ments; and some vile conspirators taking advantage of his disgrace, he was committed to the Tower with several other noblemen on a charge of treason. This allegation was so palpably false, that he was quickly liberated; and the miscreants who had advanced it, were in the sequel condemned to the pillory: but he still remained under a cloud, though no probable reason can now be assigned for it; unless it was that he interested himself too warmly in favour of the princess Anne, whom their majesties wished to keep in a state of dependance. After the death of queen Mary, king William and the princess entertained more amicable sentiments for each other; and the earl of Marlborough was not only recalled to the privy-council, but appointed governor to the young duke of Gloucester, (only son of the princess Anne,) with this high compliment from the king: "Make him but what you are, and my nephew will be all I wish to see him." In this honourable office the earl acquitted himself to the entire satisfaction of all parties: but the young prince dying in the eleventh year of his age, all hopes were destroyed of seeing a protestant successor in the family of Stuart; and by the act of succession the crown reverted, after the death of his mother, to the house of Hanover. The earl of Marlborough was soon after called to a more public employ; being appointed commander in chief of the English forces in Holland, and ambassador extraordinary to the United States. The scene now began to open which displayed his talents in their full lustre, and crowned him with never-fading laurels. Philip, a grandson of the house of France, united to the interest, directed by the policy, and supported by the arms of that crown, was placed on the throne of Spain. King Wil liam beheld this formidable coalition of two great, and once rival, monarchies, with jealous apprehension. At the close of a life spent in supporting the liberties of Europe, he saw them in the greatest danger; and pro vided for their security in the most effectual manner, by recommending the earl of Marlborough to the princess Anne, as the most proper person to command the army which was to support the balance of power, and prevent the fetters of slavery from being riveted on Europe. After concerting measures with the States, who also appointed him captain-general of their forces with a liberal salary, war was declared on the 4th of May, 1702, andthe earl of Marlborough opened the campaign. To detail the illustrious actions of this great general during the space of ten years, would be to write the history of Europe for that period; and no summary can convey any adequate idea of their importance. History has recorded the triumphs of Marlborough in indelible characters; and the consequences resulting from the terrors which his arms inspired, are perhaps felt at this very day they vie with those of Alexander and Cæsar; but as their objects were very different, so is their praise more glorious. As a mark of gratitude for his transcendent services, he was in 1702 created marquis of Blandford and duke of Marlborough; and after the battle of Blenheim, which was fought with unparalleled bravery and success on the 2d of August, 1704, the queen, with the concurrence of parliament, granted him the manor of Woodstock; to be for ever held by the tenure of presenting to the queen, her heirs and successors, on the anniversary of the day on which the victory was achieved, at the castle of Windsor, a standard with three fleurs-de-lys painted thereon. Or ders were likewise issued to the comptroller of the public works, to erect a magnificent palace for the duke, which received the appellation of Blenheim; and which remains a splendid memorial of national gratitude and munificence, to the hero who had deserved so well of his country. But though the actions of the duke of Marlborough, performed in the compass of a few years, were sufficient to adorn the annals of ages; though by him the glory of Britain was raised to such a height as might for ever have secured his own; he experienced, in the end, that opposition at home, which rendered his situation irksome; and paid in full the tax which envy and malice are sure to lay on exalted worth. His most glorious exploits, his best views and designs, were misrepresented by a faction who wished to supersede his influence at any rate; and who at last succeeded in dispossessing the duke's friends of that control in the government which was necessary to confirm his operations, and support the glory which he had acquired. The people too, intoxicated with victory, became languid in support of the war, and by degrees grew clamorous for peace. Negociations were set on foot more than once; but the enemy, though bleeding at every pore, and seeing their very vitals in danger, trusted to dicordant counsels in the British cabinet for better terms, and, on the removal of the duke from his high command, for a change of fortune. The private malice, and the mercenary aims of a party, co-operated with the wishes of the French court, and gave confidence to their hopes. A treaty of pacification was begun, on a basis which the duke of Marlborough could not approve; as neither promissing permanent security, nor advantages proportionate to our victories. He nobly avowed his sentiments to her majesty; adding, that as he could not concur in the measures of those who now directed her councils, he would not distract them by a fruitless opposition: but being attacked in the house of lords on the charge of having pro tracted the war from interested motives, he vindicated his conduct with such dignity and spirit, that the ministry strained every nerve to procure his dismission from all his employments; which in the sequel they effected, to their own disgrace, and the essential injury of the country. grace Being abandoned by the queen, assailed by the clamours of the populace, and traduced by hired libellers, (who are ready to espouse the cause of any ministry, and to insult where they can escape with impunity,) his thought proper to retire, and to gratify his enemies by a voluntary exile. So little dependence can be placed on popular applause, so little is the highest merit regarded when the fluctuating tide of opinion begins to change, that a bad man may meet with acclamations where he deserves censure, and a good man hisses where he is entitled to praise. The duke of Marlborough was too well acquainted with life, to expect unalloyed satisfaction or unvarying favour in a public station. He knew that in proportion to a man's exaltation, will be the probability of his future depression; and that the more signally he is distinguished, the more he will be envied or traduced. He quitted the scene of contention and of temporary ingratitude, with the same heroic firmness which he had displayed when combating the enemies of his country; and landing at Ostend, was received every where, both in Germany and Flanders, with the loudest plaudits, and all the honours due to his rank and character. On this occasion he visited the principality of Mindelheim, which had been conferred on him by the emperor, but which was afterwards restored to the elector of Bavaria by the treaty of Rastadt. His most virulent opponents, being now freed from apprehension by his absence, gradually lost their fury, and softened into candour. The peace which had been concluded was far from restoring harmony among the queen's ministers; and it is said that part of them entered into negociations with the duke to induce his return, in hopes to benefit by his assistance in extricating them from the difficulties in which they were involved. It is certain that his grace, having spent nearly two years on the continent, entered London three days after the queen's death, and was received with all possible demonstrations of joy. On the arrival of king George the First, the duke was distinguished in a manner equal to his deserts, and to the munificence of a sovereign who knew how to appreciate them. He was restored to all the principal commands with which he had at any time been invested, and his advice was of most essential value in crushing the rebellion in the year 1715. his talents in public affairs. Broken by the fatigues of a laborious military life, and bending under the infirmities natural to declining years, he quitted the busy scene, and spent the remainder of his days in the tranquillity of rural retirement. This was the last effort of He died at Windscr-lodge, in the seventy-third year of his age, and was interred with the highest solemnities in Westminster-abbey: whence his remains were afterwards removed, and deposited in the chapel at Blenheim; where a noble monument is erected to his memory, and to that of his duchess. His grace had the misfortune to lose his only son, the marquis of Blandford, while a student at Cambridge. He left however four daughters, who married into the best families in the kingdom; and his estates and honours being entailed, by act of parliament, on the female line in succession, they are now vested in the descendants of the earl of Sunderland, who married the second daughter. On the pedestal of a stately pillar raised to the honour of his grace in Blenheim-park, is a masterly delineation of his character and achievements, supposed to be drawn. by lord Bolingbroke; an extract from which is here subjoined, equally elegant and just. It is a subject of surprise and regret, that his life has never yet been written in a manner which his services demanded, and posterity had a right to expect. John, duke of Marlborough, The hero, not only of his nation, but his age; Whose glory was equal in the council and in the field; |