With Marlborough to Malplaquet: A Story of the Reign of Queen Anne

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER IX

  ANNUS MIRABILIS

  "Don't imagine, my dear lad, that they are going to make captains ofmere boys like ourselves." This was the reply, given with a heartylaugh, when George Fairburn, after receiving his friend's warmcongratulations at the close of the inspection, was condoling withMatthew on his failure to get his step. "A captain at twenty issomewhat unlikely," Blackett went on. "I suppose so," replied George."After all we are only glorified schoolboys, some of our fellows tellus. Yet you look three-and-twenty, if a day. However, all will come intime, let us hope."

  The brilliant operations on the defence line proved to be but theprelude to Marlborough's second great life disappointment. He saw hischance. He had but to follow up his success by a decisive victory overVilleroy's forces, and the way lay open to Paris. His hopes ran high.

  Alas! the Dutch had to be reckoned with. Eager to follow up hisadvantage, Marlborough called for assistance, immediate and effective,from them; in vain; the assistance did not come, or came too late.With what help he could get from the Dutch, nevertheless, he wentforward to the Dyle. Here again the Dutch balked him, raisingobjections to the crossing of that river. In despair the Duke gatheredhis troops, as it happened, strangely enough, on the very spot where,a hundred years later, another great Duke gained his most famousvictory over the French. Could Marlborough have but had his chancewith Villeroy in that spot, there is little doubt that Europe wouldhave seen an earlier Waterloo.

  But it was not to be. Just as the Margrave of Baden had stopped hisadvance along the Moselle into France the previous year, so now thesupineness and factious opposition of the Dutch prevented Marlboroughfrom dealing the French power a crushing blow. Deeply disgusted, hethreatened once more to resign his command. "Had I had the same powerI had last year," he wrote, "I could have won a greater victory thanthat of Blenheim." It was a bitter trial for him.

  The campaign of 1705 soon after came to a close, and the Duke set offon what we may call a diplomatic tour among the allied states, histravels and negotiations producing good results. It was not till thebeginning of 1706 that he went back to England, and thus it was latein the spring of that year when the campaign was reopened.

  Rejoining his army in the Netherlands, he proposed to make another ofhis great marches, namely into Italy, there to join his friend PrinceEugene in an invasion of France from the south-east. This plan wasmade impossible by the crookedness of the kings of Prussia andDenmark, and some others of the Allies. Swallowing this disappointmentalso, as best he might, Marlborough started from the Dyle and advancedon the great and important stronghold of Namur, at the junction of theSambre with the Meuse. Namur had always been greatly esteemed by theFrench, and, in dread alarm, Louis ordered Villeroy to take immediateaction. The result was that the two hostile armies, each numberingabout sixty thousand men, met face to face near the village ofRamillies, half way between Tirlemont and Namur, and near the headwaters of the Great and Little Gheet and the Mehaigne.

  Lieutenants Fairburn and Blackett from their position on a bit ofrising ground could take in the general dispositions of the respectiveforces, and the same thought passed through both their minds. TheFrench and Bavarian troops were drawn up in the form of an arc, whoseends rested on the villages of Anderkirk, to the north, and Tavieres,on the Mehaigne, to the south. The villages of Ramillies and Offuz,with a mound known as the Tomb of Ottomond at the back of the former,were held by a strong centre. Marlborough, on his part, had disposedhis men along a chord of that arc. If it came to a question of movingmen and guns from one wing to the other, it was plain that the Dukehad the advantage, the distance along an arc being necessarily greaterthan that along its chord, and it was that thought which came into theheads of the two lieutenants.

  Marlborough directed his right to attack the enemy around the villageof Anderkirk, backing up the assault with a contingent from hiscentre. Blackett and his friend were soon taking part in the gallopover the swampy ground in the neighbourhood of the village. A sharpencounter followed, the Frenchmen beginning to waver. HereuponVilleroy in alarm promptly sent from his centre a large number of mento support his staggering left at Anderkirk, thereby leaving hiscentre weak.

  All at once Marlborough withdrew his troops to the high groundopposite the hamlet of Offuz, as if for a fresh attack. Then sendingback a part to keep up the pretence of continuing the combat in themarsh, he took advantage of the concealment afforded by the higherground, and, cleverly detaching a large body, ordered them to slipaway round to seize Tavieres, on the Mehaigne. George and his friendwere thus separated, the latter being of those who remained in theswamp to keep up appearances. It was a clever bit of strategy, and,before Villeroy realized the truth, Tavieres had been rushed with asplendid charge. The fact that the attack on Anderkirk had been only afeint came to the French commander's understanding too late. Hiscentre, with the village of Ramillies and the Tomb of Ottomondcommanding it, the really important positions of the day, was weakenedby the loss of troops sent on a wild-goose chase.

