The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 18/A New Vindication of the Duke of Marlborough













"The Vindication of the Duke of Marlborough" is entirely of the Author of the Atalantis[1].




I WAS always satisfied of the stupidity and disingenuity of the author who called himself "The Medley;" but never till now so thoroughly convinced of his assurance. He (or one who personates him) appears, in a little book called "Bouchain," as if he were in close conference and great intimacy with the Examiner; where, according to the unfair manner of modern dialogue, he reserves all the wit and reasoning for himself, and makes the poor Examiner one of the silliest, dullest rogues, that ever pretended to speak or hear of politicks: nay, he has even treated him worse than the real Medley[2] did; who, though hired by the party to call him names by the week, had still so much modesty, not to take away his understanding, though he did his integrity. But here he is made just as stupid as was necessary to introduce all the fine things that are thought fit to be said of this campaign; and is directed to ask those questions, which none that reads and lives in any part of England can be supposed to be ignorant of, on purpose to heighten the glory of the general, and abuse the capacities of the present ministry. This method of his seems to be copied from that great genius and champion of their cause, the Observator[3]; and our Examiner acts the part of his countryman Roger, which, how agreeable to the spirit and sense of the Examiner, may be easily judged from his writings, which have met with a general approbation for their wit and learning.

But, leaving the falseness and improbability of the diction, I shall only consider the malice and design of this boute-feu, that would set the people on flame, and advance the general to a height where none had ever been hoisted before, only for the bare consequences that attend his being at the head of an army so often victorious, so well paid and encouraged, with no enemies in view but those whom it was familiar to them to overcome, and who though superiour in number (as indeed they were) yet are wholly dispirited by continued losses, and at present restrained by the positive commands of ther monarch; who has given it in charge to monsieur Villars, not to venture the army but upon manifest advantages; so that nothing might be left to fortune, which had appeared so contrary to them of late, and seems to have so great a hand in the rise and fall of empires, and that period which is set to human glory.

This new Medley would bespeak our compassion for his hero, by telling of "the hard usage he has met with, and the sufficient reason he has had to be disgusted; his scandalous manner of treatment from the Examiner and his party; for," he says, "he is sensible the usage he gave him was not wholly from himself." And again, "That the duke of Marlborough is devested of all interest and authority, both at home and in the army; whom so much pains have been taken to mortify, that he might either in discontent throw up his command, or continue in it without honour; whom we laboured to make the mark of publick hatred; as if it were impossible for liberty and gratitude to consist together, and men were to be ill used for no other reason but because they could not be used so well as they deserve." And farther, "Your friends may use the duke of Marlborough as ill as they please: but let them be assured in the end, this will certainly turn upon themselves; and the time will come, when it will be as safe to speak truth of the present ministry, as it is now to belie the old! and then, my friend, you may hear farther from me." Who, after this, would not conclude the duke of Marlborough had been turned out of all, his estate confiscated, and himself under the most rigid sentence? Nothing less should have provoked this audacious person to have taken such liberty of speech, and been guilty of such threatenings against the persons the queen is pleased to honour and trust. Yet, that we may examine things more coolly than this incendiary; what hardships has this great man to complain of? I believe we shall scarce find any precedent among the Romans, that their generals abroad ever thought themselves disobliged, upon the removal of a quæstor at home, or the changing one secretary for another; and yet this is the height of that discontent they so much complain against. The queen, who seems directed by Heaven, as a reward for her piety, in the choice of her ministers and officers, did herself set the duke of Marlborough at the head of her army: she knew his long experience in military affairs; that he had run through all the several degrees of service, and either had a genius for war, or nothing. No man ever entered upon his command with greater encouragement: the love and smiles of his sovereign, the good wishes of the people, and if not the personal love of the soldiers, yet the hatred they had for the enemy, and their sufferings during the late peace, gave them a double edge to war, and made them gain such glorious victories, which all must own were got by the bravery of the English. Their personal valour proved of use, when neither genius in the general, nor extraordinary conduct was required; though none will dispute his excelling in either: it has chanced that our greatest victories have been obtained more by the courage of the soldiers than the finesse of the commander; yet he has reaped all the advantage. Is he not the richest and greatest subject in christendom? Has there not been a more than ordinary application, since the troops under his command first took the field, to supply them with every thing that was necessary? Whoever of her majesty's subjects were left unpaid, care was taken that money should not be wanting for the war in Flanders. Even upon the change of ministry, it was almost the first act of power in the new, to borrow money to send to the army under the duke of Marlborough's command. He was so far from being "devested of all authority both at home and abroad," that there was not any change in what related to his grace's family, save the golden key[4]; which, after long waiting, was thought necessary to be bestowed upon a person, who would not think herself grown too great for the indispensable attendance of the place. The queen, nay the new ministers, used his grace with the same goodness and confidence, in relation to his charge, as the former did. What occasion was there for discontent? did he ask any favour, and was refused it? had not her majesty forgiven, nay forgot that supreme mark of arrogance in the duke of Marlborough, when he durst show himself disobliged at her giving away one regiment, without first obtaining his leave as general[5]? was there any remembrance, but in his own thoughts, of all that had been done by his party, to perpetuate his command? If he was really disgusted, because one of his sons-in law[6], and the father of another[7] were removed; how ungrateful and undutiful was that behaviour to the person that had so wonderfully raised him; to a sovereign, who had honoured him with such superlative marks of her favour? It is possible he might only seem discontented, to please his family, though, it has been shown, without reason; to which they interpreted his going to Blenheim just before the queen's birthday, from whence he returned the day after; as if he purposely chose to omit paying his duty and respects upon so remarkable an occasion.

