To the domestic hearth he brought, on the other hand, qualities such as few men engaged in public life could retain; such as few men in those days, in any sphere, could boast. Since his marriage, a holy and high-minded fidelity to the object of his only pure love, to his wife, had marked invariably his deportment. He brought home, therefore, a mind undebased, virtuous habits, conscious rectitude; and confidence in his wife, and self-respect, were ensured.[[195]]

In his love for his children, as a son, as a brother, as a master, Marlborough was equally amiable. “He was, in his private life, remarkable for an easiness of behaviour, which gave an inimitable propriety to every thing he did and said; a calmness of temper no accident could move;[[196]] a temperance in all things which neither a court life nor court favours could corrupt; a great tenderness for his family, a most sincere attachment to his friends, and a strong sense of religion, without any tincture of bigotry.”[[197]] Such is the epitome of his private character. He was, also, endowed with that rare quality in man, patience; his campaigns, and all their attendant hardships, had taught him not to expect, like most of his sex and class, that every event in domestic life should contribute to his individual comfort. An anecdote told by Mr. Richardson, the painter, exemplifies this rare and super-excellent quality.

Riding one day with Mr. Commissary Marriot, the Duke was overtaken by a shower of rain. The Commissary called for and obtained his cloak from his servant, who was on horseback behind him. The Duke also asked for his cloak; his servant not bringing it, the Duke called for it again, when the man, who was puzzling about the straps, answered him in a surly tone, “You must stay, if it rains cats and dogs, till I get at it.” The Duke only turned to Marriot, saying, “I would not be of that fellow’s temper for the world.”

The Duke possessed another attribute, peculiarly essential to the tranquillity of private life;—freedom from suspicion. It was his superiority to little jealousies which rendered him the rival, without being the enemy, of those great men with whom he was associated;—the friend as well as coadjutor of Eugene, the beloved of generals and potentates, as well as of soldiers. The same quality pervaded his calm mind in his domestic sphere. With the strongest affections, he was the husband of a beautiful and gifted woman, yet, devoid of misgivings respecting the lofty and sincere character of her whom, being constrained to leave, he quitted without a fear, to encounter all the adulation of courts: a perfect reliance on her prudence, her conduct, on all but the control of her temper, marks his letters to the Duchess.

The same feature of mind is conspicuous in the friendships of Marlborough. Though the scandalous world imputed to the intimacy of his wife with his dearest friend, Godolphin, motives which it is easy to attach to any friendship between persons of different sex, the confidence which Marlborough reposed in that friend, in absence, under circumstances the most trying, was never shaken. He knew the principles of action which actuated his wife; principles far more adequate to keep a woman pure, and a man faithful, even than the strongest attachment. Integrity of purpose is the only immutable bond.

For his generous and happy confidence, Marlborough was well repaid. His friendship for Godolphin, the only stay of his public career, and his affection for his wife, ended only with existence.

We must recur to the question, what were the feelings, the pursuits, the enjoyments of the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough in private life? In order adequately to discuss this subject, it is necessary to draw a sketch of the state of the country, and of parties, after the retirement of the Duke and Duchess; and to show how, unhappily, the leisure of these, their latter days, was disturbed by cabals, and by schemes of ambition with which they would have done wisely to have dispensed; and which darkened those years which might otherwise have been devoted to objects of higher and more enduring interest.

Dr. King, Archbishop of Dublin, writing to Swift, in alluding to the various factions which had prevailed in England, remarks, “I believe I have seen forty changes; nor would I advise my friend to sell himself to any (government) so as to be their slave.”[[198]]

This advice was not very likely to be acceptable to the individual, nor to the age in which the good prelate wrote. Swift, as it is apparent in those letters which he addressed to the unhappy and infatuated Stella—letters sufficiently disgusting to have cured any woman of an ill-placed attachment—betrays with an unblushing coarseness, characteristic of the times, his readiness to prostitute his talents to which party soever would be the least likely, as they had found him “Jonathan,” “to leave him Jonathan.”[[199]]

The Whig party in literature, boasted, in 1710, when faction was at its height, the names of Addison, Steele, Burnet, Congreve, Rowe, and others. The Tory side, those of Bolingbroke, Atterbury, Swift, and Prior. But when Swift, after a vigilant study of the political atmosphere, declared himself ready to take the whole burden of periodical warfare on his shoulders, Addison meekly retired from the contest, leaving his friends to be assaulted and laid low by this irresistible champion.