“If I lose mine honour,
I lose myself.”
Who comes hither? A soldier of commanding stature and strikingly handsome face; dignified, yet winning in manner; blessed, it would seem, with all possible gifts and graces. He is John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough, Prince of the Holy Roman Empire—one of the greatest military geniuses who ever lived, the victor of one of the decisive battles of the world, the man who overthrew the vast fabric of power which Lewis the Fourteenth had erected, the general who never fought a battle that he did not win and never besieged a place that he did not take! But do not be dazzled by his noble appearance and his military glory. His genius is transcendent, his courage is of the highest order, his personal graces are remarkable, yet he goes down to posterity as one of the greatest and meanest of mankind. Treacherous, ungrateful, sordid, and miserly, he is despicable as a man though unrivalled as a diplomatist and glorious as a soldier.
William the Third died before his work was done. The long duel between him and Lewis was only at its opening stages when he passed away, after a life of stubborn resistance to his invincible foe. His mantle fell on the shoulders of John Churchill, and he it was who finished the task which William did not live long enough to accomplish. Churchill was the son of a Devonshire cavalier, and early became a man of fashion and pleasure at the court of Charles the Second. At seventeen years of age he was an ensign in the army, and at twenty-two the colonel of an English regiment in the service of France. By this time the “handsome Englishman,” as Marshal Turenne dubbed him, had already shown the qualities of a great soldier. When an advance post was given up to the enemy, Turenne actually wagered a supper that Marlborough would recover it with half the number of men who had abandoned it, and the wager was won. He was absolutely fearless, bold and adventurous, cool and unruffled in temper, calm and far-seeing in judgment, and capable of enduring all sorts of fatigue.
Thanks to the friendship of the Duke of York, afterwards James the Second, to whose fortunes he attached himself, he was raised to the peerage. At the time of Monmouth’s rising he was major-general of the forces, and the victory at Sedgemoor was largely due to his coolness and resource in rallying the royal troops when thrown into confusion by the night attack of the rebels.
Marlborough owed much of his rapid promotion to his wife. In 1678 he married a penniless beauty of the court named Sarah Jennings. She was a lady of violent temper and a most domineering disposition, but she also possessed a strange power of winning and retaining affection. Marlborough’s love for his wife “ran like a thread of gold through the dark web of his career.” He hated letter-writing, chiefly because his spelling was so bad, yet in the midst of his marches and sieges, and even from the battlefield itself, he constantly wrote his wife letters breathing the most passionate devotion.
When Marlborough wooed and won Sarah Jennings, she was the bosom friend and constant companion of the Princess Anne, whom she had known from girlhood. Soon she obtained complete mastery over the weak and feeble nature of the princess, who became a mere puppet in her hands. The friends laid aside all the formalities of rank in their intercourse; Anne was Mrs. Morley, and the duchess Mrs. Freeman. Anne saw with her favourite’s eyes, heard with her ears, and spoke with her tongue. If she attempted to show one spark of independence, she was immediately crushed and deafened by the violent reproaches of the woman who was nominally her servant but really her tyrant. Anne’s husband, Prince George of Denmark, did not count. He was considered the most harmless and stupid man in the three kingdoms. “I have tried him drunk,” said Charles the Second, “and I have tried him sober, and there is nothing in him.”
Counting upon his wife’s complete control of the princess, Marlborough soon began to plot against William. His plan was to take advantage of the king’s unpopularity and drive him from the throne in favour of Anne. The plot was discovered, and William, usually calm and cool, was roused to the utmost indignation. “Were I and my Lord Marlborough private persons,” he cried, “the sword would have to settle between us.” At once the earl was stripped of his offices, and his wife was driven from St. James’s. Anne, however, refused to be parted from her friend, and left the court with her. Then Marlborough opened a treacherous correspondence with the deposed king at St. Germains. He basely revealed the plan of William’s intended expedition to Brest, expressed his deep sorrow at having deserted his rightful sovereign, and obtained a written promise of pardon. The attack on Brest was a complete failure; the enemy, thanks to Marlborough, was forewarned and forearmed, and more than a thousand Englishmen were slain. This piece of foul treachery is the blackest stain on Marlborough’s character.
Queen Mary died childless in 1694, and Anne became the acknowledged heiress to the throne. William was obliged to recall her to court, and with her returned the Marlboroughs, who were reluctantly received into favour once more. William hated the earl’s baseness and treachery, but he was obliged to recognize his splendid gifts, and to declare that he, of all men, was the fittest to carry on the great work of checking the ambition of Lewis. Marlborough was therefore sent to Flanders at the head of the army, and had only just taken command when William met with the accident which was the immediate cause of his death.
The succession of Anne practically made the Marlboroughs King and Queen of England. Three days later Marlborough was appointed captain-general of the British forces at home and abroad, and was entrusted with the entire direction of the war. Offices and gifts were showered upon his wife, and the ministers were chosen from his friends and adherents. Most of these men had been in treasonable correspondence with James; but now, in accordance with the loose notions of honour prevalent at the time, they abandoned him, and for their own selfish ends determined to keep Anne on the throne, secure the Protestant succession, and proceed with the war.