But whilst the noble Cavendish detested that tyranny under the effects of which Russell had perished, and the whole British nation had suffered, in the properties and safety of its subjects, during the reign of James the Second, his well-conditioned mind cherished the elevating sentiments of loyalty, where loyalty was justly due. That bond of social union he prized, as every rightly thinking man must prize it, as an auxiliary to freedom, and a rallying point for the sincere, and the well-intentioned of all political opinions, however opposed on other points. The character of Lord Cavendish affords an illustration of the truth, that it is perfectly consistent with the lover of liberty, and the advocate of the subject’s right, to cherish the most ardent zeal for the maintenance of regal authority, and to feel the strongest personal attachment to the sovereign. Far from being one of those who, in the unsettled state of the government, desired that its disarranged elements might settle into a republic, the Earl of Devonshire, though he signed the association to invite William the Third to England, was the first of the nobility to step forward to protect the person of the Princess Anne, whom he guarded with a loyal and chivalric zeal which has been already described.
This model for English noblemen had received the honour of a dukedom in 1694, the preamble to his patent containing some of the highest compliments from William and Mary ever offered from a monarch to a subject. He was one of the few who was honoured with an equal respect and confidence by their successor. Unhappily for the Whig party, to whom his influence was consistently given, this peer did not enjoy his restored fortunes, and high favour, many years after the accession of Anne. His deathbed was instructive, as the last scene of a life which, exhibiting the most generous and heroic qualities, had displayed, nevertheless, sundry irregularities. The love of pleasure and the love of virtue are sometimes strangely conjoined in the same character. Courteous, though commanding; in person at once attractive and stately; accomplished in the ornamental arts—poetry, painting, music; standing on a high eminence, and living, from his youth upwards, in public life;—the errors of the Duke of Devonshire were attributable to the pervading spirit of the times. What we call virtue in private life was not then recognised by the great and fashionable. The Duke, like most other men of his class, had fallen into those received notions which exempt men from the purity, and decorum, which are at once the restraint and the safeguard of woman. On his deathbed the man of pleasure and of the world felt that he had driven off his repentance too late. Happily, his senses were spared to him. He sent for Dr. Kennet, and entreated that prelate “to pray heartily with him to God that he would accept of his repentance.” He declared himself ready to ask pardon of all whom he had offended, and also to forgive others. At every successive visit from his reverend adviser, he reiterated his repentance. His prayers for the “peace of God” were earnest, and, as it seemed, effectual. After the many agonising struggles of a wounded and chastened mind—after evincing his real piety by acts of justice and of charity, (beautiful planets, which should ever shine upon the deathbed,) peace was given to him. Fortitude and patience were added to that inward conviction of pardon. He fixed the probable hour of his departure, and asked what was the easiest way of dying. His soul departed, as it seemed, in a peaceful slumber. “And thus,” says his biographer, “he fell asleep, not merely like an ancient Roman, but rather like a good Christian.”[[402]]
The death of Cavendish raised up a memorable controversy among the clergy, upon the propriety of receiving deathbed repentance, and of ratifying it with the administration of the sacraments. The question, as was usually the case in those days, was raised by party clamour rather than by religious zeal; and Dr. Kennet, who preached the funeral sermon of the Duke, was branded with opprobrium by the whole body of the clergy, for a contempt of discipline.[[403]]
Of a very different character was Thomas, created, in 1714, Marquis of Wharton, whose white staff was given by the Queen, before his face, to Sir Edward Seymour,—an affront so marked as to draw down the following threat in private from the offended nobleman:—“That he would soon provide himself with other rods to chastise the new ministers.”[[404]] This able, but unprincipled man, received his dismissal in a manner very different from the dignified demeanour of Somers, on incurring a similar mortification. Wharton was a specimen of those unsound materials of which parties are composed, and of which honest and great men are forced, by political compact, to make use. It seems singular that a man who scoffed at all religions, and outraged every right feeling, should have been brought up in the most rigid puritanical principles. The mother of Lord Wharton, more especially, was one of the zealous adherents to the Presbyterian faith. But though he deviated from the parental precept, and conformed to the national worship, Wharton had imbibed in his early education a love of constitutional freedom, which not all the seductions of royal favour could efface.[[405]] His morals he owed to a different school. A favourite companion of Charles the Second, he never, like Marlborough, and Somers, and Cavendish, retrieved the errors of early youth by a sincere and effectual amendment. The consciences of those individuals were wounded by a sense of their transgressions; but his was hardened. His nature was debased by habitual sin; they, “like sheep, were led astray,” but their hearts were not corrupted. Purity, holiness, honour, had always charms for these great men, and must always have charms for those who are really great; but, to Lord Wharton, these lights were dim.[[406]]
In the opinion entertained of Lord Wharton by the world, William seems to have coincided; for, in spite of Wharton’s activity as one of his most powerful partisans, and of his Majesty’s endurance, not to say enjoyment, of his coarse and fearless jokes,[[407]] he advanced Wharton to no place of political importance. By William, Lord Wharton was made comptroller of the household, an office far below his ambition, and, as far as ability should be taken into account, his deserts.
