Next year Marlborough began to attack the great line of fortifications which then extended almost from Antwerp to Namur. He proposed to fight a decisive action near to the field of Waterloo, but was prevented from doing so by the persistent opposition of the Dutch. At the end of 1705 the position of affairs was “as you were.” Next year, however, Marlborough again covered himself with glory by destroying a French army at Ramillies. The effect of the victory was enormous. The French garrisons were panic-stricken, and place after place fell. “It really looks more like a dream than the truth,” wrote Marlborough. Before long he was master of the whole of Belgium. Prince Eugene also fared well in Italy, where lie drove the French troops across the Alps. Austrian and British troops also entered Spain, where they met with a stubborn resistance and made but little progress.
In 1708 Marlborough and Eugene won another great victory at Oudenarde. The French generals would not act together, and consequently their troops were thrown into disorder. A long, running fight on the heights of Oudenarde followed, and the French right wing was cut to pieces. The remainder of the army, flying back to France, was pursued, and the fortress of Lille was captured. Lewis begged for peace; but the allies offered him terms which he could not accept, and so, much against his will, the war went on.
Next year (1709) Marlborough fought his last battle, and again defeated the French at Malplaquet, in what he called a “very murdering battle.” The French position was very strong, with a narrow front protected on both sides by thick woods and heavy batteries. Nevertheless, after a series of desperate assaults, he met with his usual success, though his victory was dearly bought with a great sacrifice of life. Marlborough was deeply affected by the horrors of the scene, and spoke with real feeling of his misery at seeing so many of his old comrades killed. The British nation was now weary of the war, and ready to bring it to a close. Peace was signed at Utrecht in 1713.
Long before the treaty was signed, Marlborough, once the darling of the nation, was in dire disgrace. He had gone into the war as a Tory, but during its continuance had allied himself with the Whigs, and by 1708 the ministry almost entirely consisted of men of his new party. Anne was at heart a Tory, and she greatly disliked the change. Indeed, she only agreed to the appointment of the Whig leader, Lord Sunderland, because Marlborough threatened to resign and the duchess fiercely upbraided her for daring to have inclinations of her own. Anne was now tired of the Marlboroughs, and was only waiting for an opportunity to throw off their yoke. A Mrs. Masham, cousin of the duchess, had contrived to usurp the position of “Mrs. Freeman,” and she now encouraged the queen to rebel. A bitter quarrel broke out between the queen and the duchess on the occasion of the “Te Deum” for the victory of Oudenarde. The duchess had selected certain jewels for the queen to wear, but Anne rejected them, whereupon there was a furious scene. Violent quarrels and angry letters followed, but peace was patched up for a time, though the end was fast drawing near.
In 1710 a clergyman, named Dr. Sacheverell, in the course of a dull, foolish sermon at St. Paul’s, preached the old Tory doctrine of the divine right of kings. Very injudiciously, and against Marlborough’s advice, the Whig ministers determined to prosecute him for the sermon. The trial resolved itself into a great struggle between the two parties, and Sacheverell became a martyr. The nation generally supported him, and a storm of hatred arose against the Whigs. Thereupon the queen dismissed them from office, restored the Tories, sent “Mrs. Freeman” about her business, and removed Marlborough from his command. It is said that he actually went on his knees to the queen and begged her to let him retain the gold key which was the symbol of his office. There was a final interview between the queen and the duchess, at which the latter shed floods of tears, but could not shake Anne’s new-found determination. All was over, and “Mrs. Freeman” set about removing the brass locks from her apartments in the palace, and giving orders for the removal of the marble mantel-pieces and other fixtures.
The Tories, headed by Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke, a subtle traitor in secret correspondence with the “old Pretender,” now wreaked their vengeance on Marlborough. He was charged with embezzling public money, and the charge was only too true, though it is but fair to say that sums of money thus obtained were generally regarded as the customary perquisites of his office. With all his greatness, Marlborough had a mean and miserable soul. It has been said that he was perhaps the only really great man who ever loved money for its own sake. He was actually accused of sending officers unnecessarily into the thick of the fight, so that he might fill his pocket by selling the commissions of those who fell.
Instead of answering his accusers he fled to the Continent, where he remained in voluntary exile until news reached him of Anne’s last illness. He landed at Dover on the day of her death. The new king, George the First, restored him to his command and his honours; but two years later he had a paralytic stroke, followed by another. His great physical strength, hardly tried by the fatigues of his many campaigns, and his brilliant intellect, broken down by the stress and anxieties of his labours and responsibilities, began to give way. He spent his declining days in riding, playing with his grandchildren, and keeping minute accounts of his most trifling expenditure. Even when old and infirm, it was said that he walked in order to save sixpence for a chair. He died on June 16, 1722, and was buried with great splendour in Westminster Abbey. So passes Marlborough. He leaves a stained memory, it is true, but let us not dwell upon his vices and failings. Let us rather remember how—
“Calm and serene, he drives the furious blast;
And pleased th’ Almighty’s orders to perform,
Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm.”