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

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Such was the state of the question of the Spanish succession at
the time when Portland had his first public audience at
Versailles. The French ministers were certain that he must be
constantly thinking about that question, and were therefore
perplexed by his evident determination to say nothing about it.
They watched his lips in the hope that he would at least let fall
some unguarded word indicating the hopes or fears entertained by
the English and Dutch Governments. But Portland was not a man out
of whom much was to be got in that way. Nature and habit
cooperating had made him the best keeper of secrets in Europe.
Lewis therefore directed Pomponne and Torcy, two ministers of
eminent ability, who had, under himself, the chief direction of
foreign affairs, to introduce the subject which the discreet
confidant of William seemed studiously to avoid. Pomponne and
Torcy accordingly repaired to the English embassy; and there
opened one of the most remarkable negotiations recorded in the
annals of European diplomacy.

The two French statesmen professed in their master's name the
most earnest desire, not only that the peace might remain
unbroken, but that there might be a close union between the
Courts of Versailles and Kensington. One event only seemed likely
to raise new troubles. If the Catholic King should die before it
had been settled who should succeed to his immense dominions,
there was but too much reason to fear that the nations, which
were just beginning to breathe after an exhausting and
devastating struggle of nine years, would be again in arms. His
Most Christian Majesty was therefore desirous to employ the short
interval which might remain, in concerting with the King of
England the means of preserving the tranquillity of the world.

Portland made a courteous but guarded answer. He could not, he
said, presume to say exactly what William's sentiments were; but
this he knew, that it was not solely or chiefly by the sentiments
of the King of England that the policy of England on a great
occasion would be regulated. The islanders must and would have
their government administered according to certain maxims which
they held sacred; and of those maxims they held none more sacred
than this, that every increase of the power of France ought to be
viewed with extreme jealousy.

Pomponne and Torcy answered that their master was most desirous
to avoid every thing which could excite the jealousy of which
Portland had spoken. But was it of France alone that a nation so
enlightened as the English must be jealous? Was it forgotten that
the House of Austria had once aspired to universal dominion? And
would it be wise in the princes and commonwealths of Europe to
lend their aid for the purpose of reconstructing the gigantic
monarchy which, in the sixteenth century, had seemed likely to
overwhelm them all?

Portland answered that, on this subject, he must be understood to
express only the opinions of a private man. He had however now
lived, during some years, among the English, and believed himself
to be pretty well acquainted with their temper. They would not,
he thought, be much alarmed by any augmentation of power which
the Emperor might obtain. The sea was their element. Traffic by
sea was the great source of their wealth; ascendency on the sea
the great object of their ambition. Of the Emperor they had no
fear. Extensive as was the area which he governed, he had not a
frigate on the water; and they cared nothing for his Pandours and
Croatians. But France had a great navy. The balance of maritime
power was what would be anxiously watched in London; and the
balance of maritime power would not be affected by an union
between Spain and Austria, but would be most seriously deranged
by an union between Spain and France.

Pomponne and Torcy declared that every thing should be done to
quiet the apprehensions which Portland had described. It was not
contemplated, it was not wished, that France and Spain should be
united. The Dauphin and his eldest son the Duke of Burgundy would
waive their rights. The younger brothers of the Duke of Burgundy,
Philip Duke of Anjou and Charles Duke of Berry, were not named;
but Portland perfectly understood what was meant. There would, he
said, be scarcely less alarm in England if the Spanish dominions
devolved on a grandson of His Most Christian Majesty than if they
were annexed to the French crown. The laudable affection of the
young princes for their country and their family, and their
profound respect for the great monarch from whom they were
descended, would inevitably determine their policy. The two
kingdoms would be one; the two navies would be one; and all other
states would be reduced to vassalage. England would rather see
the Spanish monarchy added to the Emperor's dominions than
governed by one of the younger French princes, who would, though
nominally independent, be really a viceroy of France. But in
truth there was no risk that the Spanish monarchy would be added
to the Emperor's dominions. He and his eldest son the Archduke
Joseph would, no doubt, be as ready to waive their rights as the
Dauphin and the Duke of Burgundy could be; and thus the Austrian
claim to the disputed heritage would pass to the younger Archduke
Charles. A long discussion followed. At length Portland plainly
avowed, always merely as his own private opinion, what was the
opinion of every intelligent man who wished to preserve the peace
of the world. "France is afraid," he said, "of every thing which
can increase the power of the Emperor. All Europe is afraid of
every thing which can increase the power of France. Why not put
an end to all these uneasy feelings at once, by agreeing to place
the Electoral Prince of Bavaria on the throne of Spain?" To this
suggestion no decisive answer was returned. The conference ended;
and a courier started for England with a despatch informing
William of what had passed, and soliciting further instructions.

