Queen Anne: The Politics of Passion (41 page)

The Queen did not underestimate the magnitude of the task that awaited her. When the officious and meddlesome Gilbert Burnet, Bishop of Salisbury, had hastened to St James’s Palace on 8 March 1702 to be the first to break to her the news of William’s death, she had told him she ‘only accepted the heavy burden of a crown with the intention of doing good for Europe in general and for the Protestant religion’. Three years later she would assure Marlborough, ‘I have no thought but for the good of England. I … will always to the best of my understanding promote its true interest and serve my country faithfully, which I look upon to be as much the duty of a sovereign as of the meanest subject’.
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For much of the time Marlborough would not be on hand to help her, for his duties as commander kept him overseas for roughly half the year. On 12 May he set off for the Continent in readiness for that summer’s
campaign, and would only return in late autumn, when the allied army went into winter quarters. In his absence it was Lord Godolphin on whom she relied principally for guidance. The Lord Treasurer had at least one meeting with her almost every day, at which he read letters to her from the Secretaries of State and diplomats stationed abroad, and discussed all aspects of politics. Sarah said he was like ‘an old nurse to her’, and that he ‘conducted the Queen with the care and tenderness of a father or a guardian through a state of helpless ignorance’. Yet though Sarah saw the relationship as quasi-paternal, at the outset of the reign Anne considered Godolphin a friend. Within three years her feelings had become rather less warm, but she still professed herself ‘so entirely satisfied of [his] sincerity and capacity … that I shall never repent of that choice’. Gradually, however, political differences made their dealings more uncomfortable. The occasions when ‘the natural severity of his countenance was … sweetened with a smile’ became rarer, and, according to Jonathan Swift, while Godolphin ‘endeavoured to be as respectful as his nature would permit him’, his manner became ‘much too arbitrary and obtruding’.
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When Anne finally broke with Godolphin in 1710, she would cite his discourtesy to her as a major reason, although she remained grateful at the memory of his kindness at the beginning of the reign.

Anne attended more Cabinet meetings than any other British monarch, being present, on average, once a week for every year of her reign. They were generally held in whichever royal palace she happened to be resident, although sometimes when at Windsor she would drive to Hampton Court for Cabinet meetings, as it was nearer to London and hence more convenient for her ministers. Meetings mostly took place on Sunday evenings, though when necessary additional ones were held at other times of the week. It was, perhaps, a slightly surprising arrangement, considering the stern Sabbatarian regulations in force at the time, and a German visitor to England noted that Sunday was ‘nowhere more strictly kept’. For Anne, however, Sunday was far from being restful, being a day ‘not only of business but of devotion’.
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The Privy Council no longer played much part in government as most of its functions had devolved upon the much smaller Cabinet. The majority of great officers of State were automatically members of the Cabinet, such as the Lord Treasurer, Lord President of the Council, Lord Chancellor (or Lord Keeper of the Great Seal if no Chancellor had been appointed) and the Lord Privy Seal. The two Secretaries sat there, as did
the Secretary for Scotland, when there was one. While in England, Marlborough attended in his capacity as Master of the Ordnance, and the Archbishop of Canterbury also had a place, although he was somewhat erratic in his attendance. Some of the Queen’s principal household officers were also granted Cabinet places, but this was not inevitable, being dependent on the individuals concerned. Thus the Queen’s first Lord Steward, the Duke of Devonshire, sat in Cabinet, but Anne stipulated that his successor could not expect to do the same.

The Cabinet now dealt with a huge variety of business. Almost the only aspect of government that did not concern it was finance, handled exclusively by the Treasury. Often the first item on the agenda was naval affairs, with Prince George’s council being called in to answer questions and ‘give the weekly account’. Domestic matters also featured, as, for example, when they heard in July 1704 a ‘report from the Justice of Peace in Westmorland against Mr Fleming for words against her Majesty … He is to be left out of the commission from these words’.
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Most of the Cabinet’s time was taken up with the conduct of the war and foreign affairs. Whereas William III had been very ‘much the master of foreign transactions’ during his reign, now ministers and Cabinet played a greater role. Before being presented to the Queen and Cabinet, foreign policy tended to be formulated in advance by an inner ring of ministers, with Marlborough, Godolphin, and Harley doing most of this work in the early years of the reign.
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Numerous letters from English diplomats abroad and commanders in the field were also submitted to Cabinet, though often the Queen had already been made aware of their contents by Godolphin or one of the Secretaries.

