The History of England from the Accession of James II, Vol. 2

T >> Thomas Babington Macaulay >> The History of England from the Accession of James II, Vol. 2

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22

It has been said to have been unjust that three states should
have combined to divide a fourth state without its own consent;
and, in recent times, the partition of the Spanish monarchy which
was meditated in 1698 has been compared to the greatest political
crime which stains the history of modern Europe, the partition of
Poland. But those who hold such language cannot have well
considered the nature of the Spanish monarchy in the seventeenth
century. That monarchy was not a body pervaded by one principle
of vitality and sensation. It was an assemblage of distinct
bodies, none of which had any strong sympathy with the rest, and
some of which had a positive antipathy for each other. The
partition planned at Loo was therefore the very opposite of the
partition of Poland. The partition of Poland was the partition of
a nation. It was such a partition as is effected by hacking a
living man limb from limb. The partition planned at Loo was the
partition of an ill governed empire which was not a nation. It
was such a partition as is effected by setting loose a drove of
slaves who have been fastened together with collars and
handcuffs, and whose union has produced only pain, inconvenience
and mutual disgust. There is not the slightest reason to believe
that the Neapolitans would have preferred the Catholic King to
the Dauphin, or that the Lombards would have preferred the
Catholic King to the Archduke. How little the Guipuscoans would
have disliked separation from Spain and annexation to France we
may judge from the fact that, a few years later, the States of
Guipuscoa actually offered to transfer their allegiance to France
on condition that their peculiar franchises should be held
sacred.

One wound the partition would undoubtedly have inflicted, a wound
on the Castilian pride. But surely the pride which a nation takes
in exercising over other nations a blighting and withering
dominion, a dominion without prudence or energy, without justice
or mercy, is not a feeling entitled to much respect. And even a
Castilian who was not greatly deficient in sagacity must have
seen that an inheritance claimed by two of the greatest
potentates in Europe could hardly pass entire to one claimant;
that a partition was therefore all but inevitable; and that the
question was in truth merely between a partition effected by
friendly compromise and a partition effected by means of a long
and devastating war.

There seems, therefore, to be no ground at all for pronouncing
the terms of the Treaty of Loo unjust to the Emperor, to the
Spanish monarchy considered as a whole, or to any part of that
monarchy. Whether those terms were or were not too favourable to
France is quite another question. It has often been maintained
that she would have gained more by permanently annexing to
herself Guipuscoa, Naples and Sicily than by sending the Duke of
Anjou or the Duke of Berry to reign at the Escurial. On this
point, however, if on any point, respect is due to the opinion of
William. That he thoroughly understood the politics of Europe is
as certain as that jealousy of the greatness of France was with
him a passion, a ruling passion, almost an infirmity. Before we
blame him, therefore, for making large concessions to the power
which it was the chief business of his life to keep within
bounds, we shall do well to consider whether those concessions
may not, on close examination, be found to be rather apparent
than real. The truth is that they were so, and were well known to
be so both by William and by Lewis.

