VOL. II - CHAPTER XXVIII
EUROPE AT THE END OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY
IF there is one feature of European development which stands out most conspicuously as one approaches the grand climacteric of the Age of Louis XIV, it is the increasing scope, content, and complexity of the affairs with which men concerned themselves, in comparison with the standards and activities of Europe three centuries earlier. There is no gain in the evolution of society without some loss, and many modern men have bewailed the disappearance of the simplicity of life which, to their minds, the middle ages afforded. There is, it is true, something to be said for this view if one considers merely that peace of mind which arises from immobility or blind confidence in the possession of absolute truth. Yet there is a fallacy involved in this view. The mediæval peace of mind was, in large measure, the peace of the desert. Its peace of spirit was purchased on terms which would seem unendurable to the great mass of modern thinking men. And, even amid the wars which resulted from the ambitions of the Grand Monarque, it is probable that the greater part of Europe suffered less disturbance than from the incessant local conflicts which marked the "age of superstition and force."
On the other side is to be set the natural tendency of man toward activity, which gives the more energetic element of society its chief satisfaction in accomplishment. For such men the earth was now a better place in which to live. Europe had gradually broadened to include more than half of the world. Its interests, no longer confined to means of subsistence, or the narrow concerns of church and state, were involved with situations and problems unknown or scarcely
The new basis of life
realized by men of earlier times. This was due even more to the internal than to the external expansion of the continent. The mathematicians and geographers kept equal pace with the wide-traveling explorers and conquerors; the victories of the founders of empire were not more fruitful, scarcely more spectacular than those of the pioneers of the arts and sciences. New intellectual capacities and new worlds of thought were acquired at the same time that new continents and islands were revealed. As a consequence, the number of things that men reckoned worth doing and recording were infinitely multiplied. The forces at work in molding nations and individuals grew in like proportion; and the whole fabric of life became at once more complex and more interesting to the vast majority of European peoples.
No circumstance more fully illustrates this development of human interests and achievement than the situation of France under Louis XIV. Her triumphs in those years which saw his rise to power and fame were by no means confined to arms and diplomacy, still less to the apotheosis of royal authority. About him the Grand Monarque had drawn the most brilliant court Europe had yet seen. If the later years of Elizabeth had revealed a burst of intellectual genius which rivaled the triumphs of the Italian Renaissance, and a skill in war scarcely inferior to that in letters, the Age of Louis XIV revealed him and his court to Europe in a no less brilliant light. In arts as well as in arms France bid for the domination of the European world, and not without success. While her ambassadors and her generals became at once the terror and the admiration of the continent, her men of letters and of science assured her eminence in the domain of intellect, and the countless exponents of the arts of life made her the center and the fountain of the increasing tendency toward the refinements of existence.
France under Louis XIV
In those years the genius of French comedy in the hands of Molière achieved a triumph only rivaled by the tragedies of Racine. The lofty spirit of Bossuet reached heights of grave and majestic oratorical eloquence scarcely touched be-
fore or since; while the critical talent of Boileau infused new life into that form of literature and established canons of taste and execution accepted by the writers of at least two generations. Inspired by the influence of Montaigne, the perfect prose of Rochefoucauld Maxims established a new school of expression in one form of literature as did La Fontaine's Fables and Perrault fairy stories in others. Bossuet, La Fontaine, and Rochefoucauld alike found their chief rival for literary eminence in their saintly countryman, the gentle and gifted Fénelon. Besides these, still, a new form of literature, the novel, flowed from the pen of Madame de Lafayette, whose pioneer efforts in developing what was to be so characteristic a feature of later literary history were only challenged by her contemporary, the Englishwoman, Aphra Behn.
