Blenheim
In the year 1703 Prince Eugene was appointed President of the Royal
Council of War in Vienna, a position which placed him at the head of all
military affairs. This was a very happy choice. Eugene was just the man
to bring order into affairs and to act with decision. Things were at
loose ends, as the reader may have noticed. In accepting this high honor
from the Emperor, Eugene had made but one condition; namely, that he
should be strongly supported in all his measures for the good of the
service and the army. A field was now opened to him where his keenness
and insight found their proper activities. The troops rejoiced greatly
at the promotion of their beloved leader. They forgot the trials they
had suffered, and hoped for better days. They believed that, now, at
least they would not be obliged to suffer for necessities.
The Emperor was in dire need of a competent minister of war; of a brain
which could plan for all. Within a short time the condition of European
affairs had changed completely, and though the Emperor’s cause was
greatly helped by the recent acquisition of powerful allies, still there
were so many complicated threads that it would take a very clever hand
to untangle them, to organize the different divisions of the army, and
to guide and hold them ready for prompt and decisive action. That this
would not be an easy task was self-evident. Prince Eugene, like all
mortals, had his enemies and detractors. His energetic methods did not
please everyone, especially those in higher circles, who had heretofore
been indifferent and passive. The situation must have caused him many a
headache. But there was one thing that supported him; namely, devotion
to his Emperor and his righteous cause, to promote which he tirelessly
considered new plans and means which involved many little vexations and
mortifications. “Patience! patience! patience!” he often said to
himself. He generally proposed the opposite of that which he really
intended, knowing beforehand that his suggestion would be rejected and
that the measure which he himself really wanted would be recommended. It
was a remarkable and dangerous game which his colleagues were playing
while the glorious continuation or the shameful downfall of the German
imperial house hung in the balance!
As we already know, England and Holland had taken sides with the
hard-pressed German Emperor and had placed a strong army in the
Netherlands. Their commander was the gifted English General Marlborough,
who had already met the French several times and had shown them that he
knew how to conduct a war and understood the arts of attack and defence
equally well. With a second army Margrave Louis of Baden stood guard
over the Rhine in the neighborhood of his home, and the Prussian allies
were also on hand under the leadership of the daring Prince Leopold of
Dessau. Unfortunately the Elector Max Emanuel of Bavaria was still on
the French side. Guided by petty self-interest, he had deserted and
betrayed his German fatherland.
Besides the French and Bavarians, the Turks and Hungarians were
bestirring themselves once more. This was a prearranged scheme in which
France again had her hand, for she was anxious to attack Austria from
all sides. But the outcome was very different from what the Emperor’s
enemies had expected. We shall see what happened.
The two generals, Marlborough and Eugene, were placed first in command.
For a long time they had been mutual admirers. They were attracted to
one another, for, as the maxim says: like seeks like. Eugene, who was
thoroughly German in feeling, was deeply pained to know that the French
were in Germany—that is, in Bavaria. Had he had the power he would soon
have turned them out. He now devised a plan by means of which, with the
aid of the English, he might accomplish this. It may be admitted that
there had been a great deal of correspondence in regard to the matter,
but when it had been thoroughly considered in all its details it was
remarkable how well the plans of the two generals coincided.
Eugene and Marlborough’s plan in brief was, to unite their forces in
Bavaria, to call also upon Margrave Louis of Baden, and then to strike a
sudden blow. For the present Prince Eugene temporarily resigned his
office of President of the Council of War, donned his modest soldier’s
coat, and girded on his sword. As the direct road was occupied by the
Bavarians and French—the latter under Marshal Marsin—he hurried to the
seat of war by the roundabout way of the Tyrol and Vorarlberg. His
arrival was greeted with loud rejoicings by the army. Those princes who
were allied in opposition to the imperial house felt that his appearance
was the forerunner of important events. For instance, the Elector of
Bavaria wrote to the King of France: “It is not to be doubted that the
Prince of Savoy visits the seat of war in order to carry out great
projects.” It was plain that his opponents feared the noble knight. Had
Margrave Louis of Baden been as resolute as of old, it would certainly
have been an easy task for him to make the Elector of Bavaria, who was
just now separated from Marsin, feel the sharpness of his sword. As it
was, he pursued him but tardily and confronted him at last at Ehingen,
near Ulm, where the Elector was encamped.
It was at this time that Eugene rejoined the army. He could probably not
avoid reproaching the Margrave, though this must have been a very
unpleasant task, for he was much indebted to him; but the service could
not be allowed to suffer through friendship. However, all might yet be
well. Marlborough was on the way to southern Germany with his army,
consisting of picked troops, excellently clothed and armed. He had sent
word to Eugene that he would conquer or die with him.
On the tenth of June, 1704, Eugene and Marlborough met for the first
time at Mundelsheim. They made the most agreeable impression upon one
another. A confidential intercourse developed and a mutual desire to
accommodate one another in all points, which soon showed its happy
effects on the soldiers of both armies.
Three days later they joined the Margrave of Baden at Grossheppach. To
this day, at the inn “Zum Lamm” (“at the sign of the Lamb”), the tree is
shown beneath which the three generals held a council of war. The
resolution was taken to lure the enemy, now in southern Bavaria, across
the Danube in order to destroy him.
