BLENHEIM
"Now I can thank you, my dear Fairburn! We shall never forget it!"
were the first words Blackett uttered, and he pressed George's hand
once more in his warm grip.
"Forget what, Blackett?" the other asked in surprise, "and for what do
you thank me?"
"Surely you have not forgotten it all, my dear fellow--Mary--the
fire--your splendid rescue!"
"Ah!" cried George, "and you have been keeping that in mind all this
time?"
"Not a doubt of that. As I have just said, and repeat, we can never
forget it. From that day you became the dearest friend of our family,
if you will let us call you so."
"Let you! Heaven knows I am more than delighted to be so. We are no
longer silly schoolboys to fight for the merest trifle."
The reconciliation between the old rivals was complete, and the two
boys chatted long together.
"But you are in a cavalry regiment, I see," remarked George presently,
"and a lieutenant. I understood from my father's letter that you had
joined a line regiment with an ensign's commission."
"So I did, my boy; but there are queer turns of fortune in war, and
one of them came to me--only a week or two since, it was." And the
lieutenant laughed pleasantly.
"Tell me how it was," said George, eagerly.
"It is like singing my own praises, Fairburn," the young officer went
on, "but here goes. I'll put it in a score of words. All last year I
went as Ensign Blackett, seeing bits of service here, there, and
everywhere--at Bonn, on the Rhine, then at Huy, and again at
Guelders--but there was no chance for me. But this summer, as we were
marching here, not a man of us except the Duke himself, with a notion
why we were coming this way at all, we stopped to storm the
Schellenberg, a hill overlooking the Danube near Donauwörth. We were
all dog tired--dead beat, in fact, for we had marched till we were
almost blind. However, as it was the Duke's, day, he set us at it."
"Duke's day?" interrupted George, in surprise; "isn't every day the
Duke's day?"
"It's a funny thing," went on Blackett, laughing, "but as a matter of
fact at that time the Duke was taking alternate days of command with
the Prince of Baden."
"A queer go!" the listener interjected.
"Well, to cut my tale short, we made two attacks on that hill, and
both times were driven back. Things began to look like a drawn game,
when up comes Louis, the Prince, you know, with a lot of his Germans,
and at it we went again. In the thick of it, my colonel suddenly
called out, 'Can you ride, Blackett?' 'Try me, sir,' I says. And he
gave me a note for the Duke, telling me that he had not another
officer left who could ride, all our fellows had been laid low or
dispersed. I galloped off like the wind, on a big hard-mouthed brute.
Just as I was nearing the spot where the Duke stood, a dozen Bavarians
suddenly blocked my path and levelled their muskets. I was on a bit of
a slope and above their heads, in a manner, so I kicked up my nag and
in an instant I flew over them, guns and all. It was a clean jump, and
not a shot hit me, by good luck. My horse managed to carry me on to
the Duke, and then fell dead. The poor beggar had caught what had been
intended for me. Well, now I've done. The Duke, who had seen it all,
had me transferred to a cavalry regiment, with the rank of lieutenant,
and here I am."
"Yes, and here am I, a private, talking in this off-hand sort of way
to a commissioned officer."
"That's all right, Fairburn," laughed Blackett, "we haven't entered
you yet. It'll be quite time enough to bother about that sort of thing
then. Officially we shall have to be master and man; actually we shall
be brothers."
Thus the ancient rivals became comrades in arms, and members of the
same regiment, for George from that time was a cavalry man. His other
friend, Fieldsend, was attached to a line regiment again.
Bit by bit Lieutenant Blackett, during the next days, contrived to
give his friend a full and vivid account of the great battle of
Blenheim, just won by the Allies. He was not a great hand at a tale,
whatever he might be on the field, and we may piece together his story
for him. His adventures and his doings in that memorable fight may
well delay our tale for a little space.
That year Louis of France had determined to make a vigorous effort, or
rather a series of efforts, and sent various armies to oppose the
different members of the Grand Alliance. But his main plan was to
attack the Empire, making Bavaria, the Elector of which was his only
supporter in that part of the world, his advance post. For some time
Louis had been secretly encouraging Hungary in the rebellion she was
contemplating. He trusted, therefore, that the Emperor would find
himself attacked by his Hungarian subjects to rearward, while he was
engaged with the combined French and Bavarian forces in front. It was
a very fine scheme.
But there was one man, and only one, who saw through it--Marlborough.
At once the Duke set off southwards, carrying with him also a force of
Dutchmen, deceiving their rulers by a ruse. He sent for the valiant
Prince Eugene to meet him, and the two famous generals saw each other
for the first time. Mutual admiration and friendship sprang up between
them, to last through the rest of their lives. Prince Louis of Baden
had given some trouble by wishing to share the command with
Marlborough. Him they at last got rid of by sending him to take the
important fortress of Ingolstadt, commanding the Danube. Marlborough's
magnificent march from the Netherlands to the upper Danube is one of
the finest things in military story.
