AS TO THE DUKE OF Marlborough . . . it was allowed by all men, nay even by France itself, that he was more than a match for all the generals of that nation. This he made appear beyond contradiction in the ten campaigns he made against them; during all which time it cannot be said that he ever slipped an opportunity of fighting when there was any probability of his coming at his enemy. And upon all occasions he concerted matters with so much judgment and forecast that he never fought a battle which he did not gain, nor laid siege to a town which he did not take.
Thus recorded in his diary Captain Robert Parker, whose regiment, the 18th Foot (Royal Irish), fought under Marlborough in the War of the Spanish Succession and contributed in no small way to the high reputation with which the British Army emerged from that conflict. So enthusiastic an estimate might well be discounted as coming from one who served with the Duke and whose judgment might tend to be unduly influenced by his great personal charm and the blaze of fame which surrounded him while he lived. But other critics with no grounds for personal bias have been just as generous; indeed Marlborough’s military stature has grown with the passage of time. A century later one of Napoleon’s ablest officers, General Foy, could find no higher praise for the brilliant generalship displayed by the Duke of Wellington at the battle of Salamanca than to place the Iron Duke “almost on the level of Marlborough”. Napoleon himself regarded Marlborough’s campaigns as a model; he read and re-read them many times, and appears to have accorded the English general a higher place than the great Frederick of Prussia. Modern military historians are unanimous in placing Marlborough in the forefront of the great soldiers of all time. “If there had been no Marlborough,” writes one of them, “England would have sunk into a mere province of France, and the United States would have been French, not English.... Centuries hence, when historians write their account of an England which has become a mere name and of an Europe which has passed away, they will be silent about many men who are now reckoned great, but they will not pass over Marlborough.”
The War of the Spanish Succession has been called “the most businesslike” of all wars in which British forces have been engaged. The investment of a comparatively small number of troops brought Britain rich returns. By the end of the war she had acquired valuable territorial assets (including her first permanent Mediterranean naval base) and had replaced France as the leading state in Europe—and hence in the world. That a limited expenditure for men and materials could achieve such results must be credited in no small degree to the masterly guidance of the Duke of Marlborough. While he is remembered chiefly for the brilliant Continental victories which demonstrated his skill as tactician (and it is primarily with these battles that this study is concerned), these could not have crushed the power of France had it not been for his genius in the field of grand strategy, in which he was so ably served by his talents as statesman and diplomat.
The Supremacy of France in the Seventeenth Century
What were the circumstances in which England became involved in this war which was to bring her such profitable returns? Let us first look briefly at the political picture of Europe at the close of the seventeenth century. Dominating the scene was France, unified and expanded by forty years of masterful rule by “the grand monarch”, Louis XIV. Pursuing his doctrine of “natural boundaries”, Louis had fought two wars (the War of Devolution, 1667-8, and the Dutch War, 1672-8) in an attempt to extend French domains to the Rhine. He had managed to retain much of the fruits of this aggression by reaching a stalemate in a third conflict, the War of the League of Augsburg, 1689-97, thrust upon him by an alliance of European states who believed that the creation of a “balance of power” provided better assurance for stability in Europe than any enforced recognition of “natural boundaries”.
The lead in forming the Augsburg League in 1686 had been taken by the Emperor Leopold I, head of the Holy Roman Empire. This crumbling “survival of a great tradition and a grandiose title” was a loose alliance of some three hundred independent states covering roughly the territory of modern Germany, Austria, Czechoslovakia and Belgium. The most important member was Austria, which had been steadily growing stronger as the ancient empire, weakened by religious quarrels and destructive civil wars, fell into decline. The election to the imperial crown of a succession of princes of the Austrian branch of the House of Hapsburg had brought them little more than “an historical title and dignified trappings”, and it is not surprising that from their
court at Vienna they regarded the extension and consolidation of their own Austrian dominions as a more profitable venture than the defence of the decaying Germanic Empire. Of the German states which joined the league against Louis XIV the most powerful was the Electorate of Brandenburg, which in a few years was to become the Kingdom of Prussia.
