The character of William the Third has been minutely expatiated upon by historians. In comparison with the monarchs of the Stuart line, he rose transcendent; but even without challenging such a parallel, his merits appear of the highest order. His intellectual powers were by nature capacious and sound. His acquirements were admirably adapted for the station which he held. Courageous, prompt, discerning, war was his favourite pursuit. Reserved and taciturn in private life, on public occasions his eloquence was both effective and polished. The last speech that he made in parliament, and which appears to have been impromptu, was one of the ablest harangues ever addressed by a British monarch to his subjects.
The outward deportment of William, like the unsightly binding of a scarce book, concealed his merits from the vulgar eye, whilst, by the reflective, the intrinsic value was more strongly exemplified by contrast. More than irritable, passionate, or, as the language of the times expresses it, “choleric” to his attendants of the bedchamber, his benevolence, his ready forgiveness, his magnanimous appreciation of merit even in those whom he personally disliked, were shown in innumerable passages of his life. These qualities were conspicuously displayed in the restoration of Lord Marlborough to royal confidence, after a detected intercourse with the court of St. Germains. And whilst Lady Marlborough casts aspersions on the noble-minded monarch, of petty import, she is obliged, for consistency’s sake, to pass over those later days of his life, when William generously placed a man whom he disliked at the head of military affairs, for the simple, but unfashionable, and, unhappily, not often regal reason, that he thought him best adapted to fill that trust. The unreasonable jealousy which he evinced towards the Princess Anne was, in fact, the great blemish of his social character.
Descended from a noble succession of heroes, the five great Princes of Orange, William, proud of his own country, must, in spite of that natural partiality, be regarded as one of the greatest benefactors that these islands have ever possessed. To him we owe the secure establishment of that faith for which he showed regard, not by forms, for those he somewhat too much despised, but by maintaining that toleration which is its essence. It is melancholy to reflect that William, deceived, disappointed, and latterly disliked by his subjects, was often so depressed as to long for his release. Yet, as his prospects brightened, and when James’s death removed a continual source of faction, he declared to his faithful Portland, that “he could have wished to live a little longer.”[[349]]
By the King’s death, the weight of affairs in England fell upon Marlborough, who immediately returned to this country. And now, to the dawn of his fortunes, overclouded as they had sometimes been, succeeded the brightness of day. In his fifty-third year, Marlborough was still vigorous; his activity was unimpaired, his constitution unbroken, except by occasional attacks of ague, when in campaign. His experience of men, his insight into parties, his popular qualities, independent of his public services, had been attained during a long course of vicissitudes; circumstances sufficiently adverse to form a decided and well-poised character. At this period, too, the manly comeliness of person which he is said afterwards to have regretted, when gazing at an early picture of himself he exclaimed, “That was a man,” still remained, undiminished by age and toil.
“From his birth,” says a contemporary writer, “the Graces were appointed to attend and form him; polished in address, and refined in manners as in the gifts of nature; fit to adorn a court, and shine with princes.”[[350]]
The Countess of Marlborough, ten years younger than her distinguished husband, though past the bloom, could scarcely have lost the attractions of her surpassing, and what is more remarkable, unfading beauty of face and form. Perhaps the “scornful and imperious” character of her countenance, described by Horace Walpole, may have assumed its fixed expression about this time, when she discovered the extent of her influence, and was betrayed into a forgetfulness of what was due to her own station, and to majesty. “Her features and her air,” says her sarcastic censor, “announced nothing that her temper did not confirm;” and he seems to consider it doubtful which of these two attributes had the greatest influence in “enslaving her heroic lord.”[[351]]
Until an advanced age, Lady Marlborough possessed evident remains of remarkable loveliness; her fair hair, so celebrated, was unchanged by time; her most expressive eyes still lighted up her countenance; her flashes of wit enlivened her natural turn for communicating those reminiscences of former days, which could scarcely have appeared tedious under any circumstances, but which the shrewdness and talent of this extraordinary woman rendered exceedingly diverting.
There was one feature in the Duchess of Marlborough’s composition which contributed to enhance the charms of her conversation, and which, probably, strengthened the influence which she acquired over the minds of others. This was her fearless plain-speaking. The style of her Vindication shows her candour; the matter of that amusing work, with certain exceptions,[[352]] establishes her character for truth. Even her worst enemies appear in their replies to have been unable to disprove, or even to deny, most of her statements, but were forced to content themselves with abusive comments.[[353]] The same honesty and openness, we are told, were manifested in the Duchess’s conversation as in her writings. “This might proceed,” observes the editor of a recent publication, “partly from never thinking herself in the wrong, or caring what was thought of her by others.”[[354]] It might also proceed from that knowledge and that tact, which, during “sixty years of arrogance,” as Horace Walpole terms her career, she must have acquired; and which, perhaps, taught her, that needless explanations are, in conversation, as in print, the worst of policy. But, with all her faults, duplicity has never been alleged against the lofty Duchess of Marlborough. It was foreign to the generous warmth of her nature; it was foreign to the audacity, for no milder term can be applied, of her temper. Evasion would scarcely have suited her purpose with the placid, subservient, but also somewhat manœuvring Anne, who was born not to rule, but to be ruled, and who was daunted by the arrogance and fearless truth of her groom of the stole. Disingenuousness would have destroyed her influence over the just and honourable Marlborough,—an influence which even coldness, conjugal despotism, nay, fiercer passions, could not destroy, but which would have sunk directly, had the foundation of that faulty but lofty character been found defective. It was not Lady Marlborough’s beauty, it was not her native, though untutored ability, it was not her wit, which prolonged her influence over her husband; but it was her truth, her contempt of meanness, her abhorrence of flattery, and her genuine fidelity to friends.
She was, as Doctor Johnson has expressed it, “a good hater;” and if that signify “a hater” without the garb of dissimulation—a hater who eschews false alliances, and hangs out true colours—one may be allowed to feel a certain respect for the character, even whilst we condemn the principle of hatred. No one ever accused the Duchess of Marlborough of smiling to betray. She could have torn her foes to pieces, sooner than have accorded to them one reverence which her heart conceded not. Her insolence to the Queen, her contempt of Anne’s understanding, and her presumption and arrogance, cannot, however, be defended. Nor can the unfeminine qualities which she displayed, be viewed otherwise than with dislike and disgust.
The Duchess of Marlborough’s dismissal from Anne’s favour may be said to have commenced, in reality, when that Princess ascended the throne of England. The favourite was now wholly devoted to Whig principles; Anne was always, in her heart, a Tory. Lady Marlborough could ill brook opposition from one whose actions she had for years guided, and who had scarcely dared to move except at her bidding. The Queen had, as a monarch, one great failing, which characterised the house of Stuart: she allowed too great familiarities in those around her, and forbore to rebuke insolence, or even to check presumption.[[355]] No one was so likely to presume upon this want of dignity as the Countess of Marlborough. Her haughtiness soon grew into downright contumacy. Even whilst holding the Queen’s fan and gloves, or presenting them to her Majesty, in the capacity of an attendant, she turned away her head with contempt directly afterwards, as if the poor harmless Queen inspired her with disgust.[[356]] How long Anne bore with such conduct, remains to be seen. For the first ten years of her reign Lady Marlborough, however, ruled paramount.