CHAPTER XII
CONCLUSION
Almost before Captain Fairburn had read the last word of Matthew's communication, so cheering and so strangely brought into his hands, the French signal to retreat sounded loud all over the field, a mournful sound to one of the two listeners, a delight to the other, George and Oborne glanced into each other's face. "What will you do?" the former asked.
"I am your prisoner and defenceless; it is not for me to say," the Irishman answered simply.
"Nay, not so, good fellow. You shall do exactly as you prefer, so far as I am concerned. I can do no less for you."
The prisoner shrugged his shoulders and muttered something about catching it hot, if he ran, to which the captor replied, "So you would, I am afraid, if any of our men got near you. We have lost heavily, and our temper's a bit ruffled for the moment. If you care to come with me as my prisoner I'll see you through safe. What's more, I'll do my best to get you exchanged for the man you saved."
"Thank you, captain; that's my best card to play, as things are going. But I'd have given something to have it the other way about."
"Of course you would, my good fellow. It's the fortune of war; I'm up to-day, you're up to-morrow. And you've no cause to be anything but mighty proud of yourselves—you of the Irish Brigade. I never saw better stuff than you've turned out this day."
"And many's the thanks, son. A bit o' praise comes sweet even from an enemy."
"Enemies only professionally, Oborne; in private life we're from to-day the best of friends."
At a later hour Sergeant Oborne informed Fairburn that he had carried Captain Blackett's paper about with him for some little time, having had no opportunity of passing it on to any likely Englishman, or having forgotten it when he had the opportunity.
The slaughter at Malplaquet was terrible on the side of the Allies, amounting to 20,000, or one-fifth of the whole number engaged. The French, who had fought under shelter, lost only about one half of that total. Mons surrendered shortly afterwards, and the victory was complete, the road to Paris open. Yet what a victory! Villars declared to his royal master that if the French were vouchsafed such another defeat, there would be left to them no enemies at all.
This proved to be the Duke of Marlborough's last great battle and his last great victory. "A deluge of blood" it had been. And, what was worse, rarely has a great victory produced so little fruit. Marlborough had quite expected to see his success at Malplaquet put an end to the war. It did nothing of the kind; for two more years the war continued. The rest of its story, however, may be told in a very few words.
Louis XIV once more asked for peace, and made certain offers to the Allies, but these would be contented with nothing less than the expulsion of Philip from Spain. The conference, at Gertruydenberg, therefore came to nothing. This was in the early part of 1710. The work of capturing the fortresses in French Flanders and the province of Artois was proceeded with, and in 1711 Marlborough took Bouchain, in France. But the Duke had apparently lost heart to some extent, and there was no very vigorous action. At home the war had become hateful to a very large proportion of the people; its cost in men and money frightened them.
The year 1710 was a busy and a decisive time in Spain. At first success seemed to lean to the side of the Allies, General Stanhope, the English leader, defeating the French and Spanish at Almanza, and the Dutch General Staremberg doing the like at Saragossa. Charles the Archduke, styling himself Charles III, now for the first time entered Madrid. It was also the last time. Presently Stanhope was badly defeated at the important battle of Brihuega, and Staremberg shortly afterwards lost at Villa Viciosa. This decided matters in Spain. Charles was compelled to flee the country, and Philip's throne was finally secured to him.
The end of the war came in an altogether unexpected and strange fashion. This was the sudden downfall of the Marlboroughs and of the Whig interest. For some time the Queen had been tired of the Duchess of Marlborough, and had been inclining more and more to Mrs. Masham, formerly Abigail Hill, a cousin of Harley, through whom the minister was intriguing for the overthrow of the Churchills. Then Dr. Sacheverell, a London clergyman, afterwards so notorious, had preached violently against the Whigs, who were foolish enough to impeach him. Sacheverell was suspended for three years, and in consequence became exceedingly popular among the Tories, and their party gained greatly in the country. Moreover the writings of certain pamphleteers tended much to damage the cause of the Whigs. Dean Swift was at once the ablest and the bitterest of these. Harley managed to get Godolphin dismissed from office. And one day, early in 1711, Anne suddenly took from the Duchess her various offices at Court, while later in the same year the Duke himself was deprived of his command of the army, and was succeeded by the Irish peer Ormonde. He, however, was ordered to take no active steps in the war which was still in theory going on. A general election came soon after, and the Tories had a large majority over the Whigs. The Tories came into office, and all Whig members of the Whig ministry were dismissed. From that time to the present the principle has obtained of having the King's Ministers, or the Cabinet, with the other chief administrators, drawn from the same side in politics.