William, who was, as he had always been, his own Secretary for
Foreign Affairs, did not think it necessary to discuss the
contents of this despatch with any of his English ministers. The
only person whom he consulted was Heinsius. Portland received a
kind letter warmly approving all that he had said in the
conference, and directing him to declare that the English
government sincerely wished to avert the calamities which were
but too likely to follow the death of the King of Spain, and
would therefore be prepared to take into serious consideration
any definite plan which His Most Christian Majesty might think
fit to suggest. "I will own to you," William wrote to his friend,
"that I am so unwilling to be again at war during the short time
which I still have to live, that I will omit nothing that I can
honestly and with a safe conscience do for the purpose of
maintaining peace."

William's message was delivered by Portland to Lewis at a private
audience. In a few days Pomponne and Torcy were authorised to
propose a plan. They fully admitted that all neighbouring states
were entitled to demand the strongest security against the union
of the French and Spanish crowns. Such security should be given.
The Spanish government might be requested to choose between the
Duke of Anjou and the Duke of Berry. The youth who was selected
would, at the utmost, be only fifteen years old, and could not be
supposed to have any very deeply rooted national prejudices. He
should be sent to Madrid without French attendants, should be
educated by Spaniards, should become a Spaniard. It was absurd to
imagine that such a prince would be a mere viceroy of France.
Apprehensions had been sometimes hinted that a Bourbon, seated on
the throne of Spain, might cede his dominions in the Netherlands
to the head of his family. It was undoubtedly important to
England, and all important to Holland, that those provinces
should not become a part of the French monarchy. All danger might
be averted by making them over to the Elector of Bavaria, who was
now governing them as representative of the Catholic King. The
Dauphin would be perfectly willing to renounce them for himself
and for all his descendants. As to what concerned trade, England
and Holland had only to say what they desired, and every thing in
reason should be done to give them satisfaction.

As this plan was, in the main, the same which had been suggested
by the French ministers in the former conference, Portland did
little more than repeat what he had then said. As to the new
scheme respecting the Netherlands, he shrewdly propounded a
dilemma which silenced Pomponne and Torcy.

If renunciations were of any value, the Dauphin and his posterity
were excluded from the Spanish succession; and, if renunciations
were of no value, it was idle to offer England and Holland a
renunciation as a guarantee against a great danger.

The French Ministers withdrew to make their report to their
master, and soon returned to say that their proposals had been
merely first thoughts, that it was now the turn of King William
to suggest something, and that whatever he might suggest should
receive the fullest and fairest consideration.

And now the scene of the negotiation was shifted from Versailles
to Kensington. The Count of Tallard had just set out for England
as Ambassador. He was a fine gentleman; he was a brave soldier;
and he was as yet reputed a skilful general. In all the arts and
graces which were priced as qualifications for diplomatic
missions of the highest class, he had, among the brilliant
aristocracy to which he belonged, no superior and only one equal,
the Marquess of Harcourt, who was entrusted with the care of the
interests of the House of Bourbon at Madrid.