When Marlborough was overseas, his reports on the military situation and his dealings with the allies were often read aloud in Cabinet. Both Queen and Cabinet allowed him to operate with a good deal of freedom in the field and when conducting diplomacy. In July 1704, for example, after hearing a letter from Marlborough, the Cabinet decided to ‘leave the Duke at his liberty to accept the Emperor’s offer’. Three years later, Godolphin informed Harley that Anne wished to entrust Marlborough with the direction of military aid to Catalonia, although she would take it on herself to press other allied powers to send what was needful. The following April, when informed that it had not yet been agreed whether Imperial forces under Prince Eugene of Savoy should attack the French on the Moselle, or come to Flanders, Godolphin wrote to Marlborough, ‘As to the project you sent over, the Queen leaves it to you to agree to whatever you judge most for the advantage of the
Common Cause’. However, in the summer of 1711, when Marlborough wanted to make arrangements to facilitate an early start to his next campaign, Godolphin’s successor as Lord Treasurer insisted that the plans were submitted to the Queen for approval. After they were explained to her by an officer sent over by Marlborough, she ‘asked certain questions as to the secrecy and how it be kept, having to be done in conjunction with the States, and if the making of the magazines would not declare the design’.
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A good deal of detailed war planning was carried out by Cabinet ministers when the Queen was not present. In her absence these men were given the collective name of ‘Lords of the Committee’, and their meetings usually took place at the Cockpit in Whitehall. It was understood, however, that their decisions could not be enacted unless subsequently ratified by Anne. Thus, in June 1711 Secretary of State Lord Dartmouth recorded that the Lords of the Committee had agreed ‘that I should write in the Queen’s name recommending the interest of the King of Prussia at the court of Barcelona, but that I should propose it tomorrow before the Queen at Kensington’. Usually the Queen and Cabinet accepted the advice of the Lords of the Committee. For example, Dartmouth’s minutes for a Cabinet meeting at Hampton Court in November 1710 read, ‘The Lords are of opinion that the supplies and recruits for the war in Spain should be sent for the future to Spain itself and not Portugal, to which the Queen agreed’. There were, however, exceptions. Sometimes letters drafted by the Lords of the Committee were amended in Cabinet, and the Queen’s consent to their recommendations could not be taken for granted. In September 1710 Dartmouth was ordered ‘to wait upon the Queen this afternoon and acquaint her the Lords at the Cockpit are of opinion that her Majesty should send down Sir J. Leake to command the fleet immediately … My Lord Berkeley should be mentioned to the Queen in case she should not approve of Sir J. Leake’s going’.
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In May 1702 the Prussian Resident in England declared ‘The will of the King [i.e. the sovereign] decides the resolutions of the [Cabinet] council here’. While William III was doubtless more masterful in Cabinet than his successor, the Queen’s opinion still mattered. Early in the reign it was reportedly she who insisted that a projected expedition to Cadiz should go ahead, as William III had envisaged, ‘although it appeared impracticable to her council’. In March 1707 the Cabinet minutes noted, ‘Mr Stepney’s letter [from The Hague] is read. The Queen not converted by the arguments used … to explain that’. Word got out about an
argument in Cabinet in 1703, when the Earl of Nottingham opposed a proposal favoured by Anne, of sending military aid to rebels in southern France. ‘The Queen and Prince’s sentiments prevailed’, although in the end circumstances necessitated the plan’s abandonment. The fact that the Queen had decided views on war policy is also suggested by Marlborough’s statement in a parliamentary debate of January 1711, regarding an attack on Toulon that had taken place four years earlier. The Queen, he said, had strongly supported this ‘attempt on Toulon, which her Majesty from the beginning of the war had looked upon as one of the most effectual means to finish it’.
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Evaluating the Queen’s responsibility for policies pursued is not a simple matter, because politicians tended to emphasise or minimise her role as it suited them. In April 1707, the Queen’s forces in Spain suffered a disastrous defeat at Almanza. Four years later a Tory ministry sought to blame the setback on Anne’s Whig former Secretary of State, the Earl of Sunderland. However, when Sunderland was attacked in Parliament for having ordered her commander in Spain to go on the offensive, he insisted that the Queen had ‘entirely approved’ the course embarked on, and had made her opinions plain in letters sent to Spain. The idea that ‘the Queen was to answer for everything’ incensed the Earl of Rochester, who protested that, ‘according to the fundamental constitution … the ministers are accountable for all’.
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The Tory-dominated Parliament duly voted that Sunderland and his Whig ministerial colleagues were responsible for the Almanza fiasco.

