Years afterwards, when the Duchess was so aged and infirm that she had forgotten the dates of the occurrence, she thus writes to her polite correspondent, Mr. Scrope.
“You have not,” she says, “forgot the time that his Majesty’s name was made use of to pay no more six hundred pounds a year: this was done by Queen Caroline, who sent me word, if I would not let her buy something of mine at Wimbledon, that would have been a great prejudice to my family, and that was settled upon them, I was in her power, and she would take away what I had for Windsor Lodge.”
This threat, equally ungracious and fruitless, roused all the Duchess’s spirit of resistance. In the first place she did not believe that the Queen had the power to do what she threatened, or if she had, she would, as she declared, have valued a smaller thing of her own much more than one which depended on the crown; and she sent her Majesty a respectful refusal.[[333]]
The affairs of Windsor Park occupied much of her time. As ranger, she could not but lament, as well as remonstrate against, the pitiful economy, if such a word can be applied to Walpole, or the shameful neglect of that source of pride to our country which was permitted during his administration. She wrote, perhaps, as much for the purpose of annoying Sir Robert, as of getting repairs done to the park; and, as her custom was, as she said, “to tumble out the truth just as it came out of her head,” her manner of stating her opinion was not the most gracious that could be adopted.[[334]]
Another object of the Duchess’s wrath and aversion was Charles, second Duke of St. Albans, who had been constituted, in 1730, governor of Windsor Castle, and warden of Windsor Forest.[[335]] This nobleman was not the greater favourite with the Duchess, from his being one of the lords of the bedchamber at that time. He had the misfortune to come into very frequent contact with her grace, in the discharge of his duties in Windsor Park. No one is so offended by a vain show as the ostentatious; it seems to harrow up all the pride in their nature. The Duchess was outrageous when she saw the Duke of St. Albans coming into the park with coaches and chaises whenever he pleased, under pretence of supervising the fortifications, a term which she thought very ridiculous, unless he meant by it “the ditch around the Castle.” No one, except the royal family, or the ranger, had ever been allowed, during her experience of fifty years, such a liberty before. But that was not all the offence. The Duchess, in addressing her complaints to Pelham Holles, Duke of Newcastle, who had married her granddaughter, Lady Harriot Godolphin, assured his grace that the Duke of St. Albans had, to use a military phrase, “besieged her in both parks, and been willing to forage in them at pleasure.” Having got the better of him in some points, he had pursued her to the little park; and her only resource was to address her relative, then secretary of state, to intercede with the Queen that the intrusive warden might not be permitted to have a key. Which of the belligerent powers prevailed, does not appear.
Such were some of the Duchess of Marlborough’s annoyances, perhaps to her spirit occupations only, in what may be called her official life. In the next chapter we shall discuss the subject of her domestic and family troubles, after the Duke had left her the charge of numerous and important concerns; in discharging the care of which, the government of her own temper was one of the most difficult and most material points.
CHAPTER XV.
State of the Duchess of Marlborough with respect to her family—Henrietta Duchess of Marlborough—Lord Godolphin—Pelham Holles Duke of Newcastle—The Spencer family—Charles Duke of Marlborough—His extravagance—John Spencer’s anecdotes of the Miss Trevors—Letter to Mr. Scrope—Lawsuit.
It was not the happy lot of the Duchess of Marlborough to assemble around her, in the decline of life, children and grandchildren, affectionately attached to her, who would seek to soothe her mortifications, and to repair the losses which she had sustained in the early death of their brother and sisters, and in the still severer calamity with which she had since been visited. A woman who is not beloved by her own children can have very little claim to the affection of others. The fault must originate in herself, however odious the consequences appear in those, who, if they could not bestow upon her the filial love which her temper had blighted, ought never to have omitted that filial duty which no differences ought to destroy.
Henrietta Countess of Godolphin, who now, by an act of parliament passed in 1706, succeeded to the title as Duchess of Marlborough, was long at variance with her mother, and, according to some accounts, was never reconciled.[[336]] She was beautiful, it is said, but in her disposition her parents appear to have found but little comfort. The Duchess survived this daughter, who died in 1733. Her son, Francis Earl of Godolphin, appears, from the letters lately published, to have been an especial favourite of his grandmother. She complains, indeed, of “his not being so warm in some things as he should be,” (possibly in her quarrels,) but commends his truth and goodness, and declares she never forgot anything that his lordship said to her. By Dr. Hare, also, Lord Godolphin is described as one of the most reasonable and dispassionate creatures in the world. But this amiable character, unhappily for the mother and grandmother, whose asperities he might have softened, was, like most of the promising members of this ill-fated family, removed at an early age: he died in 1731, two years before his mother, Henrietta Duchess of Marlborough.