It has been supposed, and not without reason, that St. John was indebted both to the Duke of Marlborough and to Harley for his introduction to office, in 1704, as Secretary at War and of the Marine. That he considered himself chiefly bound in honour and gratitude to Harley, is evident from his resigning his post, upon the dismissal of that minister. A friendship of some years had, indeed, at the time of that event, subsisted between Harley and St. John. But it was a friendship such as worldly men could alone avow and endure; hollow, interested, and already verging into rivalry,—as the closest intimacies are found to be sometimes nearest to the deadliest hatred. Never was there an alliance, bearing the name of friendship, so ill assorted. Harley was a man of industry, research, method; a statesman of no extended views, yet an adept in the craft. His morals were, for his time, more than respectable, his integrity unimpeachable, although it was not of a description suited to the nicer notions of our modern days. It was his aim to conciliate both Whigs and Tories; to maintain the Protestant succession, yet to conciliate the adverse courts of St. Germains. To effect his ends, he scrupled not to employ any means which appeared to him expedient. If not actually deceptive, he was, at any rate, constantly treading on the brink of that moral precipice, falsehood: versed in all Parliamentary forms and records, he was at once an able leader of the House of Commons, as well as a consummate manager of courts.

Bolingbroke, on the other hand, with a less share of principle than Harley, displayed a decision and courage which bore the aspect of consistency and disinterestedness. His devotion to the Tories, which proved his ruin, caused him to disapprove the half measures of his friend and subsequent rival. Yet he was not wholly devoid of a deep, designing spirit; for Bolingbroke, though in this instance he misunderstood the general sentiments of the nation, yet was not deceived in the real, heartfelt secret wishes of his royal mistress, on which he relied.

At the period when the “great breach,” as the Duchess of Marlborough called it, took place, Bolingbroke was, however, the warm adherent of Harley; and in compliance with their mutual bond, he quitted office, after three years’ enjoyment of its dignity and emoluments.[[136]]

CHAPTER VII.

1708—Vacillation of Anne—Invasion of the Pretender—Results of that event—Secret intrigues with Mrs. Masham—The death of Prince George—The Duchess of Marlborough’s affectionate attentions to the Queen on that occasion—Her disappointment.

Not many days after the dismissal of Harley and the resignation of St. John, and whilst the world of politics was still occupied in discussing Gregg’s ignominious life and courageous death, it was announced that a French fleet, with troops, had sailed from Dunkirk to invade Scotland.

James Stuart, or, as Queen Anne, for the first time after this attempt upon her kingdom, permitted him to be designated, the Pretender, was, however, luckily for himself, prevented from embarking with the squadron, just at the critical time, by an ague;[[137]] and the fleet was put back by contrary winds. When too late to do any good, James set sail. The fleet, being chiefly filled with landsmen, was greatly distressed for want of water; and, after being tossed about for nearly a month in a tempestuous sea, was obliged to return to Dunkirk. Thus was this vast project, contrived by Louis with the design of drawing off the troops in Flanders, frustrated; nor would the French monarch have been inconsolable, had the Pretender fallen into the hands of the English, of which he ran an imminent risk; for Louis was not particularly anxious to see the unfortunate Prince again in France; and he would have been reconciled to the loss of his fleet, if he could have at the same time been relieved of his guest.[[138]] The attempt, however, proved nearly fatal to the Tory party in England: for it was believed that Louis would not have risked so small a fleet, and forces so incompetent as those which he sent over, had he not been well assured of assistance in England and Scotland.

On the other hand, the Queen, who was alarmed, and, according to her capability, indignant, on account of her brother’s invasion, perceived the duplicity of those who had so recently assured her that there was not a single Jacobite in the nation. Never before this occurrence had her royal lips been known to mention the Revolution. Her courtiers had universally endeavoured to separate her title to the throne from any connexion with that event; although she had no other claim to the crown than that which was given her by the Act of Settlement. The Queen now, as Parliament was sitting, addressed the Houses; she named the Revolution twice; she received addresses in which the word ‘Pretender’ was applied to her brother: she thus approved that designation, and from this period he is so called in the generality of histories.[[139]] She declared publicly that she considered those who had brought about the Revolution to be her best friends; and the Whigs as most to be depended upon for the support of her government. She looked to Marlborough for assistance, and, for the first time, cordially agreed with her general, that it was neither for her honour, nor interest, to make the first steps towards a peace,[[140]] She wrote to him in the most confidential and affectionate terms, signing herself his “humble servant;”[[141]] and she received from him a respectful and manly answer, assuring her Majesty that the Duke desired to serve his royal mistress “in the army, but not as a minister.”[[142]]

For a while this good understanding lasted, and the Whigs were sanguine of their entire restoration to royal favour; but, as the Queen’s fears subsided, her inclinations returned to their old channel, and her mind yielded again to the influence of Harley.

That able and persevering courtier continued, during the whole summer after his dismissal, to entertain a secret correspondence with the Queen. Anne, whose nature was quite on a level with that of the most humble of her household, descended so far as to encourage these stolen conferences. The lessons which she had learned during her depression in the court of William and Mary were retained, when the same inducement to those small manœuvres no longer justified the stratagems which nothing but the dread of tyranny can excuse. To enjoy in privacy the gossip, for it could not be called society, of Mrs. Masham, and the flattery of Harley, “she staid,” says the indignant Duchess, “all the sultry season, even when the Prince was panting for breath, in that small house she had formerly purchased at Windsor; which, though hot as an oven, was then said to be cool, because, from the park, such persons as Mrs. Masham had a mind to bring to her Majesty could be let in privately from the garden.”[[143]]