The Dukes (49 page)

That apart, Wellington was revered almost as a god. He was thought to be omnipotent, his advice sought in every crisis. From Queen Victoria, who wrote in her journal, "The Duke is the best friend we have", to the Government, who pressed him against his will to be Prime Minister, to the thousands who doffed their hats to him, all had faith in his powers, and respect for his person. It is a pity he allowed himself to be persuaded into the Premiership, for he did not distinguish himself in politics. Even that, however, could not dim the magic of his especial position. Greville said he was midway between the Royal Family and other subjects; he was treated with greater respect than any other person not of royal birth. One amusing instance serves to show the awe which the Duke inspired. The Great Exhibition was due to be opened in Hyde Park, in Paxton's glorious crystal palace, when a potential disaster threatened. Within the glass building were three large elms, and they were so loaded with London sparrows that the birds might well soil and spoil all the goods on show, not to mention the people. Lord John Russell suggested that a regiment of Guards should go in and shoot all the sparrows, until the Prince of Wales pointed out that the glass would be shattered. Lord Palmerston then said that bird lime should be put on the branches; but the sparrows had by this time taken to nesting on the iron girders of the building, so that would not do. In desperation, the Queen said, "Send for the Duke of Wellington." The Duke said that he was no bird- catcher, but nonetheless presented himself at Buckingham Palace as bidden. A consultation was held. The Duke, always a man of few words, went up to the Queen and said simply, "Sparrow hawks, ma'am." In due course the sparrows flew out of the crystal building in a body, never to be seen again.
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Nothing can better illustrate the exceptional position of the Duke of Wellington than the occasion of his death, on 14th September 1852, which gave rise to unparalleled national grief. His corpse was brought from Walmer Castle to London on 10th November. As it started its journey, a most unusual thing happened — there was an earthquake in England. The shock was mild, but it was certainly felt, more strongly in Liverpool and Birkenhead than anywhere else. Some people thought there were robbers under the bed, others that it was the cat! Clocks were stopped, and crockery slid from dressers all over the area. Only the animals seem to have recognised instinctively that something more serious was afoot; dogs howled and trembled, cattle lowed and ran amok.
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When the Duke's body arrived in London the earthquake had ceased.

On the first day of the lying-in-state there were scenes of terrifying confusion. A huge multitude surged forward to see the body, and soon found themselves trapped in panic. Children were held aloft to escape suffocation, there were frightful shrieks and screams of agony. Three people were crushed to death, followed by two more on the last day.

The funeral itself was the most impressive ever held, though Greville found it "tawdry, cumbrous, and vulgar".
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The funeral car was drawn by twelve black horses (only six horses drew the Queen's carriage). It weighed eighteen tons, and had been made from the metal of guns captured at Waterloo. One hundred men had taken eighteen days to build the carriage, which can still be seen in the crypt of St Paul's. Behind there followed the Duke's own horse, led by his own groom. In St Paul's there were fifty-four candlesticks, seven feet high, and twelve silver candelabra in front of the bier.
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It was as if the nation could not extend itself far enough to demonstrate its loss.
The Times
wrote: "It was impossible to convey any idea of the emotion felt by the nation, nothing like it had ever been manifested before."
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The French Ambassador, Count Walewski, a natural son of Napoleon I, was reluctant to attend the funeral, and had to be ordered to do so by Louis Napoleon. Baron Brunnow commented: "If this ceremony were intended to bring the Duke to life again, I can conceive your reluctance to appear at it; but as it is only to bury him, I don't see you have anything to complain of."
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When the drums rolled, Queen Victoria burst into tears.

Indeed, not the least astonishing aspect of a remarkable career is the reverence shown by the French towards the man who defeated them. The Duke was never vindictive towards a defeated enemy, a generous quality which he shared with Marlborough. The period of his rule in Paris was even remembered with affection. On one occasion, not long after Waterloo, Wellington was spotted in civilian clothes at the Paris Opera with Lord and Lady Castlereagh. The cry went up, "
Vive Wellington!"
and the conqueror was mobbed on his way out of the theatre. One Frenchman was heard saying to another,
"Mais pourquoi I'applaudissez-vous tant? II nous a toujours battus." "Oui,"
said the other, "
mais il nous a battus en gentithomme."

