On the other hand, the Queen, who was alarmed, and, according to her capability, indignant, on account of her brother’s invasion, perceived the duplicity of those who had so recently assured her that there was not a single Jacobite in the nation. Never before this occurrence had her royal lips been known to mention the Revolution. Her courtiers had universally endeavoured to separate her title to the throne from any connexion with that event; although she had no other claim to the crown than that which was given her by the Act of Settlement. The Queen now, as Parliament was sitting, addressed the Houses; she named the Revolution twice; she received addresses in which the word ‘Pretender’ was applied to her brother: she thus approved that designation, and from this period he is so called in the generality of histories.[139] She declared publicly that she considered those who had brought about the Revolution to be her best friends; and the Whigs as most to be depended upon for the support of her government. She looked to Marlborough for assistance, and, for the first time, cordially agreed with her general, that it was neither for her honour, nor interest, to make the first steps towards a peace,[140] She wrote to him in the most confidential and affectionate terms, signing herself his “humble servant;”[141] and she received from him a respectful and manly answer, assuring her Majesty that the Duke desired to serve his royal mistress “in the army, but not as a minister.”[142] For a while this good understanding lasted, and the Whigs were sanguine of their entire restoration to royal favour; but, as the Queen’s fears subsided, her inclinations returned to their old channel, and her mind yielded again to the influence of Harley. That able and persevering courtier continued, during the whole summer after his dismissal, to entertain a secret correspondence with the Queen. Anne, whose nature was quite on a level with that of the most humble of her household, descended so far as to encourage these stolen conferences. The lessons which she had learned during her depression in the court of William and Mary were retained, when the same inducement to those small manœuvres no longer justified the stratagems which nothing but the dread of tyranny can excuse. To enjoy in privacy the gossip, for it could not be called society, of Mrs. Masham, and the flattery of Harley, “she staid,” says the indignant Duchess, “all the sultry season, even when the Prince was panting for breath, in that small house she had formerly purchased at Windsor; which, though hot as an oven, was then said to be cool, because, from the park, such persons as Mrs. Masham had a mind to bring to her Majesty could be let in privately from the garden.”[143]