Queen Anne: The Politics of Passion

by Anne Somerset

  It is unclear whether Harley fully informed the Queen of Jersey’s role: when Gaultier asked Jersey if she was aware of his contribution, Jersey blustered that ‘the question was superfluous’. In April 1711 the Queen did not appear to have been surprised when Jersey delivered to her peace proposals formulated by France, so one may surmise that by that stage she knew that contact had been established and that Jersey was involved.3 However, at what point she was brought into the secret remains impossible to establish.

  Very soon after opening dealings with Gaultier, Jersey started giving extravagant assurances about the likelihood that James Francis Edward would succeed Anne. On 22 September Gaultier reported that Jersey had declared, ‘Be in no doubt that the Queen … has very tender sentiments for … the King of England and that she considers him like her own child’. Jersey claimed that Harley, Shrewsbury, and Buckingham ‘are only working on his behalf, with a view to giving him back what was taken from him’. A few days later he repeated that the ministers were sympathetic to James, and that so long as the prince ‘thought like them, there would be no difficulty giving him back what belongs to him’.4 It is unthinkable that Anne had authorised Jersey to make such statements on her behalf; whether Harley approved is more difficult to assess.

  During the summer of 1710, the allies had seemingly made significant advances in Spain, and General Stanhope had taken possession of Madrid in September. However, Stanhope did not receive the reinforcements from Portugal that he had been counting on, and he was forced to evacuate the capital two months later. As Stanhope was retreating he was overtaken by a French force commanded by the Duke of Vendome, and on 28 November/9 December suffered a devastating defeat at Brihuega. Stanhope himself was taken prisoner and the tattered remnants of his men struggled to Catalonia, the only part of Spain where the allies now retained a foothold.

  As soon as Jersey learned that Madrid had been abandoned, he told Gaultier that Britain no longer expected all Spain for Charles III, although in negotiations it might still be demanded, ‘feebly and pro forma’. Great Britain would be content, Jersey claimed, providing that France and Spain gave ‘good sureties for our commerce’ and ensured the two countries’ crowns would never be united.5

  This was still far from being the government’s official position. When Parliament met on 25 November, the Queen’s speech affirmed the importance of ‘carrying on the war in all its parts, but particularly in Spain, with the utmost vigour’. However, when news of Stanhope’s defeat arrived on 24 December, only the most hawkish could delude themselves the situation in Spain was retrievable. Jonathan Swift noted, ‘it was odd to see the whole countenance of the court changed in two hours’. In theory, the Queen remained committed to the struggle, writing to the Emperor that these setbacks should ‘inflame and incite us, as if stimulated … to redouble the efforts’ in Spain. However, two days after learning about Brihuega, Secretary St John had commented, ‘There is no reasonable sober man who can entertain a thought of conquering and retaining that wide continent’, and he added that the Queen shared this view.6

  In late 1710 Gaultier informed Torcy that Harley, Shrewsbury, and Jersey were ‘absolutely resolved to end the war promptly’, and had therefore decided to send him to France as their emissary. They wanted France to ask the Dutch for a peace conference, but envisaged that, once this had been convened, meaningful negotiations would take place elsewhere, because the French would send to England ‘a wise and well instructed man … with whom the English court could treat safely without the Dutch being informed’. In fact, on returning to England after talks with his superiors in Paris, Gaultier had to report that the French did not want any dealings with Holland, so instead it was agreed that proposals could be sent to England, and subsequently transmitted to the Dutch. The British ministers insisted they could not consider French offers inferior to those set out the previous year, but the French were confident they could ignore this stipulation. On 18 February/1 March Torcy authorised Gaultier to inform his contacts in England that Louis XIV was ready to proceed.7

  Although peace no longer seemed completely out of reach, it was inevitable that the war would go on for at least one more campaign. In these circumstances it was difficult for the ministry to dismiss Marlborough, but the Duke was warned that if he wished to stay on, he must subordinate himself to the ministers’ authority.8

