“Your letter of the 15th came to me but this minute. My Lord Treasurer’s letter, in which it was enclosed, by some mistake was sent to Amsterdam. I would not for anything in my power it had been lost; for it is so very kind, that I would in return lose a thousand lives, if I had them, to make you happy. Before I sat down to write this letter, I took yours that you wrote at Harwich out of my strong box, and have burnt it; but, if you will give me leave, it will be a great pleasure to me to have it in my power to read this dear, dear letter often, and that it may be found in my strong box when I am dead. I do this minute love you better than I ever did in my life before. This letter of yours has made me so happy, that I do from my soul wish we could retire, and not be blamed. What you propose as to coming over, I should be extremely pleased with; for your letter has so transported me, that I think you would be happier in being here than where you are; although I should not be able to see you often. But you will see, by my last letter as well as this, that what you desire is impossible, for I am going up into Germany, where it would be impossible for you to follow me; but love me as you do now, and no hurt can follow me. You have by this kindness preserved my quiet, and I believe my life; for, till I had this letter, I have been very indifferent of what should become of myself. I have pressed this business of carrying an army into Germany, in order to leave a good name behind me, wishing for nothing else but good success. I shall now add that of having a long life, that I may be happy with you.”
Upon the entreaty being renewed in the summer, Marlborough again refused;[[41]] for he was at that time on his march to the Danube, and, in case of an unfortunate issue to his projects, he had no place, as he assured the Duchess, to which he could send her for safety.
“I take it extremely kind,” he writes, “that you persist in desiring to come to me; but I am sure, when you consider that three days hence will be a month, and that we shall be a fortnight longer before we shall get to the Danube, so that you could hardly get to me, and back again to Holland, before it would be time to return to England. Besides, my dear soul, how could I be at ease? for if we should not have good success, I could not put you in any place where you could be safe.”[[42]]
The courageous character of the Duchess was fully requisite to sustain her during the events of the ensuing months of this memorable summer. August drew on, and the crisis of the war approached. We know not how she was supported through anxieties multiplied by rumour, and embittered by the slanderous accusations of the envious; but the Duke her husband had one resource, which never failed—he trusted in Providence. Whilst weaker minds vainly confide in their own strength, or in the effect of circumstances, which are as reeds driven to and fro by a mighty wind, the great Marlborough, humbling himself before his supreme Creator, had recourse to prayer. Previous to the engagement which crowned his fame, he received the holy sacrament, and “devoted himself to the Almighty Ruler, and Lord of Hosts,” whom it might please to sustain him in the hour of battle, or to receive him into everlasting peace if he fell.[[43]] There are those who will justly think that the pious ordinances of our religion were profaned by the cause of bloodshed; and that an all-merciful Father would look down with displeasure upon the deliberate destruction of thousands, even when projected with the purest and most patriotic motives. The better sense of our own peaceful times has brought us to a due conviction of the wickedness of all war not defensive: that in which Marlborough was engaged may, nevertheless, be considered to have borne that character.
When the great victory was won, Marlborough’s first thoughts were of the Queen, of the people, of his wife. After a battle which lasted five hours, having been himself sixteen hours on horseback, and whilst still in pursuit of the enemy, Marlborough tore a leaf from his pocket-book, and with a black-lead pencil wrote these hasty lines:
“August 13, 1704.
“I have not time to say more, but to beg you will give my duty to the Queen, and let her know that her army has had a glorious victory. M. Tallard and the other generals are in my coach,[[44]] and I am following the rest. The bearer, my aide-de-camp, will give her an account of what has passed. I shall do it in a day or two by another more at large.
“Marlborough.”
The battle of Blenheim silenced everything but acclamations of joy and gratitude. The Duke, after various other successes, returned to England on the fourteenth of December, 1704, worn out with hardships, rather than elated with success. Throughout the whole of the campaign, his coolness had been combined with an ardent courage, which never lost sight, for an instant, of the interests of humanity, in so far as the great lessons of forbearance handed down to us can be united with the profession of arms. His modesty, as he returned, bringing with him as a prisoner the famous Marshal Tallard, was no less remarkable. Abroad, he was treated as a prince, and he consented to wear the character for the benefit of that cause which he espoused, and for the honour of those allies whom he represented; but, on returning home, Marlborough became again the subject, the least obtrusive of men; and, “in point of courtesy,” on an equal footing with the lowest in England.[[45]]
This note was written on a slip of paper torn from a memorandum-book; it had probably been taken from some commissary’s bill, as it was written, along with the important intelligence, on a list of tavern expenses, and an entry of bread furnished to the troops. The precious despatch is preserved in the archives of Blenheim. Colonel Parker, who carried it to the Queen, requested, instead of the usual donation of five hundred pounds, to be honoured by the gift of her Majesty’s picture. The Queen granted the permission, and presented him with her miniature; and the gallant officer chose to be represented himself, by the pencil of Kneller, as wearing the miniature, with the despatch in his hand, and the battle in the back-ground.[[46]]