The two other major partners in the original league were Sweden and Spain. The conquests of Gustavus Adolphus had made Sweden one of the largest states in Europe; her territories east of the Baltic extended from Finland to West Pomerania. But the enormous costs of her military campaigns had seriously weakened Sweden, and at the turn of the century, three years after the fifteen-year old Charles XII had ascended the throne at Stockholm, her chief rivals, Russia, Poland, Saxony and Denmark, banded together, judging the time ripe to strip her of her trans-Baltic possessions. As for Spain, once the leading power in Europe, the process of deterioration from her former greatness was far advanced. Her participation in the Thirty Years’ War (1618-48) and subsequent struggles had emptied her treasury and exhausted her military strength. Her hold on her vast territories in the New World was slipping, and in Europe, although her Mediterranean possessions (Sardinia, the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, and Milan) were still intact, she had been forced to cede to France part of the Spanish Netherlands (the present Belgium and Luxembourg). Nor could Spain look to the crown for strong leadership out of her troubles. Since 1665 the Spanish throne had been occupied by the sickly Charles II, who from birth had been practically an imbecile.
In 1689 the expansion of the League of Augsburg into the Grand Alliance, largely through the efforts of William III, brought Holland and England into the coalition against France. By the latter half of the seventeenth century Holland (variously called the United Provinces or the Dutch Netherlands) had become England’s bitterest rival in sea power, trade and colonization (there were three Anglo-Dutch Wars between 1652 and 1674). These differences were composed, however, when in 1689, following the Revolution which drove James II into exile, his son-in-law, William of Orange, Stadtholder of Holland, was called to the English throne. William was the arch-enemy of Louis XIV, and he lost no time in embroiling England in his feud with France. Thus began the century-long struggle between the two countries which was to be fought out not only on the historic battlegrounds of Europe, but on less familiar fields in India and North America.
From the War of the Augsburg League, which the Treaty of Ryswick terminated in 1697, William III emerged with added stature and an influence in European politics which placed him on almost equal terms with Louis XIV. Eight years of inconclusive conflict coming at the end of a century which had seen more war than peace had left both sides exhausted, and there now seemed every reason for the two monarchs to seek a prolonged respite from hostilities. For William there was little choice. He could not engage in further fighting without the help of a strong English army. Yet his English subjects had no desire to be involved again in their Dutch King’s continental troubles. Immediately after Ryswick Parliament ordered a rapid demobilisation of the army, relying on England’s insularity and a strong navy to keep her neutral in any future conflict. The adoption of this pacific policy and the dissolution of the coalition against him gave Louis (who was no more anxious to renew hostilities than was William) the advantage over his opponent. He could now play a bold hand in the complex game of European politics, knowing that when the opportunity arose he could advance his own interests without fear of effective opposition. That opportunity was to come in the disputed question of the Spanish Succession.
The Problem of the Spanish Succession
By 1697 it had become apparent that “Charles the Sufferer”, the feeble invalid on the Spanish throne, would die childless, and probably before very long. His nearest male relatives were his two powerful cousins, the Bourbon Louis XIV, King of France, and Leopold I, Holy Roman Emperor and head of the Austrian Hapsburgs. Both had married sisters of Charles II, although Louis had solemnly renounced any French claim which might arise from his marriage. The question of who would inherit the Spanish empire could not wait for solution until the throne became vacant; for the balance of power in Europe would be seriously upset if the crown of Spain with its control of half the world became joined with either the French or the Austrian crown. With the rival houses of Bourbon and Hapsburg each ready to resist to the utmost the other’s claim, partition of the Spanish empire appeared the only solution if a general war were to be averted. In September 1698 William III and Louis XIV met secretly (the former without the knowledge of the English Parliament) to frame what became known as the First Partition Treaty. There were three major claimants to be considered: the Bourbon candidate, Philip, Duke of Anjou, grandson of Louis XIV (the French renunciation was assumed to have been nullified by Spain’s failure to pay their princess’s dowry at the time of Louis’ marriage); Leopold’s nominee, his son (by his second wife), the Archduke Charles; and the Elector of Bavaria, Joseph Ferdinand, grandson of the Emperor and his former Spanish wife (see Appendix “A"). The choice of the two royal planners fell on the young Bavarian prince, who being the least powerful of the three candidates was the least likely by his acquisitions to disturb the balance of Europe. Consolation prizes would be provided by pruning the Spanish inheritance of its Italian possessions—the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies (Sicily and Naples) going to the French Dauphin, and Milan to the Archduke Charles.