  Despite the fact that in October 1710 Marlborough had spoken of his determination ‘to stand … by his friends the Whigs’, he was reluctant to forgo the chance of bringing the war to a victorious conclusion. He may also have been influenced by the understanding that the ministry would continue to pay Blenheim Palace’s construction costs. So, in late November Marlborough sent an undertaking to Harley that he would ‘not enter into the heats of party debates’.9

  Harley was not entirely reassured, for it was possible that when Marlborough returned from campaign he ‘would be led into the rage and revenge of some about him’, the most notable of whom was his wife. To demonstrate to Marlborough that nothing less than total obedience was expected of him, various things were done to provoke him, such as his trusted assistant Adam Cardonnel being dismissed as Secretary at War.10

  Steps were also taken to lessen Marlborough’s control of army patronage. The Queen shared Harley’s concern that her general had deliberately filled the higher ranks of the army with men loyal to the Whigs, complaining ‘They went up and down the army making factious officers’. In December 1710, the government cashiered three senior officers who were devoted adherents of Marlborough’s, obliging them to sell their commissions at half value. They were known to have drunk ‘Confusion to the Ministry’ and to all who had a hand in bringing down the last one, and the Queen was not prepared to tolerate such disruptive conduct. She already abhorred one of the three, General Macartney, who, in addition to maltreating his wife, in 1709 had perpetrated the most brutal rape of his landlady, a clergyman’s widow. The judge who tried the case had treated Macartney shockingly leniently, but the Queen had intervened after the Bishop of London had made representations to her on the raped woman’s behalf. At that time she had failed to dismiss Macartney because Marlborough and Godolphin took his side, but it was noted then that Macartney’s ‘ill usage of the women will never be forgiven’. Now the Queen told Sir David Hamilton that she had no intention of slighting Marlborough by cashiering the three men, but that it was unacceptable ‘they had made it their business to reflect upon her and her administration’.11

  The ministry also sought to keep Marlborough in order by utilising the acidulous talents of Jonathan Swift to lessen the Duke’s standing. Swift was an Anglican clergyman born in Dublin, whose only preferment in the Church to date was a trio of rural livings in Ireland. Prickly and prone to take offence, Swift used his mordant humour and savage satirical powers to punish those who had displeased him. Combining ‘great parts of wit and style’ with ‘the most impudent and venomous pen of any man of this age’,12 Swift now put these skills at the ministry’s disposal.

  Swift had been sent over to England in the summer of 1710 by his ecclesiastical superiors, and when he had applied to Godolphin for help over a Church matter, he had been treated with great brusqueness. He was, therefore, in the mood for revenge. That October he approached Harley on the same errand, and to his delight was not only promised government assistance, but found himself treated like a friend. Harley welcomed the clergyman into his home and shortly afterwards introduced him to St John, whose company Swift found equally delightful. Swift became a regular at Harley’s ‘Saturday Club’ dinners, intimate affairs attended by a few leading politicians. Flattered to find himself on first-name terms with these powerful figures, Swift responded warmly when Harley confided to him that the new ministry’s ‘great difficulty lay in the want of some good pen’, and offered him the editorship of The Examiner, a Tory weekly established the previous August.13

  Swift was not looking for financial gain in accepting the post, and was indeed insulted when Harle
y sent him £50 after he had produced several issues of the paper. He did hope, however, that his career in the Church would prosper as a result of his services to the ministry. Glittering visions of future preferment enticed him, particularly after Harley promised to present him to the Queen, telling Swift in late November that this would happen ‘within a few days’. Arranging such an audience should not have been a problem: Daniel Defoe, who produced propaganda for the government and went on secret service missions to Scotland, claimed that Godolphin introduced him privately to the Queen in 1708 although, admittedly, Defoe was something of a fabulist when it came to his dealings with royalty, so one cannot be sure this was true.14 What is certain is that no meeting between Swift and Queen Anne ever took place.

