“She will certainly not wish to hear this message. But nevertheless I am sure she will want to know what I intend doing … before I do it.”
“I am afraid I do not understand Your Grace’s meaning.”
“It is simple. Her Majesty turns her back on me. If she continues in this attitude I shall publish all the letters she has written to me since the earliest days of our friendship. Tell her this. I think she will be prepared to go to great length to prevent this happening.”
“Your Grace cannot be serious.”
“I was never more so.”
“You are threatening the Queen.”
“No. Only threatening to publish her letters.”
Sir David Hamilton bade farewell to the Duchess and went at once to the Queen.
Anne was alarmed. She thought back over the years of foolish fondness, of absolute trust. How had she betrayed herself? Her intimate life would be exposed to her people. They would read of her wicked conduct towards her own family; and although she now recognized this as wickedness and knew that Sarah Churchill had largely been responsible for making her act as she did, that was no excuse.
How could she ever have been deceived by that woman! But what could she do now?
She sent for Sir David Hamilton and the Duke of Shrewsbury.
“At all costs,” she said firmly, “the Duchess of Marlborough must be prevented from publishing the letters. You must find some way of stopping her.”
Sarah was now growing alarmed on her own account, for Swift’s article was being discussed throughout the Court and in every tavern and coffee house. It would not have surprised her if charges were brought against her for bribery and peculation; and she could not see how, if this were so, she could defend herself. She remembered an occasion when John had been a prisoner in the Tower and how he had come near to losing his life during the reign of William.
When Shrewsbury and Hamilton came to talk to her about the Queen’s letters this fear was uppermost in her mind.
In her blunt fashion she betrayed this to her visitors who immediately saw in her fear a means of gaining their desire.
“Grave charges have been made against Your Grace,” Shrewsbury pointed out.
“You have come to tell me this?” asked Sarah fearfully.
“There is no need, Your Grace, to tell you what you know already,” pointed out Hamilton.
“If such a charge were brought against me I should have no alternative but to publish the Queen’s letters,” bartered Sarah.
She had made her conditions. No charges; no publication of letters.
Since there had been no intention of making a charge at this stage the two men were well pleased with their visit. They were able to return to the Queen and tell her that the Duchess of Marlborough would not publish the letters if no charge was brought against her for helping herself to public funds.
The people in the streets hated the imperious Duchess. On the other hand they loved the Queen. The stories of the Marlboroughs’ riches were discussed and magnified. Marlborough was the warmonger and what good did war bring the poor? And did they know that since the Queen no longer favoured the Duchess the latter had threatened to publish her letters?
Crowds clustered outside Marlborough House. Sarah listened to their shouts. What was it they were saying?
She shuddered as she listened.
If the Duchess of Marlborough published anything to harm the Queen they would storm Marlborough House; they would drag her into the streets and there they would proceed to tear her to pieces.
Who would have believed, Sarah asked herself, that during the reign of Queen Anne she, who had done so much to put the Queen on the throne and keep her there, should find herself in such a position?
They were saying in the streets that this was the end of the Marlboroughs’ glory. Some might think so. Not Sarah.
Harley was constantly with the Queen. The time was fast approaching when the Whig Parliament should be dissolved. Then it was in the hands of the people, but Harley was confident of a Tory victory. The trial of Dr. Sacheverel had damaged the Whigs irrevocably and since the charges of dishonesty had been aimed at the Marlboroughs, it was certain that the Ministry would fall.
Anne had always disliked Sunderland and had been reluctant to appoint him; he was the first to be dismissed.
Sarah was frantic with rage. Her son-in-law dismissed from office! Godolphin would be the next—and after that would it be Marlborough?
How could she stand by and watch her schemes dissolving into nothing?
She sent for Godolphin and Sunderland; John was with her when they arrived.
“There is only one course open to us,” she declared, and when they looked at her expectantly she said: “Anne must be forced to abdicate.”
“Abdicate!” stammered Godolphin.
“Don’t look so startled,” retorted Sarah scornfully. “Catholic James was forced to … why not his doltish daughter?”
“And in her place?” asked Sunderland.
“Marl can call on the Elector of Hanover … and sound him.”
They stared at her in astonishment; but she saw that her son-in-law Sunderland who was ever ready for rash adventure, was beginning to smile.
Godolphin knew that the end of his career was in sight. He was old and he had never been a man to take his duties lightly, but he had been timorous and had allowed Sarah Churchill to dominate him as she had never been able to dominate her own husband. Now Sarah herself was out of favour and the ministry which he had led was about to decline. The Queen who had once shown him favour was seeking an opportunity to be rid of him and this had been brought about by the high-handed conduct of Sarah.
Godolphin was melancholy, considering what a deep effect the quarrels of women could have on a country’s affairs.
He was in this mood when he attended the Cabinet meeting at which the Queen would be present. He was fully aware of the antagonism of his enemies. They were as vultures hovering about his head … waiting for his fall.
Shrewsbury, one of the most powerful of them, opened the attack by making sarcastic comments which Godolphin could not allow to pass. He should, of course, have answered in the same vein, but he was tired and worried and he found himself attacking Shrewsbury in the querulous tones of the tired old man he was.
“My lord,” protested Anne, “I beg of you to curb your anger. It is of no use to this Council.”
Godolphin turned to the Queen. “Your Majesty, my task is becoming more difficult as the days pass. I am surrounded by those who seek to undermine me. What good can come when those in high places turn their backs on the legitimate ministers of the country and give ear to secret counsels.”
This was a direct attack upon the Queen, and Anne, mortified, remained silent. But all present knew that this must be the end of Godolphin.
Anne sat in the oak-panelled closet at Kensington.
She was sad. In the past she had been truly fond of Godolphin—Mr. Montgomery as she had affectionately called him. She had felt so secure with such a minister as her friend; and there was his family connection with the Duke who had always been so thoughtful and charming. But Sarah had poisoned those relationships as she had poisoned everything she came near.
Wherever she looked she was brought back to Sarah. It was time she finished with everything connected with her. She took up her pen and wrote:
“The uneasiness that you have shown for some time has given me much trouble, though I have borne it, and had your behaviour continued the same as it was for a few years after my coming to the Crown, I could have no dispute with myself what to do. But the many unkind returns I have received since, especially what you have said to me personally before the Lords (in council) makes it impossible for me to continue you any longer in my service, but I will give you a pension of four thousand pounds a year, and I desire that instead of bringing the Staff to me you will break it, which I believe will be easier for us both.”