Naples and Sicily formed indeed a noble kingdom, fertile,
populous, blessed with a delicious climate, and excellently
situated for trade. Such a kingdom, had it been contiguous to
Provence, would indeed have been a most formidable addition to
the French monarchy. But a glance at the map ought to have been
sufficient to undeceive those who imagined that the great
antagonist of the House of Bourbon could be so weak as to lay the
liberties of Europe at the feet of that house. A King of France
would, by acquiring territories in the South of Italy, have
really bound himself over to keep the peace; for, as soon as he
was at war with his neighbours, those territories were certain to
be worse than useless to him. They were hostages at the mercy of
his enemies. It would be easy to attack them. It would be hardly
possible to defend them. A French army sent to them by land would
have to force its way through the passes of the Alps, through
Piedmont, through Tuscany, and through the Pontifical States, in
opposition probably to great German armies. A French fleet would
run great risk of being intercepted and destroyed by the
squadrons of England and Holland. Of all this Lewis was perfectly
aware. He repeatedly declared that he should consider the kingdom
of the Two Sicilies as a source, not of strength, but of
weakness. He accepted it at last with murmurs; he seems to have
intended to make it over to one of his younger grandsons; and he
would beyond all doubt have gladly given it in exchange for a
thirtieth part of the same area in the Netherlands.15 But in the
Netherlands England and Holland were determined to allow him
nothing. What he really obtained in Italy was little more than a
splendid provision for a cadet of his house. Guipuscoa was then
in truth the price in consideration of which France consented
that the Electoral Prince of Bavaria should be King of Spain and
the Indies. Guipuscoa, though a small, was doubtless a valuable
province, and was in a military point of view highly important.
But Guipuscoa was not in the Netherlands. Guipuscoa would not
make Lewis a more formidable neighbour to England or to the
United Provinces. And, if the Treaty should be broken off, if the
vast Spanish empire should be struggled for and torn in pieces by
the rival races of Bourbon and Habsburg, was it not possible, was
it not probable, that France might lay her iron grasp, not on
Guipuscoa alone, but on Luxemburg and Namur, on Hainault, Brabant
and Antwerp, on Flanders East and West? Was it certain that the
united force of all her neighbours would be sufficient to compel
her to relinquish her prey? Was it not certain that the contest
would be long and terrible? And would not the English and Dutch
think themselves most fortunate if, after many bloody and costly
campaigns, the French King could be compelled to sign a treaty,
the same, word for word, with that which he was ready uncompelled
to sign now?

William, firmly relying on his own judgment, had not yet, in the
whole course of this momentous negotiation, asked the advice or
employed the agency of any English minister. But the treaty could
not be formally concluded without the instrumentality of one of
the Secretaries of State and of the Great Seal. Portland was
directed to write to Vernon. The King himself wrote to the
Chancellor. Somers was authorised to consult any of his
colleagues whom he might think fit to be entrusted with so high a
secret; and he was requested to give his own opinion of the
proposed arrangement. If that opinion should be favourable, not a
day must be lost. The King of Spain might die at any moment, and
could hardly live till the winter. Full powers must be sent to
Loo, sealed, but with blanks left for the names of the
plenipotentiaries. Strict secresy must be observed; and care must
be taken that the clerks whose duty it was to draw up the
necessary documents should not entertain any suspicion of the
importance of the work which they were performing.

The despatch from Loo found Somers at a distance from all his
political friends, and almost incapacitated by infirmities and by
remedies from attending to serious business, his delicate frame
worn out by the labours and vigils of many months, his head
aching and giddy with the first draughts from the chalybeate
spring. He roused himself, however, and promptly communicated by
writing with Shrewsbury and Orford. Montague and Vernon came down
to Tunbridge Wells, and conferred fully with him. The opinion of
the leading Whig statesmen was communicated to the King in a
letter which was not many months later placed on the records of
Parliament. These statesmen entirely agreed with William in
wishing to see the question of the Spanish succession speedily
and peaceably settled. They apprehended that, if Charles should
die leaving that question unsettled, the immense power of the
French King and the geographical situation of his dominions would
enable him to take immediate possession of the most important
parts of the great inheritance. Whether he was likely to venture
on so bold a course, and whether, if he did venture on it, any
continental government would have the means and the spirit to
withstand him, were questions as to which the English ministers,
with unfeigned deference, submitted their opinion to that of
their master, whose knowledge of the interests and tempers of all
the courts of Europe was unrivalled. But there was one important
point which must not be left out of consideration, and about
which his servants might perhaps be better informed than himself,
the temper of their own country. It was, the Chancellor wrote,
their duty to tell His Majesty that the recent elections had
indicated the public feeling in a manner which had not been
expected, but which could not be mistaken. The spirit which had
borne the nation up through nine years of exertions and
sacrifices seemed to be dead. The people were sick of taxes; they
hated the thought of war. As it would, in such circumstances, be
no easy matter to form a coalition capable of resisting the
pretensions of France, it was most desirable that she should be
induced to withdraw those pretensions; and it was not to be
expected that she would withdraw them without securing for
herself a large compensation. The principle of the Treaty of Loo,
therefore, the English Ministers cordially approved. But whether
the articles of that treaty were or were not too favourable to
the House of Bourbon, and whether the House of Bourbon was likely
faithfully to observe them, were questions about which Somers
delicately hinted that he and his colleagues felt some
misgivings. They had their fears that Lewis might be playing
false. They had their fears also that, possessed of Sicily, he
would be master of the trade of the Levant; and that, possessed
of Guipuscoa, he would be able at any moment to push an army into
the heart of Castile. But they had been reassured by the thought
that their Sovereign thoroughly understood this department of
politics, that he had fully considered all these things, that he
had neglected no precaution, and that the concessions which he
had made to France were the smallest which could have averted the
calamities impending over Christendom. It was added that the
service which His Majesty had rendered to the House of Bavaria
gave him a right to ask for some return. Would it be too much to
expect, from the gratitude of the prince who was soon to be a
great king, some relaxation of the rigorous system which excluded
the English trade from the Spanish colonies? Such a relaxation
would greatly endear His Majesty to his subjects.