  Ere Villeroy could repair the mischief and summon his men fromAnderkirk, Marlborough had sent down upon the French centre a greatbody of cavalry under the command of Auerkerke, the Dutch general.English and Dutch horse combined in this assault, and George Fairburnfound himself one of a host dashing upon the village of Ramillies.There was a terrific shock, a few moments of fierce onslaught, and thefirst line of the enemy gave way. Through the broken and disorganizedline the cavalry swept, to charge the second.

  Another shock, even greater than the first. The Frenchmen of thesecond line stood firm, for were they not the famous HouseholdRegiment--the Maison du Roi--of Louis, and probably the finest troopsin Europe. The advance of the Allies was instantly checked. In vainAuerkerke urged on his men; in vain those men renewed the attack. Theenemy stood steadfast; they began to drive back their antagonists; theposition of the Allies was becoming critical.

  "Go and inform the Duke! Quick, quick!" the Dutchman called out to ayoung officer whom he had observed fighting with the utmostdetermination near by, but who had stopped for a moment to recover hisbreath.

  It happened to be Lieutenant Fairburn, and George once more foundhimself face to face with the Duke, for the first time since he hadmet him after the rush of the French defence line near Tirlemont lastyear. Marlborough, the youth could see by his quick glance, knew himagain. In a word or two George delivered his startling message.

  "By Jove, sir," declared the subaltern, when telling his story to hiscolonel afterwards, "never did I see so spry a bit of work as I didwhen I had said my little say. The Duke was ten men rolled into one,sir. Orders here, there, and everywhere; fellows sent darting about likehares. In a few minutes--minutes! I was going to say seconds--everysabre had been got together, and we were all tumbling over each otherin our hurry to get along to the fight. It was a fine thing, sir."

  The commander, sword in hand, led his reinforcement to the fatal spotwith the speed of the whirlwind. He had almost reached it when he wassuddenly set upon by a company of young bloods belonging to the Maisondu Roi. They were nobles for the most part, and utterly reckless oftheir lives. Recognizing the Duke, they made a desperate attempt tosecure him, closing round him with a dash.

  "Great Heaven!" ejaculated George Fairburn, as his eye suddenly fellupon the Duke fighting his way out of the group, and in company withfifty more he flew to the spot. At that moment Marlborough, now almostclear, put his horse to a ditch across his track. How it happened noone could tell exactly, but the rider fell, and dropped into thelittle trench. Marlborough's career appeared at an end. His steed wascantering madly over the field.

  But friends were at hand, and before the Frenchmen could completetheir work the little company had beaten them off. George leapt to theground, and drew his horse towards the General, who had sprung to hisfeet in a trice, nothing the worse.

  "Here, sir," said the lieutenant, handing the bridle to an officer ina colonel's uniform, who stood at hand, and the colonel held theanimal while
the Duke mounted.

  The Rescue of Marlborough.]

  Before the Duke had fairly gained his seat in the saddle, a ball witha rustling hum carried off the head of the unfortunate colonel. It wasan appalling sight, and George Fairburn was forced to turn away hiseyes.

  The crisis was too serious, however, to waste time in vain regrets.Without the loss of a moment Marlborough led the charge upon theenemy. The famous Household Brigade fell back, and the village ofRamillies was taken. Then another fierce struggle, but a brief one,and the Tomb of Ottomond was secured, the position which commanded thewhole field. The battle was almost at an end.

  There remained only the village of Anderkirk in its marshy hollow, andMarlborough called together his forces from the various parts of theconfused field. Another charge was sounded, the last. The enemy turnedand fled. Ramillies was won.

  The victory, quite as important in its way as Blenheim, had beengained in a little over three hours. The loss on the side of theAllies was hardly four thousand; that of the French and Bavarians, inkilled, wounded, and prisoners, was four times as great. All theenemy's guns, six only excepted, fell into the hands of the victors.

  There was one heavy drawback to the pride which the young LieutenantFairburn naturally felt at having had a humble share in the greatvictory. At the muster of the survivors of his regiment Blackett wasmissing. Half the night did George search for him, and was at lastrewarded by finding the young fellow lying wounded and helpless on theboggy ground. It was an intense relief when the surgeon gave goodhopes of Matthew's ultimate recovery.

  "I'm done for this campaign, old friend," Blackett said with a feeblesmile to George, "and must be sent home for a while. But I hope toturn up among you another year."

  If to follow up a great victory promptly, vigorously, and fully, beone of the distinguishing marks of a great commander, then the Duke ofMarlborough was certainly one of the greatest generals of whom historytells. Hardly anything more striking than his long and rapid series ofsuccesses in the weeks after Ramillies can be credited to a militaryleader, not even excepting Wellington and Napoleon. Louvain, Brussels,Antwerp, Ghent, Bruges, all fell into his hands. Menin, Ostend,Dendermonde, and a few other strongholds gave pore trouble, and thebrave Marshal Vendome was sent to their assistance. It was useless;Vendome turned tail and fled, his men refusing to face the terribleEnglish Duke. "Every one here is ready to doff his hat, if one evenmentions the name of Marlborough," Vendome wrote to his master Louis.The remaining towns capitulated, and the Netherlands were lost to theSpanish. Of the more important fortresses only Mons remained.

