness of disposition within.”[64] But this may have been the effect of years and of care, when the complexion also participated in the coarseness of the person, induced, as it was said, by the use of cordials, to which the Prince her husband incessantly invited his consort.[65]

To complete the portrait of Anne, the beauty of her hands, and the sweetness of her voice in speaking and reading, must not be forgotten: they were universally allowed; whilst her graceful delivery in addressing the Houses of Parliament met with incessant applause.[66] It is remarkable that with such respect was Anne treated by her subjects, that the Peers, in her presence, waived the privilege of wearing hats in parliament, to show that they are hereditary legislators.[67]

Such was the Princess Anne; and few contrasts could be more singular than herself, and the friend whom she selected for her confidante, and whom she made many sacrifices to conciliate.

The Duchess of Marlborough, according to Swift, was the victim of “three furies which reigned in her breast, the most mortal of all softer passions, which were—sordid avarice, disdainful pride, ungovernable rage.”[68] The first of these demons may be the companion of middle age: rage and pride may have haunted the young and lovely maid of honour; but avarice is not the vice of youth. In all lesser points of disposition and feeling, the Princess and her favourite were dissimilar. The Princess was a lover of propriety and etiquette, even to an inspection of the ruffles and periwigs of her servants. Her sense of decorum was so nice, that, on her accession to the throne, she caused the bust of herself on the gold coin to be clothed as it was, according to ancient custom, on the silver. Nothing offended her, as Queen, so much as a breach of the customary observances; and Lord Bolingbroke having visited her one day in haste, in a Ramillie tie, she remarked “that she supposed his lordship would soon come to court in his nightcap.”[69]

For the Duchess of Marlborough, in her old age, and probably still more in the days of her youth, to dwell on trifles, was a burden too heavy for one of so impetuous a nature. Though we are not authorised to conclude from the assertion of her enemy, “that she delighted in disputing the truth of the Christian religion, and held its doctrines to be both impossible and absurd,”[70] yet it is certain, from her own avowal, that she was a latitudinarian in matters of form, and detested and set at defiance those who made “the church” a word of excuse for intolerance and faction.

The occupations in which these young friends delighted were also totally dissimilar. The Duchess, all her life, delighted in conversation, in which the Princess not only did not excel, but in which she took little pleasure.[71] Anne was an accomplished performer on the guitar; she loved the chase, and rode with the hounds until disabled by the gout. Her companion found the amusements of the court very tedious, and but little suited to her restless and energetic mind. But habit on the one hand, and interest on the other, soon reconcile differences. From playing together as children, the Princess learned, first, to prefer her companion to any other child; next to endure, then to love, the plain-spoken, fearless girl, who, according to her own account, and to that of her friend Dr. Burnet, never flattered any one; then soon grew up a sentimental feeling, which they called friendship, and distinctions of rank were laid aside, and names of familiarity adopted in place of titles of honour.[72] When the Princess became the wife of George of Denmark, she made it her earnest request to her father that her friend should be appointed one of the ladies of the bedchamber—a wish with which James, an affectionate parent, readily complied. The Duchess of Marlborough, when arranging, in hours of sickness and in old age, the materials for her Vindication, thus simply relates the steps preparatory to her preferment.

“The beginning of the Princess’s favour for me,” says the Duchess, “had a much earlier date than my entrance into her service. My promotion to this honour was chiefly owing to impressions she had before received to my advantage. We had used to play together when she was a child, and she had even then expressed a particular fondness for me. This inclination increased with our years. I was often at court, and the Princess always distinguished me by the pleasure she took to honour me, preferably to others, with her conversation and confidence. In all her parties for amusement I was sure, by her choice, to be one; and so desirous she became of having me near her, that upon her marriage with the Prince George of Denmark, 1683, it was at her own request to her father I was made one of the ladies of the bedchamber.”[73]

Assisted by the force of early associations, the stronger mind quickly asserted an influence over the weaker intellect, an influence retained so long as prudence directed its workings. But the Duchess, in what appears to be an impartial statement of facts, declares that she owed this influence partly to a dislike which the Princess had imbibed against Lady Clarendon, her relation and first lady of the bedchamber, who, according to the Duchess, “looked like a mad woman, and talked like a scholar.” And, indeed, she adds, “her Highness’s court was so oddly composed, that I think it would be making myself no great compliment if I should say, her choosing to spend more of her time with me than with any other of her servants did no discredit to her taste.”

