The Bravest of the Brave — or, with Peterborough in Spain

by G. A. Henty

  Produced by Martin Robb

  THE BRAVEST OF THE BRAVE

  OR, WITH PETERBOROUGH IN SPAIN

  By G. A. Henty.

  PREFACE

  My Dear Lads:

  There are few great leaders whose lives and actions have so completelyfallen into oblivion as those of the Earl of Peterborough. His career asa general was a brief one, extending only over little more than a year,and yet in that time he showed a genius for warfare which has never beensurpassed, and performed feats of daring worthy of taking their placeamong those of the leaders of chivalry.

  The fact that they have made so slight a mark upon history is due toseveral reasons. In the first place, they were overshadowed by the gloryand successes of Marlborough; they were performed in a cause which couldscarcely be said to be that of England, and in which the public had acomparatively feeble interest; the object, too, for which he fought wasfrustrated, and the war was an unsuccessful one, although from no faulton his part.

  But most of all, Lord Peterborough failed to attain that place in thelist of British worthies to which his genius and his bravery shouldhave raised him, because that genius was directed by no steady aimor purpose. Lord Peterborough is, indeed, one of the most strikinginstances in history of genius and talent wasted, and a life thrown awayby want of fixed principle and by an inability or unwillingness to workwith other men. He quarreled in turn with every party and with almostevery individual with whom he came in contact; and while he himselfwas constantly changing his opinions, he was intolerant of all opinionsdiffering from those which he at the moment held, and was always readyto express in the most open and offensive manner his contempt anddislike for those who differed from him. His eccentricities were great;he was haughty and arrogant, hasty and passionate; he denied his God,quarreled with his king, and rendered himself utterly obnoxious to everyparty in the state.

  And yet there was a vast amount of good in this strange man. He wasgenerous and warm hearted to a fault, kind to those in station beneathhim, thoughtful and considerate for his troops, who adored him, coolin danger, sagacious in difficulties, and capable at need of evincinga patience and calmness wholly at variance with his ordinary impetuouscharacter. Although he did not scruple to carry deception, in order tomislead an enemy, to a point vastly beyond what is generally consideredadmissible in war, he was true to his word and punctiliously honorablein the ordinary affairs of life.

  For the historical events I have described, and for the details ofPeterborough's conduct and character, I have relied chiefly upon thememoir of the earl written by Mr. C. Warburton, and published somethirty years ago.

  CHAPTER I: THE WAR OF THE SUCCESSION

  "He is an idle vagabond!" the mayor of the good town of Southamptonsaid, in high wrath--"a ne'er do well, and an insolent puppy; and as toyou, Mistress Alice, if I catch you exchanging words with him again, ay,or nodding to him, or looking as if in any way you were conscious of hispresence, I will put you on bread and water, and will send you away forsix months to the care of my sister Deborah, who will, I warrant me,bring you to your senses."

  The Mayor of Southampton must have been very angry indeed when he spokein this way to his daughter Alice, who in most matters had her ownway. Especially did it show that he was angry, since he so spoke in thepresence of Mistress Anthony, his wife, who was accustomed to have a byno means unimportant share in any decision arrived at respecting familymatters.

  She was too wise a woman, however, to attempt to arrest the torrentin full flood, especially as it was a matter on which her husband hadalready shown a very unusual determination to have his own way. Shetherefore continued to work in silence, and paid no attention to theappealing glance which her daughter, a girl of fourteen, cast towardher. But although she said nothing, her husband understood in hersilence an unuttered protest.

  "It is no use your taking that scamp's part, Mary, in this matter. I amdetermined to have my own way, and the townspeople know well that whenRichard Anthony makes up his mind, nothing will move him."

  "I have had no opportunity to take his part, Richard," his wife saidquietly; "you have been storming without interruption since you came infive minutes ago, and I have not uttered a single word."

  "But you agree with me, Mary--you cannot but agree with me--that it isnothing short of a scandal for the daughter of the Mayor of Southamptonto be talking to a penniless young rogue like that at the garden gate."

  "Alice should not have met him there," Mistress Anthony said; "butseeing that she is only fourteen years old, and the boy only sixteen,and he her second cousin, I do not see that the matter is so veryshocking."