While French genius found voice in this, the greatest period of its literature, it was winning triumphs in other fields, of no less consequence. Of these the chief were manners, dress, and war. Moreover, the refinements of language that arose in part from the development of its literature, and in part from French ascendancy in other fields, made it pre-eminent among European tongues. This, at least, may in some sort be credited to its ruler. The personal dignity which took pleasure in clothing its authority with stately form and ceremony, housing its greatness in splendid dwellings, and lightening its grandeur with an elegance borrowed and amplified from Italian originals, impressed its character on every department of life it touched, and captured the imagination of the continent. Along the eastern border of France each petty prince strove to emulate the example of the Grand Monarque. Gardens and palaces, court-theaters and musicians, costume and ceremony formed themselves on French examples. The French, like the English, had earlier found their chief models in Italy; now Europe took its cue from France. Everywhere its arts could penetrate, they bore their language with them; and French became not merely the tongue of war and diplomacy, but of manners, dress, art, architecture, literature, even cooking and domestic
furnishing. This was no temporary triumph. The words thus introduced into many other languages found permanent place and, in their native dress or transformed by their new users, enriched at once the vocabulary and the thought of half the continent. And whatever else Louis XIV's subjects achieved, their taste and graces did much to relieve the dullness which continually overshadows life.
At the same time they pushed still further the advance made in the preceding century in the art of destroying their fellow-men. Of all the activities which had employed the people of Europe during the seventeenth century none had absorbed more energy, more talent, and more lives than the art of war. The almost perpetual conflicts which had involved every nation of the continent developed an infinity of new methods and materials and called to their aid scientific knowledge. They enlisted the ability no less of mathematicians than of commanders, of inventors as well as of administrators, till the military system which emerged bore small resemblance to the irregular arrangements under which the conflicts of previous generations had been waged.
Progress in the art of war
First in importance came the improvement in artillery. A hundred years earlier that branch of service had reached its highest development in Turkish hands, and to their superiority in that arm much of the success of their conquering advance had been due. To counteract that advantage, their nearest enemies, Italian and Austrian gunners and mathematicians, were driven to follow and improve on their achievements by the study of projectiles and explosives. The long sieges of the Low Country fortresses by the Spanish had at once contributed to the science of fortification and produced a corresponding advance in heavy artillery, while the early campaigns of the Thirty Years' War had done something to develop the lighter arm. But it was only when Gustavus took the field that Europe saw for the first time that mobile field artillery capable of a rapidity of fire much superior to the crude musketry of the day. With him, too, came the flintlock and cartridge which gradually replaced the more cumbersome and far less dependable matchlock; and, toward the end of the century, the bayonet, which enabled the infantry to combine the duties hitherto divided between pikeman and musketeer. The Swedes developed as well those auxiliary branches of service, essential to a self-contained force like theirs, operating far from its home base, and dependent on itself for defense as for offensive resources. Sappers, miners, and engineers, now organized into a well-defined and recognized branch of the army, with a more fully equipped commissariat, taught Europe a new art of war. With these there was evolved a school of tactics which, relying on mobility rather than on the old mass formations that had given the Spaniards their long ascendancy in the field, opened a new era of warfare.
Assisted by these lessons as well as by those of the Low Country conflict which had been a military school for half Europe, the next great advance came in the English civil wars. To them Leslie brought the innovations of Gustavus; Prince Rupert, the systems of Tilly and Wallenstein; Monk, the lessons of the Low Countries; adventurers like Gascoigne, the methods of Italy. Here for almost the first time the various schools of warfare were brought face to face. From them the genius of Cromwell developed another phase. Cavalry had been till now but little more than mounted infantry. In his hands, building on the suggestions of the Swedes, it developed the shock tactics, the crashing charge of solid squadrons of armed horses and men, on squares of pikemen and musketeers disorganized by artillery fire. Almost at the same moment the talents of Condé found in the French élan a new weapon; and at the battle of the Dunes the solid squares of the once dreaded Spanish infantry met their death-blow at the hands of the mobile French attack and the invincible charge of the English Ironsides. That decisive victory marked the climax of the transition between old and new, like Crécy two centuries before. While the order of field warfare was thus altered, two other influences were at work to revolutionize military affairs. Chief of these was fortification, which reached its greatest perfection in the hands of the French engineer Vauban. Bred in those long
conflicts which ended in the Peace of the Pyrenees, he borrowed from the Turks their device of approach by parallels; from the Swedes their organization of a permanent corps of engineers; from Italian and German scientists the adaptation of mathematics to the problems of ballistics; from the architects, the lessons of masonry and architecture. From these, infused with his own genius, he evolved those triumphs of fortification by which, before the Peace of Nymwegen, he had begun to surround France with a cordon of fortresses, the ceinture de fer, an iron girdle equally designed for defensive and offensive operations. Within this all but impenetrable shell Louis XIV was able to pursue his designs against the peace of Europe in virtually undisturbed security.