This settlement, whose guarantee by England, Holland and France seemed sufficient to ensure its fulfilment, was unfortunately brought to nought by the unexpected death, early in 1699, of the young Joseph Ferdinand. Again Louis and William tackled the knotty problem of succession, and in June 1699 agreed on a Second Partition Treaty. They selected as the chief heir the Archduke Charles, who was to be King of Spain and the Indies and ruler of the Spanish Netherlands, on condition that these territories should never be joined to the Empire. Naples, Sicily and Milan would go to the French Dauphin. The division seemed to favour Austria; yet Leopold, wanting all for his son, refused to accept the terms of the treaty. From this point war was inevitable.
The long-awaited death of Charles II of Spain occurred in November 1700. Barely a month earlier, however, the moribund King had signed a will leaving all his domains to Philip of Anjou. This unlooked for action came less as a result of persuasive French diplomacy than of pressure by the Spanish grandees, who were determined that their empire should not be partitioned and who preferred by this means to buy French support for their cause rather than face a hostile neighbour against whom neither England nor Austria would be able to protect them. By the terms of the fateful will Louis XIV must sanction Philip’s acceptance of the whole Spanish empire, or it would pass intact to Charles of Austria. This proviso placed the Grand Monarch in an extremely awkward position. If he refused the legacy, Austria could rightfully claim the Italian territories which William and Louis had previously reserved for France. In the words of one of the French Ministers:
The King, by rejecting the Will had no other course left than entirely to resign the Spanish Succession, or to wage war in order to conquer that part which the Treaty of Partition had assigned to France.
And Louis realized that the English, who were anxious about the safety of their Mediterranean trade with Turkey and the Levant, would not support him in any war to win Naples and Sicily to France.
Louis soon reached a decision. Since he was faced with an Austrian war whichever course he took, it was naturally to his advantage to have Spain on his side and her ports and fortresses open to his forces. He accepted the will and sent his grandson to rule in Madrid as King Philip V. And now the moderation which had heretofore characterized his attitude on the question of the Spanish Succession gave way to arrogance, and he soon antagonised England and Holland, uniting them with Austria against him. In 1701 he marched his armies into the Spanish Netherlands, occupied the Spanish fortresses there, and went on to seize the Dutch Barrier—a chain of seven fortresses stretching from Luxembourg to the sea which the Dutch had been given right by treaty to maintain in Spanish territory.
France’s entry into Belgium and her newly acquired influence in Italy had a damaging effect on English trade, and other blows followed. Louis forced the Spaniards to hand over to a French company the contract for supplying African slaves to Spanish America, thereby not only blighting English hopes in that direction but opening the door to French smuggling between the New World and European ports. In June 1701 Portugal allied herself with France and Spain, with the result that there was now “not a port between London and Leghorn” where British ships could find shelter in case of war. Before the end of the year the authorities in Spanish ports were compelling English and Dutch merchants to sell their goods at half price. There was a strong reaction in England, where King William found public opinion veering rapidly towards the support of his United Provinces. In May a petition had urged the House of Commons to turn its “loyal addresses” into “bills of supply” in order “that his most sacred Majesty may be enabled powerfully to assist his allies before it is too late.” A treaty signed in 1677 had pledged England to aid the Netherlands with 10,000 men if attacked, and before the end of June twelve battalions reached Holland from service in Ireland. Louis XIV was taken completely unawares by this action, which his ambassador at Madrid attempted to explain on the grounds that “the English are the most unsteady people, easy to be blown to violent resolutions.”
The Rise of John Churchill
The man whom William made Commander-in-Chief of the English contingent and appointed Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary to the United Provinces was John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough. Although the King was but fifty years of age, he had been for some time in indifferent health, and in selecting to succeed him, both in command and diplomacy, one who had for much of the past decade been out of the royal favour, he showed a shrewd recognition of the problems which were likely to face the next wearer of the English crown and an appreciation of Marlborough’s ability to cope with them.
To these important posts John Churchill came well fitted by experience and temperament. He was born in 1650, the same year as his royal master, the son of a country squire who had been on the King’s side in the Civil War. At the age of seventeen he was commissioned in what later became the Grenadier Guards, and as an ensign saw garrison service in Tangier. In the Franco-Dutch War of 1672-8, in which England supported Louis XIV, young Churchill distinguished himself as a Captain at the sieges of Nijmegen and Maastricht. His promotion was rapid. By 1674 he was commanding a British infantry regiment in the French service, during which employment he earned the commendation of the renowned Marshal Turenne, and “learned to speak and write bad French with fluency and confidence”. This first active phase of his military career ended in 1675, when he returned to England to resume his place in the household of the King’s brother, James, Duke of York. In 1678 he married Sarah Jennings, Maid of Honour to the Duchess of York, and in the following year, when public opinion compelled Charles II to banish James as a papist, Colonel Churchill and his wife accompanied the Duke to Brussels.