The Margrave, as the higher in rank, insisted on taking command of the
imperial troops and coöperating with Marlborough on the Danube. In order
not to disturb the good understanding, Eugene subordinated himself and
took command of the troops on the Rhine. This was a very important post,
for it was necessary to prevent the union of the French marshals,
Tallart and Villeroi, an attempt which Eugene from the first considered
scarcely possible.
In increasing numbers the French pressed forward across the Rhine. They
meant to give Germany her death-blow. Eugene’s plan was to detain
Villeroi on the Rhine, on his way from the Netherlands. In the meantime
Marlborough and Louis of Baden had not been idle; the Bavarian
Field-Marshal Arco, who with eight thousand men had attempted to dispute
their passage of the Danube, had been crushed at the Schottenberg. As a
result of this, the Elector retired to Augsburg. Under cover of its
cannon he felt himself secure. The allies followed at his heels, but
without attempting anything.
Efforts were again made toward peace, and an attempt was made to
reconcile the Elector with his father-in-law, the Emperor.
All was in vain. The Elector, in his boundless ambition, planned first
to tear the German Empire asunder and then to appropriate the lion’s
share. He again had visions of the crown of France, or indeed the German
imperial crown, upon his head; he was, in short, a cheap creature of the
“Most Christian” King of France, and would hear nothing of
reconciliation. He did his utmost to hasten the advance of Marshal
Tallart. War alone should decide his fate.
Tallart appeared, but close after him followed Eugene, whom Villeroi
believed to be still at the Stollhof frontier. On the third of August
the Prince was at Höchstädt, going into camp there and joining
Marlborough a few days later. Margrave Louis of Baden had in the
meantime undertaken the siege of Ingolstadt, so that his indecision
could no longer be a hindrance.
Haste was now necessary; not a moment must be lost. Both great generals
agreed that the decisive battle must be fought on the narrow plain
between Blenheim and Höchstädt. To this end the enemy were allowed to
cross the Danube quietly and establish themselves at Höchstädt. The
Bavarians and French had no real knowledge of the true state of affairs.
They intended to attack Eugene, whom they believed to be separated from
Marlborough, and they expected to overcome him without much difficulty.
Too late they learned their mistake.
From the church tower at Tapfheim Marlborough and Eugene observed the
advance and manœuvres of the enemy. They posted themselves on the
opposite side of the Nebelbach. The right wing rested on Blenheim on the
Danube, where Tallart took up his quarters. The left wing, under Marsin,
was supported by the village of Lutzingen and the slopes of the
Goldberg. The Nebelbach was in front of them. The Elector with his
cavalry was situated at Sonderheim, a short distance from Blenheim. The
allies were behind the Kesselbach. Marlborough, who commanded the left
wing, was at Münster on the Danube; Eugene, with the right, at
Oppertshofen. Thus dawned the twelfth of August of the year 1704, the
day which was to decide the power of German strength over French force
and cunning.
As early as three o’clock in the morning the roll of drums and trumpet
calls awakened the allies to the bloody harvest work of this hot August
day. The moon was setting and threw its last pale light over the
landscape. A thick fog covered the great plain and hid the distance.
Each of the allies’ armies was divided into four columns, of which two
consisted of infantry and two of cavalry. The infantry marched in front,
the cavalry behind, and the artillery was in the middle. A ninth column
was formed to cover the march of the English and Dutch artillery, then
to attack Blenheim and from thence to fall upon the enemy’s right flank.
The Prussian reserve corps, under the young Prince Leopold of Dessau,
was attached to Eugene’s army.
The fog lifted; it was nearly seven o’clock when the enemy became
visible. They were still under the strange delusion that the allies
would not dare to attack them, but would retire toward Nördlingen. But
all at once they were surprised by a sudden onslaught. The Bavarian
outposts were quickly overcome; the battle broke out here and there in
jets of flame. In order to hold Blenheim, Tallart made the mistake of
withdrawing twenty-seven battalions from his centre, where Clerambault
commanded. The narrow strip between the village and the Danube was
protected by a barricade of wagons, behind which stood four regiments of
unmounted dragoons ready to defend it. The French line of battle was
spread out for miles. It surged back and forth like the ebb and flow of
the sea.
At nine o’clock in the morning Tallart’s artillery opened a murderous
fire on the allies, who, of course, answered in kind. Eugene’s
regiments, particularly, suffered under this fierce cannonading. Coming
up from a hollow, their left flank was in line of the firing, but in
spite of this they hastily threw five bridges across the Nebelbach.
Toward noon Marlborough mounted his horse and gave the signal for the
attack. Lord Cutts proceeded with his men, at the signal for a general
advance, toward the mills of Blenheim, and took them. At the same time
the English cavalry crossed the Nebelbach. Immediately they were engaged
in a hand to hand struggle with the French. There were mighty blows of
the sword on helmet and armor; the squadrons plunged wildly upon one
another. Unfortunately the English cavalry was the weaker. Pursued by
the French they fell back on the infantry; but here the French advance
was checked and whole ranks were mowed down by the English musketeers.