With the improvement of the art of war and its almost constant practice through the century, together with the evolution of more centralized government and the increase of royal power, France took the lead in another and even more important phase of national development. This was the formation of standing armies, which gradually became one of the chief factors in European polity. To the old feudal levy, on which kings had relied two centuries before, had been added the use of mercenaries, as the substitution of taxes for service had put in royal hands the means of paying a permanent force devoted to the crown interest. Little by little the profession of arms had fallen into the hands of military adventurers ready to sell their services to any prince to supplement the forces which he raised by right or fear from his own subjects. These were reinforced, as time went on, by a permanent guard for royalty itself, composed of noble or mercenary elements, till, at the opening of the seventeenth century, scarcely a prince in Europe was without a force of this kind at his command.
But with the increasing stress of international politics and war, especially with the long German conflict which saw the climax of the mercenary movement, it became apparent that the rising national states must have at once larger and more trustworthy forces at their command. In consequence, European rulers, following the lead of Louis XIV, raised armies composed of their own subjects, formed into regiments whose officers, enlisting and paying the men composing their commands, received from the crown the means to support their troops. Arms thus became a profession, differing as much from the old status of feudal times as from the denationalized mercenary system which had supplemented it, yet partaking in some measure of both elements. With this the modern plan of standing armies entered on the phase which was to endure in some form for more than a century, and to play a great and often decisive part not only in international affairs but in domestic politics. For in it lay the means of making absolute the royal master of a well-disciplined and equipped force.
It seemed for a time that it would be impossible for any other force to contend against the all-pervasive French cultural influences which so dominated other nations. Every officer from lieutenant to marshal bore a French title; every dish from entrée to dessert, the steps of dancing, the terms of gallantry, the terminology of the arts of life were all tinctured by Gallic infusion. Against this glittering pretension to absolute authority the contest seemed scarcely less hopeless, for it was armed with such powers, robed in such splendid garb, and adorned with such graces that many were blinded to its real significance, or terrified into submission. Yet at the very moment two other rivals for the approbation of Europe began to assert themselves. The one was the advance of science and of scholarship, the other the growing power of the English race.
In one sense they were co-workers in the same field. If Louis XIV raised to its highest point the older ideal of despotic monarchy, the English Puritan Revolution had already dealt a fatal blow to the doctrine of the divine right of kings. Even while the French king personified the triumph of absolutism, his cousin and client, Charles II, had seen his Parliament filch from him no small part of the old powers of royalty, and develop new machinery to make popular control of Parliament more effective. Even while France attained the height of her authority on the continent Reaction against French domination and her adventurers bore her influence deep into the heart of the American wilderness, England began to draw together the scattered threads of her imperial administration and push her slow-moving boundaries forward in the same direction, and to organize her financial and commercial interests to meet the crisis which was about to overtake her fortunes.
And even as the brilliant burst of literary genius and courtly grace, with the military and diplomatic ascendancy of the Grand Monarque, dazzled the continent, there prepared an intellectual movement, not bounded by the frontiers of any nation, which had begun to revolutionize the thought and was presently to affect the activities of the European world. In this England was to bear more than her share. Important as the Reformation had been in releasing half Europe from the domination of the Papacy and in establishing the rights of individual judgment, with whatever farreaching consequences that involved, the last half of the seventeenth century saw the beginnings of a revolution no less profound because it was not clearly recognized. This was the working out of those doctrines and discoveries in science and politics which not merely altered man's whole conception of the universe, its ruler and its laws, but directly affected the theory and even the practice of human government as well as of man's intellectual processes.