But what mortifications, what hardships, are these which our author complains of? Was his commission limited? had he not power to advance or retreat? was he forbidden to besiege or fight? was he commanded to take no steps but what were directed from above? wherein was he devested of his authority? when was this barbarous usage? was there any person hired to assassinate his fame, or take away his life? what conspiracy, what confederacy, to make criminals accuse him? did any of his enemies tamper with monsieur de Guiscard, and offer him his life, pardon, and money, to lay his villany upon the duke? Had the persons here in power a mind that his designs this campaign should miscarry, how easy would it have been for them to have effectually disappointed them, and without being discovered! An artful hand can make more wonderful, though concealed, movements. But, instead of such usage, has he not been supplied with all possible vigour? was not a young general sent off[8], that the duke of Marlborough might have no occasion of discontent, nor appearance for complaint? were not his soldiers, flushed with many victories, eager and impatient to be led on to more? did he not very well know, as I have said before, that monsieur Villars durst not fight him, though he had greater numbers than the duke, since the king had forbidden his venturing his army without evident advantages? are not the French dispirited and overawed by the superiour genius of the English, by whom they have been so often vanquished? is it then such a wonder, after all the glorious victories the duke of Marlborough has obtained, that, with the same fortune, the same cause, the same army, and against the same enemy, his grace has added one inferiour fortress to his greater conquests? are the Senset and the Scheldt more formidable rivers than the Danube or the Rhine? are only passing the lines near Bouchain more wonderful than beating the French in their lines near Brabant? or have our former campaigns been so barren of great actions, that we need so much cry up the passing of two rivers and one morass, where none durst oppose them; as if the general's glory were never consummate till now; or as if indeed he could have done less, except he had been resolved to do nothing, which could scarce have been, with an army so full of ardour to fight? These flights of joy, upon so small an occasion, seem to me just as reasonable, as if some great conqueror should land in England, beat all our armies, and take London in one campaign; and yet reserve his triumphs and the people's acclamations for the next, only upon the taking of Islington.

Whether this action, in respect to those the duke of Marlborough has performed before deserves to be valued to that height our author carries it, may be gathered from what sir W. Temple says, in his Memoirs, p. 189. "In May 1676, the king of France sent the duke of Orleans to besiege Bouchain, with some part of his troops, being a small though strong place, considerable for its situation to the defence of the Spanish Netherlands. The king, with the strength of his army, posted himself so advantageously, as to hinder the prince of Orange from being able to relieve it, or to fight without disadvantage. The armies continued some days facing one another, and several times drawing out in order to battle, which neither of them thought fit to begin. Bouchain was surrendered the eighth day of the siege." Behold the same circumstance, attended with the same conquest, differing only in the number of days, in which the disadvantage lies, by many, on his grace's side!