The writer of the foregoing paragraph might, however, have carried away the palm from women superior even to the Countess of Clarendon, whom she has been accused of misrepresenting. Beautiful according to the opinion of her contemporaries, her beauty indeed appears, in the portraits painted in her bloom of youth, to have been commanding as well as interesting. Her figure is asserted to have been peculiarly fine, and her countenance was set off by a profusion of fair hair, which she is said to have preserved, without its changing colour, even at an advanced age, by the use of honey-water.[74] Several years after she had become a grandmother, the freshness of her lovely complexion, and her unfaded attractions, caused her, even in the midst of four daughters, each distinguished for personal charms, to be deemed pre-eminent among those celebrated and high-bred belles.[75]

But the secret of that extraordinary influence which Sarah Duchess of Marlborough acquired over every being with whom she came into contact, originated not in her attributes of beauty and of grace. Mrs. Jennings, her mother, represented as she was by the infamous Mrs. Manley, the wretched authoress of the “New Atalantis,” as a sorceress and a depraved creature too vile to live, was also allowed by the same authority to have cultivated in her daughter every art that could charm. That of conversation, in particular, the Duchess of Marlborough is said to have possessed. Shrewd, sarcastic, fearless, so beautiful that all she said was sure to be approved by the one sex; so much in fashion and in favour, that nothing she did could possibly be disapproved by the other; Sarah might readily, without any extraordinary cultivation of intellect, figure greatly in repartee, dogmatize with the security of a youthful beauty, and gain, perhaps, in asserting her crude opinions, knowledge and experience from the replies which one so lively would know well how to elicit. It appears that at this time she had never even dreamed of politics, nor thought of cultivating that vigorous intellect so much applauded in after times by the great ones of the earth. Education had contributed little to extend the sphere of her inquiring mind. She knew no language but her own, and never had the industry nor the ambition to learn even French.

Bishop Burnet, who knew her intimately, thus describes his own and his wife’s friend.

“The Duchess of Marlborough was,” says he, “a woman of little knowledge, but of a clear apprehension and a true judgment.”[76]

The account which the Duchess gives of the manner in which many hours of her day, in the season when the improvement of reason ought to be progressive, were dissipated, is, in few words, “that she never read nor employed her time in anything but playing cards, nor had she any ambition.”[77] Well might she declare herself to be weary of a court life.

Such was the friend to whom the Princess was early bound by the ties of habit, and afterwards by something almost more ardent than common friendship; and exactly was she adapted, from independent, uncompromising spirit, half magnanimous and half insolent, to attain a complete dominion over every faculty of Anne’s shallow mind. The Princess, inured to courts, and probably sickened by the mechanical homage which she could remember from her infancy, might have distrusted adulation in one not much older than herself, and who had been her playmate before the cruel distinctions of rank were recollected or regretted. “But a friend was what she most courted.”[78]

“Kings and princes, for the most part,” remarks the Duchess, “imagine they have a dignity peculiar to their birth and station, which ought to raise them above all connexions of friendship with an inferior. Their passion is to be admired and feared, to have subjects awfully obedient, and servants blindly obsequious to their pleasure. Friendship is an offensive word; it imports a kind of equality between the parties; it suggests nothing to the mind, of crowns or thrones; high titles, or immense revenues, fountains of honour, or fountains of riches, prerogatives which the possessors would always have uppermost in the thoughts of those who approach them.”[79]

Such were the notions of royalty which the Duchess entertained, and which Hook, the historian, whom she employed in her old age to write the famous Vindication of her career from which this quotation is borrowed, has well expressed in his own language. Yet the decided, dauntless way in which this clause against monarchs is struck off, is strongly characteristic of the Duchess, and must have met with her cordial approbation, if not solely suggested by herself. “The Princess,” she, however, proceeds to state, “had a different taste. A friend was what she most coveted; and, for the sake of friendship, (a relation which she did not disdain to have with _me_,) she was fond of that _equality_ which she thought belonged to it. She grew uneasy to be treated by me with the form and ceremony due to her rank; nor could she bear from me the sound of words which implied in them distance and superiority. It was this turn of mind which made her one day propose to me, that whenever I should happen to be absent from her, we might in our letters write ourselves by feigned names, such as would import nothing of distinction between us. MORLEY and FREEMAN were the names her fancy hit upon, and she left me to choose by which of them I would be called. My frank, open temper led me to pitch upon FREEMAN, and so the Princess took the other; and from this time Mrs. Morley and Mrs. Freeman began to converse together as equals, made so by affection and friendship.”[80]

This well-meant but dangerous experiment shows at least that Anne understood the nature of true friendship, which, like all other “perfect love, casteth out fear;” whilst it is also obvious that the kind-hearted Princess did not comprehend the character of the remarkable and highly gifted being for whose sake she thus broke through the trammels of etiquette.