The Tories now sought to bring to a close a war that had become so unpopular. Louis XIV was also suing for peace. Then in 1711 the Emperor Joseph died, and his brother the Archduke succeeded him as Charles VI. It was now useless to trouble further to support or oppose the claims of either candidate for the Spanish throne. Spain might as well be in the hands of a Frenchman as be assigned to the powerful Emperor. It would have been absurd, in short, for England to go on fighting for Charles.
The famous treaty of Utrecht, in 1713, brought the war to an end. By this treaty several important matters were settled. Philip retained Spain, but gave up for ever his claim to the throne of France. Louis acknowledged the Hanoverian succession, and gave back to the Dutch the line of "barrier fortresses" about which so much blood had been shed. France gave up to Britain Newfoundland and some other possessions in North America, and Spain resigned Gibraltar and Minorca. The Emperor received Milan, Sardinia, and Naples. The rest of the Allies received little or nothing, and loud was the outcry they raised.
George Fairburn did not remain abroad till the conclusion of peace. During the year 1710, at a time when things were at a standstill in the Netherlands, he received word that his father had been killed in an accident at the pit. With a heavy heart he sought permission to return home for a period, and in pursuing his application he found himself in the presence of the great commander-in-chief himself. To his delight Marlborough recognized him at once. The Duke was full of sympathy, and not only readily granted the young captain any reasonable leave of absence he might desire, but held out his hand with a smile, as he dismissed him: "Major Fairburn, you go with my sympathy and my regard. I have few young fellows under me of whom I think more highly." And in spite of his terrible bereavement the newly-promoted officer left his master's presence with a swelling heart.
With him travelled home Matthew Blackett, whose release George, to his delight, had managed, though with difficulty. The gallant Sergeant Oborne had also been exchanged for an English prisoner in French hands. An additional pleasure to both George and Matthew was an intimation that Matthew, too, had been raised to the rank of major in recognition of his excellent service throughout the war. As it proved, neither officer ever served under Marlborough again.
The months flew by. Mr. Fairburn was found to have left a far larger fortune than the world had dreamt of, the sum amounting to fully fifty thousand pounds. George and his ageing mother were rich. Matthew Blackett had taken to the management of the joint collieries, strange to say, and was preparing to leave the army as soon as he could do so conveniently. Major Fairburn, on the other hand, was first and last a soldier, and he hoped some day to have further opportunities of rising in his profession.
The Queen was in a very bad state of health; she might die any day. But the Electress Sophia died first, and her son, Prince George of Hanover, became the next heir to the throne, a prospect not much to the liking of many in England. Some of the leading Tories were making preparations for a revolution in favour of the Pretender, but the death of Anne came before their preparations were complete, and George of Hanover was quietly proclaimed as George I.
Before Marlborough died George Fairburn was a lieutenant-colonel, and, as he happened to be stationed for a time at Windsor, he and his wife, the Mary Blackett of old, had more than once the honour of an invitation to Windsor Park, the Duke's favourite abode, his great palace of Blenheim being not yet ready for him.
We hear of our hero, many long years after all this, a stout old soldier, General Sir George Fairburn, taking part in the memorable chase after the Young Pretender in 1745, and the subsequent great fight at Culloden.
"And I tell you, sir," said Mr. Matthew Blackett, member for Langkirk, as he told the story to a crony in the smoking-room of his club, White's, "I tell you, sir, he trod Culloden Moor with all the vigour and fire he had when we marched with Marlborough to Malplaquet."