“As soon as dinner was over,”[[290]] writes the Duchess, “he asked if Mr. Green was come, (he was Sir Edward Northey’s clerk;) and as soon as he came into the room he asked him how his mother did. Upon Mr. Green’s being come to put the seals to the will, the Duke of Marlborough rose from the table, and fetched it himself out of his closet; and as he held it in his hand, he declared to the witnesses that it was his last will, that he considered it vastly well, and was entirely satisfied with it; and then he signed every sheet of paper, and delivered it in all the forms. After this the witnesses all sat at the table, and talked for some time. Lord Finch and Dr. Clarke went away first, about business; and when General Lumley rose up to go, who staid a good while longer than the others, the Duke of Marlborough rose up too, and went to him and embraced him, taking him by the hand and thanking him for the favour he had done him.”
Some months after this occurrence, the Duke made his last appearance in the House of Lords, leaving London in the spring, according to his usual custom.
On the sixteenth of June, 1722, this great, brave, and good man was removed from a world which probably would have ceased to be to him a scene of enjoyment, had not the benevolence of his disposition, and the strong nature of his domestic affections, secured to him a serenity which disease could not, with all its pangs, entirely destroy. Repeated attacks of palsy had shaken his once powerful frame. His intellect was weakened, but not wholly darkened. He had the blessing of being able, on his deathbed, to receive the consolations of prayer. Whilst he lay for several days exhausted by disease, but aware that the great change was at hand, the Duchess, who remained with her husband until the spirit had passed away, inquired of her lord whether he had heard the prayers which had been read to him. “Yes, and I joined in them,” were the last intelligible words which the dying Marlborough uttered. He was removed from a sofa to his bed, at the suggestion of his wife, and remedies were fruitlessly applied to assuage the sufferings which were soon to terminate. The Duchess, and the Duke’s usual attendants remained near him; the rest of his family withdrew, as no symptoms of immediate danger were apparent. About four o’clock in the morning of the sixteenth of June, 1721, his soul returned to his Maker.
Thus sank to rest one of the bravest, and one of the most kindly-tempered of men. It were useless to descant at length on the character of one whose actions are indelibly engraved on every British heart, and with some of whose personal qualities we are rendered familiar from infancy. Yet, notwithstanding the able delineation of his intellectual and moral qualities, which has been at no remote period given to the world by Archdeacon Coxe, sufficient justice has not hitherto been done to the amiable and respectable attributes which characterised Marlborough in private life.
It is remarkable, that of three biographers who were selected by the Duchess or her family to write the history of the hero, all died successively, before the task was even commenced. An impartial biography, if such a work be compatible with the weakness and prejudices of human nature, by a contemporary, a friend, an associate of Marlborough, would have been invaluable. The well-weighed opinions and careful narratives of those who knew him not, can but ill supply the deficiency.
Of the early education which was bestowed upon the great general, we know but little, except that it was extremely limited. He may be termed self-educated; necessity first—ambition afterwards, being his preceptresses. Yet the disadvantages of early neglect were never, even by the assiduous and gifted Marlborough, wholly overcome. To the close of his life, after his extensive commerce with the continental world, after serving under Turenne, and enjoying the intimacy of Eugene, he could not speak French without difficulty. He was probably wholly unacquainted with the dead languages: it was said that he never could master even the orthography of his own.[[291]] With this disadvantage he rose to be one of the most accomplished courtiers, and one of the ablest diplomatists, in Europe. The energy and compass of a mind which could thus overcome difficulties of such vital importance as those which he must have encountered, when, from the pursuits of a mere soldier, he was compelled by his rapid elevation to enter into the arduous duties of despatches and correspondence, demand our admiration.
The moral character, as well as the intellectual powers, of Marlborough, underwent a remarkable change in the course of his chequered career. Few of those men, perhaps erroneously called heroes, could ever look back upon their progress to military fame with so little cause for remorse as John Duke of Marlborough. He left a name unsullied by cruelty. A remarkable combination of strong affections, with a natural suavity of temper, rendered him the beloved friend of men whose nature was not disposed to friendship. The crafty Sunderland and the unimaginative Godolphin loved him, after a fashion not of the world. To his own family he was peculiarly endeared, and, considering the effect of circumstances, singularly affectionate. His devotion to his wife, his love of his children, were not the only proofs which he gave of a kindly nature: his affections extended to all his numerous relatives. In one of his letters to the Duchess, he begs her to speak two kind words to his brother George, “as brother to him that loves you with all his heart;” and he is incessantly interceding for his sister, Mrs. Godfrey, whilst, at the same time, he owns that she was very indiscreet.[[292]]
Those graces of manner which, in Marlborough, are said to have disarmed his disappointed suitors, and to have conciliated men of all pursuits and all stations, proceeded from the kindliness of a happy temper, on which the habit and necessity of pleasing engrafted a dignified courtesy, of a higher quality than mere good breeding. His respect for himself and for others appeared alike in his conduct to his soldiers, and in his forbearance to the factious courtiers who forsook him when, on his dismissal from his employments in the reign of Anne, to know him was to know disgrace. He was, in the thorough sense of the phrase, as far as outward deportment was concerned, the kindly, high-bred English gentleman. Upon this fair picture some shadows must appear.
As a man of strict principle, and as a statesman of unsullied integrity, the character of Marlborough cannot so readily be delineated, as in his domestic sphere. The principle of self-advancement grew with his growth, and soiled those beautiful attributes of a nature so brave and benignant, that we are unwilling to believe he could indulge a selfish passion, or even cherish a weakness. From the days when he was a page in the court of the second Charles, permitting, to say the least, the disgraceful mediation of the Duchess of Cleveland, to the hour when, for the last time, he carried the sword of state on New Year’s day before George the First, the ruling passion of Marlborough was gain—gain of patronage, of money, of fame, of power. For patronage he forbore to spurn the loose preference of a debased woman; for objects of less immediate acquisition he deliberately abandoned the interests of a sovereign and of a master at whose hands he had received unbounded favours. But it may be pleaded, that in deserting the cause of James the Second he adopted, in accordance with the first men of the day, the only measures by which his country could be rescued from the tyranny and bigotry of that wretched ruler. The plea may hold good, but no similar excuse can palliate his resuming a correspondence with the exiled King, whose cause he had upon such just grounds relinquished.
The conduct of Marlborough in prosecuting the war so long, and, as it was urged, without adequate necessity, is even more open to censure than the previous passages of his public career. His success was intoxicating, even to his calm temper, and well-poised mind. But the man who could kindly familiarise himself with his soldiery, share their hardships, so as to obtain the name of the “Old Corporal,” and inculcate the necessity of religious observances upon those who looked up to him with enthusiastic respect, was not likely to sacrifice those troops to a wanton desire for fame, unconnected with some signal public good. The letters of Marlborough plainly show that such was his conviction, and the treaty of Utrecht seemed to justify the conclusion that peace had arrived too soon,—if ever, except at the expense of future tranquillity, it can arrive too soon.