MARLBOROUGH
With the reign of William III. the military history of England entered
on a new phase. Her continental wars had hitherto been, with trifling
exceptions, connected with the claim of the English kings to the throne
of France. Henceforth she took part in nearly every European war; and
thanks to the restless energy of William III. and to the military
genius of Marlborough, the part she played was a leading one from the
first. It has been argued that England was wrong to concern herself
with continental quarrels, when her real interests lay elsewhere, at
sea, in North America, at a later date in India, and that she only
weakened herself for protecting these interests by intervening in
European affairs. Those who take this view leave out of account the
essential facts which governed the action of England at the time of
this new departure. She had recently expelled her legitimate king, who
had still many partisans at home, and who found in France a ready and
most powerful ally. Louis XIV. was bound to the Stuarts by every tie of
sympathy, religious, political, personal: and though he was not the man
to let his sentiments outweigh his interest, the two so far coincided
that his schemes for domination in Europe would obviously be furthered
by weakening England through civil dissension. The English nation as
a whole was passionately attached to its church, to its political
liberties, still more perhaps to its independence of foreigners, and
saw in France the one dangerous enemy to all three. France had other
enemies, arrayed against her for reasons which did not much concern
England, and alliance with them was an opportunity worth seizing.
The determining motive however was not this calculation, but outraged
honour. When Louis XIV. formally recognised the son of the dying James
II. as lawful king of England, he committed at once a crime and a
blunder: he deliberately broke his word, and insulted England beyond
endurance. Those words cost him his supremacy in Europe, and made
England henceforth a permanent and ever weightier factor in European
affairs.
The military reputation of England had suffered eclipse since the
days of Henry V., not altogether deservedly, for the fighting
qualities of Englishmen had been conspicuous on many fields, and yet
not unnaturally. English troops fighting for the independence of the
Netherlands had done excellent service; Cromwell's contingent allied
with France in 1658 had mainly contributed to an important victory
over Spain. But the few independent expeditions sent by the English
government to the continent had been ill managed or ill commanded, and
had failed more or less completely. Under William III. they showed all
their ancient stubborn valour, but luck was against them. The defeats
of Steinkirk and Landen were more glorious to the English infantry
than many a victory: the misconduct of their allies in one case, the
very superior numbers of the French army and the great skill of its
commander in the other case, amply accounted for the failure, but
still they were defeats. The great victories of Marlborough, almost
as brilliant as Crecy or Agincourt, restored the military credit of
England, again not quite deservedly, for the armies of Marlborough were
by no means wholly English, and yet very naturally, since the great
Englishman was the real conqueror of Louis XIV. The death of William
III., just before war actually broke out, left Marlborough, who was all
powerful with queen Anne, the real head of the coalition against France.
England thus entered on the war of the Spanish Succession as the ally
of continental powers banded together against France, and hampered
by having to act in concert with them, as well as supported by their
strength. In the patient tact requisite for managing a body of allies
with diverging interests, and practically no bond of union except
hostility to the enemy, Marlborough was perhaps never excelled. In
military skill he was vastly William's superior, being on the whole
the first of an age fertile in good generals. The weak point in his
position was that it depended on the personal favour of a stupid
woman: when his wife lost her influence over queen Anne, his political
antagonists in England found no great difficulty in bringing about
his disgrace. Marlborough was not a good man; he was greedy of money
and of power, and unscrupulous as to the means he adopted for gaining
them. As a general however he had the virtues never too common, and
almost unknown in his age, of humanity towards the peaceful population
even of a hostile country, and of attention to the welfare of his own
soldiers. Like Wellington a century later, he was habitually careful
of the lives of his men, though he knew how to expend them when the
occasion demanded it. Like Wellington also he never lost his patience
and coolness of judgment, either in the excitement of battle or in
dealing with troublesome allies. In fact the two great Englishmen were
conspicuously alike, at least in their military character, though there
is no real doubt that Marlborough had the greater genius.
The commencement of the war was uneventful. The king of France had
taken possession of Belgium in the name of his grandson Philip, the
French claimant of the crown of Spain, which alarmed the Dutch for
their homes. In Spain itself the French party was preponderant, but
not unopposed. Louis had every motive for standing on the defensive.
Marlborough was as yet powerless to move his allies. It was not until
the alliance of Bavaria with France opened a road for French armies
into the heart of Germany that decisive events occurred. The chief
item in the French plans for 1704 was that Marshal Tallard should
march from the Rhine into Bavaria, where another army under Marsin had
wintered; then the two armies, combined with the Bavarian contingent,
were to advance down the basin of the Danube. It was calculated that
the Emperor, already greatly hampered by an insurrection in Hungary,
would be unable to oppose effectual resistance, and would purchase
peace on almost any terms. If this were achieved, the keystone of the
alliance against France, the candidature of an Austrian prince in
Spain, would be removed, and the whole fabric might be expected to
collapse. The plan was well conceived: it was an instance, on the great
political scale, of acting upon the fundamental military maxim—strike
at the vital point. But for Marlborough it must have succeeded, so
far as anything can be safely predicted in war. But for the practice,
invariable in that age and perhaps inevitable by reason of the badness
of roads and of organised supply, that all military operations should
be suspended during the winter half of the year, Marlborough would have
had no time to prepare his counter stroke. His plan was indeed fully
thought out before the winter, in concert with the imperial general
Eugene of Savoy, but he had many obstacles to overcome before it could
be carried into operation. Even to the English cabinet he did not
venture to disclose his whole purpose, but he succeeded in obtaining a
large addition to his own army, and increased money grants. The Dutch
had but one idea, to guard their own frontier: they would not even
assent beforehand to Marlborough's proposal, intended to conceal his
real object from friend and foe alike, that he with part of the German
contingents should operate against France from the Moselle, while
the Dutch, with the rest of the Germans, defended the Netherlands.