  "In four more years, Mistress Anthony," the mayor said profoundly, "hewill be twenty, and she will be eighteen."

  "So I suppose, Richard; I am no great head at a figures, but even I canreckon that. But as at present they are only fourteen and sixteen, Irepeat that I do not see that it matters--at least not so very much.Alice, do you go to your room, and remain there till I send for you."

  The girl without a word rose and retired. In the reign of King Williamthe Third implicit obedience was expected of children.

  "I think, Richard," Mrs. Anthony went on when the door closed behind herdaughter, "you are not acting quite with your usual wisdom in treatingthis matter in so serious a light, and in putting ideas into the girl'shead which would probably never have entered there otherwise. Of courseAlice is fond of Jack. It is only natural that she should be, seeingthat he is her second cousin, and that for two years they have livedtogether under this roof."

  "I was a fool, Mistress Anthony," the mayor said angrily, "ever to yieldto your persuasions in that matter. It was unfortunate, of course, thatthe boy's father, the husband of your Cousin Margaret, should have beenturned out of his living by the Sectarians, as befell thousands of otherclergymen besides him. It was still more unfortunate that when KingCharles returned he did not get reinstated; but, after all, that wasMargaret's business and not mine; and if she was fool enough to marry apauper, and he well nigh old enough to be her father--well, as I say, itwas no business of mine."

  "He was not a pauper, Richard, and you know it; and he made enough byteaching to keep him and Margaret comfortably till he broke down anddied three years ago, and poor Margaret followed him to the grave a yearlater. He was a good man--in every way a good man."

  "Tut, tut! I am not saying he wasn't a good man. I am only saying that,good or bad, it was no business of mine; and then nothing will do butI must send for the boy and put him in my business. And a nice messhe made of it--an idler, more careless apprentice, no cloth merchant,especially one who stood well with his fellow citizens, and who wason the highway to becoming mayor of his native city, was ever crossedwith."

  "I think he was hardly as bad as that, Richard. I don't think you wereever quite fair to the boy."

  "Not fair, Mary! I am surprised at you. In what way was I not quitefair?"

  "I don't think you meant to be unfair, Richard; but you see you were alittle--just a little--prejudiced against him from the first; because,instead of jumping at your offer to apprentice him to your trade, hesaid he should like to be a sailor."

  "Quite enough to prejudice me, too, madam. Why, there are scores of sonsof respectable burgesses of this town who would jump at such an offer;and here this penniless boy turns up his nose at it."

  "It was foolish, no doubt, Richard; but you see the boy had beenreading the lives of admirals and navigators--he was full of life andspirit--and I believe his father had consented to his going to sea."

  "Full of life and spirit, madam!" the mayor repeated more angrily than
before; "let me tell you it is these fellows who are full of life andadventure who come to the gallows. Naturally I was offended; but as Ihad given you my word I kept to it. Every man in Southampton knowsthat the word of Richard Anthony is as good as his bond. I bound himapprentice, and what comes of it? My foreman, Andrew Carson, is knockedflat on his back in the middle of the shop."

  Mrs. Anthony bit her lips to prevent herself from smiling.

  "We will not speak any more about that, Richard," she said; "because, ifwe did, we should begin to argue. You know it is my opinion, and alwayshas been, that Carson deliberately set you against the boy; that he wasalways telling you tales to his disadvantage; and although I admit thatthe lad was very wrong to knock him down when he struck him, I think, mydear, I should have done the same had I been in his place."

  "Then, madam," Mr. Anthony said solemnly, "you would have deservedwhat happened to him--that you should be turned neck and crop into thestreet."

  Mrs. Anthony gave a determined nod of her head--a nod which signifiedthat she should have a voice on that point. However, seeing that in herhusband's present mood it was better to say no more, she resumed herwork.

  While this conversation had been proceeding, Jack Stilwell, who had fledhastily when surprised by the mayor as he was talking to his daughter atthe back gate of the garden, had made his way down to the wharves, andthere, seating himself upon a pile of wood, had stared moodily at thetract of mud extending from his feet to the strip of water far away.His position was indeed an unenviable one. As Mrs. Anthony had said,his father was a clergyman of the Church of England, the vicar of asnug living in Lincolnshire, but he had been cast out when theParliamentarians gained the upper hand, and his living was handed overto a Sectarian preacher. When, after years of poverty, King Charles cameto the throne, the dispossessed minister thought that as a matter ofcourse he should be restored to his living; but it was not so. As inhundreds of other cases the new occupant conformed at once to the newlaws, and the Rev. Thomas Stilwell, having no friends or interest, was,like many another clergyman, left out in the cold.