I can never believe the duke of Marlborough will think himself obliged to the author of this paper, for representing him as "a mortified person, and one devested of all authority both at home and abroad;" no more than I do imagine that his grace can in his own nature be undutiful to that power that has raised him; however accidentally he might once be wanting in that respect he owed the queen, in the business of the regiment belonging to the late earl of Essex[9]. Nor, when I remember, how much he did formerly for conscience sake, and the interest of the church of England, can I persuade myself he will now engage against it. How seasonably did he decline king James's service, when the papists and dissenters were united in interests to destroy the church; king James, to whom the duke of Marlborough was engaged by the highest gratitude! He had saved his life in the Gloucester frigate, and honoured his grace's family so far as to mingle his own royal blood with it. Did not the duke of Marlborough forego the interests of his sister and her children, his nephews and nieces, that he was so fond of before, for the good of his country, and the security of the protestant religion? was he not contriving to deliver up the king to the prince of Orange[10], if the design had not been prevented? and did he not withdraw himself from his benefactor, to serve against him under his greatest enemy; protesting, in his letter to the king, "that his desertion from his majesty proceeded from no other cause, than the inviolable dictates of conscience, and a high and necessary concern for his religion, with which he was instructed that nothing could come in competition[11]? Did the duke do all this for the church of England; and will our author, or any of the whiggish side, persuade us he can so far recede from his former principles, to take party against that very church he has helped to preserve? to join in opposition to her, with her bitterest foes, when he is already as great and rich as a subject ought to be?

No! no! Such restless spirits as this writer, who, in the words of Mr. Dryden, "fire that world which they were sent by preaching to warm;" those Phaëtons of mankind," abuse the reputation of the greatest persons, and do themselves honour at the expense of others, who, being equally ignorant of many things, yet pretend to determine of all the affairs of war and the cabinet; to enflame the people, abuse the ministry, and the queen through them; to trouble the waters, in hopes crowns and mitres may be found floating on the surface, and ready to fall to the share of the boldest hand.

We shall next consider the "scandalous manner of treatment" the duke of Marlborough, as this writer tells us, "has met with from the Examiner and his party;" for, he is sensible, the usage he gave him was "not wholly from himself." How can he be sensible of that? For to this day it does not appear who the Examiner is, nor that he had instructions to talk of Crassus, Catiline, or Anthony. That pen still remains concealed; neither rewards nor presents have been given to any, that we can suppose was author of those papers. Whoever he were, he has had the modesty not to reveal himself, though his remarks were only against those persons whom the queen had thought fit to dispense with from farther serving her; the general excepted, as this writer would have us believe: but he is the satirist, who makes the application. Cannot a person treat of the excessive avarice and sordid behaviour of Marcus Crassus, but, because the duke of Marlborough is known to be an extreme good husband of his money, he must needs intend his grace as a parallel? Indeed! Does this libeller think there is so near a resemblance between them? Why, where then is the injustice? To show that there has been any, let him convince us that his grace is become generous, or less in love with riches; and the comparison will cease. But till then, though he were the conqueror of Europe, instead of Flanders, the people will be apt to detest a vice they are sure to suffer by; regarding it as a counterpoise to the bravest actions, or indeed the only motive to the performance of them: and where interest is suspected to be the spur to glory, the reputation will always be less clear and shining. As to the comparison with Catiline, I find not the least ground for it; nor can it be so intended, though the old Medley, with his unfair quotation, has charged it upon the Examiner. The passage is in the fourth Examiner[12], to which I refer the reader, which can never, I hope, be applicable to England; for, how ambitious soever a general may prove, a brave, true English army cannot create either fear or danger of their becoming a mercenary army. But the author farther tells us, the Examiner was "pleased to make the civil comparison of the duke of Marlborough and his duchess, to Anthony and Fulvia." What is there said of Anthony is so little, that it is scarce worth any body's taking it to themselves. I am sorry an author cannot introduce a figure, though in poetry, of a haughty, proud, wrathful, and envious woman, but the application must be presently made to his hand: as if there were no vices in history, but what could be parallelled in life! In such a case, I must say, as I did just before in that of Crassus, with this addition, that sure there must be some sort of resemblance, or one's very friends would never dare to make the ready comparison!

