1. Durham Advertiser, 1853.
Chapter Eight
DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH
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Three years later, in 1857, the 6th Duke was also dead; John Winston and Frances became the 7th Duke and Duchess of Marlborough. They were fortunate in that they had had time to become familiar with the estate and neighbourhood and were in a position to effect a smooth transition into the next generation.
The will of the 6th Duke provides an interesting insight into John Winston. His relationship with his father reveals a degree of trust and understanding which speaks well of John Winston. In some ways the Duke was a troubled and difficult man, especially towards the end of his life when he was an invalid, largely confined to a bathchair, but there is absolutely no indication of anything other than harmony between father and son; Frances, with her strong sense of family loyalty, became part of this harmony. The Duke’s will placed some interesting responsibilities on Frances and John Winston, one of them very moving.
The Duke had married three times and at his death at 63 was leaving a daughter Clementina, only nine years old. She was now an orphan as her mother, the Duke’s second Duchess, had died when she was only two. In his will the Duke requested that Clementina should be cared for by John Winston. John and Frances, typically, brought the little girl into their own family and she remained happily with them as their ward until her marriage some years later. Her affection for her guardians was lifelong; the visitors’ book at Blenheim is peppered with references to her staying there as Lady, later Countess, Camden, now in a marriage arranged for her by Frances. No doubt the magnificent diamond tiara she inherited from her mother at the age of 21 was a reminder of Blenheim and the happiness she enjoyed there with Frances and John Winston.
It seems that any human need met with response from John Winston, something in which he enjoyed Frances’ support; she was sensitive to any form of personal deprivation. The dying Duke was also anxious for the future of his housekeeper, Sarah Licence, who had been with him for many years, and directed in his will that she be given an estate cottage and a pension for life; on the other hand he stipulated that his own funeral expenses should not exceed £100. His son duly fulfilled both requests.
Frances had chosen her husband well, despite a comment written 70 years after his death which has unfairly and inaccurately coloured the image of John Winston. Dismissing him as ‘a complete full-blown Victorian prig’,1 the writer makes the mistake of judging some of the Duke’s views on aspects of Victorian belief and behaviour by today’s more accommodating standards. In his time, his views were common, and there is no evidence of their causing any particular antipathy; a current view sees him as one who ‘to a large extent sympathises with the progressive tendencies of the time’. Nothing could be clearer than that!
He was a devout member of the Church of England. Educated at Oriel College, Oxford, focal point of the powerful Tractarian Movement, he was familiar with the free and vehement religious debate of his time and considered and established his own position, which he then lived up to with integrity. A lifelong Conservative in Parliament, he nevertheless reserved for himself ‘a general liberty of action, particularly on foreign and church policy’. His daughter-in-law Jennie, Lady Randolph Churchill, described him as having a ‘grand seigneur appearance and manner’, and he certainly had a rather formidable manner, but she acknowledged him as ‘extremely kind and most courteous’.2 Even the writer who dismissed him recognised ‘a faint hint of kindliness’ about the eyes in one of his photographs. He was, in fact, an admirable man, a loving, understanding and caring father to whom his family were devoted, and a very popular Lord Lieutenant throughout Oxfordshire. He had a serious attitude towards his public duties, and his strong character could produce a single-mindedness in pursuit of principle, leading occasionally to obstinacy, which he passed on to his ultra-decisive grandson Winston.
In Frances he found the ideal wife; she shared his intense love and loyalty for the family and for Blenheim. Robert Rhodes James, biographer of Randolph Churchill, describes Frances as highly intelligent and resourceful, ruling the households of first Hensington House and then Blenheim with a firm hand, adored by her children. One is reminded of Lord Castlereagh’s comment about the Duchess’s mother, Frances Anne Vane-Tempest: when she married his step-brother Charles, he said that she had a great deal of decision and character about her, and she would require both.