Tallard carried with him instructions carefully framed in the
French Foreign Office. He was reminded that his situation would
be widely different from that of his predecessors who had resided
in England before the Revolution. Even his predecessors, however,
had considered it as their duty to study the temper, not only of
the Court, but of the nation. It would now be more than ever
necessary to watch the movements of the public mind. A man of
note was not to be slighted merely because he was out of place.
Such a man, with a great name in the country and a strong
following in Parliament, might exercise as much influence on the
politics of England, and consequently of Europe, as any minister.
The Ambassador must therefore try to be on good terms with those
who were out as well as with those who were in. To this rule,
however, there was one exception which he must constantly bear in
mind. With nonjurors and persons suspected of plotting against
the existing government he must not appear to have any
connection. They must not be admitted into his house. The English
people evidently wished to be at rest, and had given the best
proof of their pacific disposition by insisting on the reduction
of the army. The sure way to stir up jealousies and animosities
which were just sinking to sleep would be to make the French
embassy the head quarters of the Jacobite party. It would be wise
in Tallard to say and to charge his agents to say, on all fit
occasions, and particularly in societies where members of
Parliament might be present, that the Most Christian King had
never been an enemy of the liberties of England. His Majesty had
indeed hoped that it might be in his power to restore his cousin,
but not without the assent of the nation. In the original draft
of the instructions was a curious paragraph which, on second
thoughts, it was determined to omit. The Ambassador was directed
to take proper opportunities of cautioning the English against a
standing army, as the only thing which could really be fatal to
their laws and liberties. This passage was suppressed, no doubt,
because it occurred to Pomponne and Torcy that, with whatever
approbation the English might listen to such language when
uttered by a demagogue of their own race, they might be very
differently affected by hearing it from a French diplomatist, and
might think that there could not be a better reason for arming,
than that Lewis and his emissaries earnestly wished them to
disarm.

Tallard was instructed to gain, if possible, some members of the
House of Commons. Every thing, he was told, was now subjected to
the scrutiny of that assembly; accounts of the public income, of
the public expenditure, of the army, of the navy, were regularly
laid on the table; and it would not be difficult to find persons
who would supply the French legation with copious information on
all these subjects.

The question of the Spanish succession was to be mentioned to
William at a private audience. Tallard was fully informed of all
that had passed in the conferences which the French ministers had
held with Portland; and was furnished with all the arguments that
the ingenuity of publicists could devise in favour of the claim
of the Dauphin.

The French embassy made as magnificent an appearance m England as
the English embassy had made in France. The mansion of the Duke
of Ormond, one of the finest houses in Saint James's Square, was
taken for Tallard. On the day of the public entry, all the
streets from Tower Hill to Pall Mall were crowded with gazers who
admired the painting and gilding of his Excellency's carriages,
the surpassing beauty of his horses, and the multitude of his
running footmen, dressed in gorgeous liveries of scarlet and gold
lace. The Ambassador was graciously received at Kensington, and
was invited to accompany William to Newmarket, where the largest
and most splendid Spring Meeting ever known was about to
assemble. The attraction must be supposed to have been great; for
the risks of the journey were not trifling. The peace had, all
over Europe, and nowhere more than in England, turned crowds of
old soldiers into marauders.12 Several aristocratical equipages
had been attacked even in Hyde Park. Every newspaper contained
stories of travellers stripped, bound and flung into ditches. One
day the Bristol mail was robbed; another day the Dover coach;
then the Norwich waggon. On Hounslow Heath a company of horsemen,
with masks on their faces, waited for the great people who had
been to pay their court to the King at Windsor. Lord Ossulston
escaped with the loss of two horses. The Duke of Saint Albans,
with the help of his servants, beat off the assailants. His
brother the Duke of Northumberland, less strongly guarded, fell
into their hands. They succeeded in stopping thirty or forty
coaches, and rode off with a great booty in guineas, watches and
jewellery. Nowhere, however, does the peal seem to have been so
great as on the Newmarket road. There indeed robbery was
organised on a scale unparalleled in the kingdom since the days
of Robin Hood and Little John. A fraternity of plunderers, thirty
in number according to the lowest estimate, squatted, near
Waltham Cross, under the shades of Epping Forest, and built
themselves huts, from which they sallied forth with sword and
pistol to bid passengers stand. The King and Tallard were
doubtless too well attended to be in jeopardy. But, soon after
they had passed the dangerous spot, there was a fight on the
highway attended with loss of life. A warrant of the Lord Chief
justice broke up the Maroon village for a short time,
but the dispersed thieves soon mustered again, and had the
impudence to bid defiance to the government in a cartel signed,
it was said, with their real names. The civil power was unable to
deal with this frightful evil. It was necessary that, during some
time, cavalry should patrol every evening on the roads near the
boundary between Middlesex and Essex.