During the next four years he was employed upon a number of important missions between the royal brothers, the successful completion of which owed much to his shrewdness and tact, coupled with his great personal charm, and helped to establish his reputation as a skilled diplomat. James was able to return to the London Court in 1682, and shortly afterwards Churchill was rewarded by being raised to the Scottish peerage and made Colonel of the King’s Own Royal Regiment of Dragoons (an appointment which entitled him to make what profit he could out of the annual clothing of the regiment). Three years later, on the death of Charles, his patron ascended the throne as James II. Almost immediately Churchill, in the rank of Brigadier-General, was called on to play a major part in the suppression of the Duke of Monmouth’s ill-fated rebellion (although he had no hand in the atrocities which followed). His promotion to Major-General (with no increase of pay) came just before the decisive Battle of Sedgemoor.
The year 1688 saw Lord Churchill taking the critical step which has been termed by his illustrious descendant “the most poignant and challengeable action of his life.” For the past three years James II, having successfully survived the Monmouth revolt, had been moving steadily in the direction of absolute government and a return of England to the Church of Rome. Firm in his Protestant upbringing and sure in his judgment of what was best for England, Churchill did not hesitate to issue the plainest of warnings to his royal master. These went unheeded, yet apparently unresented; James knew that “Churchill loathed his policy, but fondly believed he loved his person more.” But early in 1688 the Princess Anne, whose childhood acquaintance with Sarah Churchill had ripened into a warm and intimate friendship, was to write of John Churchill to her elder sister, Queen Mary, “though he will always obey the King in all things that are consistent with religion—yet, rather than change that, I daresay he will lose all his places and all that he has.” That summer Churchill joined in the invitation to William of Orange to come to England. For nineteen days after the landing Churchill remained with James, before slipping away to William’s camp. His unexpected defection, which was copied by the other leading officers of the Army, convinced James of the hopelessness of his cause and hastened his departure to France. Years later, when giving her instructions “to the Gentlemen that are to write the Duke of Marlborough’s History”, the widowed Duchess was to set down: “When he left King James, [it] was with the greatest Regret imaginable, but he saw it was plain that King James could not be prevented any other way from establishing Popery and arbitrary Power to the Ruin of England.” This justification of Churchill’s actions might be more convincing had he remained firm in his break with James and given his unswerving loyalty to his new sovereign.
Churchill’s first task under William III was to rebuild the Army, which James had disbanded in chaos when he saw that all was lost. He tackled the job energetically, bringing to it the wealth of his organizational ability and military experience. He was confirmed in the rank of Lieutenant-General, and at the coronation of William and Mary in April 1689 he was advanced to the Earldom of Marlborough. The War of the Augsburg League had broken out and during the next two years the new Earl fought with William in the Low Countries and in Ireland, adding to his military repute in both campaigns. But his attitude towards the King was becoming openly hostile. He was dissatisfied with his rewards (an expected Order of the Garter and the lucrative post of Master General of the Ordnance had been bestowed elsewhere), and he complained to William about the preferred treatment given to the King’s Dutch favourites. The break came early in 1692, when William discovered that Marlborough had sought and obtained the forgiveness of the exiled James, and had allowed his name to be associated with several suspected Jacobite plots. (That Marlborough planned to recall James to the English throne seems less likely than that he hoped to depose William in favour of his niece Anne.) The King stripped Marlborough of all his civil and military offices, banished him from Court, and even confined him for a few weeks in the Tower of London. The remainder of the war was fought without the services of Marlborough, William commanding the Allied troops in the Low Countries with no conspicuous success. The process of restoration to favour began in 1698, when Marlborough was appointed Governor to the young Duke of Gloucester, Anne’s only surviving son; later in the same year he was readmitted to the Privy Council and was selected as one of the nine Lord Justices to rule England during the King’s absence in Holland. Although Marlborough wrote in May 1700, “The King’s coldness to me still continues”, by the middle of 1701, as we have seen, he had risen once more to the important post of Commander-in-Chief, and was in addition enjoying extensive diplomatic powers.
