CHAP. X. 1714. 67. ity in war, his soldiers. which he exercised over the discordant and selfish heads of the Alliance. It at once ranged the generals and chiefs of his heterogeneous army in willing obedience around the standards of a chief whom they not only obeyed as a commander, but loved as a man, and induced the sovereigns and their ministers to become the willing instruments of the great designs which he had in contemplation. He often had great difficulties to contend with in smoothing down the asperities and stilling the jealousies of rival cabinets, when at a distance; but he never had any in reconciling them, when he could leave his headquarters and be personally present at their courts. He himself said to M. de Torcy that the holding together of the Alliance for so long a period, so that so many different powers acted as one man, was a miracle which could be ascribed only to Heaven. It was indeed a miracle, but the miracle was found in the disposition of his own breast. The benevolence of heart and suavity of disposition His human- which was so conspicuous in Marlborough's manner, and care of appeared not less clearly in the humane and temperate manner in which he conducted the operations of war. That he was frequently obliged to do severe and desolating acts, is to say only that he was the general at the head of a great army; for unhappily war, which deals in human destruction, cannot be carried on but by a frequent recurrence to such measures. But no man suffered more under the cruel necessity which sometimes commanded acts of severity, few made such efforts to evade them, and none, when the necessity had passed, did more to heal the wounds which had been inflicted, and assuage the suffering that had been occasioned. X. 1714. The military writers on the Continent-in particular CHAP. Dumont, and the biographer to whom Napoleon committed the task of writing his life-celebrate him as the true author of the humane system of modern warfare; that system which, equally removed from the desolating cruelty of savages and the interested courtesy of feudal times, sees in a prisoner neither a foc which is to be destroyed nor a captive who is to be ransomed, but a brother who is to be succoured. His humanity, after the battle was over, was always as conspicuous as his skill in providing for victory. His first care was to tend the wounded and get them securely placed in hospitals, without distinction of friend or foe; and he often, in particular at Malplaquet, divided the whole of his own Hist. de money at the time in his possession among the officers v. 125. who had been made prisoners among his enemies.1 1 Capefigue, Louis XIV. imity when his enemies missed from The same disposition of mind rendered him capable 68. of bearing, with equal temper and equanimity, the His equannumerous crosses which he met with in his career, and assailed by the flagrant injustice and ingratitude which signalised and disits close. During his campaigns, he was constrained on office. many occasions, and those, in general, the most important, to see victory snatched from his grasp by the jealousy of the generals placed under his orders, or the treachery and incapacity of the Dutch deputies placed as viceroys over him; but the disappointment, though keenly felt, never betrayed him into an angry expression, not merely in public, but in his most secret and confidential correspondence. At the close of his career he was assailed by all the arts which malignity could suggest or falsehood invent, in order to discredit his actions, and expose his character to obloquy; but they never X. 1714. CHAP. betrayed him into an expression unworthy of his character, or beneath his reputation. Though peculiarly sensitive to, and perhaps unreasonably hurt by, the libels with which he was assailed, he made no attempt to defend himself, except against charges in Parliament, and was content to let his deeds speak for themselves, his character vindicate itself. This lofty disposition was one great cause of the increase of the libels which appeared against him, and of the unjust obloquy which so long hung over his memory; for he disdained to explain many things which appeared at first sight suspicious, but which, when their real nature was disclosed, redounded most to his credit. Thus he bore with patience the charges so frequently brought against him of prosecuting the war for his own advantage, and omitting many opportunities of bringing it to a successful issue and his reason was, that the first could not be refuted without violating the diplomatic secrets which he was bound to conceal and the last, without disclosing the incapacity of the officers under his command, or the obstacles thrown in his way by the deputies appointed to control his conduct. He was equally proof against the malice of Slangenberg, the ingratitude of Mrs Masham, and the malevolence of Harley and Bolingbroke. 69. nimity in others. Marlborough had one great quality, perhaps the most His magna- decisive mark of a noble mind-viz., generosity in judgjudging of ing and speaking of others. He was utterly destitute of the envy, jealousy, and littleness which unhappily so often disfigure and disgrace minds in other respects the most splendidly endowed. Incapable of harbouring such feelings in his own breast, he was equally so of suspecting their existence in the bosoms of others; and the opposition which so long thwarted, and at last overturned him, was in a great degree owing to this lofty indifference. He could not be brought to believe that Harley and Bolingbroke, whom he had introduced into office, and raised to distinction, could be in league against him he warmed the serpents in his bosom till they stung him to death. His warm friendship for, and cordial admiration of, Prince Eugene, which was so fully and fondly returned, is perhaps the most remarkable feature in the character of each, and the most characteristic of the elevated and magnanimous turn of both their minds. It is sufficiently rare to see the friendship of an Orestes and Pylades in private life, even among those who have been born and bred together. But to find it existing between heroes who are rivals in glory and associates in undertakings, and who have been introduced to each other, for the first time, in middle life, when each was at the zenith of his reputation, is so rare that, in the whole history of mankind, it is not to be found in any other persons similarly situated. CHAP. X. 1714. 70. putation of being ad verse to peace and money. No charges were so generally brought against Marlborough, during his life, and have been so generally False imcredited since his death, as those of having prolonged the against him war for his own advantage, and of having been parsimonious and avaricious in his disposition. Yet no charges fond of were not only more unfounded, but more directly the reverse of the truth. So far from desiring to prolong the war, his whole efforts were directed to a course of operations, generally thwarted, which would at once have terminated it; and there is scarcely one of his private letters, during his long career, which does not speak of his anxious CHAP. X. He was not averse to longings for peace and repose. peace in general, but to that kind of peace which the 1714. Tories supported, which sacrificed all the objects for which the war had been undertaken. Even during his life, those who knew him best were aware how little the alleged love of money really affected his character. "He was so very great a man," said Bolingbroke, " that I forgot he had that vice." But, in truth, he had not the vice. He had the prudent habits which generally distinguish those who have their fortune to make; and he incurred the reputation for love of money which those in general do, among the great, who are not running in debt. Mankind can seldom bear success in their equals in two different lines at once they can tolerate fortune in a merchant and fame in a general, but fortune in a famed general is utterly insupportable. In great things, however, he had the same magnanimity in money transactions that he had in everything else. He repeatedly refused the government of the Netherlands, with its emoluments of £60,000 a-year, lest the appointment should distract the harmony of the Alliance; he spent £100,000 on Marlborough House, in London; he bequeathed £50,000 to complete the buildings at Blenheim. His liberality to his children and relations was unbounded; his economy was all on himself. Nor was it confined to his relations only. On one occasion, a young man, an entire stranger, came to him for a 1 Warton's commission, and when asked for the money, blushing confessed he had it not to produce.1 "I cannot," son's Duch- said the Duke, "give you the commission for nothing, but here are the means of purchasing it," presenting him, at the same time, with a cheque for a thousand Essay on 303. Thom ess, ii. 349, 350. |