Marlborough was obliged to be content with the assurance of his one
firm supporter in Holland, the Pensionary Heinsius, that consent should
be obtained when the time came. Much trouble had also to be taken
with other minor members of the confederacy, but Marlborough attained
his ostensible object of being free to move with his own army to the
Moselle.
Not until Marlborough with his army had reached Coblenz, did he
give any hint of his intentions, except to the two or three persons
necessarily in his confidence. Even then he only declared to the Dutch
that he found it necessary to go further south; and they, finding that
a deaf ear was turned to their remonstrances, let Marlborough take his
own course, and even sent reinforcements after him. The distance to be
traversed, the necessity of arranging every detail for troops moving
by different routes, made his progress necessarily slow. The French
did not in the least guess his design, but nevertheless persevered in
their plan of reinforcing the army in Bavaria, a process which the
Margrave of Baden, who commanded for the allies on the upper Rhine,
ought to have rendered much more difficult. Not till Marlborough,
ascending the Neckar, began to penetrate the hill country that
separates the basins of the Neckar and Danube, was his real purpose
apparent. He had before then met Eugene of Savoy, who was as he hoped
to command the imperial army destined to co-operate with him: but
the Margrave of Baden, who was Eugene's senior in rank, insisted on
taking the more important part, and leaving Eugene to command on the
Rhine. Marlborough's purpose was something like Napoleon's at the
beginning of the famous Austerlitz campaign, to concentrate his army,
reaching the Danube by various routes, near Ulm. In Marlborough's
time however Ulm was not yet an important fortress: and the Elector
abandoned it on the allies appearing in the vicinity, and marched down
the Danube to a great intrenched camp near Dillingen. Marlborough's
first object was necessarily to secure a point of passage across the
Danube: and he determined to seize Donauwerth, a small fortified town
lower down. His zeal was quickened by the tidings that the French army
under Marshal Tallard was on the point of marching from Strasburg to
assist the Elector. He therefore, as soon as his troops had come up in
sufficient numbers, without waiting for full concentration, circled
round Dillingen, and directed his march on Donauwerth. The Elector
divined his intention, and occupying that town, with the hill of the
Schellenberg adjoining it, began to put in order the fortifications.
Marlborough saw the urgent necessity for haste: a couple of days' delay
might render the works on the Schellenberg unassailable, in which case
his chance of securing a bridge over the Danube before Tallard arrived
would be but small. He therefore ordered an attack immediately on
reaching the place, though his men had had a very long march, and it
was verging towards evening.[56]
Donauwerth stands on the north bank of the Danube, just below the
junction of a tributary, the Wernitz. The Schellenberg, a large
flat-topped hill, immediately adjoins the town on the east. A
continuous line of works existed, passing along the brow of the hill,
and extending to the fortifications of Donauwerth on one side and down
to the Danube on the other; only the central portion however was in a
state fit for defence, though the enemy was at work on the remainder.
Marlborough arrived in person with his cavalry before Donauwerth on
the forenoon of July 2. While waiting for the infantry to come up,
he caused bridges to be thrown over the Wernitz, and ordered a site
for a camp to be marked out, thus giving the enemy the impression
that no attack was intended, at any rate until next day. At 6 p.m.
however the pick of Marlborough's army assailed the hill: after a
long and desperate struggle, in which the allies lost heavily, the
enemy were routed, and fled down the reverse slope to the Danube.
The crush broke down the bridge, and thousands were precipitated
into the rapid stream. Scarcely more than a quarter of the defenders
of the Schellenberg reached the Elector's camp. As a consequence of
this defeat the Elector abandoned Donauwerth, as well as Dillingen,
and retired to Augsburg, where he shut himself up, while Marlborough
ravaged Bavaria, in the vain hope of compelling the Elector to abandon
the French alliance. Nuremberg became the centre of Marlborough's
supply system, which was elaborated in a manner far in advance of his
age; and the devastation[57] of Bavaria made him even more dependent
on his magazines than he would otherwise have been. As Tallard was now
approaching from the Rhine, with a force that Eugene was powerless to
stop, the allies found it necessary to abandon the southern bank of the
Danube. Marlborough and Eugene persuaded the Margrave of Baden that
to capture Ingolstadt, a fortified town lower down the river, would
be a higher distinction than to await attack from the French. They
themselves united their armies at Donauwerth on the northern bank, and
marched up the river towards the enemy, whom they found encamped beyond
the Nebel, a small tributary of the Danube.
The line occupied by the French and Bavarians ran nearly north and
south, and extended for about four miles. They had naturally formed
their camp on the higher ground west of the Nebel, the course of which
was marshy along the whole front, troublesome to cross everywhere, and
believed by the French to be a much greater obstacle than it really
was. Tallard, misconstruing information that he had received, was
under the impression that Eugene's army had not joined Marlborough,
and that therefore the movement before dawn on August 13, of which
he was apprised, was a retreat northwards. The body of cavalry which
escorted the allied generals to the Nebel, when they rode in advance
of their armies to reconnoitre, was supposed to be detached to cover
this retreat. Nothing was further from the minds of the French generals
than the expectation of being attacked where they were. Hence they had
taken no steps, as they might easily have done, to render their front
virtually unassailable. Hence also, when the morning fog cleared off,
and discovered columns of infantry at the edge of the higher ground
which bordered the valley of the Nebel on the east, they were in too
great a hurry to do anything but form line of battle on the ground
which they already occupied.
