Dr. Arbuthnot, who, in his semi-medical, semi-political capacity, dived into the intricacies of court intrigues, remarks, that it were worth while living to seventy-three, from curiosity to see the changes in this strange medley of events, the world. It was but lately that the Duke of Marlborough had yielded to the solicitations of his Duchess, that he would accept of no employment whatsoever in the administration; he now broke through that wise resolution, tempted, it is supposed, by the appointment of his son-in-law to various offices in the royal household. Lord Godolphin had the post of cofferer to the household; and Lord Bridgwater was appointed chamberlain to the Prince of Wales. The Duke and Duchess of Montague had also preferments of importance.
But, with respect to Marlborough, these marks of royal favour availed but little: he never regained political influence. Sunderland, whose active spirit might have re-established the interests of his family, was, in fact, banished from the court by his appointment, and his great father-in-law ceased to be consulted in matters of state, and sank, finally, into a private station. The routine of his office, indeed, rendered his visits to the metropolis imperative; but it was unconnected with any political importance.
The invasion of England by the Pretender drew Marlborough somewhat from the state of neutrality with regard to public affairs, in which he reposed. Whatever might have been his previous conduct with regard to the exiled Stuarts, he now, with other eminent and loyal men, contributed a voluntary loan to the Treasury, to meet the emergencies of the state, and, on his private credit alone, raised a considerable sum within the space of a few hours. With the foresight of long experience, he foretold the disastrous engagement at Preston, and even marked the distinct spot on which all the hopes of the gallant and ill-fated enemy were doomed to be foundered.[[229]]
The Duke and Duchess of Marlborough retired almost wholly to their house at Holywell, where, assembling at times their children and grandchildren around them, they tasted at length of that happiness for which one of this distinguished couple, at least, had continually pined, in absence. The peaceful retirement, which had so often been the theme of Marlborough’s letters, came at last; but, like many long-desired blessings, it came hand in hand with care. It was not at this period that the broken health and weakened mind of Marlborough cast a gloom over that circle of young and old, of which he was the life and centre. For some years after the accession of George the First, Marlborough continued to be a healthy and an active man; riding on horseback or driving about, and delighting, when he was at Blenheim, in walking about the grounds, inspecting those beautiful ornate scenes which his taste and wealth had caused to flourish around him. In the evening he received his friends without ceremony, and joined in the games of ombre, basset, and picquet, or of whist, his favourite game; and the illustrious and amiable Marlborough often descended to a pool of commerce with his grandchildren.
It was during this season of retirement that the Duchess began the compilation of “Memoirs of the Duke,” a work which was not published. That she prized his fame far more than her own justification, is manifest from her commencing this undertaking when her faculties were in their full vigour, and her opportunities of consulting living testimony were still, in most cases, to be obtained; while she left the completion of her own Vindication until a late period of her existence.[[230]]
Amongst the more important and less peaceful occupations which engaged the attention of the Duke and Duchess, the building of Blenheim formed one of the circumstances most obnoxious to his tranquillity of mind.
The disputes, to which the management of this national gift gave rise, might occupy a volume; they must, however, remain to be discussed at a more advanced period of this work. But the erection of that superb habitation, which the Duke of Marlborough lived not to see completed, induced an acquaintance with one of the most versatile wits of the day, Sir John Vanburgh.
The character and conduct of this distinguished dramatist and indifferent sculptor had no inconsiderable effect upon the tranquillity of the Duchess of Marlborough, with whose confidence this experienced man of the world was honoured. A very singular, and to both the writers a very discreditable correspondence, between the Duchess and Vanburgh, is preserved among the manuscript stores of the British Museum. Since it elucidates some passages of the Duchess’s domestic life, and unfolds some material points of character, a few extracts from this singular correspondence may not be uninteresting, more especially as the letters have never been introduced in any publication, either in their original form, or in substance. Before entering upon the occurrences to which it refers, a brief account of one of the parties is necessary.
Sir John Vanburgh was descended from a family originally from Ghent; his grandfather, Gibes Vanburgh, or Vanburg, being obliged to fly from that city on account of the persecution of the Protestants. The father of Sir John Vanburgh became a sugar-baker in Chester, where he amassed a considerable fortune, and, removing to London, obtained the place of comptroller of the treasury chamber. His mother was Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Dudley Carleton of Ember Court, Surrey.
The future dramatist and architect was one of eight sons, and was destined for the army. A love of desultory reading, and a youthful acquaintance with Congreve, led him, however, to the stage. So early as 1698, the youth, relinquishing a soldier’s life, produced two comedies, the “Relapse” and the “Provoked Wife;” both remarkable for the wit of their dialogue, and for the licentiousness of the sentiments.