The French also admired, and envied, and were exasperated by, his imperturbable English phlegm. The Marquise d'Assche wrote : "I would willingly have throttled him from the impatience which his phlegm caused me and the ease of his conversation." There is no better instance of nonchalance than his famous appearance at the Duchess of Richmond's ball, the eve of Waterloo, when the French were threatening, and he put his phlegm to strategic use in showing them that they caused him no particular concern and would not prevent his enjoying his dinner. After eating, Wellington turned to Richmond and whispered a priceless remark. "Have you got a good map in the house?"
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The man known simply to posterity as "The Duke" had been born Arthur Wellesley (or Wesley). The title of Wellington was selected for him by his brother William, "after ransacking the Peerage and examining the map". There was a place in Somerset called Welleslie, and not far away a town called Wellington. "I trust that you will not think there is anything unpleasant or trifling in the name of Wellington," wrote William. "I think you have chosen most fortunately," said Arthur Wellesley.
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It is now recalled by the capital of New Zealand, by a mountain in Tasmania, by the Wellington boot, the Wellington apple, the Wellington barracks, and a giant Californian sequoia tree, not to mention nearly forty London streets called Wellington, seventeen called Wellesley, and over thirty pubs.

Queen Victoria opened Wellington College as his memorial in 1859, while he himself had been present at the opening of Waterloo Bridge in 1817. He had risen through the peerage to Duke in the space of only five years (Viscount 1809, Earl 1812, Marquess 1812, Duke 1814): a unique example. He was also awarded a Spanish dukedom, a Portuguese dukedom, Prince of Waterloo in the Netherlands, and twenty-three separate knighthoods from various countries.

Marlborough's name before elevation to the peerage had been John Churchill, the son of Sir Winston Churchill,
m.p.,
an historian and intense royalist as well as a politician. Sir Winston's parents were John Churchill and Sarah Winston, and his wife was the daughter of Elizabeth Villiers; sister to the Duke of Buckingham, thus bringing a strain of Villiers blood to all succeeding Churchills.

The Churchills had originally come from Dorsetshire, though the claim of descent from one Roger de Courcil, Comrade-in-Arms of William the Conqueror, is probably fanciful. It was Sir Winston who first made the name Churchill a household word, as did his descendant and namesake, our own Sir Winston, 300 years later. The fortunes of the Churchills lay in their close relationship with the Stuarts. Sir Winston's daughter Arabella was mistress to the Duke of York, later James II. She bore him a son, the Duke of Berwick, who fought for the French against Marlborough; and several other children.

Arabella's brother, young John Churchill, was appointed a Page of Honour to the Duke of York. Later, his wife Sarah was made a Lady of the Bedchamber to Princess Anne, whose close friend she became (they called each other "Mrs Morley" and "Mrs Freeman") and over whom she wielded a singular influence. It was John and Sarah Churchill who persuaded Anne to accept William of Orange on the throne of England, as a direct reward for which John was made Earl of Marlborough. His titles were created in three different reigns; he was created Baron Churchill by James II in 1685, Earl of Marlborough by William and Mary in 1689, and Marquess of Blandford and Duke of Marlborough by Queen Anne in 1702, on the Queen's own initiative, without waiting for the recommendation of Parliament. The title of Marlborough was chosen, although he had no property there, because his mother had been distantly related to the Ley family, who had been Earls of Marlborough in the previous century. In 1704 he won his magnificent victory at Blenheim, with 22,000 acres and the building of Blenheim Palace as his reward.