[Illustration:
_Map X._
_Battle of Blenheim._
(_13th Aug 1704_)]
The Nebel emerges from the wooded uneven country to the northwards
about a mile east of Luzingen, in which village were the Elector's
head-quarters. A little lower down, also on the right bank of the
stream, is the village of Oberglauheim. The infantry of the joint army,
commanded by the Elector and Marshal Marsin, was drawn up from Luzingen
to Oberglauheim, most of its cavalry on the right, extending further
to the south. Marshal Tallard's infantry was most of it posted in
Blenheim,[58] a village close to the Danube; his cavalry continued the
line to the north till they met Marsin's, but had a reserve of infantry
behind its centre. The artillery, which was not numerous in proportion,
was distributed at intervals. The French apparently believed the Nebel
to be impassable from Oberglauheim to Blenheim, where there were some
mills on the stream, which however they neglected to occupy: nor had
they effectually broken the bridge by which the high-road crosses the
Nebel. About Unterglauheim, a hamlet on the left bank half-way between
the two, there lies a wide piece of swamp. During a great part of the
year, or after heavy rain, the Nebel might no doubt be a very serious
obstacle, but in August the difficulty could be overcome. Their want of
care to ascertain the truth on this point was the direct cause of their
defeat. Their dispositions had two ruinous defects, the Nebel being
passable: first, their line was fatally weak in the centre, where for a
long distance it consisted almost entirely of cavalry: secondly, they
were posted so far back from the stream that there was room for the
enemy to form line for attack after struggling through it. The latter
error might easily have been remedied by a short advance, but nothing
was done. Tallard, it is said, uneasy about the weakness of the centre
when he saw the enemy massing at Unterglauheim, urged Marsin to post
his reserve of infantry there; but Marsin thought, rightly as the event
showed, that his reserves were needed on the left. Why Marshal Tallard
did not withdraw from Blenheim several of the useless thousands that
crowded it, is a question easier to ask than to answer.
Tallard had plenty of time to correct his dispositions, had he known
how, for the battle did not begin for several hours after the allies
came in sight. Eugene and Marlborough had agreed that the army of the
former should constitute the right, Marlborough's the left, of the
line of battle. As their line of march had been near the Danube, and
the ground through which Eugene's columns had to make their way was
broken and wooded, it was a long time before he was opposite Luzingen,
ready to begin the action, and Marlborough was of course obliged to
wait for him. The allied generals had discerned the defect in the
French position: a vigorous attack on the centre ought to cut the line
in half. Their plan was that Eugene should occupy the Elector and
Marsin, and that Cutts with Marlborough's left should assail Blenheim
directly, while the duke himself undertook the decisive movement. All
preparations were duly made while Eugene was on the march: the pontoon
train was brought up, and bridges laid at intervals from Unterglauheim
downwards: the artillery was posted to command the opposite bank:
troops were pushed forward to seize the small existing bridges near
Blenheim. Except for a not very serious cannonade, Tallard remained
inactive: he had in fact no longer any choice, unless he retreated
(for which there was no reason), after he had allowed all the passages
of the Nebel to fall into his enemy's hands. About one o'clock came
the welcome news that Eugene had completed his march, and the battle
began at once on both flanks. Of the conflict on the right very little
need be said. The Nebel above Oberglauheim was not a real obstacle,
and Eugene attacked directly. The contest was long and obstinate, with
considerable vicissitudes: Eugene's troops, exhausted by the long march
under a hot sun, were scarcely equal to the exertion required of them.
The Elector and Marsin held their ground till Tallard was routed, and
then made an orderly retreat, but they could not spare a man to help
their colleague. Eugene's share in the action, though not in itself
successful, was a necessary and important contribution to the victory.
Cutts made his attack on Blenheim with all the fury which earned for
him the nickname of the Salamander. Against the enormous force that was
massed in the village it was scarcely possible that he should actually
succeed, but he prevented any troops from being withdrawn towards the
centre. Here also the vicissitudes of the action were great. The first
line of English infantry advanced right up to the palisades covering
the village before they fired a shot. While vainly trying to force
their way through the defences they were suddenly charged in flank by
some French cavalry, and would have been routed but for some Hessian
cavalry, which drove back the enemy. A fierce and confused cavalry
fight followed, into which was drawn every squadron that Cutts could
command, but with no decisive result. Meanwhile Marlborough's centre
had been slowly crossing the Nebel, covered by the artillery on the
high ground east of the stream, which approached much nearer to it
than on the French side. The passage was begun opposite Unterglauheim
by the infantry of General Churchill, Marlborough's brother. As soon
as they could begin to form on the further bank cavalry pushed across
after them, and though charged by the first line of Tallard's cavalry,
and driven back, they were rescued by the infantry, now fairly formed,
and made good their position. As more and more cavalry crossed the
Nebel they extended to the right towards Oberglauheim, which was held
in force by the right of Marsin's army. His cavalry fully held their
own, driving some of the Danish and Hanoverian squadrons back across
the Nebel. The infantry of Marlborough's right now began to cross above
Oberglauheim, but being promptly attacked by the French infantry out of
that village, the Irish brigade conspicuous among them, suffered heavy
loss, and would have been defeated, but for reinforcements brought up
by Marlborough in person, which restored the balance.
The time was now come for Marlborough to deliver the decisive attack.
