honest old Webb dated all his
grace's misfortunes from Wynendael, and vowed that Fate served the traitor
right. Duchess Sarah had also gone to ruin; she had been forced to give up
her keys, and her places, and her pensions:--"Ah, ah!" says Webb, "she
would have locked up three millions of French crowns with her keys had I
but been knocked on the head, but I stopped that convoy at Wynendael." Our
enemy Cardonnel was turned out of the House of Commons (along with Mr.
Walpole) for malversation of public money. Cadogan lost his place of
Lieutenant of the Tower. Marlborough's daughters resigned their posts of
ladies of the bedchamber; and so complete was the duke's disgrace, that
his son-in-law, Lord Bridgewater, was absolutely obliged to give up his
lodging at St. James's, and had his half-pension, as Master of the Horse,
taken away. But I think the lowest depth of Marlborough's fall was when he
humbly sent to ask General Webb when he might wait upon him; he who had
commanded the stout old general, who had injured him and sneered at him,
who had kept him dangling in his antechamber, who could not even after his
great service condescend to write him a letter in his own hand. The nation
was as eager for peace, as ever it had been hot for war. The Prince of
Savoy came amongst us, had his audience of the queen, and got his famous
Sword of Honour, and strove with all his force to form a Whig party
together, to bring over the young Prince of Hanover--to do anything which
might prolong the war, and consummate the ruin of the old sovereign whom
he hated so implacably. But the nation was tired of the struggle; so
completely wearied of it that not even our defeat at Denain could rouse us
into any anger, though such an action so lost two years before, would have
set all England in a fury. 'Twas easy to see that the great Marlborough
was not with the army. Eugene was obliged to fall back in a rage, and
forgo the dazzling revenge of his life. 'Twas in vain the duke's side
asked, "Would we suffer our arms to be insulted? Would we not send back
the only champion who could repair our honour?" The nation had had its
bellyful of fighting; nor could taunts or outcries goad up our Britons any
more.

For a statesman, that was always prating of liberty, and had the grandest
philosophic maxims in his mouth, it must be owned that Mr. St. John
sometimes rather acted like a Turkish than a Greek philosopher, and
especially fell foul of one unfortunate