Behold here, the utmost of that charge this author has drawn up, of what has been done, by way of mortification, to the duke of Marlborough. Alas! this is but one instance of the liberty of the press; whereas the present ministry may complain of a hundred: but their heads are too strong to be shaken by such impotent blasts, or disordered by every libeller's malice. What clouds of pointless arrows, though sent with a good will, have flown from the Observator, the Review, and Medley! how have great and mean geniuses united to asperse their conduct, and turn the management of the late persons in power upon these! Humourous, senseless ballads; foolish parallels; the titles of Oxford and Mortimer[13], have been an ample field. Who but must despise such wretched wits? I could quote several others, if it were not reviving them from their obscurity, or rather giving new life to those stillborn, shapeless births, which but just appeared and perished. Nor do I remember any person to have so far gloried in those monstrous productions, as to own being a parent to them, but the renowned Dr. Hare[14]. The close of his fourth letter of the "Management of the War" is indeed very extraordinary; where he tells, "If they should describe the duke of Marlborough to be a short, black, fattish, illshaped man, that loves to drink hard, never speaks to be understood, is extremely revengeful and illbred; if they should represent his mind to be a complication of all ill qualities," &c. Here is more malice, though less wit and truth, than any thing they accuse in the Examiner. In times of liberty and faction, we must expect that the best persons will be libelled; the difference lies in the skill of the libeller. One draws near the life; another must write the name under, or else we cannot understand: for, as yet I never met one person, that could find out who Dr. Hare designed, by his short, black, fattish, ill shaped man; though he has so far exceeded the liberty the Examiner has taken, as to pretend to paint the very lineaments of the body, as well as those of the mind.

Thus far you see what little reason our author has to complain for the duke of Marlborough's hard usage; but he grows bolder, and, in just despair of the continuation of a war from which he reaps so many advantages, attacks what (notwithstanding the many refinements of some late patriots) I take still to be an undoubted prerogative of the crown, the power of making peace and war. This author, treating the queen with as little consideration as his patrons used to do, does not so much as consult her majesty's wisdom and inclination; but supposes, "no British parliament will ever be chosen here, that will ratify an ill peace, or will not crush the bold man who shall propose it." This is like what he says, "That the time will come, when it will be as safe to speak truth of the present ministry, as it is to belie the old." What can one suppose from these threatenings? They are such as in wisdom should never be made, scarce with an army to back them: did I not know the loyalty of ours, I should fear, from our author's great intelligence, that they were in the secret, to frighten the ministry and parliament from taking into consideration the unanimous wishes and wants of our people, who have sustained so long a war, to the ruin of their trade, and a vast expense of their blood and treasure, upon such disinterested views as sure no people besides ever did. We very well know his reasons, for providing peace should not be made without Spain[15]; yet, when all those kingdoms and dependencies were united to the empire, the house of Austria was more terrible to Europe than the house of Bourbon has been since; and a confederate war was then successfully carried on, as now, to fix the balance of power. Let us but consider what wonderful things this ministry has already done; let us enter into their character and capacity, their true love of their country, and sincere endeavours for its welfare: and then may our hearts be at rest; and conclude, that whatever peace they shall think fit to advise, will be the best that they could obtain, for the safety of the church, the glory of their sovereign, and the ease and happiness of her whole people. Let them that would oppose it consider how many millions this one year's war hath cost us, when all the great actions performed by a great army, with a greater general at their head, hath been only gaining one single fortress; an action so much gloried in, and so far magnified, that we are made to think it is of equal importance to the most fortunate campaigns! Let us consider how long we shall be able to pay such a price for so small a conquest! I speak only of our money; having learnt by good example not to value the blood of those poor wretches that are yearly sacrificed in vast numbers, in trenches, and at the foot of walled towns. But say we were even at the gates of Paris, nay that Paris were ours, what allay would that be to our personal sufferings at home? Let us look into our gazettes, for the number of bankrupts; along the streets of our metropolis, and observe but the decay of trade, the several shops shut up, and more in daily apprehension of failing. Let us remove ourselves into the country, and see the penury of country gentlemen with small estates and numerous families, that pay in such large proportions to the war; and there let us inquire how acceptable, nay how indispensable, peace is to their further subsisting. True! there is still a great deal of money in England: but in whose hands? Those who have had the management of such prodigious sums as have been given these last three and twenty years, on pretence of carrying on the war. Inquire what sums the late lord treasurer[16] left the exchequer, and what immense debts in the navy and elsewhere: how the funds were all anticipated or loaded. Observe but what industry has been used, that the late party should part with none of their vast wealth to assist the present exigency; and then let us wonder at the wisdom and conduct of that ministry, which has been able to wade through all these difficulties, restore credit, and uphold the armies abroad: and can we doubt, after this, of their entering into the true interests of the nation, or dispute the peace they shall think fit to advise the queen to make? How can our malicious author say, "That it will be a severe mortification for so great and successful a general, to see the fruits of his victories thrown all away at once, by a shameful and scandalous peace; after a war of nine years, carried on with continued successes, greater than have been known in story? And how grievous must it be to him, to have no footstep remain, except the building at Woodstock, of all the great advantages which he has obtained for the queen and the British nation, against their dangerous enemy; and consequently of his own extraordinary merit to her majesty and his country?" No! are they about to take the garter from him? to unprince, unduke him? to confiscate all his large possessions, except Woodstock? those vast sums in the banks of Venice, Genoa, and Amsterdam[17]? his stately movables, valuable paintings, costly jewels, and, in a word, those immense riches of which himself and his lady (as good an accomptant as she is) do not yet know the extent of? Are all these, I say, to be resumed, and nothing remaining but that edifice or memento of a subject's ambition, the stately walls of Blenheim, built while his gracious benefactress is contented to take up her residence in an old patched up palace, during the burden of a heavy war, without once desiring to rebuild Whitehall, till by the blessing of peace her subjects shall be capacitated to undergo the necessary taxes? I am ashamed to enumerate those obligations the duke has to his queen and country, while he has such wretched and ungrateful advocates, who bellow his uneasiness, and exaggerate his mortifications. It is the misfortune of the times, that we cannot explain to our own people the occasion we have for a peace, without letting our enemies into our necessities, by which they may rise in their demands. Could there be a poll made, and voices collected from house to house, we should quickly see how unanimous our people are for a peace; those excepted, who either gain by the war, or, concealing their hoards, pay but small proportions toward it; an art well known and practised in this great city, where a person worth many thousands shall get himself rated at but one, two, or three hundred pounds stock; while the poor landed man is forced to pay to the extent, because his estate is known, and accordingly valued.