The Coalition Against Louis XIV
On reaching The Hague in July Marlborough at once entered into negotiations for a last-minute settlement with France and Spain. That having failed, he began the reconstruction of a Grand Alliance against Louis XIV. King William remained in the background, wisely leaving the Earl to treat with the ambassadors from the various courts of Europe. The experience gave Marlborough a valuable insight into European affairs from the continental point of view. What he now learned in the field of grand strategy was to keep him from ever contenting himself with the popular belief “that naval operations against Spanish colonies and treasure-ships were the chief part of all that England need do to bridle the ambition of Louis.” Deliberations were completed by the beginning of September, and on the 7th Marlborough signed the main treaty, by which the Empire, Holland and England agreed to unite in imposing their territorial demands upon France and Spain. According to these Philip V would rule Spain and the Indies, but the French and Spanish crowns should in no circumstances become united. In return for this recognition of Philip, Milan, the two Sicilies and the Spanish Mediterranean islands were to go to the House of Austria. The disposition of the Spanish Netherlands, in which Dutch and Austrian interests conflicted, was purposely left indefinite—they were to “serve as a dyke, rampart and barrier to separate and keep off France from the United Provinces”. A clause in the treaty guaranteed England and Holland the same commercial privileges with Philip V’s territories as they had enjoyed under his predecessor, at the same time prohibiting French ships from trading with the Spanish Indies. The treaty expressly set down the number of troops that each of the principals would put into the field to enforce these objectives. The Empire agreed to furnish 66 regiments of foot and 24 of horse (82,000 men), Holland 82 foot and 20 horse (100,000) and England 33 foot and seven horse (40,000).
Subsequent agreements made individually with Prussia, Hanover and other German principalities swelled the numbers of the international army which was forming against Louis XIV—these minor powers, many of which maintained forces far larger than the size of their territories warranted, pledging their contingents in return for English and Dutch subsidies. By the exercise of skilful diplomacy and the outlay of large sums of money Marlborough secured the neutrality of the young Charles XII of Sweden, who had just won an exhilarating victory over Russia and was being assiduously wooed by Louis, with whom he was traditionally far more inclined to side than the Emperor. With Sweden thus restricted her nervous neighbour Denmark felt safe in supplying her quota of troops to the Grand Alliance.
An enthusiastic English Parliament quickly ratified the treaties which Marlborough had negotiated, and preparations went forward rapidly to put the country on a war footing. England had to raise 58,000 men—40,000 seamen for her fleet and 18,000 soldiers. The remaining 22,000 troops required to meet her commitment to the Grand Alliance would be foreign soldiers in English pay. Then on February 20, 1702 King William was thrown from his horse while taking exercise and broke his collarbone. Complications set in and in two weeks he was dead. On March 8 Anne, younger daughter of James II, ascended the throne. Her friendship with Sarah Churchill at this stage was never more sincere. During the Churchills’ long service in her father’s household Anne had been accustomed to turn to them for guidance in almost all she did. Now that she was queen her reliance upon Marlborough was greater than ever; for the next five years the management of not only England’s military ventures on the Continent but also of the country’s domestic affairs was to rest largely in the Duke’s hands.
The Art of War in Marlborough’s Day
Before turning to Marlborough’s campaigns on the Continent it may be useful to examine briefly the state of military science at the beginning of the War of the Spanish Succession. Two types of operation, both generally carried out in accordance with certain set rules of procedure, dominated the military scene—the siege, and the large-scale pitched battle. The wasting struggles of the Thirty Years’ War had encouraged a tendency to favour defensive methods of warfare. During the latter half of the seventeenth century the principle of offensive action as accepted today received little recognition; to be considered a successful commander it was less important to win victories than to guard against defeat. The numerous fortresses and fortified towns of Flanders furnished ample scope for the exercise of such non-aggressive tactics; securely garrisoned, they would serve as strong points about which a defending army might manœuvre almost indefinitely while holding off a superior force.
In attempting to reduce one of these fortresses the attacker must employ two armies—one to perform the actual investment, the other to cover the siege by warding off counter-blows from the defending field force. As one war after another flowed across this cockpit of Europe and these strongholds changed hands time and again, the procedure became so stereotyped that it was possible to predict with a high degree of accuracy the cost, in time and lives, of taking a particular fortress. Thus was Louis XIV able on occasion to move his Court in holiday mood to the scene of action in order to enjoy the operations from a safe distance and then participate in the capitulation ceremonies.