Her daughter-in-law Jennie, Randolph’s wife, wrote in her Reminiscences that ‘at the rustle of her silk dress the whole house trembled’, but added that a warmth of heart ‘overcame any overmasterfulness of which she might have been accused’. She was deeply respected by her husband’s family and an amusing instance provides evidence for this. Her father-in-law’s third wife, Jane, was an amiable woman who did not share Frances’ intelligence. When the Duchess asked Frances why she was not invited to Court balls, but only to drawing-rooms, Frances patiently advised her to write to the Lord Chamberlain. A few days later Frances received a letter from the Duchess, thanking her for the advice, which had been effective. ‘I am told it was a clerical error,’ she wrote, adding that she couldn’t see what the clergy had to do with it. Frances’ reply is not recorded!
Under the circumstances of her marriage, Frances had brought a degree of relief to the Marlboroughs. The 4th Duke had made over Cornbury, a Blenheim estate of 5,000 acres, to a younger son who established the cadet branch of the Churchills with a separate peerage; the extravagance of the 5th Duke was legendary. With the marriage of John Winston, things took on a more prosperous appearance. Mortgages were called in and debts repaid; items such as the magnificent silver centrepiece in the Saloon at Blenheim, wonderfully crafted by Garrards, the Crown Jewellers, appeared in 1845. The register of the Royal Yacht Club at Cowes shows the yacht Wyvern registered in the name of the 6th Duke of Marlborough from 1845 to 1854, and John Winston continued this tradition: from 1843, the year of his marriage, to 1882, the year before he died, he had several yachts registered. The Wyvern was one of the 15 starters in the original 1851 yacht race which is now known as the ‘Americas Cup’.
John Winston had chosen his life partner with characteristic care. She had contributed in real terms to the financial security of Blenheim; moreover, her nature and family background ensured she was instinctively committed to the future of her new home and the members of it for whom she was directly responsible. Under her perceptive gaze and influence the fortunes of all began to revive both politically and socially.
Frances found, on assuming the title of Duchess of Marlborough in 1857, that she had a more public profile than her predecessors, certainly since the death of the 4th Duchess, Caroline, in 1811. Like Frances, Caroline had arrived at Blenheim from a major aristocratic family and home, being the daughter of the 4th Duke of Bedford, of Woburn Abbey. She had married her husband when he was already Duke and had the advantage of youth, becoming Duchess and arriving at Blenheim when she was only 20. Her successor, Susan, 5th Duchess, had little time to make any impact at Blenheim. Tiring of her husband’s profligacy and infidelity, she left him and Blenheim for good in 1819. Jane, the 6th Duke’s first wife, was in her fifties before she became Duchess and died four years later. His second wife, Clementina’s mother, died after fewer than four years as Duchess, and the Duke’s third wife left him after only two years, when he was 60.
Coming, as she did, after this rather barren period, Frances was looked to with anticipation and readiness by a neighbourhood deprived of a strong female figurehead for so long, and she was of the calibre to respond. Over the next 26 years she established a loved and respected place for herself in the community. She had enormous advantages from the start. Living just over the road from the Palace for the last 14 years, she and her children had already settled in the local community. She had come among them as a young bride of 22 and now, as Duchess, was still only 35 years old. The local community would be aware of her background as daughter of one of the richest and most successful men in the
country and of the legendary nature of her family home at Wynyard. Her father’s fame as a soldier and partner in Wellington’s triumph over Napoleon lived on in the national memory; Wellington had died fewer than five years earlier, his military successes crowned by his later political achievements. The neighbourhood welcomed this new Duchess with anticipation and Frances lived up to their expectations.
The town of Woodstock had always had close associations with Blenheim, being developed by Henry I to provide lodgings for his retinue when he was in residence at what was originally Woodstock Manor. Since the building of the Palace (1705-22), Blenheim had been central to the fortunes of the local town and the surrounding area. It had introduced a large labour force to the neighbourhood, which brought prosperity. The town sustained a favourable population level, and Blenheim and its gardens, park and estate was always the biggest employer.