  But Marlborough's were by no means the only successes that fell to theAllies that wonderful year. Prince Eugene and the Duke of Savoy, theformer after a rapid march, appeared before Turin, and on the 7th ofSeptember that notable place fell into the hands of the Prince, afterbrilliant efforts on both sides. The result was of the utmostimportance; the French were demoralized; Savoy was permanently gainedfor the Grand Alliance; while Piedmont was lost to the French, whowere thus cut off from the kingdom of Naples.

  George had often wondered what had become of his old friend Fieldsend,whom he had not seen since the capture of Landau. But in the autumn ofthis year, 1706, while Fairburn was quartered at Antwerp, he receiveda letter from the lieutenant. It appeared that at his own requestFieldsend had been allowed to return to Spain, and he had served eversince under Lord Peterborough. The writer's account of the victoriesgained by Peterborough and the Earl of Galway in Spain that year readmore like a fairy tale than real sober history. The sum and substanceof it was that Peterborough had compelled the forces of Louis to raisethe siege of Barcelona, and that Galway had actually entered Madrid intriumph. Had the Archduke Charles had the wit and the courage to enterhis capital too, his cause might have had a very different issue fromthat which it was now fated to have.

  Just before Christmastide George received permission to return toEngland on leave for a few weeks. He had never visited his old homeall those years, and it was with delight he took his passage in aschooner bound for Hull. Hardly had he landed at that port when he ranacross the old skipper of the _Ouseburn Lassie_. The worthy fellow didnot at first recognize the schoolboy he had known in the sturdyhandsome young fellow wearing a cavalry lieutenant's uniform, and hewas taken aback when George accosted him with a hearty "How goes it,old friend? How goes it with you?" The skipper saluted in sometrepidation, and it was not till George had given him a handshake thatgripped like a vice that he knew his man again. Soon the two were deepin the work of exchanging histories. The crew of the captured collierbrig, it appeared, had been kept at Dunkirk till the autumn of 1704,when they had been exchanged for certain French prisoners in ward atDover. The Fairburn colliery had prospered wonderfully, and the ownernow employed no fewer than four vessels of his own, one of which ranto Hull regularly. In fact, the skipper was just going on board toreturn to the Tyne.

  Within an hour, therefore, Lieutenant Fairburn was afloat once more,to his great joy. On the voyage he learnt many things from the oldcaptain. Squire Blackett was in very bad odour with the men of thedistrict. For years his business had been falling off, and he had beendismissing hands. Now his health was failing; he was unable orunwilling to give vigorous attention to his trade, and he talked ofclosing his pit altogether. The colliers of the neighbourhood weredesperately irritated, and to a man declared that, with anything likeenergy in the management, the Blackett pit had a fortune in it for anyowner.

  The well-known wharf was reached, a wharf vastly enlarged andimproved, however, and George sprang ashore impatiently. Leaving allhis belongings for the moment, he strode off at a great rate for home,rather wondering how it was that he did not see a single soul eitherabout the river or on the road. He rubbed his eyes as he caught asight of his boyhood's home. Like the wharf, the house had been addedto and improved until he scarcely recognized the spot at all. "Fathermust be a prosperous man," was his thought. Opening the door withoutceremony, he entered. A figure in the hall turned, and in a moment theboy had his mother in his arms, while he capered about the hall withher in pure delight.

  The good woman gave a cry, but she was not of the fainting kind, andsoon she was weeping and laughing by turns, kissing her handsome ladagain and again. Presently, as if forgetting herself, she cried, "Ah,my boy, there's a parlous deed going on up at the Towers! You shouldbe going to help." And George learned to his astonishment that theSquire's house was being at that moment attacked by a formidable anddesperate gang. Fairburn had gone off to render what assistance hecould. It was reported that the few defenders were holding the houseagainst the besiegers, but that they could hold out little longer. TheFairburn pitmen had declined to be mixed up in the quarrel, as theycalled it.

  "Good Heavens!" exclaimed George, "what a state of things!"

  Bolting out of the house, he ran back at full speed to the wharf, hisplan already clear in his head. Within ten minutes he was leading toBinfield Towers every man jack of the little crew, the old skipperincluded. The pace was not half quick enough, and when, at a turn inthe road, an empty coal cart was met, George seized the head of thenag, and slewed him round, crying "All aboard, mates!" The crewtumbled in, and in an instant the lieutenant was whipping up theanimal, to the utter astonishment of the carter.