Custom had established just as definite a pattern for the conduct of the pitched battle. It was an operation to be entered upon only after careful deliberation. An army was a great political and moral asset which had been acquired at great expense; it might not be lightly risked in decisive action. In those days there were no well organized lines of communication moving a steady stream of reinforcements up to the front; a beaten army usually meant no more campaigning until an intervening winter had allowed its commander to go home and rebuild his forces. Thus the stakes were uncomfortably high. In a single battle two opposing armies with a combined strength of upwards of 200,000 men, fighting on a front restricted to three or four miles, might in a few short hours decide the issue of a year’s campaign—if not of the whole war. Topographical conditions had to be just right. As we shall see, the manoeuvrability of an army in line of battle was very low; a hedge, a ditch, or any other comparatively minor irregularity might be enough to throw the advancing ranks into confusion. Accordingly battle was rarely joined unless the combat ground conformed closely to accepted standards of space and flatness; and, of greater importance, a considerable numerical advantage seemed to lie with the attacker. It was far less risky to wage war by the slower method of attrition and piecemeal absorption of territory (and there was then always the possibility of coming to terms with the opponent).
Campaigns had to be fought in the summer months, when forage was plentiful and the few roads had sufficiently recovered from the winter rains to allow the passage of troops. In this respect the Spanish Netherlands were particularly suited to conduct of war because of their rich plains furnishing abundant crops for the feeding of armies, and their navigable waterways which could be used for moving siege trains and other heavy material. Always the approach of winter ended hostilities for the year and the opposing armies would retire into winter quarters until the following spring. Many of the officers would return to their homes to spend the next six months recruiting replacements and preparing for the summer’s campaign. For the commander-in-chief dependent upon foreign contingents to fill his army it was a time for making the rounds of his clients to ensure that each was going to live up to his commitment in the spring.
The composition of Marlborough’s armies during his campaigns was never more than one-third British. This component was raised in the main by voluntary enlistment, each colonel being responsible for bringing his regiment up to strength. The officers whom he sent recruiting, when they had combed the countryside for likely yokels, could usually find in the jails and the debtors’ prisons many willing candidates for the Queen’s bounty; and they were further assisted by a series of Recruiting Acts passed from 1703 onward, which authorized certain limited forms of conscription (such as impressing able-bodied unemployed persons with no visible means of support).
The presence of the foreign contingents alongside his English force precluded any homogeneity in the structure of Marlborough’s army. Nor was there anything approaching the systematic organization of modern times. Corps and divisional formations were unknown, and indeed were not to come into existence until the wars of the French Revolution. Not only did each national contingent retain its identity as a fighting force, but within each the troops of the various arms were kept segregated both for purposes of administration and for tactical employment. The absence of any established chain of command through which the commander-in-chief might delegate his authority meant that he had to exert personal control over the operations of all parts of his army. From a point of vantage overlooking the battlefield he would direct the progress of the action, keeping the position and role of every unit registered in his mind, and transmitting to each his verbal orders by means of specially trained liaison officers. It was a prodigious task, and one which required a rare combination of almost superhuman intellectual and physical qualities.
The seventeenth century had seen an important development in the tactics of battle—the change from fighting in column to fighting in line. During the Thirty Years’ War it had been the custom for cavalry to charge in close column of six or more in depth, directing their attack against infantry drawn up in dense columns, with the pikemen in the centre flanked on either side by the musketeers in mutual support. One of the great contributions of Gustavus Adolphus to tactics had been to reduce the depth of both horse and foot formations; as a result, by the end of the century the cavalry charge was usually delivered in line three deep, and opposed by infantry formed in ranks not more than six deep. The cavalry continued to be the dominant arm in battle as long as the pike remained the chief infantry weapon. The principal weakness of the infantry lay in this necessity of having to employ pikemen to protect with their ten- or twelve-foot weapons the musketeer laboriously engaged with his slow-loading matchlock. The end of this cumbersome interdependence (not unlike that of the intermingled archers and dismounted men-at-arms of an earlier day) was foreshadowed by the introduction of the ring, or socket, bayonet in the 1680s. Its great advantage over the earlier plug bayonet, which blocked the muzzle of the musket, was in allowing the musketeer to fire his weapon right up to the instant of engaging the enemy with cold steel. By the turn of the century the ratio of pike to musket in English regiments had fallen as low as one to five. Before the battle of Blenheim the last pikes in Marlborough’s armies had been replaced by firearms, although French infantry were still being trained in “le combat à la pique et au mousquet.”