The state of those roads, however, though contemporaries
described it as dangerous beyond all example, did not deter men
of rank and fashion from making the joyous pilgrimages to
Newmarket. Half the Dukes in the kingdom were there. Most of the
chief ministers of state swelled the crowd; nor was the
opposition unrepresented. Montague stole two or three days from
the Treasury, and Orford from the Admiralty. Godolphin was there,
looking after his horses and his bets, and probably went away a
richer man than he came. But racing was only one of the many
amusements of that festive season. On fine mornings there was
hunting. For those who preferred hawking choice falcons had been
brought from Holland. On rainy days the cockpit was encircled by
stars and blue ribands. On Sundays William went to church in
state, and the most eminent divines of the neighbouring
University of Cambridge preached before him. He omitted no
opportunity of showing marked civility to Tallard. The Ambassador
informed his Court that his place at table was next to the royal
arm chair, and that his health had been most graciously drunk by
the King.

All this time, both at Kensington and Newmarket, the Spanish
question was the subject of constant and earnest discussion. To
trace all the windings of the negotiation would be tedious. The
general course which it took may easily be described. The object
of William was to place the Electoral Prince of Bavaria on the
Spanish throne. To obtain the consent of Lewis to such an
arrangement seemed all but impossible; but William manoeuvred
with rare skill. Though he frankly acknowledged that he preferred
the Electoral Prince to any other candidate, he professed.
himself desirous to meet, as far as he honourably or safely
could, the wishes of the French King. There were conditions on
which England and Holland might perhaps consent, though not
without reluctance, that a son of the Dauphin should reign at
Madrid, and should be master of the treasures of the New World.
Those conditions were that the Milanese and the Two Sicilies
should belong to the Archduke Charles, that the Elector of
Bavaria should have the Spanish Netherlands, that Lewis should
give up some fortified towns in Artois for the purpose of
strengthening the barrier which protected the United Provinces,
and that some important places both in the Mediterranean sea and
in the Gulf of Mexico should be made over to the English and
Dutch for the security of trade. Minorca and Havanna were
mentioned as what might satisfy England.

Against these terms Lewis exclaimed loudly. Nobody, he said, who
knew with how sensitive a jealousy the Spaniards watched every
encroachment on their colonial empire would believe that they
would ever consent to give up any part of that empire either to
England or to Holland. The demand which was made upon himself was
altogether inadmissible. A barrier was not less necessary to
France than to Holland; and he never would break the iron chain
of frontier fastnesses which was the defence of his own kingdom,
even in order to purchase another kingdom for his grandson. On
that subject he begged that he might hear no more. The
proposition was one which he would not discuss, one to which he
would not listen.

As William, however, resolutely maintained that the terms which
he had offered, hard as they might seem, were the only terms on
which England and Holland could suffer a Bourbon to reign at
Madrid, Lewis began seriously to consider, whether it might not
be on the whole for his interest and that of his family rather to
sell the Spanish crown dear than to buy it dear. He therefore now
offered to withdraw his opposition to the Bavarian claim,
provided a portion of the disputed inheritance were assigned to
him in consideration of his disinterestedness and moderation.
William was perfectly willing and even eager to treat on this
basis. The first demands of Lewis were, as might have been
expected, exorbitantly high. He asked for the kingdom of Navarre,
which would have made him little less than master of the whole
Iberian peninsula, and for the duchy of Luxemburg, which would
have made him more dangerous than ever to the United Provinces.
On both points he encountered a steady resistance. The impression
which, throughout these transactions, the firmness and good faith
of William made on Tallard is remarkable. At first the dexterous
and keen witted Frenchman was all suspicion. He imagined that
there was an evasion in every phrase, a hidden snare in every
offer. But after a time he began to discover that he had to do
with a man far too wise to be false. "The King of England," he
wrote, and it is impossible to doubt that he wrote what he
thought, "acts with good faith in every thing. His way of dealing
is upright and sincere."13 "The King of England," he wrote a few
days later, "has hitherto acted with great sincerity; and I
venture to say that, if he once enters into a treaty, he will
steadily adhere to it." But in the same letter the Ambassador
thought it necessary to hint to his master that the diplomatic
chicanery which might be useful in other negotiations would be
all thrown away here. "I must venture to observe to Your Majesty
that the King of England is very sharpsighted, that his judgment
is sound, and that, if we try to spin the negotiation out, he
will very soon perceive that we are trifling with him."14