His whole army was across the stream, and formed, the cavalry in two
lines, the infantry in support with intervals between the battalions,
so that the squadrons if repulsed might pass through. His artillery,
advanced to the Nebel, played upon the stationary French until the last
moment. Tallard had done, could do, nothing to meet the coming storm,
except to bring up his reserve infantry, nine battalions, and mingle
them with his cavalry. About five o'clock the signal was given, and
Marlborough led his horsemen, some 8000 strong, up the gentle slope
to the French position. The first charge did not succeed, but some
infantry and artillery, brought up in support, took up the action.
The French did not venture to charge in their turn, though they had
ample numbers for doing so: apparently the feebleness of Tallard was
felt throughout his army, and so the last chance was thrown away.
Marlborough's second charge completely broke the French cavalry: the
infantry intermixed with them were cut to pieces or surrendered.
Tallard in vain tried to re-form his cavalry, in order to cover the
retreat of his infantry from Blenheim: they did not even stand another
charge, but fled in confusion, some westwards, some towards the Danube.
Detaching part of his force to pursue the former, Marlborough drove the
latter upon the river. Tallard himself, with such of the fugitives as
did not try to swim the Danube, was compelled to surrender. Meanwhile
General Churchill, advancing in rear of the victorious cavalry, had
encircled Blenheim, where nearly 12,000 French, mostly infantry, were
still cooped up. After vain attempts to cut their way out, the whole
mass surrendered: they had been utterly wasted by the mismanagement of
their general.
It was the practice in Marlborough's day to count armies by the
number of battalions and squadrons; and as those of course varied
in strength, through casualties as well as through unequal original
numbers, calculations based on them are a little uncertain. There is
very fair agreement as to the battalions and squadrons engaged on both
sides, from which it may be reasonably inferred that the allies had
about 52,000 men (9000 only being English), of which nearly 20,000
were cavalry, and the French about 56,000, of whom perhaps 18,000
were cavalry. In artillery the French had a decided superiority. With
this advantage, and with a position difficult to assail effectually,
they ought to have been well able to hold their own. The miserable
tactics of Tallard however did more than throw away this advantage.
The opinion has been expressed that 4000 men were amply sufficient
to hold Blenheim: Tallard left 13,000 there all through the day. The
difference, 9000, more than neutralised the French superiority in
infantry, and left the allies their preponderance in cavalry. Moreover
Eugene had apparently rather inferior forces to those immediately
opposed to him. Thus Marlborough was able to carry out, to some extent
at least, the cardinal maxim of bringing superior forces to bear at the
decisive point.
As might be inferred from the severity of the fighting, the victory
cost the allies dear, no less than 4500 killed and 7500 wounded. The
French loss was enormous: fully a quarter of their army surrendered
themselves prisoners, a still larger number were killed and wounded,
or were drowned in attempting to pass the Danube. Their camp and
nearly all their artillery fell into the hands of the victors. Roughly
speaking it may be said that Tallard's army was annihilated: Marsin's,
though it suffered severely, made good its retreat without being
disorganised.
Without going so far as Sir E. Creasy, who ranks Blenheim among the
fifteen decisive battles of the world, we may still say that its moral
results were even more important than the heavy material blow inflicted
on France. For half a century France had been much more than the first
military nation in Europe. Thanks in the first place to Turenne, but
also to the organising skill of Louvois and the engineering genius of
Vauban, Louis XIV. had developed a power which, wielded as it was by
a despot steadily bent on selfish aggrandisement, had been fully a
match for coalition after coalition. A succession of great generals
carried on the traditions of Turenne: they were pitted against enemies
who on the whole were inferior in skill, in resources, above all in
homogeneity. The world had almost come to believe in the natural and
permanent military superiority of France, and to accept Louis XIV. on
his own estimate of himself. The news of Blenheim broke the spell: the
domination of France was over. Louis himself had to admit that he was
mortal: during the remainder of the war he stood substantially on the
defensive, trying to retain or to recover territories over which he or
his grandson, the king of Spain, had some claim, but no longer dreaming
of crushing his antagonists. The power of France was by no means broken
as yet; thanks to the difficulties inherent in working a coalition, she
held her ground for several years more, but the tide, which had turned
at Blenheim, set on the whole steadily against her.
Believing France to be more exhausted than she in fact was, Marlborough
hoped to achieve great things in 1705 by attacking France from the side
of the Moselle. The reluctance of his allies however kept his army so
small that he was powerless. Villars, the ablest living French general,
was opposed to him with superior forces, and with orders to avoid a
battle. After vainly trying for six weeks to find an opportunity—a
direct attack on Villars in an intrenched position being beyond his
strength—Marlborough returned to the Netherlands, where the incapable
Villeroi lay behind a great line of almost continuous fortifications
from Antwerp to Namur. It was the fashion of the age to construct
these elaborate defences, always open to two fatal objections, that
they deprived the army holding them of all mobility, and that they
became useless if broken through at any point. So long as the enemy was
content to play the game in the fashion that best suited the defence,
or was so hindered by bad roads and lack of subsistence that he found
it difficult to move promptly, such lines might serve their purpose;
and if from the nature of the country they could not be turned, an
enemy might deem it too hazardous to break through them. But from
Turenne onwards skilful generals turned or pierced them whenever they
seriously tried; and Marlborough's easy success in breaking through
the French lines at what was deemed their strongest point was a very
striking proof of their inutility.[59] Had it not been for the
persistent opposition of the Dutch to any decisive action, Marlborough,
advancing on Brussels, would have fought a great battle very nearly on
the field of Waterloo. Hampered by the Dutch, he could achieve nothing;
and the year 1705, though eventful in other parts of the vast theatre
of war, ended in the Netherlands much as it began.