  But by this time he had settled at Oxford--at which university hehad been educated--and was gaining a not uncomfortable livelihoodby teaching the sons of citizens. Late in life he married MargaretUllathorpe, who, still a young woman, had, during a visit to somefriends at Oxford, made his acquaintance. In spite of the disparity ofyears the union was a happy one. One son was born to them, and all hadgone well until a sudden chill had been the cause of Mr. Stilwell'sdeath, his wife surviving him only one year. Her death took place atSouthampton, where she had moved after the loss of her husband, havingno further tie at Oxford, and a week later Jack Stilwell found himselfdomiciled at the house of Mr. Anthony.

  It was in vain that he represented to the cloth merchant that his wisheslay toward a seafaring life, and that although his father had wished himto go into the ministry, he had given way to his entreaties. Mr. Anthonysharply pooh poohed the idea, and insisted that it was nothing shortof madness to dream of such a thing when so excellent an opportunity oflearning a respectable business was open to him.

  At any other time Jack would have resisted stoutly, and would have runaway and taken his chance rather than agree to the proposition; but hewas broken down by grief at his mother's death. Incapable of making astruggle against the obstinacy of Mr. Anthony, and scarce caring whatbecame of himself, he signed the deed of apprenticeship which made himfor five years the slave of the cloth merchant. Not that the latterintended to be anything but kind, and he sincerely believed that he wasacting for the good of the boy in taking him as his apprentice; but asJack recovered his spirits and energy, he absolutely loathed the tradeto which he was bound. Had it not been for Mistress Anthony and Alicehe would have braved the heavy pains and penalties which in those daysbefell disobedient apprentices, and would have run away to sea; buttheir constant kindness, and the fact that his mother with her dyingbreath had charged him to regard her cousin as standing in her place,prevented him from carrying the idea which he often formed into effect.

  In the shop his life was wretched. He was not stupid, as his masterasserted; for indeed in other matters he was bright and clever, and hisfather had been well pleased with the progress he made with his studies;but, in the first place; he hated his work, and, in the second, everyshortcoming and mistake was magnified and made the most of by theforeman, Andrew Carson. This man had long looked to be taken intopartnership, and finally to succeed his master, seeing that the latterhad no sons, and he conceived a violent jealousy of Jack Stilwell,in whose presence, as a prime favorite of Mistress Anthony and of herdaughter, he thought he foresaw an overthrow of his plans.

  He was not long in effecting a breach between the boy and hismaster--for Jack's carelessness and inattention gave him plenty ofopportunities--and Mr. Anthony ere long viewed the boy's errors as actsof willful disobedience. This state of things lasted for two years untilthe climax came, when, as Mr. Anthony had said to his wife, Jack, uponthe foreman attempting to strike him, had knocked the latter down in theshop.

  Mr. Anthony's first impulse was to take his apprentice before thejustices and to demand condign punishment for such an act of flagrantrebellion; but a moment's reflection told him that Jack, at the end ofhis punishment, would return to his house, where his wife would takehis part as usual, and the quarrels which had frequently arisen on hisaccount would be more bitter than before.

  It was far better to get rid of him at once, and he accordingly orderedhim from the shop, tore up his indenture before his eyes, and badehim never let him see his face again. For the first few hours Jack wasdelighted at his freedom. He spent the day down on the wharves talkingto the fishermen and sailors. There were no foreign bound ships inthe port, and he had no wish to ship on board a coaster; he thereforeresolved to wait until a vessel sailing for foreign ports should leave.

  He had no money; but a few hours after he left the shop Mrs. Anthony'smaid found him on the wharf, and gave him a letter from her mistress. Inthis was inclosed a sum of money sufficient to last him for some time,and an assurance that she did not share her husband's anger against him.