New companies came storming up, only to meet the same fate, and all
without any effect on the general result. The decisive struggle took
place at Blenheim; but here at first every attack was in vain. Every
garden wall, every hedgerow and fence, was prepared for defence; and the
churchyard, which lay rather high, was transformed into a small citadel.
Marlborough quickly changed his plan of attack. While he feigned attacks
on Blenheim, his principal blow was struck at the enemy’s centre, which
Tallart had weakened considerably by sending reinforcements to Blenheim.
But even here it was impossible to accomplish anything. The French
fought with the courage of despair, and the English had to give way. At
this decisive moment Marlborough placed himself at the head of the
Danish troops, crossed the Nebelbach, and attacked the French again with
fresh energy. Marsin’s cavalry came dashing up and threw themselves
heavily upon the Danes.
All was wild confusion; already the Danes were seeking a way for
retreat, and all seemed lost. Just then the imperial cuirassiers, led by
Fugger, came dashing up. With irresistible force they threw themselves
upon the enemy, renewed the firing, and soon worsted the foe. The battle
had been raging for hours and was still, on the whole, undecided. Eugene
also had been fighting with the same ill success. With but eleven
battalions of Prussians and seven battalions of Danes, he could scarcely
make any headway. Once more, however, they put forth their utmost
efforts. Such a bloody battle had never been known. The attack was begun
by the Prussians under Leopold. It was a difficult piece of work. From
Lutzingen the enemy’s batteries poured death and destruction incessantly
into their ranks. The brave grenadiers furiously threw themselves upon
them and took them in a wild struggle. But the Bavarians were soon on
the spot and the Prussians were driven back with great loss.
Eugene collected the scattered forces and placed himself at their head.
The attack was unsuccessful. It was impossible for the eighteen
battalions of infantry to wrest the victory from the twenty-five
battalions of the Elector. Eugene now called on Marlborough for
assistance, in expectation of which the Prince went into the ranks,
encouraging the men, with word and example, to stand firm and have
courage. But time pressed, and before Marlborough’s reinforcements
arrived the Prince had made a third attack. His keen soldier’s eye had
noted that the advantage was inclining toward Marlborough’s side. Now
all depended on cutting off the advance of the French right wing. The
cavalry should have undertaken this, but were so disheartened by the
repeated assaults that no great success was to be depended on. Full of
disdain, Eugene turned his back on them and rode to the Prussian
infantry. These did their duty completely. Regardless of danger they
dashed forward under Eugene’s leadership, while the Prince of Dessau
encouraged his men to do the impossible. The grenadiers loaded and fired
as carefully as though they were on the parade ground, and executed
evolutions which made the hearts of old and young warriors laugh within
them—until at last the enemy began to retire through the forest and by
the ravine-road at Lutzingen. Here in the midst of this wild scrimmage
Eugene nearly lost his life. A Bavarian cavalryman, who had probably
recognized him, was taking aim with his carbine, when he was rendered
harmless by an imperial officer who came hurrying up.
And still the battle raged. The Bavarians fought with the courage of
lions and stood as firm as rocks amid the sea. At last news came from
the other wing: Marlborough was gaining the advantage. Marshal Tallart
had been wounded and taken prisoner, and Blenheim was surrounded by the
English. Now the cowardly and treacherous Clerambault yielded his place,
which was the key of the French position, and the English pushed into
Blenheim, where they shot and cut down all who opposed them, and made
nine thousand prisoners.
Marlborough’s trumpet-calls of victory were the signal for Eugene also
to make a quick end of things. With the last strength of his battalions
and squadrons—Prince Leopold, with his Prussians, at the head—he at last
compelled the enemy to retreat. But they gave way only by inches. The
Bavarians still fought with the utmost tenacity, defending every foot of
ground, until at last, completely weakened and shot to pieces, they
succumbed to the fire of the Prussian infantry.
Thus the Germans had gained a great and important, but very bloody
victory. Fifty-two thousand Germans and English had fought against
fifty-six thousand French and Bavarians. Fourteen thousand of the latter
now covered the battle-field, and nearly as many had been taken
prisoners. The trophies consisted of one hundred and forty cannon and a
great number of flags and standards. All Germany and the greater part of
Europe rejoiced over the victory at Blenheim and the thorough
humiliation and chastisement of the French. Marlborough and Eugene were
the heroes of the day. The former was created a prince of the holy Roman
empire by the Emperor, and Eugene’s house in Vienna was made perpetually
free of taxation as a privileged “freehouse” of the nobility.
In Paris, on the other hand, great discouragement reigned. Almost every
important family mourned their dead or feared for a wounded or
imprisoned son. The despondency was general. And again it was the former
little _abbé_ whose face was so distasteful to Louis the Fourteenth that
had brought this misfortune upon him and his country. Had the allies
pursued the French as fast as they fled toward the Rhine, the battle of
Blenheim would have had still more important results. This was part of
Eugene’s plan; but in Vienna there was a group of extremely circumspect
gentlemen who had very different views—“clerks and scribblers,” as
Blücher later named this distasteful guild.