[Illustration:
_Map XI._
_Battle of Ramillies._
_23^{rd}. May 1706._]
The next year Marlborough formed a plan even more far-reaching
and audacious than that which had been brought to so triumphant a
conclusion on the field of Blenheim. The French in northern Italy
had been pressing their enemies hard: well led by Vendôme, they
had gone very near to conquering Piedmont entirely. Marlborough
dreamed of marching his own army down into Italy, and relieving
the duke of Savoy. Fortunately perhaps for his fame, he found the
obstacles insurmountable, and remained in the Netherlands,[60] where
the incapable Villeroi soon played into his hands. Believing that
Marlborough's army was not yet concentrated, and that therefore he
could fight a battle to advantage, Villeroi moved from his intrenched
camp at Louvain in the direction of Liège, not far from which city were
Marlborough's head-quarters. As a matter of fact, Marlborough was not
only ready for action, but slightly superior in numbers to Villeroi,
and he promptly moved towards the sources of the two small rivers known
as the great and little Gheet, in order that Villeroi might not protect
himself behind them, if he discovered that he had no chance of fighting
with the weight of numbers on his side. Villeroi however was in no way
desirous of avoiding a battle, and took up a position facing eastwards,
near the source of the little Gheet.
The field of Ramillies is the highest ground in Brabant, and, as is
apt to be the case in flat countries where the fall of the ground is
extremely gradual, there was a great deal of morass, in some places
impassable. Immediately at the source of the little Gheet is the small
village of Ramillies; about two miles to the north of it lies another
village, Autre Eglise, on the west of the stream, the whole course of
which, so far, is very marshy. Just south of Ramillies runs from east
to west an old Roman road known as Brunehaut's road, with the small
river Mehaigne beyond it, and between the road and the Mehaigne, about
south of Ramillies, is the village of Tavière. Villeroi's position
was on the higher ground behind the little Gheet, whence the slope to
the great Gheet, about two miles further west, is rather greater, and
along which runs the road by which Villeroi had come from Judoigne
on the great Gheet. His left was behind Autre Eglise, his centre
behind Ramillies, his right on a barrow called the tomb of Ottomond,
close above the Roman road, with a small force thrown forward into
Tavière. The allied army, marching from the east, arrived in front
of this position about noon (May 23, 1706). Marlborough at once saw
the opportunity which was afforded him by half of the French front
being covered by the morasses of the little Gheet. The left was in
fact almost, not quite, unassailable; but inasmuch as the road to
Judoigne, Villeroi's most direct line of retreat, ran in rear of the
left, this flank was, apart from the obstacle of the marshes, the one
which it would be most advantageous for an enemy to attempt to turn.
Hence Villeroi was easily led by demonstrations to strengthen his left
wing. Marlborough on the other hand, secure that no counter-attack
could be effectively made on his right through the marshes, could
leave there only just troops enough to continue the demonstration,
and mass nearly his whole force towards the left. The curve of the
ground enabled him to do this unobserved by Villeroi, who had gone in
person to his left wing, on the attack in that quarter being begun.
The French were driven out of Tavière after a short struggle: then
the Dutch and German cavalry charged the famous musketeers, who were
posted nearly behind Tavière. They broke the first line, but being
attacked by the second line when in the confusion of a successful
charge, were driven back. Marlborough however came to their support,
with the cavalry which he had withdrawn from the right wing; the
musketeers were broken, outflanked, and driven in towards the centre,
while the allies occupied the tomb of Ottomond, whence their guns could
enfilade the whole French line. Meanwhile a fierce contest had been
raging in the village of Ramillies. The French there held their ground,
though unable to repulse the assailants, until taken in flank from
the tomb of Ottomond. The battle was now virtually won: the whole of
the French centre and right were crowded together in utter confusion.
Villeroi in vain tried to form a new line, with his left still on
Autre Eglise, thrown back nearly at a right angle to his former line.
Such an attempt, desperate at best in face of a victorious enemy, was
rendered entirely hopeless by the ground being blocked with the baggage
and ammunition waggons. Some English troops, making their way as best
they could through the swamps, assailed the French left behind Autre
Eglise, and completed the rout. Seldom, in modern times, has a great
victory been so cheaply purchased; the total of killed and wounded
on the side of the allies fell considerably short of 4000 men. The
loss of the French was naturally greater: but the blow to them was
far heavier than the figures would imply. They lost nearly all their
artillery and baggage; and most of the army was for the time dissolved
into a mob of fugitives, among whom thousands of Walloons, unwilling
soldiers at best, took the opportunity of dispersing to their homes.
The French army, as at Vittoria, almost ceased for a while to exist as
an army, and was even longer in being restored to efficiency. In the
completeness of the disorganisation inflicted by defeat, Ramillies has
perhaps no superior in modern times except Waterloo.