  Nearer to the mansion the party drew, but, hidden by the trees, it wasnot yet in sight. The old horse was spent, and, when a point oppositethe house had been gained, George sprang out, vaulted over the fenceinto the wood, dashed through the growth of trees, and with anotherspring leapt down upon the lawn, almost on the selfsame spot where hehad jumped over on the evening of the fire. For the last hundred yardshe had been aware of the roar of angry voices. The sight that met hiseyes, now that he was in full view of the scene, was an extraordinaryone.

  Scattered about the trampled grassplots was a crowd of pitmen, surginghither and thither, some armed with pickaxes, some with hedge-stakes,some with nothing but nature's weapons. One fellow was in the act ofloading an old bl
underbuss. Reared against the wall of the house weretwo or three ladders, one smashed in the middle. The lower windows hadbeen barricaded with boards, but the mob had wrenched away theprotection at one point, and men were climbing in with great shouts oftriumph.

  From the bedroom windows men were holding muskets, ready to fire, butevidently unwilling to do so except as a last resource. George spiedhis old friend Matthew at one window; at another, astonishing sight!stood no other than Fieldsend! His own father was at a third.

  At that moment the fellow below raised his blunderbuss and tookdeliberate aim at the old Squire, who, all unconscious of his danger,was endeavouring to address the mob from an upper window. The sightseemed to grip George by the throat.

  George carried a handspike, a weapon he had brought along from thecollier vessel. A dozen rapid and noiseless strides over the grassbrought him within striking distance, and instantly, with a downwardstroke like a lightning flash, he had felled to earth man andblunderbuss. The report came as the man dropped, and with a yell oneof the rioters climbing through a lower window dropped back to theground, shot through the thigh by one of his own party.

  "Saved!" the lieutenant shouted, a glance showing him that the oldSquire was still unhurt. All eyes, those of the defenders no less thanthose of the attacking party, were immediately attracted to thenew-comer, who was just in the act of seizing the blunderbuss from thegrasp of the prostrate and senseless pitman.

  "George!" "Fairburn!" "My boy!" came the cries from the upper windows,and the defenders cheered for pure joy.

  The mob, startled for a moment, prepared to retaliate, a hastywhispering taking place between two or three of the leaders. "Look outfor the rush!" cried Matthew, warningly. George, with a bound, gainedthe wall, where, back against the stonework, he stood ready with thehandspike and the clubbed musket. So formidable an antagonist did heseem to the men that they held back, till one of them, with a fierceimprecation, dashed forward. In a trice he was felled to the ground, aloud roar of rage escaping the man's comrades. An instant later andthe young lieutenant was fighting in the midst of a howling mob.

  "Ah! Drat you!" came a bellow, and there rushed upon the rear of theattackers the old skipper, cutlass in hand, followed close by the restof his little crew. This apparition, sudden and unexpected, upset thenerves of the pitmen, and in a moment they began to run, falling awayfrom George and tumbling over each other in their haste.

  "No you don't!" hissed the youngster between his firm-set teeth, andmaking a grab at a couple he had seen prominent in the fight, he heldthem with a grip they could not escape.

  The attackers were routed; Binfield Towers was saved. Within a minuteGeorge was being greeted, congratulated, thanked, till he was almostfain to run for it, as the bulk of the mob had done. His father,Matthew, Fieldsend, even old Reuben--all crowded around with delight.In no long time Mrs. Maynard and Mary Blackett appeared, smilingthrough their tears of joy at their great deliverance. The latter hadso grown that George hardly recognized her. All came up except the oldSquire, and he was presently found in an alarming condition, one ofhis old heart attacks having come on. It was the only drawback to thejoy of the meeting and the ending of the danger that had threatenedthe household.

  Early next morning word was carried to the Fairburns that SquireBlackett was dead; he had never recovered from the shock and theseizure consequent thereon.

  "Poor old neighbour!" Fairburn said, with a mournful shake of thehead, "I am afraid he has left things in a sorry state."

  Fairburn's fears were only too well founded. Mr. Blackett had leftlittle or nothing, and Matthew and his sister would be butindifferently provided for. Then it was that Fairburn came out like aman. He proposed to run the colliery for their benefit. To the worldit was to appear that the collieries had been amalgamated or ratherthat the Blackett pit had been bought up by his rival. The advantageto Matthew and Mary was too obvious to be rejected, and the requiredarrangements were made. Before the time came for the three youngofficers to go back to their duties they had the satisfaction ofseeing Mrs. Maynard and Mary settled in a pretty cottage near, and thecolliery in full work and prospering, the district employed andcontented. Mary had been pressed by the Fairburn family to take up herabode with them, but had preferred to go into the cottage with her oldgoverness and friend. Yet she was overwhelmed with gratitude towardsthe kindly couple.