“No consideration proper to myself,” writes the Duchess, “could have induced me to trouble the Queen again, after our last conversation. But I was overcome by the consideration of Lord Marlborough, Lord Sunderland, and the public interest, and wrote in the best manner I could to the Queen, June seventh, 1710, begging, for Lord Marlborough’s sake, that she would not give him such a blow, of which I dreaded the consequence; putting her in mind of her letter about the victory of Blenheim, and adding the most solemn assurances, that I had not so much as a wish to remove Mrs. Masham, and that all the noise that there had been about an address for that purpose had been occasioned by Lord Marlborough’s discontents at that time, which most people thought were just. To this the Queen wrote a very short and harsh answer, complaining that I had broken my promise of not saying anything of politics or of Mrs. Masham; and concluding that it was plain, from this ill usage, what she was to expect for the future.”[171] There is little doubt but that the Duchess’s interference in this design, as she herself says, hastened its execution; certainly it did not retard it; for Lord Sunderland was dismissed from his office, greatly to the joy of the high church party, who extolled the Queen for her spirit in delivering herself from that arbitrary junto by whom she had been kept in an inglorious dependence. The Duke of Beaufort, one of this party, on appearing to pay his respects to her Majesty, complimented her “that he could now salute her as Queen indeed.” But poor Anne, unfortunately, scarcely ever enjoyed more than the shadow of that authority which was disputed by factions, both equally intent upon personal aggrandisement. Changes in the ministry were now of daily occurrence. Henry St. John, the eloquent advocate of Tory principles, was made secretary of state. The Duke of Marlborough, whose skill in discovering the depth of any man’s capacity was acknowledged to be most profound, had already prognosticated that he would become an eminent statesman; but he wanted the firm foundation of integrity. Lord Chancellor Cowper resigned the seals, at first much to the discomposure of the Queen, who, with an unusual earnestness, begged him to keep them one day longer; but the next day, having consulted Harley and Masham, she received them readily, and gave them to Sir Simon Harcourt, an avowed adherent of the Pretender.[172] Yet it was not until after other steps had been taken that affairs arrived at that point, according to the opinions of Godolphin and the Duchess, in which the game might be considered as utterly lost. For some months, indeed, the Whigs agreed to unite more firmly on these occasions, and determined that none of them should think of quitting, “but should rub on in that disagreeable way as long as they could.” Eventually, however, the current against them proved to be too strong even for an unanimous cabinet to contend against.