The victory of Ramillies was followed by the immediate occupation of
the whole of Belgium. The great inland cities opened their gates as
the defeated French withdrew; both Antwerp and Ostend surrendered
without serious resistance. Nothing of importance was left in French
hands except the two fortresses of Mons and Namur. So severely was the
blow felt that Vendôme was withdrawn from Italy to take the command
against Marlborough, with the result that prince Eugene won a great
victory at Turin over Vendôme's incapable successors, and drove the
French entirely beyond the Alps. In Spain also the allies met with
considerable success. Louis XIV., knowing how exhausted France was
becoming, offered terms of peace, which were rejected, not altogether
unreasonably, though in the event unfortunately, for in 1707 the
tide turned back again. The French won the battle of Almanza, which
restored their ascendency in Spain, a battle noteworthy for the curious
coincidence that the defeated army, partly English, was commanded by
a French Huguenot noble who had entered the service of England, while
the victors were commanded by an Englishman, James duke of Berwick,
natural son of James II., who had shared his father's exile and entered
the French service. Prince Eugene's attempt to invade the south of
France from Piedmont failed. The lines of Stollhofen on the Rhine were
forced by the French as easily as Marlborough had surprised the French
lines in Belgium two years before, and the imperial troops suffered a
defeat. The Dutch, deeply impressed by these disasters, would consent
to no active measures: moreover in the administration of the Spanish
Netherlands, which had been entrusted provisionally to Dutch hands,
they had rendered themselves highly unpopular. Thus, when in 1708
Vendôme, still in command, re-entered the provinces which Villeroi
had been driven to evacuate, he was welcomed by Ghent and Bruges as a
deliverer from their new masters.
When the campaign of 1708 opened, Marlborough was still waiting
for his allies. His hope was that prince Eugene with an imperial
army would come from the region of the Moselle to join him, and
that in combination they would be able to complete the conquest of
the Netherlands, if not to carry the war into France. The usual
dilatoriness of Austria gave time for Vendôme to take the initiative.
Having a secret understanding with French partisans in Ghent and
Bruges, Vendôme began by threatening first Brussels, and then Louvain,
so as to draw Marlborough to that neighbourhood, and then suddenly
marching westwards, occupied the two great cities of the Scheldt
region, and formed the siege of Oudenarde, in order to complete by its
capture his hold on western Flanders. The alarm of the Dutch for their
own safety was great, and instead of objecting to active measures,
they were eager for a battle, though Marlborough without Eugene was
inferior to the enemy in numbers. With great promptitude Marlborough
seized a point of passage over the river Dender, which lay between
him and the French, and which the latter had intended to employ as
the line of defence for covering the siege. Foiled in this purpose by
Marlborough's speed, the French generals[61] thought to avoid a battle
by relinquishing for the present the siege of Oudenarde, and placing
themselves behind the Scheldt. Again Marlborough was too quick for
them: as the French were crossing that river on the evening of July
11, they heard that Marlborough, after a march of almost incredible
rapidity for that age, was between them and France, and was himself
crossing the Scheldt close to Oudenarde. North of Oudenarde there is a
sort of natural amphitheatre formed by somewhat higher ground extending
in two curved lines, one of them passing close to the city, the other
some three miles further off. The space between is, and was, cut up by
hedgerows and patches of woods, and covered with small hamlets: hence
the battle was much broken up into separate combats; moreover the
artillery could find few available positions. Vendôme drew up his army
along the side of this basin furthest from Oudenarde, with a detachment
occupying a hamlet some distance in front. Cadogan, who commanded
Marlborough's vanguard, did not hesitate to attack this force, though
no supports were at the moment within reach, in order to gain time
for the main body to cross the Scheldt behind him. As often happens,
apparent rashness was in reality the most prudent course. Cadogan
would have been destroyed if the French had brought their overwhelming
numbers to bear on him, whether he attacked or stood on the defensive:
but the bolder his attitude, the less likely they were to discover his
real weakness, and the more time there would be for the main army to
form behind him. After an obstinate struggle, in which prince George
of Hanover, afterwards George II., distinguished himself at the head
of some Hanoverian cavalry, Cadogan succeeded in forcing back the
French advanced guard, which Burgundy, then in a timid mood, would not
allow to be reinforced. By the time Marlborough's army was in order of
battle, Burgundy had gone to the other extreme, and ordered an advance,
without consulting Vendôme, which rendered a general action inevitable.
Marlborough's troops had already done a very severe day's work, and
possibly he might not have ventured to attack the French standing on
the defensive: but Burgundy decided the question for him. Having thrown
away, by timidity, the chance of overwhelming Cadogan, and the chance
of attacking Marlborough while his army was still crossing the Scheldt,
Burgundy now threw away by hastiness the advantage of compelling
Marlborough's tired troops to attack a fairly strong position.
Prince Eugene had come in advance of his army, and Marlborough gave
him the charge of his right wing, the Dutch general Overkirk commanding
the left. At first the French gained some advantage, but Burgundy,
finding obstacles to pushing forward his left, ordered that portion of
his line to intrench their position, and merely hold their ground, an
error by which Marlborough immediately profited. While Eugene, with
some cavalry, held the French left in check, Marlborough was able to
bring severe pressure to bear on the remainder of the French line,
and at the same time to outflank their right. The broken nature of
the ground rendered it impossible for the French generals to discern
clearly what was happening: when night fell their centre and right were
almost surrounded, but the darkness enabled them to escape from being
compelled to lay down their arms, and the exhaustion of the victors,
who had fought a long battle after an extremely long march, rendered
close pursuit impossible. Nevertheless 10,000 prisoners were taken,
which with the losses in the action reduced the French to a condition
of complete inactivity. Their retreat had from the nature of the case
been to the northwards, and though they were able to take up a safe
position between Ghent and Bruges, yet they could do nothing to guard
the French frontier, which lay open to attack.