  "I have no doubt, my dear Jack," she said, "that in time I could healthe breach and could arrange for you to come back again, but I thinkperhaps it is better as it is. You would never make a clothier, and Idon't think you would ever become Mayor of Southampton. I know what yourwishes are, and I think that you had better follow them out. Alice isheartbroken over the affair, but I assure her that it will all turn outfor the best. I cannot ask you to come up to the house; but whenever youhave settled on anything leave a note with Dorothy for me, and I willcome down with Alice to see you and say goodby to you. I will see thatyou do not go without a proper outfit."

  It was to deliver this letter that Jack had gone up to the backgate; and seeing Alice in the garden they had naturally fallen intoconversation at the gate, when the mayor, looking out from the window ofhis warehouse, happened to see them, and went out in the greatest wrathto put a stop to the conversation.

  Jack had indeed found a ship; she had come in from Holland with clothand other merchandise, and was after she was discharged to sail forthe colonies with English goods. She would not leave the port for someweeks; but he had seen the captain, who had agreed to take him as ship'sboy. Had the mayor been aware that his late apprentice was on the pointof leaving he would not have interfered with his intention; but as hehad peremptorily ordered that his name was not to be mentioned beforehim, and as Mrs. Anthony had no motive in approaching the forbiddensubject, the mayor remained in ignorance that Jack was about to departon a distant voyage.

  One day, on going down to the town hail, he found an official letterwaiting him; it was an order from government empowering justices of thepeace to impress such men as they thought fit, with the only restrictionthat men entitled to vote for members of parliament were exempted. Thistremendous power had just been legalized by an act of parliament. A moreiniquitous act never disgraced our statutes, for it enabl
ed justices ofthe peace to spite any of their poorer neighbors against whom they had agrudge, and to ship them off to share in the hardships of Marlborough'scampaign in Germany and the Low Countries, or in the expedition nowpreparing for Spain.

  At that time the army was held in the greatest dislike by the Englishpeople. The nation had always been opposed to a standing force, andit was only now that the necessities of the country induced them totolerate it. It was, however, recruited almost entirely from recklessand desperate men. Criminals were allowed to commute sentences ofimprisonment for service in the army, and the gates of the prisonswere also opened to insolvent debtors consenting to enlist. But all theefforts of the recruiting sergeants, aided by such measures as these,proved insufficient to attract a sufficient number of men to keep up thearmies at the required strength.

  Pressing had always existed to a certain extent; but it had been carriedon secretly, and was regarded as illegal. Therefore, as men must be had,the law giving justices the authority and power to impress any menthey might select, with the exception of those who possessed a vote formembers of parliament, was passed with the approval of parties on bothsides of the House of Commons.

  There was indeed great need for men. England had allied herself withAustria and Holland in opposition to France, the subject of disputebeing the succession to the crown of Spain, England's feelings in thematter being further imbittered by the recognition by Louis XIV of thePretender as King of England. Therefore, although her interests were notso deeply engaged in the question as to the succession to the throne ofSpain as were those of the continental powers, she threw herself intothe struggle with ardor.

  The two claimants to the throne of Spain were the Archduke Charles,second son of Leopold, Emperor of Austria, and Philip, Duke of Anjou, ayounger grandson of Louis. On the marriage of the French king with MariaTheresa, the sister of Charles II of Spain, she had formally renouncedall claims to the succession, but the French king had neverthelesscontinued from time to time to bring them forward. Had these rightsnot been renounced Philip would have had the best claim to the Spanishthrone, the next of kin after him being Charles of Austria.

  During the later days of the King of Spain all Europe had looked on withthe most intense interest at the efforts which the respective partiesmade for their candidates. Whichever might succeed to the throne thebalance of power would be destroyed; for either Austria and Spainunited, or France and Spain united, would be sufficient to overawe therest of the Continent. Louis XIV lulled the fears of the Austrian partyby suggesting a treaty of partition to the Dutch states and William theThird of England.

