forgiven. The news was most welcome; but something more was
necessary to restore his lost peace of mind. Might he hope to
have, in the royal handwriting, two lines containing a promise of
pardon? It was not, of course, for his own sake that he asked
this. But he was confident that, with such a document in his
hands, he could bring back to the right path some persons of
great note who adhered to the usurper, only because they imagined
that they had no mercy to expect from the legitimate King. They
would return to their duty as soon as they saw that even the
worst of all criminals had, on his repentance, been generously
forgiven. The promise was written, sent, and carefully treasured
up. Marlborough had now attained one object, an object which was
common to him with Russell and Godolphin. But he had other
objects which neither Russell nor Godolphin had ever
contemplated. There is, as we shall hereafter see, strong reason
to believe that this wise, brave, wicked man, was meditating a
plan worthy of his fertile intellect and daring spirit, and not
less worthy of his deeply corrupted heart, a plan which, if it
had not been frustrated by strange means, would have ruined
William without benefiting James, and would have made the
successful traitor master of England and arbiter of Europe.

Thus things stood, when, in May 1691, William, after a short and
busy sojourn in England, set out again for the Continent, where
the regular campaign was about to open. He took with him
Marlborough, whose abilities he justly appreciated, and of whose
recent negotiations with Saint Germains he had not the faintest
suspicion. At the Hague several important military and political
consultations were held; and, on every occasion, the superiority
of the accomplished Englishman was felt by the most distinguished