In 1713, as the Palace was being built, architect Sir John Vanbrugh had wished to improve the town. The main streets of Woodstock were paved at the Marlboroughs’ expense, retaining a central channel with a gradual rise to the buildings on each side; this had cost £1,000 but it served until the middle of the nineteenth century. The Marlboroughs also transformed the town’s public buildings. The old Guildhall, demolished in 1757, had eventually been replaced in about 1766 by the present Town Hall, built by the 4th Duke on the site of the High Cross and the Penniless Bench. Park Street, opened up by the removal of the main park gate from its west end in 1723 and then by the demolition of houses to open up the north side of the church, had been further enriched in the 1780s by the rebuilding of the church tower in the classical style, the work of John Yenn and Sir William Chambers. Two rows of almshouses had been built by Caroline, the 4th Duchess, in the 1790s, one of which still survives as Caroline Court.
Woodstock had often reflected the rise and fall of Marlborough fortunes; the death of the 4th Duke in 1817, for instance, threw between 80 and 100 people on to poor relief. The absurd extravagance of the 5th Duke, which brought him virtually to bankruptcy, meant that almost all Blenheim staff were laid off and the neighbourhood suffered in consequence; it was not until the middle of the nineteenth century that there was any revival of prosperity under the 6th Duke. From John Winston and Frances’ time until well into the twentieth century, however, there were over 40 gardeners alone.
A field in which Frances was particularly interested and active was education, and her concern was inevitable. She was much influenced by her parents, particularly her mother, having observed Frances Anne’s concern for the miners and farm labourers around their estate in Durham, and she was aware of her efforts to provide health care and education for the workers and their families. This example, and Frances’ own sensitivity towards those in need, particularly children, moved her to provide for and support schools in Woodstock and the local village of Bladon. In this she was closely allied to her husband.
Evidence is provided by the records of Woodstock National Schools, which were built in 1854 by subscription on a site presented by the 6th Duke of Marlborough, a fact commemorated by a plaque on the school wall overlooking the Oxford to Stratford road. The minute book of the committee that met in Woodstock Town Hall on 29 January 1853 to raise subscriptions was chaired by John Winston, then Marquess of Blandford. He was almost certainly the driving force, as his father was by then in poor health; there is clear evidence that both he and Frances later helped, visited and showed considerable interest in the new school. The architect was Samuel Sanders Teulon, who had started to re-model Blenheim Palace chapel in 1850. The school was an ambitious project, intended to accommodate 380 pupils. The infants were to occupy the smallest room on the west side, the furthest from the road. The girls and boys had the two long rooms with a smaller room off for the headmaster. There were separate entrances, toilets and playgrounds. The heating was by open fires and lighting was provided by oil lamps.
On 1 May 1858 Frances laid the foundation stone for a school at Bladon, just a few yards away from the site where her famous grandson was to be buried 107 years later. Although the Duke gave the address, he was careful to reflect her interest and commitment by including Frances in his speech: ‘It would afford himself and the Duchess great pleasure to erect this school’, and ‘this school … he and the Duchess would feel true gratification in promoting’. As the Duke, it was inevitable that he would be at the forefront, but he was no mere figurehead: his zeal for education was well known and he had been much involved, as Marquess of Blandford, in the school ostensibly built by his father in Woodstock. He had the status and influence to promote it and only he could donate the land on which it was built. However, the support for the running of the school and the practical contact with its pupils came from Frances.
Probably because of this, the school was known, and still is, as ‘The Duchess of Marlborough’s School’. It is recorded as such in the inscription on the exterior of the building which is still a substantial part of the present school: ‘The Duchess of Marlborough’s School, erected 1858, enlarged 1889 and 1894.’ The previous school had been destroyed in a fire in 1853 and some 80 children under the age of 11 had been attending school in a temporary cottage room. As the inscription implies, the school flourished. Although it was designed for 64 pupils it opened with 84. By 1871 there were 96 children; by 1890 it could take 130, and by 1895 there were 172. The Marlboroughs had made a far-sighted provision.