Marlborough and Prince Eugene met with the French and Bavarian forces
near the village of Blenheim, on the same river, and close to
Hochstädt, the scene of the defeat of the allied troops the year
before, and joyfully the leaders prepared to join battle. The
commanders on the side of the enemy were Marshal Marsin, the Prince of
Bavaria, and Marshal Tallard. The last of these had managed to slip
past Eugene some time before and join his colleagues.
The order of battle on the side of the Allies was this. The right was
commanded by Eugene, the left by Lord Cutts, a gallant officer, the
centre, a vast body of cavalry mainly, by Marlborough himself. Opposed
to Eugene were the Elector and Marsin, while Tallard faced the Duke,
but on the farther bank of the little brook Nebel, which empties
itself into the Danube just below. Tallard's centre was weak, as he
had crowded no fewer than seventeen battalions into the village of
Blenheim, on his extreme right and close to the bank of the great
river.
"Now, gentlemen, to your posts." These words, quietly and pleasantly
spoken by Marlborough, began the great battle of Blenheim. It was
about midday, August 13, 1704. The Duke had been waiting till he heard
that Prince Eugene was ready, and he had occupied the interval in
breakfast and prayers. Every man of his division was provided with a
good meal. He himself had attended divine service and had received the
sacrament the evening before.
Lieutenant Blackett found himself one of a body of 8,000 cavalry,
which were ordered to cross the Nebel so as to be within striking
distance of Tallard's troops drawn up beyond the brook. This work of
crossing was likely to be a long and tedious, not to say a difficult
bit of business, the intervening ground being very boggy. Matthew was
far towards the rear of this large body of horse, and it was evident
that it would be hours before his turn came to cross. In company with
hundreds of his comrades, he began to long for something more
exciting.
The first division to get into serious action was that under the brave
Lord Cutts, to the left of the allied forces. Cutts went by the
nickname of Salamander, so indifferent was he to danger when under
fire. This gallant leader led his men to attack the village of
Blenheim. Twice the assault was made with the utmost vigour and
determination; twice Cutts was driven back. The village was not only
filled with an immense force of French, but was protected by a strong
palisade.
A horseman was presently seen galloping towards the spot where the
Duke was posted, and his movements were watched with interest by
Blackett and others of the cavalry waiting their orders to cross.
"Seems to me he is wounded," the lieutenant observed to a man near
him; to which the other replied, "Yes, he does seem wobbly, doesn't
he?"
Hardly had the words been spoken when the advancing rider suddenly
fell from his horse, which kept on, however, dragging his master along
by the stirrup. Without a second's delay, Blackett threw his own beast
across the track of the runaway steed, caught his head, and pulled him
up. Then in a moment the youngster was down on the ground to the
assistance of the poor fellow who had fallen.
"To the Duke!" the man cried, glancing at a note he held tightly
clutched in his hand. "Quick!" he moaned; "I'm shot through the back,
and done for!"
"Poor fellow!" murmured the lieutenant, and he seized the letter,
sprang with a bound into his saddle, and was off like the wind, before
his companions had quite realized what it all meant. Thus for the
second time within a few days Matthew Blackett presented himself
before his commander in the part of unofficial aide-de-camp. The Duke
nodded as he recognized the lad, and, pencilling a few words of reply,
said, "To Lord Cutts; then back to your post." And as Blackett rode
off like the wind in a bee-line for Cutts's division, Marlborough
murmured, "A fearless fox-hunter, I'll be bound." The order, it was
afterwards found, was for Cutts to make no more attempts on Blenheim,
but to hold himself in readiness when his services should again be
requisitioned.
Meanwhile, Prince Eugene was having a lively time of it on the right
wing. He began by leading a cavalry charge against the French and
Bavarians, who were under the command of Marsin and the Elector
respectively. In a few minutes he had forced back the front line and
had captured a battery of six guns. On he sped to confront the second
line, and the opposing forces met with a tremendous shock. For a
moment all was doubtful, but the enemy stood their ground stoutly.
Eugene could make no impression and had to fall back. By this time the
scattered front line of the French had rallied, and, in spite of the
Prince's desperate efforts, the battery was retaken. The danger to
that division of the allied forces soon became extreme. To save the
day, Eugene immediately galloped away in person, and returned
presently, bringing a body of Prussian infantry he had in reserve. The
help of these alone saved him from defeat.
At last! Blackett and his comrades were ordered to advance, and moved
towards the Nebel. The ground was in a shockingly bad state. At its
best marshy and water-logged, it was now a sea of mire. The worst
spots had been bridged over, as it were, by the help of fascines, with
here and there pontoons. By this time, however, many of these had been
shifted from their places by the passage of so many thousands of
horse, and the road became worse and worse as the burn was neared. In
one place the men were compelled to come to a full stop, the ground
being simply impassable.
"We cannot advance, gentlemen," cried the colonel commanding the
regiment, "till we have done some repairs. Now for willing hands!"
Some of the officers glanced dubiously at the mud in which the horses
were standing knee-deep, and they did not budge. Not so Matthew
Blackett; with a bound he sprang to the ground, and waded through the
mire, half of his long legs submerged, his brethren endeavouring to
keep their countenances.