With these suggestions the Chancellor sent off the powers which
the King wanted. They were drawn up by Vernon with his own hand,
and sealed in such a manner that no subordinate officer was let
into the secret. Blanks were left, as the King had directed, for
the names of two Commissioners. But Somers gently hinted that it
would be proper to fill those blanks with the names of persons
who were English by naturalisation, if not by birth, and who
would therefore be responsible to Parliament.

The King now had what he wanted from England. The peculiarity of
the Batavian polity threw some difficulties in his way; but every
difficulty gelded to his authority and to the dexterous
management of Heinsius. And in truth the treaty could not but be
favourably regarded by the States General; for it had been
carefully framed with the especial object of preventing France
from obtaining any accession of territory, or influence on the
side of the Netherlands; and Dutchmen, who remembered the
terrible year when the camp of Lewis had been pitched between
Utrecht and Amsterdam, were delighted to find that he was not to
add to his dominions a single fortress in their neighbourhood,
and were quite willing to buy him off with whole provinces under
the Pyrenees and the Apennines. The sanction both of the federal
and of the provincial governments was given with ease and
expedition; and in the evening of the fourth of September 1698,
the treaty was signed. As to the blanks in the English powers,
William had attended to his Chancellor's suggestion, and had
inserted the names of Sir Joseph Williamson, minister at the
Hague, a born Englishman, and of Portland, a naturalised
Englishman. The Grand Pensionary and seven other Commissioners
signed on behalf of the United Provinces. Tallard alone signed
for France. He seems to have been extravagantly elated by what
seemed to be the happy issue of the negotiation in which he had
borne so great a part, and in his next despatch to Lewis boasted
of the new treaty as destined to be the most famous that had been
made during many centuries.

William too was well pleased; and he had reason to be so. Had the
King of Spain died, as all men expected, before the end of that
year, it is highly probable that France would have kept faith
with England and the United Provinces; and it is almost certain
that, if France had kept faith, the treaty would have been
carried into effect without any serious opposition in any
quarter. The Emperor might have complained and threatened; but he
must have submitted; for what could he do? He had no fleet; and
it was therefore impossible for him even to attempt to possess
himself of Castile, of Arragon, of Sicily, of the Indies, in
opposition to the united navies of the three greatest maritime
powers in the world. In fact, the only part of the Spanish empire
which he could hope to seize and hold by force against the will
of the confederates of Loo was the Milanese; and the Milanese the
confederates of Loo had agreed to assign to his family. He would
scarcely have been so mad as to disturb the peace of the world
when the only thing which he had any chance of gaining by war was
offered him without war. The Castilians would doubtless have
resented the dismemberment of the unwieldy body of which they
formed the head. But they would have perceived that by resisting
they were much more likely to lose the Indies than to preserve
Guipuscoa. As to Italy, they could no more make war there than in
the moon. Thus the crisis which had seemed likely to produce an
European war of ten years would have produced nothing worse than
a few angry notes and plaintive manifestoes.