It was not just in Cabinet that the Queen considered matters relating to the war. At their frequent meetings alone with her, the Secretaries of State would summarise despatches received from diplomats and high ranking soldiers, and take down directives from her. Godolphin, too, passed on communications he received, and not all that she learned in this way was shared with the Cabinet. For example, when Marlborough was planning his march to the Danube in 1704 he repeatedly cautioned Godolphin ‘What I now write I beg may be known to nobody but her Majesty and the Prince’. The Cabinet were also kept in ignorance of a projected expedition to capture Quebec until the Queen saw fit to enlighten them in March 1711.
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In September 1706 an expedition to Spain under the command of Lord Rivers was on the point of embarkation. Before sailing, Rivers wrote to Secretary Hedges, asking for clarification from Anne on various issues. On 14 September Godolphin informed Rivers that his letters would be shown to the Queen next day – but in the meantime he advised
Rivers not to let the King of Portugal know where the expedition was headed. He nevertheless ended circumspectly, ‘These are only my own notions, you will receive the Queen’s directions upon the subjects of your letters after tomorrow night, from the Secretaries of State’.
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The following day, after his letters had been duly ‘laid before her Majesty’, Robert Harley – by that point a Secretary of State – wrote to Rivers, ‘This is what I have received in command from her Majesty to signify to your Lordship’. Besides the matter of his dealings with the King of Portugal (on which Anne took the same view as Godolphin), Rivers wanted advice on how best to preserve discipline, on which Harley assured him that ‘the Queen is extremely pleased with the remarks you make on it’. He also wished to be instructed how he was to pay for carriage, food and artillery, and how to set about obtaining forage, and arrange for payment of the troops. The Queen’s answers on all these points were sent to him.
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Not long after this, Rivers requested guidance about whether he could grant the Spaniards freedom of navigation, saying he would ‘be very cautious in doing it without her Majesty’s directions therein’. No definitive answer was sent until after the Queen had returned from Newmarket and reviewed the matter in Cabinet. Three months later Rivers wrote home that he needed more horses for next year’s campaign. He suggested obtaining them from Italy, ‘but of this her Majesty is the best judge whether it be feasible or no’. Clearly he did not mean this literally, but instead expected to receive instructions from the Queen and her ministers, who had indeed discussed this very question days earlier in Cabinet.
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While it would of course be absurd to suggest that Anne was the lynchpin of Britain’s struggle against France in the War of Spanish Succession, equally it would be wrong to suppose that it was conducted without reference to her. Far from leaving its planning and direction wholly in the hands of men who served her, she involved herself in such matters to a greater degree than is sometimes imagined. It is true that she was never called upon to make decisions unaided, but considerations relating to the war effort demanded much attention from her, and added to the burdens she faced as a working monarch.

In the early years of the reign Godolphin and Marlborough exercised considerable influence over diplomatic appointments and policy. Even when overseas, Marlborough had no doubt that he would always be consulted before important decisions on foreign relations were taken. In
September 1702 he declared to Heinsius, the Grand Pensionary of Holland, ‘I believe the treaty with Denmark is very far from being near a conclusion … I dare assure you that the Queen will never do anything of this consequence without having first my opinion’. Within a few years, one ambassadorial secretary formed the impression that in his dealings with foreign powers, Godolphin was taking too much upon himself. In August 1707 this man was shocked when Godolphin asked the British ambassador to Venice to find out if the Venetians were prepared to join the Grand Alliance, even though orders ‘of that great moment’ should not have been sent unless ‘signed at top and bottom by her Majesty’. Such irregularities, the ambassador’s secretary implied, had become habitual with Godolphin. Yet though there clearly were occasions when the Queen was bypassed, her role in maintaining relations with foreign powers was far from negligible. Having been persuaded with great difficulty in 1705 to agree that the Earl of Sunderland should be sent as ambassador to Vienna, she exerted herself to ensure that he carried out his mission in conformity with her own wishes. She summoned her Secretary of State to Windsor so he could ‘take her directions … for anything … to be added’ to Sunderland’s instructions prior to departure. In the later years of her reign, her correspondence with her Lord Treasurer abounds with suggestions regarding diplomatic appointments, showing she took a keen interest in such matters. The fact that on one occasion her primary concern was that the proposed emissary was not a nobleman has been taken as demonstrating her essential shallowness of mind, but in the past there had been complaints about the lowly rank of Britain’s representatives, and certainly Louis XIV would have understood her priorities.
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