"That's the right way!" sang out the colonel in high commendation, and
a little crowd of the men following the example of the young
lieutenant, the work of repairing the road was soon in rapid progress,
the colonel standing by to direct the operations. Other officers
speedily came to help, rather ashamed to think that they had allowed
the youngster to set them a lead.
"It's nothing," cried Matthew, cheerfully, as he toiled with a will.
"Many's the time I've stood up to my waist in deadly-cold water
digging out an old dog otter."
The lad's good-humour and willingness were infectious, and in a
remarkably short space of time the track had been repaired. Then, with
many a joke at each other's expense, the men remounted and pursued
their journey, covered from head to foot with mire, but cheered by the
colonel's approving, "It will serve for all the rest of the horse, my
lads."
All this time the cavalry were wondering why Tallard took no steps to
stop their passage, and none was more surprised than Marlborough
himself. He did not at the time know that Tallard had left his centre
weak, by sending so many men into the village on the right. Still
less, of course, could the Duke know that Tallard was expecting a very
easy victory. Be that as it may, the Marshal made no move till
Marlborough had got a large part of his men across the stream and had
formed his first line.
When Blackett arrived on the scene with his regiment he found that a
force of Eugene's cavalry had taken the village of Oberglau, near the
spot. A minute later, almost before the colonel had drawn up his men,
there was a fierce shout, and there came thundering down upon the
village, with almost irresistible shock, a body of the enemy.
"Irishmen, by Jove!" cried a man by Matthew's side. "They'll fight
like demons!"
The attack, in truth, came from the Irish Brigade, a doughty body of
Irishmen, exiles from their country, in the service of Louis. Before
the Englishmen realized the situation the Irishmen had dashed clean
through the force occupying Oberglau, and had taken up a position
between the men and Eugene.
The confusion was extreme, and the allied troops could scarce be got
to face the resistless Irishmen at all. Things looked desperate. The
colonel of Blackett's regiment, seeing the state of things at
Oberglau, as he toured it, shouted, "Go and tell the Duke, Mr.
Blackett!" and away dashed Matthew once more to the General. He was a
pretty spectacle, but he did not give the matter a thought, and his
news prevented the Duke from paying much heed to the condition of the
messenger.
"Lead the way," came the sharp order, and Blackett thundered on in
front, the great commander with a body of men hard after him, to find
the energetic and plucky colonel fallen badly wounded, and the
regiment in difficulties. With a swoop, the reinforcements fell upon
the Irishmen, and, almost for the first time, Matthew found himself
engaged in a hand-to-hand encounter. He did not know how long the
conflict lasted, but presently he found the enemy in full flight, his
comrades cheering lustily around him. Marlborough's promptitude had
saved the situation.
"You fought like a very fiend, Blackett," remarked the major,
laughingly, a little later on, when for the moment operations had
ceased, to which Matthew replied simply, "Did I, sir? I don't remember
anything about it," whereat the major laughed again.
It was five in the afternoon, and there was a lull on the field. Up to
the present neither side could be said to have gained any real
advantage over the other. All the allied cavalry had crossed the
stream, and the men wondered what would come next.
They were not left long in doubt. The order came to mass the horse in
preparation for a grand charge. For a time the field was a scene of
rapid and puzzling movement, but order was quickly evolved out of the
seeming confusion.
Then the trumpet rang out, and there bore down upon Tallard a
magnificent body of eight thousand cavalry. Bore _down_, we have
written; the course was slightly upwards, as a matter of fact, from
the stream. There was one check, and the Allies were stopped for a
moment. Then like a whirlwind the horse dashed forward, at a
tremendous speed.
It was too much. The French fired one volley, then turned and fled. On
the Englishmen galloped, and in a few moments the enemy's line was cut
in two. In two different directions the French cavalry ran, and
Marlborough followed after that section which was making for Blenheim.
It was a wild stampede, and Matthew Blackett, as he dashed after the
retreating enemy, always considered it the most exciting episode in
his life.
It did not last long. By great good fortune the lieutenant found
himself one of those surrounding Marshal Tallard. Amidst a wild burst
of applause the gallant Frenchman surrendered, and before he knew well
what he was doing, Blackett was leading Tallard's horse by the bridle.
The lad saw the Duke glance towards him as he dismounted to receive
the gallant leader and invite him into his carriage.
The victory was practically won. There remained only the seventeen
battalions in the village of Blenheim, and these, hemmed in on the one
side, and bounded by the river on the other, gave little trouble. The
poor fellows, in fact, were unable to stir, and many a man of them
sprang into the river in his desperation, only to be hopelessly
carried away by the swift current, and drowned.
It was a terrible scene of bloodshed, and it was an untold relief to
the Englishmen when their gallant foes in the village gave in. One
French regiment had actually burnt its colours to save them from being
taken.
Thus ended the great fight of Blenheim, a fight in which the enemy had
lost no fewer than forty out of their sixty thousand men. The Allies
had had fifty thousand troops and had lost eleven thousand of them.
The wonderful renown of the French army had received a mighty blow. No
longer could Louis boast that his troops were invincible.
To Marlborough the victory brought the royal manor of Woodstock and
the palace of Blenheim. To the humble Matthew Blackett it gave a place
near the great Duke's own person, as we have seen.