Both the confederate Kings wished their compact to remain a
secret while their brother Charles lived; and it probably would
have remained secret, had it been confided only to the English
and French Ministers. But the institutions of the United
Provinces were not well fitted for the purpose of concealment. It
had been necessary to trust so many deputies and magistrates that
rumours of what had been passing at Loo got abroad. Quiros, the
Spanish Ambassador at the Hague, followed the trail with such
skill and perseverance that he discovered, if not the whole
truth, yet enough to furnish materials for a despatch which
produced much irritation and alarm at Madrid. A council was
summoned, and sate long in deliberation. The grandees of the
proudest of Courts could hardly fail to perceive that their next
sovereign, be he who he might, would find it impossible to avoid
sacrificing part of his defenceless and widely scattered empire
in order to preserve the rest; they could not bear to think that
a single fort, a single islet, in any of the four quarters of the
world was about to escape from the sullen domination of Castile.
To this sentiment all the passions and prejudices of the haughty
race were subordinate. "We are ready," such was the phrase then
in their mouths, "to go to any body, to go to the Dauphin, to go
to the Devil, so that we all go together." In the hope of
averting the threatened dismemberment, the Spanish ministers
advised their master to adopt as his heir the candidate whose
pretensions it was understood that France, England and Holland
were inclined to support. The advice was taken; and it was soon
every where known that His Catholic Majesty had solemnly
designated as his successor his nephew Francis Joseph, Electoral
Prince of Bavaria. France protested against this arrangement,
not, as far as can now be judged, because she meant to violate
the Treaty of Loo, but because it would have been difficult for
her, if she did not protest, to insist on the full execution of
that treaty. Had she silently acquiesced in the nomination of the
Electoral Prince, she would have appeared to admit that the
Dauphin's pretensions were unfounded; and, if she admitted the
Dauphin's pretensions to be unfounded, she could not, without
flagrant injustice, demand several provinces as the price in
consideration of which she would consent to waive those
pretensions. Meanwhile the confederates had secured the
cooperation of a most important person, the Elector of Bavaria,
who was actually Governor of the Netherlands, and was likely to
be in a few months, at farthest, Regent of the whole Spanish
monarchy. He was perfectly sensible that the consent of France,
England and Holland to his son's elevation was worth purchasing
at almost any cost, and, with much alacrity, promised that, when
the time came, he would do all in his power to facilitate the
execution of the Treaty of Partition. He was indeed bound by the
strongest ties to the confederates of Loo. They had, by a secret
article, added to the treaty, agreed that, if the Electoral
Prince should become King of Spain, and then die without issue,
his father should be his heir. The news that young Francis Joseph
had been declared heir to the throne of Spain was welcome to all
the potentates of Europe with the single exception of his
grandfather the Emperor. The vexation and indignation of Leopold
were extreme. But there could be no doubt that, graciously or
ungraciously, he would submit. It would have been madness in him
to contend against all Western Europe on land; and it was
physically impossible for him to wage war on the sea. William was
therefore able to indulge, during some weeks, the pleasing belief
that he had by skill and firmness averted from the civilised
world a general war which had lately seemed to be imminent, and
that he had secured the great community of nations against the
undue predominance of one too powerful member.

But the pleasure and the pride with which he contemplated the
success of his foreign policy gave place to very different
feelings as soon as he again had to deal with our domestic
factions. And, indeed, those who most revere his memory must
acknowledge that, in dealing with these factions, he did not, at
this time, show his wonted statesmanship. For a wise man, he
seems never to have been sufficiently aware how much offence is
given by discourtesy in small things. His ministers had apprised
him that the result of the elections had been unsatisfactory, and
that the temper of the new representatives of the people would
require much management. Unfortunately he did not lay this
intimation to heart. He had by proclamation fixed the opening of
the Parliament for the 29th of November. This was then considered
as a very late day. For the London season began together with
Michaelmas Term; and, even during the war, the King had scarcely
ever failed to receive the compliments of his faithful Lords and
Commons on the fifth of November, the anniversary both of his
birth and of his memorable landing. The numerous members of the
House of Commons who were in town, having their tune on their
hands, formed cabals, and heated themselves and each other by
murmuring at his partiality for the country of his birth. He had
been off to Holland, they said, at the earliest possible moment.
He was now lingering in Holland till the latest possible moment.
This was not the worst. The twenty-ninth of November came; but
the King was not come. It was necessary that the Lords Justices
should prorogue the Parliament to the sixth of December. The
delay was imputed, and justly, to adverse winds. But the
malecontents asked, with some reason, whether His Majesty had not
known that there were often gales from the West in the German
Ocean, and whether, when he had made a solemn appointment with
the Estates of his Realm for a particular day, he ought not to
have arranged things in such a way that nothing short of a
miracle could have prevented him from keeping that appointment.