  By this treaty it was agreed that the Archduke Charles was to beacknowledged successor to the crowns of Spain, the Indies, and theNetherlands; while the dauphin, as the eldest son of Maria Theresa,should receive the kingdom of Naples and Sicily, with the Spanishprovince of Guipuscoa and the duchy of Milan, in compensation of hisabandonment of other claims. When the conditions of this treaty becameknown they inspired natural indignation in the minds of the people ofthe country which had thus been arbitrarily allotted, and the dyingCharles of Spain was infuriated by this conspiracy to break up anddivide his dominion. His jealousy of France would have led him to selectthe Austrian claimant; but the emperor's undisguised greed for a portionof the Spanish empire, and the overbearing and unpleasant manner of theAustrian ambassador in the Spanish court, drove him to listen to theovertures of Louis, who had a powerful ally in Cardinal Portocarrero,Archbishop of Toledo, whose influence was all powerful with the king.The cardinal argued that the grandson of Maria Theresa could not bebound by her renunciation, and also that it had only been made with aview to keep separate the French and Spanish monarchies, and that if adescendant of hers, other than the heir to the throne of France, werechosen, this condition would be carried out.

  Finally, he persuaded Charles, a month before his death, to sign a willdeclaring Philip, Duke of Anjou, grandson of his brother in law LouisXIV, sole heir of the Spanish empire. The will was kept secret till thedeath of the king, and was then publicly proclaimed. Louis accepted thebequest in favor of his grandson, and Philip was declared king in Spainand her dependencies.

  The greatest indignation was caused in England, Holland, and the empireat this breach by the King of France of the treaty of partition,of which he himself had been the author. England and Holland wereunprepared for war, and therefore bided their time, but Austria at oncecommenced hostilities by directing large bodies of troops, under PrinceEugene, into the duchy of Milan, and by inciting the Neapolitans torevolt. The young king was at first popular in Spain, but CardinalPortocarrero, who exercised the real power of the state, by hisoverbearing temper, his avarice, and his shameless corruption, speedilyalienated the people from their monarch. Above all, the cardinal wassupposed to be the tool of the French king, and to represent the policywhich had for its object the dismemberment of the Spanish monarchy andthe aggrandizement of France.

  That Louis had such designs was undoubted, and, if properly managed andbribed, Portocarrero would have been a pliant instrument in his hands;but the cardinal was soon estranged by the constant interference by theFrench agents in his own measures of government, and therefore turnedagainst France that power of intrigue which he had recently used in herfavor. He pretended to be devoted to France, and referred even the mostminute details of government to Paris for approbation, with the doubleview of disgusting Louis with the government of Spain and of enragingthe Spanish people at the constant interference of Louis.

  Philip, however, found a new and powerful ally in the hearts of thepeople by his marriage with Maria Louisa, daughter of the Duke ofSavoy--a beautiful girl of fourteen years old, who rapidly developedinto a graceful and gifted woman, and became the darling of theSpanish people, and whose intellect, firmness, and courage guided andstrengthened her weak but amiable husband. For a time the power of Spainand France united overshadowed Europe, the trading interests of Englandand Holland were assailed, and a French army assembled close to theFlemish frontier.

  The indignation of the Dutch overcame their fears, and they yieldedto the quiet efforts which King William was making, and combined withEngland and Austria in a grand alliance against France, the object ofthe combination being to exclude Louis from the Netherlands and WestIndies, and to prevent the union of the crowns of France and Spain uponthe same head. King William might not have obtained from the Englishparliament a ratification of the alliance had not Louis just at thismoment acknowledged the son of the ex-king James as king of England.This insult roused the spirit of the English people, the House ofCommons approved the triple alliance, and voted large supplies. KingWilliam died just after seeing his favorite project successful, and wassucceeded by Queen Anne, who continued his policy. The Austrian ArchdukeCharles was recognized by the allies as King of Spain, and preparationmade for war.

  An English army was landed near Cadiz; but the Spaniards showed no signsof rising in favor of Charles, and, after bringing great discrediton themselves and exciting the animosity of the Spaniards by grossmisconduct, the English army embarked again. Some treasure ships werecaptured, and others sunk in the harbor of Vigo, but the fleet was nomore effective than the army. Admiral Sir John Munden was cashieredfor treachery or cowardice on the coast of Spain, and four captains ofvessels in the gallant Benbow's West India fleet were either dismissedor shot for refusing to meet the enemy and for abandoning their chief.