During some time projects and counterprojects continued to pass
and repass between Kensington and Versailles. Something was
conceded on both sides; and when the session of Parliament ended
there seemed to be fair hopes of a settlement. And now the scene
of the negotiation was again changed. Having been shifted from
France to England, it was shifted from England to Holland. As
soon as William had prorogued the Houses, he was impatient to be
again in his native land. He felt all the glee of a schoolboy who
is leaving harsh masters and quarrelsome comrades to pass the
Christmas holidays at a happy home. That stern and composed face
which had been the same in the pursuit at the Boyne and in the
rout at Landen, and of which the keenest politicians had in vain
tried to read the secrets, now wore an expression but too
intelligible. The English were not a little provoked by seeing
their King so happy. Hitherto his annual visits to the Continent
had been not only pardoned but approved. It was necessary that he
should be at the head of his army. If he had left his people, it
had been in order to put his life in jeopardy for their
independence, their liberty, and their religion. But they had
hoped that, when peace had been restored, when no call of duty
required him to cross the sea, he would generally, during the
summer and autumn, reside in his fair palaces and parks on the
banks of the Thames, or travel from country seat to country seat,
and from cathedral town to cathedral town, making himself
acquainted with every shire of his realm, and giving his hand to
be kissed by multitudes of squires, clergymen and aldermen who
were not likely ever to see him unless he came among them. It now
appeared that he was sick of the noble residences which had
descended to him from ancient princes; that he was sick even of
those mansions which the liberality of Parliament had enabled him
to build and embellish according to his own taste; that he was
sick of Windsor, of Richmond, and of Hampton; that he promised
himself no enjoyment from a progress through those flourishing
and populous counties which he had never seen, Yorkshire and
Norfolk, Cheshire, Shropshire and Worcestershire. While he was
forced to be with us, he was weary of us, pining for his home,
counting the hours to the prorogation. As soon as the passing of
the last bill of supply had set him at liberty, he turned his
back on his English subjects; he hastened to his seat in
Guelders, where, during some months, he might be free from the
annoyance of seeing English faces and hearing English words; and
he would with difficulty tear himself away from his favourite
spot when it became absolutely necessary that he should again ask
for English money.

Thus his subjects murmured; but, in spite of their murmurs, he
set off in high spirits. It had been arranged that Tallard should
speedily follow him, and that the discussion in which they had
been engaged at Kensington should be resumed at Loo.

Heinsius, whose cooperation was indispensable, would be there.
Portland too would lend his assistance. He had just returned. He
had always considered his mission as an extraordinary mission, of
which the object was to put the relations between the two great
Western powers on a proper footing after a long series of years
during which England had been sometimes the enemy, but never the
equal friend, of France. His task had been well performed; and he
now came back, leaving behind him the reputation of an excellent
minister, firm yet cautious as to substance, dignified yet
conciliating in manner. His last audience at Versailles was
unusually long; and no third person was present. Nothing could be
more gracious than the language and demeanour of Lewis. He
condescended to trace a route for the embassy, and insisted that
Portland should make a circuit for the purpose of inspecting some
of the superb fortresses of the French Netherlands. At every one
of those fortresses the governors and engineers had orders to pay
every attention to the distinguished stranger. Salutes were
everywhere fired to welcome him. A guard of honour was everywhere
in attendance on him. He stopped during three days at Chantilly,
and was entertained there by the Prince of Condé with all that
taste and magnificence for which Chantilly had long been
renowned. There were boar hunts in the morning and concerts in
the evening. Every gentleman of the legation had a gamekeeper
specially assigned to him. The guests, who, in their own island
were accustomed to give extravagant vails at every country house
which they visited, learned, with admiration, that His Highness's
servants were strictly forbidden to receive presents. At his
luxurious table, by a refinement of politeness, choice cider from
the orchards round the Malvern Hills made its appearance in
company with the Champagne and the Burgundy.

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