In 1716 the Duke of Marlborough was attacked with a paralytic fit, from the effects of which he only partially recovered.  To restore his health, he went to Bath,—­then the fashionable and favorite watering-place, whose waters were deemed beneficial to invalids; and here it was one of the scandals of the day that the rich nobleman would hobble from the public room to his lodgings, in a cold, dark night, to save sixpence in coach-hire.  His enjoyments were now few and transient.  His nervous system was completely shattered, after so many labors and exposures in his numerous campaigns.  He lingered till 1722, when he died leaving a fortune of a million and a half pounds sterling, besides his vast estates.  No subject at that time had so large an income.  He left a military fame never surpassed in England,—­except by Wellington,—­and a name unstained by cruelty.  So distinguished a man of course received at his death unparalleled funeral honors.  He was followed to his temporary resting-place in the vaults of Westminster by the most imposing procession that England had ever seen.

The Duchess of Marlborough was now the richest woman in England.  Whatever influence proceeds from rank and riches she still possessed, though the titles and honors of the dukedom descended by act of Parliament, in 1706, to the Countess of Godolphin, with whom she was at war.  The Duchess was now sixty-two, with unbroken health and inextinguishable ambition.  She resided chiefly at Windsor Lodge, for she held for life the office of ranger of the forest.  It was then that she was so severely castigated by Pope in his satirical lines on “Atossa,” that she is said to have sent L1000 to the poet, to suppress the libel,—­her avarice and wrath giving way to her policy and pride.  For twenty years after the death of her husband she continued an intriguing politician, but on ill-terms with Sir Robert Walpole, the prime minister, whom she cordially hated, more because of money transactions than political disagreement.  She was a very disagreeable old woman, yet not without influence, if she was without friends.  She had at least the merit of frankness, for she concealed none of her opinions of the King, nor of his ministers, nor of distinguished nobles.  She was querulous, and full of complaints and exactions.  One of her bitterest complaints was that she was compelled to pay taxes on her house in Windsor Park.  She would even utter her complaints before servants.  Litigation was not disagreeable to her if she had reason on her side, whether she had law or not.

It was not the good fortune of this strong-minded but unhappy woman to assemble around her in her declining years children and grandchildren who were attached to her.  She had alienated even them.  She had no intimate friends.  “A woman not beloved by her own children can have but little claim to the affections of others.”  As we have already said, the Duchess was at open variance with her oldest daughter Henrietta, the Countess of Godolphin, to