  On 23 November 1710 The Examiner attacked the Marlboroughs’ financial greed. Without disclosing his own identity, Swift argued that it was nonsense to suggest that the Duke was being shabbily treated by the government, slyly contrasting the modest rewards conferred on victorious Roman generals with the amounts lavished on Marlborough. He also hinted, presumably on the basis of information supplied to Harley by Mrs Masham, that the Duchess had embezzled thousands of pounds from the Queen’s Privy Purse.

  When Sarah read this, she became incandescent. For some months she had been inactive, but she now erupted again, writing furiously to Sir David Hamilton, who she knew would show her letters to Anne. Reviving her threat to print the Queen’s correspondence with her, she argued that far from being dishonest, she had saved Anne nearly £100,000 by her prudent management. ‘After all this, to be printed and cried about the country for a common cheat and pickpocket is too much for human nature to bear’, particularly when it was ‘in my power to publish other papers’ which would ‘give people a very different notion’, and which she would be compelled to reproduce, ‘whoever’s ears may tingle’.15

  Hamilton duly read this letter to the Queen, who observed drily that the Duchess ‘wrote free’. In relation to Sarah’s complaints about being falsely accused of embezzlement Anne commented, ‘Everybody knows cheating is not the Duchess of Marlborough’s crime’. Sarah would later proudly reproduce this statement in her memoirs, but it was hardly much of an encomium, implying as it did that she was guilty of other faults.16

  Hamilton warned the Queen that the Duchess ‘would be a continual thorn in her side’ if not handled with care, but Anne was becoming resistant to Sarah’s attempts to terrorise her. Discussing the subject with him again on 9 December, ‘the Queen was then positive she would never see her more’, adding that ‘it would look odd’ to let Sarah keep her places if she never came to court. She told Hamilton that she desired Marlborough to stay on, provided ‘he would go into her measures, and not divide and make parties’, but expressed concern that if dismissed the Duchess would insist her husband followed her into retirement. On the whole, however, Anne believed that Marlborough was so determined to continue in command of the army that he would accept his wife’s loss of office. When Hamilton warned that the Duchess was predicting that Marlborough would refuse to attend Cabinet because of her ill treatment, the Queen commented grimly, ‘She’ll be mistaken’.17

  Hamilton still had hopes that matters could be amicably resolved between the two women. Since mourning for Prince George was to end on Christmas Day, Hamilton urged Sarah to come to court to help provide the Queen with the new clothes she needed. However, as soon as Anne learned that Sarah was contemplating making an appearance, she ordered Hamilton to prevent it. After he explained the situation, Sarah noted bitterly, ‘’Twas plain if I had gone, she would have left the room as soon as I came into it’.18

  On 27 December the Queen told Hamilton she no longer considered herself bound to give Sarah’s posts to her daughters. Anne stated firmly, ‘As to that promise the Duchess mentions, she had not behaved herself suitably to it, and so it was null’. Quite apart from Sarah’s disgraceful conduct to her, Anne had objections to all three of the Duchess’s daughters who were currently Ladies of the Bedchamber. Lady Sunderland, Anne’s goddaughter and like her husband an ardent Whig, was, the Queen said, ‘cunning and dangerous to be in the family’. The eldest, Henrietta Rialton, was ‘silly and imprudent and lost her reputation’ by her affair with the playwright William Congreve. As for the third, Mary Montagu, she too had notoriously taken lovers and, worse still, was ‘just like her mother’. Hamilton tried to persuade Anne that it was needless to dismiss Sarah, in view of the Duchess’s undertaking to meddle no more with politics. ‘Is her promise therefore to be depended upon?’ the Queen answered sharply.19

