the ill figure he makes on the Continent, or the good one he hopes to make at home, I shall not determine. But I have reason to think that some people (Lord Oxford) who would rather move heaven and earth than part with their power, or make a right use of it, have lately made overtures to him, and have entered into some degree of concert with his creatures."

On the Sunday morning on which the Queen died, the Duke of Marlborough landed at Dover, when he and his wife heard that she who had raised them to be the highest subjects in her kingdom, and who had placed a regal power in their hands, was no more. Neither of them betrayed grief or respect; for three days later, whilst their benefactress was still unburied, they made a triumphal entry into London, preceded by a company of the City Grenadiers, surrounded by their family and friends, and followed by two hundred Whigs on horseback. The duke's carriage broke down at Temple Bar, but he and the duchess getting into a coach were driven to Marlborough House, where the Grenadiers fired a volley by way of a parting salute.

All that evening he was visited by a vast number who declared themselves staunch Whigs and sturdy supporters of the House of Hanover; for news of his friendly relations with the new King had spread abroad, and his and their triumph over the Tories and Jacobites was joyfully celebrated.

But our old friend Peter Wentworth was not amongst these courtiers, for writing on August 6th,

Disappointment for Marlborough

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to his brother, he says, "the Duke of Marlborough was never so much out of favour with me as hes now at present, for the insulting manner he enter'd the town, he that used to come so privately when in favour and with Victory, to suffer himself to be met with a train of coaches and a troop of Militia with drums and trumps. He's asham'd of it and says he beg the City to excuse their complyment but they wou'd not. Today," continues Peter, "Sir John Packington mov'd the House that Dr. Ratcleft shou'd be expell'd the house for not coming to the Queen when sent for, but he was not seconded and so it dropt. He's a dog and I don't love him for what he did to the Duke of Gloucester; but however he has this to say for himself, that he knew the Queen did not send for him, and had expressed her aversion to him. in her last illness."

The Duke of Marlborough was fully prepared to resume his former power in the ministry and at Court; but his first disappointment came when he learned he was not included amongst the lords justices or regents, who were entrusted with the government of the kingdom whilst awaiting the King's arrival. While he was still smarting from this slight, the duchess, whose long experience of courts had shown her the disappointments, vexations, and deceptions that attend ambition, begged of him on her knees, as she says, that he would never again accept employment. "I said everybody that liked the Revolution and the security of the law had a great esteem for him "; she

writes, "that he had a greater fortune than he wanted; and that a man who had had such success, with such an estate, would be of more use to any Court than they could be of to him; that I would live civilly with them, if they were so to me, but would never put it into the power of any king to use me ill. He was entirely of this opinion, and determined to quit all, and serve them only when he could act honestly, and do his country service at the same time."

After

Having taken the oaths of allegiance and supremacy to the new king, whose rival he had so frequently sworn to support, the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough went down to Holywell House at St. Albans, for which they had often longed whilst abroad. a short stay there they set out for Bath, where their daughter Lady Sunderland, who for some time had been in failing health, was drinking the waters. Their meeting must have been deeply painful, for it was evident to them that an internal ailment from which she suffered must soon end her life. On the 22nd of the previous March, 1714, whilst they were still abroad, their daughter Betty, Lady Bridgewater, had died of small-pox.

At this time the continual outbursts of this foul disease, for which English science knew no remedy, used to sweep thousands annually into their graves, and sadly disfigure those who recovered from its attacks. It was only some three years later that Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, whilst travelling in Turkey with her husband, who was ambassador to the