Soon after the battle Eugene's army arrived, and the two generals,
instead of waiting to recover Ghent and Bruges, resolved on carrying
the war into France. The great fortress of Lille, deemed the
masterpiece of Vauban, barred the way, and the losses of Oudenarde had
been made good to the French army. Marlborough, who had learned under
Turenne that it was not necessary to follow the traditional routine of
the age, and take every fortress before advancing further, if it was
feasible to mask it, desired to apply this principle to Lille. Even
Eugene however shrunk from so audacious a proceeding, which would have
been ruinous if unsuccessful: and the siege of Lille was therefore
undertaken by Eugene while Marlborough covered the siege. The transport
of siege train, ammunition, and supplies requisite for besieging a
fortress large enough to contain a garrison of 15,000 men, was for that
age a task of enormous difficulty: the French still holding part of
Flanders, it was necessary to bring everything from Ostend, the naval
strength of Great Britain making it a matter of certainty that all
could be landed there. All difficulties were however overcome, though
a severe action had to be fought at Wynendael to prevent the French
from intercepting one important convoy,[62] and before the end of 1708
the first great conquest of Louis XIV. had been taken from him. Again
the French made proposals for peace, and would have agreed to very
unfavourable terms. But the allies demanded that Louis should go the
length of compelling his grandson to relinquish the throne of Spain,
in which country the arms of France were in the ascendant, and the
general feeling of the nation was favourable to the French claimant of
the crown. Marlborough has been blamed for this, but apparently without
reason: his own personal advantage lay in continuing the war, and party
hatred was ready to impute to him any baseness. The utmost that can be
said against him, or the English government, in the matter is, that
they did not insist on this demand being abandoned.
Rather than submit to this ignominy, Louis XIV. for the first time
in his life appealed to the patriotism of his people, who responded
zealously. Villars, the only French general of high repute whom
Marlborough had not yet defeated, was placed in command, in spite of
his being not unreasonably disliked at court. Villars was undeniably
the ablest French soldier living, and fully justified the confidence
somewhat tardily placed in him. Standing at first on the defensive,
he waited till the allies advanced to besiege Mons, the capital of
Hainault, which now that Lille had fallen was the chief defence of
the French frontier. He was unable to prevent them from forming the
siege, but soon approached with a large army, in order if possible to
relieve the place. Whether Villars would have attacked, if the allies
had taken up a defensive position to cover the siege, may perhaps be
doubted. Whether Marlborough was really guilty of fighting a great
battle against his military judgment, in the hope of supporting by
another victory his failing influence at home, may be doubted also. If
Marlborough had had his way, he would have attacked Villars immediately
on his arrival in the neighbourhood of Mons, without allowing time
for him to strengthen his position; but he unfortunately yielded
to Eugene's wish that approaching reinforcements should be waited
for, and so enabled Villars thoroughly to intrench a position very
strong by nature. On September 11, 1709, was fought the battle of
Malplaquet, the last, the least creditable, and the most costly of all
Marlborough's victories. It consisted mainly in a direct attack on the
French army posted on a wooded ridge, their centre occupying the only
gap in the woods. By sheer hard fighting the allies were just able to
compel the enemy to abandon their position, but the French retired in
perfect order, the victors gaining nothing but the battle-field, while
their losses far exceeded those of the French. So frightful was the
slaughter that public feeling in England blamed Marlborough for the
losses incurred far more than it rejoiced in the victory. Not even the
capture of Mons, which resulted from the failure of Villars' attempt to
relieve it, atoned for what was described as the needless butchery of
Malplaquet.
The rest of the war offers no features of interest. The Tories in
England succeeded in gaining Anne's favour, and in overthrowing
Marlborough, and they inclined to peace both because their great
opponent had all the glory of the war, and also because the Jacobite
sympathies of many of them disposed them favourably towards France, the
mainstay of the Jacobite cause. Presently the Austrian claimant of the
crown of Spain succeeded, by his brother's unexpected death, to the
Empire, and to the whole Austrian dominions. This changed the whole
situation, and fully justified the English government in seeking peace,
though nothing could justify their conduct towards their allies. Thanks
to political intrigues mainly, but partly also to his own faults of
a non-military kind, the career of the greatest genius among English
generals had a feeble and almost ignominious close.
INTERMEDIATE NOTE
LINE _VERSUS_ COLUMN
The order of battle (_acies_) has always been in some sense a line, for
a permanent and obvious reason. None but those who are in front can
fight, and the natural desire is to encounter the enemy with as great
strength as possible. What will be the depth of the formation must
depend upon many considerations, among which the nature of the weapons
of the period is the most obvious, though others, such as the training
of the men and their national traditions, are far from unimportant.
A body of men drawn up more than four deep could hardly however be
called a line. Similarly the order of march (_agmen_) has always been
the converse of the order of battle: four men abreast require a fairly
wide road. It is not necessary that a whole army shall move by a single
road, in modern times they do not. But until armies grew very large it
was not needful that they should separate: until roads grew plentiful
and maps were available it was not safe, unless where no collision with
the enemy was possible.
The _acies_ and _agmen_ are then, in their simplest form, the same
thing looked at from two different points of view. The thin line
drawn up to face the enemy may be imagined turning to the right or
left and marching off. Of course it is not meant to be implied that
such, and such only, were actually the primitive methods. Just as a
mechanical problem is solved by assuming the absence of friction, a
condition which in fact can never be realised, and correcting the
result afterwards on account of friction, so one may for the moment
leave out of sight all subsidiary things, in order to bring out in its
simplicity the fundamental idea of an order of battle. Historically,
no doubt, by the time men had advanced far enough to comprehend
the value of combining to form a line, they had attained also to
diversity of weapons, which would tend at once to interfere with this
bare simplicity. Every fresh change, especially the introduction
of war-chariots or of horse-soldiers, would further complicate the
_acies_. So too, as soon as an army carries anything with it, the
simple idea of the _agmen_ is encroached on. Nevertheless both _acies_
and _agmen_ are rooted, so to speak, in the nature of things: the
former can be traced in every battle, the latter in every march.