  In 1703 little was done in the way of fighting, but the allies receivedan important addition of strength by the accession of Portugal to theirranks. In 1704 the allies made an attempt upon the important city ofBarcelona. It was believed that the Catalans would have declared forCharles; but the plot by which the town was to be given up to him wasdiscovered on the eve of execution, and the English force re-embarked ontheir ships. Their success was still less on the side of Portugal, wherethe Duke of Berwick, who was in command of the forces of King Philip,defeated the English and Dutch under the Duke of Schomberg and capturedmany towns.
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  The Portuguese rendered the allies but slight assistance. These reverseswere, however, balanced by the capture of Gibraltar on the 21st of Juneby the fleet under Sir George Rooke, and a small land force underPrince George of Hesse. Schomberg was recalled and Lord Galway took thecommand; but he succeeded no better than his predecessor, and affairslooked but badly for the allies, when the Duke of Marlborough, with theEnglish and allied troops in Germany, inflicted the first great checkupon the power and ambition of Louis XIV by the splendid victory ofBlenheim.

  This defeat of the French had a disastrous effect upon the fortunes ofPhilip. He could no longer hope for help from his grandfather, for Louiswas now called upon to muster his whole strength on his eastern frontierfor the defense of his own dominion, and Philip was forced to dependupon his partisans in Spain only. The partisans of Charles at once tookheart. The Catalans had never been warm in the cause of Philip; thecrowns of Castile, Arragon, and Catalonia had only recently been united,and dangerous jealousy existed between these provinces. The Castilianswere devoted adherents of Philip, and this in itself was sufficient toset Catalonia and Arragon against him.

  The English government had been informed of this growing discontent inthe north of Spain, and sent out an emissary to inquire into the truthof the statement. As his report confirmed all that they had heard, itwas decided in the spring of 1705 to send out an expedition which was toeffect a landing in Catalonia, and would, it was hoped, be joined by allthe people of that province and Arragon. By the efforts and patronageof the Duchess of Marlborough, who was all powerful with Queen Anne, theEarl of Peterborough was named to the command of the expedition.

  The choice certainly appeared a singular one, for hitherto the earl haddone nothing which would entitle him to so distinguished a position.Charles Mordaunt was the eldest son of John Lord Mordaunt, ViscountAvalon, a brave and daring cavalier, who had fought heart and soulfor Charles, and had been tried by Cromwell for treason, and narrowlyescaped execution. On the restoration, as a reward for his risk oflife and fortune, and for his loyalty and ability, he was raised to thepeerage.

  His son Charles inherited none of his father's steadfastness. Broughtup in the profligate court of Charles the Second he became an atheist,a scoffer at morality, and a republican. At the same time he had manyredeeming points. He was brilliant, witty, energetic, and brave. Hewas generous and strictly honorable to his word. He was filled with aburning desire for adventure, and, at the close of 1674, when inhis seventeenth year, he embarked in Admiral Torrington's ship, andproceeded to join as a volunteer Sir John Narborough's fleet in theMediterranean, in order to take part in the expedition to restrain andrevenge the piratical depredations of the barbarous states of Tripoliand Algiers.

  He distinguished himself on the 14th of January, 1675, in an attack bythe boats of the fleet upon four corsair men o' war moored underthe very guns of the castle and fort of Tripoli. The exploit was asuccessful one, the ships were all burned, and most of their crewsslain. Another encounter with the fleet of Tripoli took place inFebruary, when the pirates were again defeated, and the bey forced togrant all the English demands.

  In 1677 the fleet returned to England, and with it Mordaunt, who hadduring his absence succeeded to his father's title and estates, JohnLord Mordaunt having died on the 5th of June, 1675. Shortly after hisreturn to England Lord Mordaunt, though still but twenty yearsold, married a daughter of Sir Alexander Fraser. But his spirit wasaltogether unsuited to the quiet enjoyment of domestic life, and at theend of September, 1678, he went out as a volunteer in his majesty's shipBristol, which was on the point of sailing for the Mediterranean totake part in an expedition fitting out for the relief of Tangier, thenbesieged by the Moors. Nothing, however, came of the expedition, andMordaunt returned to England in the autumn of 1679.