The rules of the school reflect the Duke rather than the Duchess: ‘The school should not be altogether free, because people always value most that for which they had to pay something.’ Such a view reflects John Winston’s High Victorian attitudes more than those of Frances, whose instinct was to react to need. The Duke’s address at the opening of the Bladon school had included the hope that it ‘would be the means of training the young in those ways which should prepare them for a course of Christian usefulness on earth and a life of eternal happiness in heaven’. He was aware of the reality of those hard times, however, and acknowledged the need for education to provide temporal as well as spiritual improvement.
A particular value for the school, reflecting what Frances had seen in Durham, was its use as a centre for the wider community. One contemporary commented that local families ‘have their children trained there … but they also enjoyed the use of it for missionary and other pleasant evenings’. There are reports of the school being used for the Feast, ‘in the presence of the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough, the kind donors of the feast’. And on another occasion, after the Harvest Thanksgiving in the school, ‘a public tea was held by kind permission of Her Grace The Duchess of Marlborough’.3 Frances and John Winston had done much to improve the quality of life in a small, not very affluent, village for which they clearly felt a responsibility.
It is evident that Frances had strong views about the importance of education and that in Bladon she found a wonderful outlet for her enthusiasm. Stories are still told in the village of the traditions she established, of regular visiting, for instance, and a keen interest in the welfare of the pupils, followed up by practical help, which were continued by subsequent duchesses for many years to come.
Although the Bladon school log book is missing for this early period it is obvious that Bladon and Woodstock schools received identical treatment and the log books of Woodstock school in this period have survived. From 1863, when log books became compulsory, we have a clear portrait of Frances and a wonderfully entertaining picture of life in this little school until 1880, when the next log book disappeared. The 1863 log records numerous visits by the 7th Duke and Duchess, both separately and together, over a period of almost 20 years. In 1864 Frances, Duchess of Marlborough, a frequent visitor to Woodstock School, brought with her ‘five dozen yards of calico, two dozen yards of flannel, wool and stockings. Calico and flannel to be made into useful articles of clothing for charitable purposes; wool and stockings to be used to teach the girls to darn.’
An entry in 1865, an extremely severe winter, tells us: �
��Several children go at quarter to 12 a.m. to fetch soup from Blenheim.’ Local historian Norman Roast refers to the Duchess as ‘her charitable self’, and in a later entry the ‘ever faithful Duchess visited the school this morning, gave a reading lesson, corrected the first class dictation, looked over the copy books and needlework and heard the infants sing.’4
Nor was this courtesy one-sided. There are frequent occasions when pupils were taken to Blenheim for tea parties and, sometimes, special occasions. In 1870, when the Prince and Princess of Wales visited Blenheim, the pupils marched there in twos and sang the no doubt well-rehearsed ‘God Bless the Prince of Wales’. Nor would these duties have been a burden on Frances. Throughout her life she was drawn to children; her affectionate nature established an immediate rapport with them and made every visit a pleasure on both sides.
The deep feeling of responsibility Frances and her husband displayed for children in their community as well as in their family, of compassion and care for them, emerges time and again throughout their lives. Even the most conservative interpretation of their private annual accounts reveals their commitment. In 1861 they built another new school, at Ardley, a small village on an outlying part of the estate ten miles from Blenheim. Frances had a special interest in this village, later repairing the church there after a serious fire. The support for schools continued regularly over the years. In 1865, 26 local schools received direct financial support to a total of £220 14s. Indirect support with such things as coal and clothing funds, teachers’ salaries, furniture, etc. increased this by a further £1,000.
A regular, exciting and much enjoyed aspect of their commitment to schools was the regular provision of events in the Park, variously described as ‘School Teas’ or ‘School Feasts’. A charming series of sketches drawn at Blenheim in 1873 by Sir George Scharf, Director of the National Gallery, still survive in the Gallery archives. They record vividly the children’s pleasure in a typical ‘School Feast’. Several of the sketches show large numbers of children enjoying their activities in the Park. One sketch shows a band which had been brought in to add to the occasion; another shows tea in the Riding School.
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