Wharton was an associate, but not a friend, of Marlborough and Godolphin. He was, in truth, a brier in their path; a dangerous friend, more dreaded than a foe; a man whose elevation they feared even more than his open enmity. He was an able debater, bold, and therefore likely to be, to a certain extent, powerful; for irresolute characters are governed by those of a decisive and fearless temper. His fluency, however, was devoid of all grace, his manner was coarse, his wit pungent, but always tainted with grossness. His attacks upon others were unsparing and reckless.
The absence of all religion—not merely the sceptical turn of many of those who aimed at being thought wits, but an avowed, and, as it is not difficult, in such a case, to believe, an actual infidelity,—may sufficiently account for the dereliction from all that is honourable and estimable, which Thomas Lord Wharton’s political career presented. It also accounts for the marked indignity offered to him by Queen Anne in the mode of his dismissal. Sir Edward Seymour, the leader of the Tories, and the promoter of the impeachment of Somers and Halifax in 1701, was substituted in his place. The privy seal was given to the Marquis of Normanby, a nobleman of great accomplishments and of personal beauty, who was not the less agreeable to Anne from having been the first who aspired to her hand, before Prince George was fixed upon as her destined husband. Rich, young, attractive, Lord Normanby, then Lord Mulgrave, might doubtless have succeeded in obtaining her consent; but though his addresses were silenced, they were not forgotten by the Queen.[[408]] The appointment of Lord Nottingham and Sir Charles Hedges to be principal secretaries of state completed the manifestation of the Queen’s inclination for the high church party.
CHAPTER XII.
Dissatisfaction of the Countess of Marlborough—Formation of the new Cabinet—Her efforts to convert the Queen—Quarrels with Lord Rochester—Reports concerning the sale of offices—The Duchess’s sentiments on the proper mode of such appointments—Cabals within the court.
1701–2. The Countess of Marlborough viewed all these changes with a very dissatisfied mind. “The wrong-headed politicians,” as she designated them, who succeeded those “who had been firm to the Revolution,” found, in her, a determined, and, what was more to their injury, a persevering enemy. The Countess did not, after the manner of her sex, break out into loud invectives at these ministerial appointments, nor excite the Queen, if that were possible, by violent arguments, to maintain a cause which always becomes dearer to ladies in proportion to the frequency of the attacks made upon it. Sagacious, though resolute, she resolved, from the very beginning of the Queen’s reign, “to try whether she could not, by degrees, make impressions on her, more favourable to the Whigs.” The difficulties of her task would have deterred a less ardent character; and the zeal with which she accomplished her purpose argues, in some measure, for the reality and genuineness of her principles; for if, as it was broadly stated, offices were avowedly sold by Lady Marlborough, it could be of little importance to her, supposing that she were governed solely by such base motives as were imputed to her, which party had the ascendency, as long as she herself remained in favour.