Had he not been such a splendid general, Marlborough would most likely have been overshadowed by his tempestuous wife, Sarah; she it was who had the more dominant personality, sweeping not only her husband but Queen Anne herself into its power. It is interesting that Wellington should defend Marlborough, praise his sagacity, on the grounds that "his errors were due to his wife".
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She has bequeathed some of her extravagant characteristics to generations of Churchills, most noticeably her pugnacity and her quarrelsome nature. The former emerged particularly in the late Sir Winston, who exuded so much pugnacity that the surplus was absorbed and assumed by his compatriots in time of crisis, while the latter has been the cause of constant bickerings, squabbles, feuds and ruptures among the Dukes of Marlborough through the ages.

Duchess Sarah quarrelled with everyone, with her family, her lawyers, her architect Vanbrugh. She was forever involved in one lawsuit or another. Hervey called her "Old Aetna" or "Vesuvius", always on the point of explosion, and when he saw her coming, looking "cross as the devil", he would make himself scarce. There are famous stories of Sarah's impulsive temper. Furious with her grand-daughter Lady Bateman, whom she suspected of encouraging the Marlborough heir in a disastrous marriage, she took some black paint and smeared it over a portrait of Lady Bateman on the wall, writing on the frame: "Now her face is as black as her heart." She had very beautiful long hair. In the midst of an argument with her husband, she cut it all off in front of him and threw it on the floor. (After his death the hair was found in one of his private drawers.) Lesser folk trembled at her approach. She went one day to consult her lawyer in his chambers, but had made no appointment. He was out to supper. She told his clerk she would wait, but at midnight she flew into a rage and left. The clerk said, "I don't know who she was, she wouldn't give a name, but she swore so much she must be a lady of quality."
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Sarah gave a great dinner on her birthday to all her brood of children and grand­children. She compared the family to a great tree, with herself the root and all her branches flourishing about her. Her grandson John Spencer (who was her favourite) remarked that the branches would flourish more when the root was underground.
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It took some courage to bait the formidable old woman thus.

Sir John Vanbrugh, the architect of Blenheim, had the devil's own job trying to extract payment from Sarah, whom he called "that wicked woman of Marlborough". "I have been forced into Chancery by that BBBB old B the Duchess of Marlborough", Vanbrugh wrote to his friend Tonson. "She has got an injunction on me by her friend the good Lord Chancellor, who declared that I was never employed by the Duke and therefore had no demand upon his estate for my services at Blenheim. I have prevailed with Sir Robert Walpole to help me in a scheme which I proposed to him by which I get my money in spite of the hussy's teeth."
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There is another side of Sarah Marlborough which has also been passed down to her posterity, and which generally receives less attention, and that is her gentle, epigrammatic wisdom, with a gift for well-structured, beguiling expression in words. She once wrote, "I am very fond of my three dogs, they have all of them gratitude, wit, and good sense: things very rare to be found in this country. They are fond of going out with me; but when I reason with them, and tell them it is not proper, they submit, and watch for my coming home, and meet me with as much joy as if I had never given them good advice."
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She also said she was not only sure of going to Heaven but of obtaining one of the best places.
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The Marlborough succession did not begin well. John and Sarah's only son died in 11703, depriving the dukedom of an heir. An Act of Parliament was passed in 1706 enabling the title to pass through the female line, which meant that the eldest daughter, Henrietta, became 2nd Duchess of Marlborough in her own right (1681-1733). Unfortunately, her son and heir was a reprobate who liked "low" company and had nothing to recommend him. He died at the age of thirty-one, probably after a drinking bout, a sad unlamented character. If we are to believe Hervey, his mother shed no tears; she said that "anybody who had any regard to
Papa's
memory must be glad that the Duke of Marlborough was now not in danger of being represented in the next generation by one who must have brought any name he bore into contempt".
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The title then passed to Henrietta's nephew, son of the great Duke's second daughter, who had married Charles Spencer, Earl of Sunderland. All subsequent Dukes are descended from this alliance of a male Spencer and a female Churchill (the family name is now Spencer-Churchill). The Spencers gave to future generations their least attractive characteristics. Spencer's father, 2nd Earl of Sunderland, was one of the most wicked, unprincipled villains in English public life. He was happy as long as he was at the centre of affairs, and would not scruple to betray allegiances in order to remain there.