The confederate troops, composed of English, Germans, Dutch, and Danes, were all in the highest spirits. The victory of the Schellenberg had heartened them; they had unbounded confidence in their generals. As he mounted his horse that morning Marlborough said quietly, "This day I conquer or die," and officers and men alike caught the infection of his brave, calm spirit.
The ground on which Prince Eugene's division was to be posted was broken by branches of the Nebel and became uneven as it rose towards the hills. For this reason it took the prince some time to get his men into position. Marlborough's force was earlier posted, and he occupied the interval until he should hear from Eugene that all was ready by having prayers read at the head of each regiment. About twelve o'clock a message came from Eugene that he was prepared. "Now, gentlemen, to your posts," cried Marlborough to the officers with whom he had been breakfasting. Up sprang the big Lord Cutts, deputed to open the attack on Blenheim—a gallant leader, nicknamed Salamander from his careless daring under fire. Up sprang General Churchill, and galloped off towards Unterglau, already set on fire by the cannonade. Up sprang General Lumley, hero of the cavalry charge at the Schellenberg. From brigadier to bugler, every man was determined to "conquer or die".
Blenheim was filled with French, seventeen battalions of Tallard's best troops hampering each other's movements there. So strongly was the village defended that the English troops were twice compelled to retire. Marlborough's foreseeing eye marked the urgency of the moment. The enemy must be prevented from pursuing their advantage. In spite of artillery fire in flank and cavalry charges in front he got his horse across the stream and the intervening marshes. Tallard was late in meeting the movement. He allowed the first line of English to form up on his own side of the brook before he ordered a strenuous attack. Then Marlborough reinforced his lines, and having assured himself that they could hold their own, galloped to the left to see how things were faring toward Blenheim.
Meanwhile on the right Eugene had fought with varying success. A dashing cavalry charge broke the enemy's front line, but from the second his horse recoiled, and he brought up his Prussian infantry to stem the tide. At Oberglau also the Prince of Holstein's division was thrown into confusion by the gallant Irish brigade, which flung itself upon the Germans with the fierce valour for which these exiles were renowned. Here, too, Marlborough's all-seeing eye marked the crisis. Galloping to the point of danger, he ordered up battalions and squadrons that had not yet been engaged, and in his turn threw the Irish into confusion.
The summer afternoon was drawing on; for five hours the battle had raged, and neither side had yet gained a substantial advantage. But soon after five, having seen all his cavalry across the Nebel, the duke rode along the front, and gave orders to sound the charge. At the trumpets' blare 8000 horsemen, splendidly mounted, moved up the slope in two lines towards the enemy, first at a gentle trot, quickening their pace until it became a gallop. One slight check from the terrible fire of the French musketeers, then they swept forward irresistibly. The enemy recoiled, broke, fell into disorder, and fled, the infantry towards Hochstadt, the cavalry towards Sondersheim, on the river bank. Then was seen Tallard's fatal mistake in crowding so many men into the narrow streets of Blenheim. Catching the panic from their flying comrades, they turned hither and thither, not knowing how to find safety. Some plunged into the river, only to be borne away on its swift current and drowned. Others sought to escape towards Hochstadt, but every avenue was blocked. In rage and despair they maintained a stubborn fight until the evening dusk descended, and the hopelessness of their plight counselled surrender.
At the head of his shouting cavalry Marlborough himself had chased thirty squadrons down the steep bank of the Danube to destruction. He had but just returned when he was met by an aide-de-camp with a prisoner no less notable than Marshal Tallard himself. The duke put him into his own coach, and sat down to pencil that famous note to his duchess which gave England the first tidings of this glorious victory.
The victorious army bivouacked on the field, taking possession of the enemy's standing tents, with a great store of vegetables and a hundred fat oxen ready skinned for the pot.
During this great action Harry had been hither and thither in all parts of the field, bearing Eugene's orders to his divisional commanders. Of the details of the fight he saw little, but was well pleased at the close of the day when the prince thanked him in the presence of his staff, and invited him to his own supper table.
During the next few weeks the troops marched towards the Rhine, the duke's objective being Landau, which he hoped to take before the close of the campaign. One afternoon Harry went on in advance with Sherebiah from Langenhandel to Weissembourg, to secure quarters for Prince Eugene. His errand accomplished, he was sitting at dinner in the inn when through the open window came the sound of hubbub in the street.
"What is it, Sherry?" he asked.