  The following day Marlborough returned to London after his prolonged sojourn overseas. He was at once admitted to a brief audience with the Queen but, as Sarah sourly recounted, on this occasion ‘nothing passed but such lively conversation as is usual with her Majesty about the journey, the ways, the weather &c’. On 29 December they had a longer meeting, at which the Queen ‘told him she was desirous he should continue to serve her and … she would answer that her ministers would live easily with him’. The Duke indicated that he was willing to stay in office on these terms. The Queen had earlier complained to Hamilton that while in former days Marlborough had never allowed his courtesy to be ruffled, in recent interviews he had been ‘ill natured … and could not forbear swearing even in her presence’. On this occasion, however, the humility he showed aroused something close to contempt in her. Afterwards she reported to the Earl of Dartmouth that Marlborough had been ‘all submission … only lower than it was possible to imagine’. To Harley she highlighted another aspect of their encounter, seizing on the fact that Marlborough had explained that he would not want it thought that he was retaining his command for selfish reasons, as ‘he was neither covetous nor ambitious’. The Queen commented, ‘if she could have conveniently turned about she would have laughed, and could hardly forbear it in his face’.20

  Hamilton was still valiantly trying to soften the Queen towards the Marlboroughs. Hamilton reported to Anne ‘how affectionately he [the Duke] spoke of her, which melted her; that he said that he longed to have his wife quiet’. Encouraged when Anne declared she was ‘sorry to see him so broken’, Hamilton urged the Queen to buoy up the Duke with ‘smiles from herself’. On 2 January 1711 he also urged her to tell Sarah she would overlook what was past on condition of future good behaviour. The Queen answered shortly, ‘I have said that to her before’.21

  In a bid to convince Hamilton that Sarah was beyond redemption, the Queen alluded to some of the ‘shocking things’ the Duchess had said to her. She singled out the manner in which Sarah had accused her of consorting with Abigail in the period after Prince George’s death when, in reality, Anne had secluded herself in his closet at St James’s ‘upon melancholy occasions’. Hamilton reported that on learning this, the Duke had been ‘angry … to hear that the Duchess should have spoke so to her Majesty’, at which Anne was ‘extremely pleased’. But though Hamilton succeeded in eliciting from the Queen the odd flash of sympathy for Marlborough, she remained implacable towards his wife. She denied that she must retain Sarah for Marlborough’s sake, saying it would be ‘no more disgrace to him to have the Duchess out than in’. On being reminded that she had bound herself to the Duchess by oath, she protested that this had been ‘conditional on her behaviour’; when Hamilton again proposed a reconciliation, ‘She said it could not be done’.22

  As it began to seem that the Queen would not be diverted from her purpose, Sarah became positively frenzied. ‘There’s nothing like this in Turkey, in Nero’s time or in any history I know!’ she shouted to Hamilton at one point. Once again she hinted at blackmail, declaring ominously, ‘Such things are in my power that if known … might lose a crown’. The Queen remained calm in the face of such threats. She expressed confidence that Marlborough would not resign in solidarity with his wife, ‘for he’s ambitious and won’t go out’. She even appeared scornful at the prospect that the Duke would be reduced to tears if his wife lost her place, saying condescending
ly, ‘If my Lord cried a little it would then be over’. Anne was adamant that she was absolved of all commitments to Sarah, reasoning to Hamilton, ‘If the Duchess offered to kill me, must not I put her away? And does she not go about to take away my name and reputation, which is all one?’ She did agree that Hamilton could obtain a bishop’s opinion as to whether it was ethical to violate her promise to Sarah, but the ruling from the prelate did not change her mind.23

  Hamilton remained blindly optimistic that a solution was possible, telling the Marlboroughs that a submissive letter from Sarah should do the trick. Accordingly Sarah wrote a somewhat grudging apology, moved to do this, as she explained to Anne, by her fear that ‘my Lord Marlborough … can’t live six months if there is not some end put to his sufferings upon my account’. ‘I am really very sorry that ever I did anything that was uneasy to your Majesty’, she declared, promising never again to touch on subjects Anne found disagreeable. Marlborough carried this letter in person to the Queen on 17 January, and then launched into an impassioned appeal of his own. He warned that if his wife was deprived of her place it ‘would oblige her to be always upon her vindication’, and that Anne’s reputation was bound to suffer. ‘What was desired was so small a favour that it would be barbarous to deny it’, he contended, adding that he had never been able to discover what faults Sarah had committed.24