  In June, 1680, he again sailed for Tangier with a small expeditioncommanded by the Earl of Plymouth. The expedition succeeded in throwingthemselves into the besieged town, and continued the defense with vigor,and Mordaunt again distinguished himself; but he soon wearied ofthe monotony of a long siege, and before the end of the year foundopportunity to return to England, where he plunged into politics andbecame one of the leaders of the party formed to exclude the Duke ofYork from the throne.

  Although a close friend of Lord Russell and Algernon Sidney he hadfortunately for himself not been admitted to the fatal privilege oftheir private councils, and therefore escaped the fate which befellthem. He continued his friendship with them to the last, and accompaniedAlgernon Sidney to the scaffold. But even while throwing himself heartand soul into politics he was continually indulging in wild freaks whichrendered him the talk of the town.

  On the accession of King James he made his first speech in the House ofPeers against a standing army, and distinguished himself alike by theeloquence and violence of his language. He was now under the displeasureof the court, and his profuse generosity had brought him into pecuniarytrouble. In 1686, therefore, he quitted England with the professedintention of accepting a command in the Dutch fleet then about to sailfor the West Indies, When he arrived in Holland, however, he presentedhimself immediately to the Prince of Orange, and first among the Britishnobility boldly proposed to William an immediate invasion of England.He pushed his arguments with fiery zeal, urged the disaffection of allclasses, the hatred of the Commons, the defection of the Lords, thealarm of the Church, and the wavering loyalty of the army.

  William, however, was already informed of these facts, and was not to behurried. Mordaunt remained with him till, on the 20th of October, 1688,he sailed for England. The first commission that King William signed inEngland was the appointment of Lord Mordaunt as lieutenant colonel ofhorse, and raising a regiment he rendered good service at Exeter. Assoon as the revolution was completed, and William and Mary ascended thethrone, Mordaunt was made a privy councilor and one of the lords of thebedchamber, and in April, 1689, he was made first commissioner of thetreasury, and advanced to the dignity of Earl of Monmouth. In additionto the other offices to which he was appointed he was given thecolonelcy of the regiment of horse guards.

  His conduct in office showed in brilliant contrast to that of the menwith whom he was placed. He alone was free from the slightest suspicionof corruption and venality, and he speedily made enemies among hiscolleagues by the open contempt which he manifested for their grosscorruption.

  Although he had taken so prominent a part in bringing King William toEngland, Monmouth soon became mixed up in all sorts of intrigues andplots. He was already tired of the reign of the Dutch king, and longedfor a commonwealth. He was constantly quarreling with his colleagues,and whenever there was a debate in the House of Lords Monmouth took aprominent part on the side of the minority. In 1692 he went out with hisregiment of horse guards to Holland, and fought bravely at the battleof Steenkirk. The campaign was a failure, and in October he returned toEngland with the king.

  For two years after this he lived quietly, devoting his principalattention to his garden and the society of wits and men of letters. Thenhe again appeared in parliament, and took a leading part in the movementin opposition to the crown, and inveighed in bitter terms against thebribery of persons in power by the East India Company, and the venalityof many members of parliament and even the ministry. His relationswith the king were now of the coldest kind, and he became mixed up ina Jacobite plot. How far he was guilty in the matter was never proved.Public opinion certainly condemned him, and by a vote of the peers hewas deprived of all his employments and sent to the Tower. The king,however, stood his friend, and released him at the end of the session.

  In 1697, by the death of his uncle, Charles became Earl of Peterborough,and passed the next four years in private life, emerging onlyoccasionally to go down to the House of Peers and make fiery onslaughtsupon abuses and corruption. In the course of these years, both inparliament and at court, he had been sometimes the friend, sometimes theopponent of Marlborough; but he had the good fortune to be a favorite ofthe duchess, and when the ti
me came that a leader was required for theproposed expedition to Spain, she exerted herself so effectually thatshe procured his nomination.

  Hitherto his life had been a strange one. Indolent and energetic byturns, restless and intriguing, quarreling with all with whom he camein contact, burning with righteous indignation against corruption andmisdoing, generous to a point which crippled his finances seriously, hewas a puzzle to all who knew him, and had he died at this time hewould only have left behind him the reputation of being one of the mostbrilliant, gifted, and honest, but at the same time one of the mostunstable, eccentric, and ill regulated spirits of his time.