The friendly compact, unequal as it was, grew under the pressure of those trials which Anne had to encounter during the reign of her father and sister. When she found that James had complied with her earnest request that Lady Churchill might be placed in her service, she communicated the intelligence to her favourite, in terms of joy and affection.

“The Duke came in just as you were gone, and made no difficulties, but has promised me that I shall have you, which I assure you is a great joy to me. I should say a great deal for your kindness in offering it, but I am not good at compliments. I will only say that I do take it extremely kind, and shall be ready at any time to do you all the service that lies in my power.”[81]

This graceful mode of making the person on whom the favour was conferred, appear to give, not to receive, the benefit, was met by Lady Churchill, according to her own account, with a sincerity which was the surest test of regard, and the proof of real gratitude.

“I both obtained and held this place without the assistance of flattery—a charm which, in truth, her (the Princess’s) inclination for me, together with my unwearied application to serve and amuse her, rendered needless; but which, had it been otherwise, my temper and turn of mind would never have suffered me to employ. “Young as I was when I first became this high favourite, I laid it down as a maxim, that flattery was falsehood to my trust, and ingratitude to my dearest friend.”[82]

“Well would it be for society if this maxim were universal!

“From this rule I never swerved; and though my temper and my notions in most things were widely different from those of the Princess, yet, during a long course of years, she was so far from being displeased with me for openly speaking my sentiments, that she sometimes professed a desire, and even added her command, that it should be always continued, promising never to be offended at it, but to love me the better for my frankness.”[83]

Consistently with this injunction, we find the Princess thus affectionately addressing her future “viceroy.”

“If you will not let me have the satisfaction of hearing from you again before I see you, let me beg of you not to call me your highness at every word, but to be as free with me as one friend ought to be with another; and you can never give me a greater proof of your friendship, than in telling me your mind freely in all things, which I do beg you to do; and if ever it were in my power to serve you, nobody would be more ready than myself. I am all impatience for Wednesday, till when, farewell.”[84]

The marriage of Anne was followed immediately by the execution of Lord Russell, which, with the trial and condemnation of Algernon Sidney, took place during the same month, and within five days of each other; and the populace, who had viewed with smothered indignation the sufferings of these patriots, were ready to cheer their future Princess, the Defender of their Faith. Subsequent events brought all thinking and disinterested observers to regard with hope the consistent though quiet adherence of the Princess to those principles in which her uncle Charles had from policy caused her to be nurtured; his firmness in this respect showing both the laxity of his own faith, and the paramount influence which worldly considerations had over his wavering and probably sceptical mind.

The banishment of the Duke of Monmouth from court, the execution of Sidney, the sentence of fine upon Hampden, the surrender of their charters by the corporations, and lastly, the death of Charles the Second, succeeded each other in rapid and fearful array; and a critical period to all those connected with public affairs was now drawing near. But the thoughtless life and pernicious example of the monarch who had so grossly betrayed his trust, now drew to its close; and the retribution of what are called “the pleasant vices” became more painful to the beholder from the force of contrast.

In the midst of a plan for subverting the liberties of his people, by forming a military power, to be governed solely by Roman Catholic officers, and devoted to the crown, Charles fell into despondency. His usual vivacity forsook him; and, with it, his gaiety of spirits, his politeness, in him the result of innate good-nature, deserted him. The best bred man in Europe became rude and morose. He saw indeed that the popularity which he had in the early part of his reign enjoyed, was now no longer his; he reflected that he had no son to succeed him; that he was, as far as the crown was concerned, childless. Monmouth, the child of shame, whom he had recklessly raised to honour and importance, had caballed against his father; yet that father loved him still. Monmouth had outraged the filial duties, but Charles could not eradicate from his own heart the parental affections. The unhappy King pined at the absence of his son. He perceived and dreaded the designs and principles of James, and was mortified at the court already paid to his successor. Upon some altercation between the brothers, Charles was one day heard to say, “Brother, I am too old to go to my travels a second time; perhaps you will.”[85]

Broken-spirited, but not reclaimed, Charles sought to console himself in the dissolute conversation of those wretched women whose society had been the chief object of his life. But even the worst of men have an intuitive sense of what is due to domestic ties; and the mind is so constituted, that transient pleasure only, and not daily comfort, is to be found in those connexions which have the troubles, without the sanctity of marriage. The Duchess of Portsmouth, who is said really to have loved Charles, was unable to console him without sending for his son. Monmouth came, and was admitted to an interview with his father; but whilst measures were being concerted for sending James again into Scotland, Charles was struck with apoplexy. He died in two days afterwards, by his last act reconciling himself to the Church of Rome, and belying all his previous professions. “He was regretted,” says Dalrymple, “more on account of the hatred which many bore to his successor, than of the love entertained to himself.”[86]