To conclude: I think, in the hands we are in, we need not dispute our safety; and if, as this author would insinuate, even a separate peace should be intended by some of our allies, after the example of our wise neighbours the Dutch at the treaty of Nimeguen, the generality of the people will be easily brought to agree that it is better than no peace at all. They know that our ministry are so well acquainted with the true interest of the nation, and are so tender of its welfare, that they will not consent to take one step in this affair, but what makes for the glory of the queen, and the happiness of her subjects.

  1. Mrs. Manley, daughter of sir Roger Manley, a zealous royalist, was early in life cheated into marriage with a near relation, of the same name, who had at the same time a former wife living. Deserted by her husband, she was patronized by the duchess of Cleveland, a mistress of Charles II; but the duchess, being of a fickle temper, grew tired of Mrs. Manley in six months, and discharged her on pretence that she intrigued with her son. Retiring into solitude, she wrote her first tragedy, "The Royal Mischief." This play being acted in 1696 with great success, she received such unbounded incense from admirers, that her apartment was crowded with men of wit and gayety, which in the end proved fatal to her virtue. In the same year, she also published "The Lost Lover, or Jealous Husband," a comedy. In her retired hours she wrote the "Atalantis;" for which, she having made free in it with several distinguished characters, her printer was apprehended, by a warrant from the secretary's office. Mrs. Manley, unwilling an innocent person should suffer, presented herself before the court of king's bench as the author. Lord Sunderland, then secretary of state, being curious to know from whom she got information of several particulars which were supposed above her own intelligence; she replied, with great humility, that she had no design in writing, farther than her own amusement and diversion in the country, without intending particular reflections and characters; and did assure them that nobody was concerned with her." When this was not believed, and the contrary urged against her by several circumstances; she said, "then it must be by inspiration; because, knowing her own innocence, she could account for it no other way." Whether those in power were ashamed to bring a woman to trial for a few amorous trifles, or whether (her characters being under feigned names) the laws did not actually reach her; she was discharged after several publick examinations. On the change of the ministry, she lived in reputation and gayety, and amused herself in writing poems and letters, and conversing with the wits. A second edition of a volume of her letters was published in 1713. "Lucius," a well received tragedy, was written by her, and acted in 1717. It was dedicated to sir Richard Steele, who was then on such friendly terms with her, that he wrote the prologue to this play, as Mr. Prior did the epilogue. She died, July 11, 1724.
  2. A periodical paper, five numbers of which were published under the title of "The Whig Examiner," by Mr. Addison and Mr. Arthur Maynwaring; and which was continued by the latter (under that of "The Medley") in professed opposition to "The Examiner." Rudely as Dr. Swift was often attacked by Mr. Maynwaring, it must be owned he was the politest of his opponents.
  3. A weekly paper by Ridpath and John Tutchin; of which see before, under the Present State of Wit, p. 31.
  4. The duchess of Marlborough was groom of the stole, first lady of the bedchamber, lady of the wardrobe, and had the privy purse. The latter office was given to Mrs. Masham; the others to the duchess of Somerset.
  5. The regiment commanded by Algernon Capel, the 23d earl of Essex, becoming vacant on his being appointed constable of The Tower, June 26, 1707; the queen intended to bestow it upon Mr. Hill. She signified her pleasure to the duke of Marlborough; who refused his consent, and retired in anger to the country. After some heats, the regiment was given to a third person. On the death of the earl of Essex, in January 1708-9; the command of The Tower was bestowed on earl Rivers, by a contrivance between the queen and Mr. Harley, in opposition to the wishes of the duke of Marlborough, who intended that office for the duke of Northumberland.