Thus the ill humour which a large proportion of the new
legislators had brought up from their country seats became more
and more aced every day, till they entered on their functions.
One question was much agitated during this unpleasant interval.
Who was to be Speaker? The junto wished to place Sir Thomas
Littleton in the chair. He was one of their ablest, most zealous
and most steadfast friends; and had been, both in the House of
Commons and at the Board of Treasury, an invaluable second to
Montague. There was reason indeed to expect a strong opposition.
That Littleton was a Whig was a grave objection to him in the
opinion of the Tories. That he was a placeman, and that he was
for a standing army, were grave objections to him in the opinion
of many who were not Tories. But nobody else came forward. The
health of the late Speaker Foley had failed. Musgrave was talked
of in coffeehouses; but the rumour that he would be proposed soon
died away. Seymour's name was in a few mouths; but Seymour's day
had gone by. He still possessed, indeed, those advantages which
had once made him the first of the country gentlemen of England,
illustrious descent, ample fortune, ready and weighty eloquence,
perfect familiarity with parliamentary business. But all these
things could not do so much to raise him as his moral character
did to drag him down. Haughtiness such as his, though it could
never have been liked, might, if it had been united with elevated
sentiments of virtue and honour, have been pardoned. But of all
the forms of pride, even the pride of upstart wealth not
excepted, the most offensive is the pride of ancestry when found
in company with sordid and ignoble vices, greediness, mendacity,
knavery and impudence; and such was the pride of Seymour. Many,
even of those who were well pleased to see the ministers galled
by his keen and skilful rhetoric, remembered that he had sold
himself more than once, and suspected that he was impatient to
sell himself again. On the very eve of the opening of Parliament,
a little tract entitled "Considerations on the Choice of a
Speaker" was widely circulated, and seems to have produced a
great sensation. The writer cautioned the representatives of the
people, at some length, against Littleton; and then, in even
stronger language, though more concisely, against Seymour; but
did not suggest any third person. The sixth of December came, and
found the Country party, as it called itself, still unprovided
with a candidate. The King, who had not been many hours in
London, took his seat in the House of Lords. The Commons were
summoned to the bar, and were directed to choose a Speaker. They
returned to their Chamber. Hartington proposed Littleton; and the
proposition was seconded by Spencer. No other person was put in
nomination; but there was a warm debate of two hours. Seymour,
exasperated by finding that no party was inclined to support his
pretensions, spoke with extravagant violence. He who could well
remember the military despotism of Cromwell, who had been an
active politician in the days of the Cabal, and who had seen his
own beautiful county turned into a Golgotha by the Bloody
Circuit, declared that the liberties of the nation had never been
in greater danger than at that moment, and that their doom would
be fixed if a courtier should be called to the chair. The
opposition insisted on dividing. Hartington's motion was carried
by two hundred and forty-two votes to a hundred and thirty-five,
Littleton himself, according to the childish old usage which has
descended to our times, voting in the minority. Three days later,
he was presented and approved.

The King then spoke from the throne. He declared his firm
conviction that the Houses were disposed to do whatever was
necessary for the safety, honour and happiness of the kingdom;
and he asked them for nothing more. When they came to consider
the military and naval establishments, they would remember that,
unless England were secure from attack, she could not continue to
hold the high place which she had won for herself among European
powers; her trade would languish; her credit would fail; and even
her internal tranquillity would be in danger. He also expressed a
hope that some progress would be made in the discharge of the
debts contracted during the War. "I think," he said, "an English
Parliament can never make such a mistake as not to hold sacred
all Parliamentary engagements."

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22