The mere possession of wealth could, however, only have satisfied a mind far less grovelling than that of the Duchess. Power was her aim, her delight; a little brief authority her foible; intrigue her element, faction her recreation. It was impossible that the habits of a long life could be laid aside, and nothing could pacify her busy spirit. Accordingly, we find her just as much devoted to the acquisition of court favour in the decline of life, as she had been, before death had deprived her of those bright ornaments of society for whose sake she may have been supposed to have coveted royal favour with peculiar avidity. Neglected by the King, she received with eagerness the attentions of the Prince and Princess of Wales, who were at variance with the court, and who consequently cherished the malcontents. The Princess, afterwards Queen Caroline, was eventually a favourite with the Duchess; but, at an earlier period, it was perhaps sufficient that George the First habitually called his daughter-in-law “cette diablesse Madame la Princesse,”[[285]] to render the Duchess, who was affronted by the small account made of the Duke, and of her own influence, a warm partisan of the Princess of Wales.
Eager to pay her utmost court to the Princess, in June, 1720, the Duchess wrote to her friend Mrs. Clayton[[286]] a glowing description of a visit to Richmond, which she had paid to their royal highnesses the Prince and Princess of Wales, whose reception, as she declares, “of the Duke of Marlborough and poor me” would fill more than the paper on which she wrote. Not only was she graciously received by the Prince and Princess, but by the Lord Chamberlain and attendants, even to the pages of the bedchamber; so that the Duchess, long unused to receive such certain demonstrations of favour, fancied herself in a new world. Music of a superior kind gave gaiety to the entertainment; but the shrewd Duchess could very plainly see that the Princess was more charmed with the “music of the box and dice” than with any other instrument. Their royal highnesses had, at that time, a charming residence at Richmond, with beautiful walks, and woods wild and charming, but with a house scarcely handsome enough, as the Duchess thought, for the heir apparent.
The fashionable amusement of the day was ombre, a game in which the Duchess delighted, and in which she freely indulged with one Mr. Nevill, her companion on this occasion, whilst she acknowledged that listening to Mr. Nevill’s singing, in which he excelled, was almost as good an amusement, and a qualification that pleased her grace mightily, at no expense. Yet ombre riveted her, in spite of its ruinous expenses; and, what was more, she enjoyed her visit to Richmond greatly, notwithstanding that she lost a considerable sum of money. Royal condescension could gild over the unpleasant features even of that incident, although, as the Duchess humorously remarked, “she lost a great deal of money for one who is not in the South Sea!” Yet she came away, nevertheless, with the intention of playing at ombre as long as she could keep my Lord Cardigan and Mr. Nevill at Woodstock, considering that there were but few now in whom she had any interest after her death to induce her to save.
Such were some of the reflections of the Duchess, in quitting the lovely and cheerful scenes of Richmond Park. She came away, delighted with little and great things, full of commendations of the Princess, who had enchanted her, more especially by calling back one of her grandchildren and bidding her hold up her head; a thing of which the Duchess was telling Lady Charlotte every day; and reflecting how well princes might govern without bribing parliament, and be as absolute as they pleased, if they chose ministers of good reputation, who had the interest of their country at heart.[[287]]
It is evident, from these comments, that the Duchess expected to resume her influence, when the heir apparent should succeed to the throne of his father. Her daughter, the Duchess of Montague, was, indeed, appointed mistress of the robes to Queen Caroline. But the Duchess of Marlborough discovered that her influence was but little appreciated by the Walpole party, from whom she expected so much. It could not even obtain a commission for her grandson; it could not prevent constant broils with Queen Caroline, which engendered hatred in the mind of the Duchess towards that eulogised Princess.
Seventeen years after the pleasant day at Richmond, when age and infirmity had soured her temper, and time had plainly proved to her that her importance in the society of the great was for ever fled, the Duchess altered her opinion of Queen Caroline.[[288]] So mutable are opinions in this world; and so transitory those fashions which capriciously hold up to public favour, or to general execration, the characters of royal personages.
The Duke of Marlborough had continued for some years in the same precarious state of health, to which his first attack of disease had reduced him. He had lingered six years after the first stroke of palsy, suffering repeated attacks of the formidable disorder. His mind, though not totally enfeebled, must, in all probability, have been affected in some degree by those visitations which shackle the limbs, impede the motions of the tongue, and usually render the nervous system cruelly susceptible. Yet still the Duke retained many of his usual habits, underwent the fatigue of journeys, entered into society, and occupied his latter days in arranging the testamentary disposition of that vast wealth which he had laboured so long and so eagerly to accumulate.
The Duke of Marlborough is vaguely stated, by his biographer, Dr. Coxe, to have died “immensely rich;” others have declared his fortune to have amounted, at his death, to nearly a million sterling. It therefore became a matter of much solicitude with him, and it appears to have been so with the Duchess, that his grace should make such a will as should prevent any of those harassing and destructive litigations which are sometimes entailed upon a family to whom great wealth is bequeathed. It was, in this instance, more particularly requisite that every precaution should be adopted. The Duke left a numerous posterity of grandchildren, some of whom might, if so disposed, represent their illustrious progenitor as incapacitated by his infirmity from making an adequate disposition of his effects. The Duchess, with her usual acuteness, foresaw that such obstacles to the administration of his affairs, after his death, might arise; and she adopted the plan of writing a detailed account of her husband’s condition, and of his last actions, from which narrative the following extracts are taken.[[289]]
“I think it proper, in this place, to give some account of the Duke of Marlborough’s distemper, and how he was when he signed his will. The Duke of Marlborough was taken very ill at St. Albans, in May, 1716, with the palsy; but he recovered it so much as to go to Bath. He lived till June the sixteenth, 1721; and though he had often returns of this illness, he went many journeys, and was in all appearance well, excepting that he could not pronounce all words, which is common in that distemper; but his understanding was as good as ever. But he did not speak much to strangers, because when he was stopped, by not being able to pronounce some words, it made him uneasy. But to his friends that he was used to, he would talk freely; and since his death, Mr. Hanbury, the dowager Lady Burlington, and many others of my friends, have remarked to me, with pleasure, the things that they had heard him say, and the just observations he had made upon what others had said to him; and he gave many instances of remembering several things in conversation that others had forgot.”
A year or more after this time, the Duke found it necessary to alter his will, and gave directions to Sir Edward Northey and Sir Robert Raymond to that effect. These gentlemen kept the will a long time, but, after it was returned to his grace, in 1721, it was formally signed by him, in the presence of Lord Finch, of General Lumley, and of Dr. Samuel Clarke, the celebrated divine, Rector of St. James’s. All of these gentlemen had read the will, at the request of the Duchess, before it had been signed. They were invited, on this occasion, to dine at Marlborough-house. The Duchess, in her plain, straightforward manner, gives the following account of the Duke’s deportment in this, almost the last effort of his weakened understanding and sinking frame; the closing scene of that drama of many acts, in which he had played the parts of General, Statesman, and Diplomatist.