Yet, in spite of this simple philosophy, the poor Duke was constrained to acknowledge himself “not the same man,” after vexatious and embarrassing letters had reached him from England. It was not, however, long before the Queen’s dispositions were completely manifest. It was said that Prince George was brought into the scheme to co-operate with Harley against the Whigs, and that his mind was worked on by representations that he had not his due share in the government, and that he was excluded from it by the great power which the Duke of Marlborough and the Lord Treasurer exercised. The Queen, it was alleged by the new favourites, was a mere cipher in the Duchess’s hands, whilst the Duke controlled her affairs; and it was moreover declared to her that there was not now a single Jacobite in the kingdom;[[125]] an assertion made to dissipate her fears of the high church ascendency—with what foundation, the succeeding years fully evinced.
There were now three bishopricks vacant; and the Queen quickly marked the course which she meant to pursue, by appointing Dr. Blackhall to the see of Exeter, and Dr. William James to that of Chester. These divines were, indeed, men of excellent character, and so far the Queen was able to justify herself to her ministry that she would have none but such men appointed to bishoprics. But they were likewise strong Tories, who had submitted to the Revolution, yet condemned it, and had objected to all the measures by which that great event had been followed. To qualify this proceeding, the Queen made other translations more acceptable to the Whigs; and before the meeting of parliament, in a conference of the leading members of that party, they were assured that her heart was wholly with them; yet Harley’s industrious endeavours to convince the Tories that such was not the case, and that the Queen was weary of their adversaries, and knew her friends, were calculated to counteract that impression.
Marlborough lost no time, when news of these nominations reached him from England, of expostulating with the Queen upon her choice of the two bishops. A letter, addressed by him to Lord Godolphin, being shown to the Queen, drew from her Majesty a vehement defence of Harley, with an explicit denial, at the same time, of her having been influenced by him in her late conduct.[[126]] “Mr. Harley,” she assured her great general, “knew nothing of her Tory appointments, until it was the talk of the town.” She disclaimed my Lady Marlborough’s imputation, as she deemed it, that she had an entire confidence in Harley; and wondered “how Lady Marlborough could say such a thing, when she had been so often assured from her that she relied on none but Mr. Freeman and Mr. Montgomery.”
The Duke, after an earnest expostulation in reply to this letter, suspended his remonstrances, calmly awaiting the current of events by which we are carried along in life, often independent of our free wills. He remained abroad all the summer, endeavouring to draw his affairs in Holland to a close, and solacing his wearied and vexed spirit with the hopes of one day enjoying in tranquillity the shades of Woodstock. Much of his time and thoughts was devoted to the completion and decoration of that magnificent palace, destined for two as gifted beings and stately inhabitants as ever trod its banquet-hall. In the midst of war, and, what harassed him far more, of politics, he turned with almost youthful delight to the minutiæ of those preparations for his luxurious home, which had in his mind an association with a deep-felt sentiment.
“My glasses,” he writes from Meldert, “are come, and I have bespoke the hangings; for one of my greatest pleasures is in doing all that in me lies, that we may as soon as possible enjoy that happy time of being quietly together, which I think of with pleasure, as often as I have my thoughts free to myself.”[[127]]
And when the Duchess, in her letters, responded to these sentiments, his pleasure was blended with affectionate gratitude.
“I am obliged to you for your kind expression concerning Woodstock; it is certainly a pleasure to me when I hear the work goes on, for it is there I must be happy with you. The greatest pleasure I have, when I am alone, is the thinking of this, and flattering myself that we may then live so as to anger neither God nor men, if the latter be reasonable; but if they are otherways, I shall not much care, if you are pleased, and that I do my duty to God; for ambition and business is what after this war shall be abandoned by me.”[[128]]
The Duke wrote habitually in this strain; but of late, the hollowness of those whose personal advancement constitutes the sole business of their lives, had been painfully manifested to him. Since the knowledge of the Duchess’s downfal had become general, her failings, and the defects of the whole “Marlburghian faction,” as it has been called by a contemporary writer, constituted the subject of general conversation; “being,” says the caustic, but not dispassionate Cunningham, “bandied about the town by gossiping women, and by them greedily sucked in; whilst the inexperienced multitude, who, for the most part, look with envy on the grandeur and good fortune of their superiors, rejoiced at the Duchess of Marlborough’s disgrace, and began to carry themselves with great insolence, as if any one of themselves were to have succeeded her in the Queen’s favour.”[[129]]
The Duchess, meantime, retired to Windsor; and, according to the same authority, “lived in quiet, nor did she take any pains to appease the anger of the incensed Queen;” although repeatedly advised by her friend Mr. Mainwaryng, not to absent herself wholly from the court,—a line of conduct which he urged, not solely on her own account, but for the good of her friends. But the Duchess disregarded his admonitions; and by this indifference the artful Mrs. Masham gained ground, skilfully availing herself of her rival’s absence to ingratiate herself more and more in the Queen’s favour. Prince George, it appears, was unfavourable to the Masham faction. As a spectator, comparatively but little concerned in all that passed, he probably dreaded the intrigues, the petty commotions, among the female hierarchy, which disturbed his conjugal repose. The Queen, at this time, fell into the inconvenient habit of holding nocturnal conferences with the Harley and Masham confederacy, and her health suffered in consequence. A humour in her eyes was the subject of public concern; and Prince George remarked in public, that it was no wonder she should suffer, but rather that she should not be otherwise indisposed, from late hours. This remark is said not to have fallen from him unawares. It was evident, in the sequel, that the Prince deemed the removal of Harley from the confidence of her Majesty indispensable.
The Duchess now aroused herself from her apathy; but it was too late. She employed spies about the Queen, and gained intelligence of all that happened. She worked upon the minds of Marlborough and Godolphin, and besought, if she did not command, their interference in the matter.