Some of the departures from the principle of the line are rather
apparent than real. A reserve is no exception, even when it becomes
a whole second, or even third line: for the reserve ex _hypothesi_
is not fighting: when it is wanted to fight it is brought up to the
front, and ceases to be in reserve. Foot-soldiers standing on the
defensive, especially as against horsemen, present the largest amount
of front in the safest way by forming a closed figure, the ring of
the Northmen and of the Scots, or the familiar square of modern
infantry in the days before the rifle. Nevertheless modifications
are liable to be introduced, so to speak, from both sides. The order
of battle is deepened, with the idea of giving greater impetus to a
charge, from the weight of men behind backing up the front ranks.
Epaminondas, using this device unexpectedly at Leuctra, defeated the
Spartans, whose superior discipline and physique made them invincible
so long as both sides used the same formation. His success led to the
adoption of the Macedonian phalanx, and the abandonment of the line
for the time being, until the Romans reverted successfully to the
natural order. The order of march, for a real journey, cannot well be
modified, because roads do not allow it. But for short marches, over
open ground, there was much to be gained by massing men more closely
together. They could hear orders better, and could be moved in any
direction with more ease and precision. Hence arose the column, which
is strictly speaking a series of short lines ranged one behind the
other, and which, as military evolutions were developed, became the
natural formation for manœuvring, as distinguished from fighting.
Then obvious convenience would suggest keeping the troops as long as
possible in the more handy formation of columns, even on the field of
battle. Until the actual shock was impending, it was better to leave
them so formed that they could be readily moved if necessary to another
part of the field. Until artillery became really effective, the risk of
increased loss, from cannon-balls passing through a solid body, instead
of a line, was not very serious. Until the bayonet was introduced, the
necessity for pikemen and musketeers acting together would tend to make
deep formations, which are columns without their mobility, a virtual
necessity. Thus in more ways than one column came to be regarded as
the ordinary formation, line as the exception. And generals were led
by the real convenience of mobility and facility of command, perhaps
also by other calculations, to make attacks in column, with or without
the intention of extending into line after the enemy's front had been
pierced.
No words are required to show that troops armed with the short-range
musket and bayonet, fighting against opponents similarly armed, are
more effective in proportion as their depth can be safely reduced. More
men can fire on the enemy, fewer are liable to be hit by the hostile
bullets. This holds good alike for attack and for defence, and is
indeed so obvious that when one finds great masters of the art of war
adopting the column as the formation for attack, one begins to look
for some latent flaw in the reasoning. There is none however from the
material point of view: the real or supposed advantage of the column
is moral only. When a mass of men formed in a deep column advances
to attack a line, the front ranks of the column have the (imaginary)
support of the ranks behind them. The imagination of the line is meant
to be impressed by the spectacle of the heavy mass about to impinge on
it. Both notions are really baseless: the line has no assailants except
the front ranks of the column, who not only are not helped by those
behind, but become the targets for the concentrated fire of the line.
But imagination is a very real force in war, as in other human affairs:
the generals who have formed heavy columns for attack, need not be
supposed to have made a gross blunder: they may have adopted the method
best suited to the qualities and traditions of their men. All that
can fairly be concluded is that the line is enormously more effective
for those who can bear the strain. And England may be congratulated
alike on having the requisite toughness of material, and on having had
generals who knew how to utilise it.
From the beginning of English history, as the foregoing pages have
shown, the English modes of fighting have always led to the adoption
of a thin line. Harold's house-carls must have stood in a single rank.
The archers of Crecy cannot have been in more than two. The dismounted
men-at-arms were drawn up, we are told on one or two occasions, four
deep: and seeing that they had to sustain the momentum of mailed
horsemen charging, they could not well have had less. The bodily
strength and toughness of the English race, perhaps their lack of
imagination, qualified them to bear the shock of battle well: and the
habit of victory engendered a confidence of superiority, which was
doubtless arrogant, but was also calculated to realise the expectation.
Thus the national qualities and traditions were favourable to the
adoption in later ages of a thinner line than other nations saw their
way to employ.
The evidence of the drill books seems to be clear that in England the
fighting formation in the seventeenth century was three deep, that
in the war of American independence the practice of skirmishing in
two ranks began, and that in the Peninsula the formation in two ranks
for all fighting was finally adopted. A thinner line still is to all
intents and purposes impossible. Whether the adoption of this system
was the carrying out in full of the fundamental theory of the line,
namely that it is the mode in which the largest proportion of force can
be brought to bear on the enemy at once, or was suggested by virtual
necessity, it is hard to tell. Given two very unequal forces opposed
to each other, it is obvious that the smaller can form an order of
battle tolerably equal to the larger only by making its line very thin.
It is also obvious that this can be done safely only if the men are not
to be daunted by feeling the lack of support. These conditions existed,
in extreme form, in the early English wars in India. The soldiers of
Clive and Coote, whether English or sepoys, were infinitely superior in
discipline and equipment, if not in courage, to their enemies, and they
were outnumbered many times over. It is quite possible that the first
impulse to the two-deep formation came from India. However this may
be, it is certain that England, and England alone, adopted a century
ago the line of two ranks only; it seems to be also the case that at a
much earlier period it was the English practice to fight in line, while
other nations made more use of the column. And it is certain too that
England gained enormously by being able to do so. The whole Peninsular
war forms a commentary on this text, with Waterloo for a crowning
lesson.