But taking into account all the errors that she committed, and the good acts which she omitted, Sarah Duchess of Marlborough had still some noble qualities to command respect. Her hatred of falsehood stands foremost in bold relief among these attributes. Supposing that the great world of those days resembled, in its leading features, the luxurious and fashionable portion of the community in these, her sincerity was a virtue of rare occurrence. Her motives, her very foibles, were laid bare for the inspection of her associates. Her unadorned and accurate account of all those affairs in which the busy portion of her life was passed, was never attacked for untruth. She resolutely exposed all that she hated and despised; but she was equally averse to duplicity in her own personal conduct, and resentful towards it in others. Her plain dealing with the Queen, even her loss of temper and occasional insolence, rise high in estimation when contrasted with the vile duplicity of Mrs. Masham, and the servility and intriguing meanness of Harley. That she was not able to cope with such enemies as these, is to her credit. With her indignation at the stratagems by which she was secretly undermined, we must cordially sympathise. There was something high-minded in her endeavours to prevent the Duke from ever taking office again; and in the last conditions to her will, that those who so largely benefited by it should forfeit their share if they ever took office under a monarch whom she disliked, and a ministry whom she despised. Her virtues, like her faults, were of the hardy order. There was nothing amiable in the Duchess’s composition, to present her good qualities in fair keeping, or to render her an object for affectionate veneration in her old age. Her sincerity was ever too busy in unveiling the faults of others: it was unaccompanied by charity. Her resentments ended only with her existence.
The Duchess of Marlborough was interred in the sumptuous monument at Blenheim, in the chapel, in the same vault which contained the remains of the Duke, after they were removed thither from Westminster Abbey.
In the Duchess’s will, which occupied eight skins of parchment, she ordered that her funeral should be strictly private, and with no more expense than decency required, and that mourning should only be given to those servants who should attend at her funeral.
She appointed Hugh Earl of Marchmont, and Beversham Filmer, Esq., her executors, to whose charge she left in trust her almost countless manors, parsonages, rectories, advowsons, lands, tenements, and hereditaments, in no less than eleven counties.
By a proviso in her will, she rendered it void, as far as he was concerned, if ever her grandson Lord John Spencer should become bound or surety for any person, or should accept from any King or Queen, of these realms, any office or employment, civil or military, except the rangership of the Great or Little Park at Windsor. She left ample bequests to many of her servants, not forgetting twenty pounds a year to each of her chairmen. One of the most remarkable items of her codicil was the sum of ten thousand pounds to William Pitt, Esq., afterwards Earl of Chatham, for the noble defence he had made in support of the laws of England, and to prevent the ruin of his country. But the sum of twenty thousand pounds to Philip Earl of Chesterfield, accompanied by the bequest of her best and largest diamond ring, appears sadly disproportioned to the small sums which she bequeathed to near relations. Those who are desirous of further particulars can satisfy their curiosity by referring to the Appendix. The Duchess was said to have left, besides her numerous legacies, property to the amount of sixty thousand pounds per annum to be divided amongst her two grandsons, Charles Duke of Marlborough, and his brother Lord John Spencer. It is remarkable that one clause in her will prohibits the marriage of any of her grandsons under the age of twenty-one, on penalty of losing the annuity bequeathed to them, and of having half of the proposed sum transferred to their wives.
In closing this narrative of a long life—this estimate of a remarkable person, it must be observed that many allowances are to be made for the errors and failings displayed by the individual whose character has been described. Her youth witnessed an age of self-indulgence, and of moral degradation: the period of her maturer years was marked by civil strife, and by the anarchy of faction. A perilous course of prosperity attended the middle period of her career. Disappointment, dissensions, calumny, misfortune, and neglect, commenced with her decline, and accompanied her slow decay, to the last moment of her existence. Those who hopelessly covet wealth, honour, and celebrity, may read the life of Sarah Duchess of Marlborough with profit, and rise from the perusal, resigned to fate.
APPENDIX.
The following letter is taken from the Coxe Manuscripts, vol. xv. p. 123. It is referred to by the Duchess, in her Account of her Conduct.
THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH TO THE QUEEN.
I have said something in answer to the letters I had the honour to receive last from your Majesty in one of these very long papers, and there remains nothing to observe more, but that your Majesty seems very much determined to have no more correspondence with me than as I am the Duke of Marlborough’s wife, and your groom of the stole. I assure your Majesty I will obey that command, and never so much as presume, as long as I live, to name my cousin Abigail, if you will be pleased to write me word in a very short letter that you have read this history, which is as short as I could make it, and that you continue still of the same opinion you were as to all your unjust usage of me. You will know all I have writ is exactly the truth, and I must desire that you will be pleased to do this before you receive the holy sacrament; and my reason for it is this: everybody considers that as the most serious and important thing they have to do in the world; and in order to prepare themselves for it in such a manner as the greatness of the mistery requires, they are directed to take a strict account of their lives, and to be sorry for any wrong thing they have done, and to resolve never more to do the same; and I know your Majesty on that occasion always observes the great rule of examining yourselfe, and, justly considering what a sacred work you are going about, constantly makes use of that opportunity to search and try your wayes, and take a solemn view of your actions. Now, upon the head of examination which I find in “The Whole Duty of Man,” I observe there are these that follow Neglecting lovingly to admonish a friend; forsaking his friendship for a slight or no cause; unthankfulness to those that admonish, or being angry with them for it; neglecting to make what satisfaction we can for any injuries we have done him. And we are directed, in the same place, to read this catalogue carefully over, upon days of humiliation, and to ask our own hearts as we go along, Am I guilty or not of this? And when we are guilty, to confesse it, particularly to repent of it, and to make what amends we can, as the nature of the fault requires.