  6. The earl of Sunderland.
  7. The earl of Godolphin.
  8. The duke of Ormond; who had been sent to France at ten years of age, and on his return was admitted of Christ Church, Oxford; of which university he was afterward chancellor. He died Nov. 16, N. S. 1745, in his eighty-first year.
  9. See above, p. 69.
  10. The night before he left London, a conspiracy was formed by some of his chief officers to seize his person, and to deliver him into the hands of the prince of Orange. The earl of Rochester, the lord Churchill, the bishop of London [Dr. Henry Compton], sir George Hewit, with several others, met at Mr. Hatton Compton's lodgings in St. Alban's street. After a long debate, concerning the means of serving to the best purpose the prince of Orange, it was at length resolved, that Rochester should attend the king to Salisbury, to betray his counsels to the prince; that Churchill should endeavour to secure the person of James, which could best be done, when Maine was staff officer on duty. Should Maine and the guards resist, no safety remained but in dispatching the king. Churchill, but perhaps very unjustly, is said to have undertaken this barbarous service. The design of seizing the king is ascertained from various quarters; but an intention to stab or pistol him, in case of resistance, is too shocking to merit credit, without the most positive, clear, and decisive proofs. The only evidence of the fact is the deathbed confession of sir George Hewit; who, after having received emoluments and honours from William, repented, in his last moments, of his conduct toward his former master. James, suspecting Churchill and the duke of Grafton, once intended to have sent them, under a guard, to Portsmouth; but he judged that severity, instead of aiding, would hurt his affairs.
  11. His desertion from king James might in some measure be excused from its utility. But his design of placing that unfortunate prince a captive in the hands of his rival is utterly inconsistent with the common feelings of mankind. With regard to him, he was a benefactor, a friend, and even a father. He raised him from obscurity to independence, to fortune, and to honour. He placed him in that only state, that could render his desertion destructive to his own affairs. If his misconduct had rendered James unworthy of the returns of gratitude due to other men, why was king William also deceived? If no measures were to be kept with either of those monarchs, why was England betrayed to her mortal enemy? Though these questions can scarcely be answered to satisfaction, they admit of alleviations. In the characters of mankind, some allowances must be made for their passions and frailties. The attention to interest, which passed through the whole conduct of Marlborough, might suggest to his prudence, to quit the fortunes of a man apparently destined for ruin. His spirit might induce him to oppose king William; as the cold reserve, neglect, and aversion of that prince, might offend his pride. In this state of mind, his lordship could hardly separate the interest of the kingdom from that of the king; and he informed the French court of the expedition against Brest [in 1694], more with a design of being revenged on William, than with a view to serve France at the expense of England.
  12. It is in the forty-ninth Examiner. This is an additional proof (if it needed any) that Dr. Swift wrote as far as No. 45. Mrs. Manley began No. 46; and calls No. 49, the fourth. On this subject see a note hereafter.
  13. See "The Lives of Roger Mortimer and Robert Harley, 1711."
  14. See above, p. 46.
  15. Though Marlborough showed less apathy than was expected from his former character, his enemies furnished him with sufficient reasons for his resentment. The accusation which chiefly ruined his credit with the nation appears now to have been malicious and unjust. He was said to have sacrificed the war in Spain to his own operations in Flanders, to gratify his ambition, and glut his inordinate avarice.
  16. Lord Godolphin.
  17. Beside the precarious security of the two former of these banks, they gave but 3 percent interest at that time; when 8, 9, or 10 per cent was common in England. This proves either that the duke was not so good a "husband of his money," as he is above supposed to be; or that he was desirous of securing a fund abroad, in case of an emergency.