--in letters and politics
What Luther and Calvin, Copernicus and Galileo, Descartes and Bacon had been to an earlier generation, a new group of men, Newton and Locke, Spinoza and the Deists became to the Age of Louis XIV. What the Italian epic poet, Dante, had been to the fourteenth century, the Englishman, John Milton, was to the seventeenth. Perhaps no single figure so epitomized the spirit of the transition period of the English rice as he. Author of the most beautiful of pastorals in his youth; his middle life was spent as the literary champion of the Commonwealth; his blind old age, reviving an ancient art, brought forth Paradise Lost. Filled with a Calvinistic theology, his great poem was at the same time instinct with the classical tradition of the Renaissance; while its imagery was drawn no less from the recent triumphs of
science and the newly revealed splendors of the eastern world than from Greek mythology and Hebrew Testament. Thus clothing his conception of the fall of the angels, the creation and the fall of man, in the sonorous magnificence of a new blank verse, he gave Europe as imperishable a possession as did Dante or Virgil or Homer.
Scarcely less notable, no less pious, and far more widely read, was the work of Milton's contemporary, John Bunyan, whose Pilgrim's Progress remains the greatest of Christian allegories. Conceiving the Christian's life as a journey beset with dangers and difficulties, he clothed his parable in a style so clear and homely, yet filled with such imaginings, that it became the best-loved classic of the Christian life.
What the English Milton was to literature, the Portuguese Jew, Spinoza, was to philosophy. With this grave solitary thinker, who, like his master, Descartes, was a resident of the Netherlands, European speculation entered another stage of its development. His basic conceptions were those of substance, attributes, and mode. Building on Descartes' dictum, "I think, therefore I am," he developed the idea of "attributes, " by which God is figured to mankind in mind and matter and nature. His doctrines offered a logical clue to extricate European thought from the impossible situation in which it found itself between the old dogmatic assumptions of the so-called "revelation" which had ruled for centuries, and the advance of knowledge which made many of those older doctrines untenable to one who accepted scientific discoveries. To him God was not the creator nor the father of the world but the eternal universe itself. He strove to introduce reason for revelation, to unify the conception of God and nature and find what so many desired, a middle way between the old and new.
The defense of liberty of thought in speculative matters had thus advanced from the old Reformation school to that of the so-called Deists, who, like Spinoza, proposed to bring dogma and revelation to the test of reason and investigation, and introduce free inquiry into the realm of belief. It was now reinforced by that critical study of the Bible, which, in Spinoza's hands, had begun the modern methods of analysis, comparison, and textual criticism that challenged the long dominance of the revelationists. Thus the whole field of theology was threatened with invasion by the spirit which had gone far toward solving some of the old mysteries of the universe. At the moment, therefore, when Europe found itself divided between the rival schools of French and English thought and practice in politics and administration, between Louis XIV and his enemies in international rivalry, and between two sets of antagonisms in colonial affairs, she found herself involved in a crisis of thought which was to prove a turning-point of her intellectual existence.
This was the beginning of that change which, pressing on from physical investigation into the study of politics and finally into theology, marks the real break between the mediæeval and the modern intellectual world, and the emergence of modern religious thought. It was the natural and inevitable result of that scientific spirit which, from its earlier triumphs, had developed so greatly during the seventeenth century. Against it the anathema of St. Peter's and the protests of Protestant divines alike had thundered in vain, as it prepared to assault the citadel of dogma. It bore within itself, had its ecclesiastical opponents been able to recognize them, two elements which should have commanded their respect. The one was a crusading zeal, self-sacrifice, and moral courage worthy of the best days of the church itself. The other was the possibility of introducing into theology, which was naturally dogmatic and thus at no time wholly attractive to many of the freer spirits of mankind, something of that liberty which could replace its formulæ by a more vigorous appeal to the reason, and prevent the spread of dry rot which always threatens any system based on ceremonial and dogma. But it was not to be supposed that its opponents could see that what they so feared and denounced as atheism and pantheism was no real foe to the essence of their beliefs, however it attacked what it regarded as blind superstition. Still less could they comprehend that it might lead to even higher conceptions of the universe and The scientific spirit man and their Creator than did the Pentateuch, to whose legends the hierarchy so devoutly clung. Least of all could they perceive that it was no irreconcilable foe even to the mystical appeal which the church makes to the emotions and the springs of conduct, and which, in the last resort, is perhaps its real strength.
While then the conflict for temporal power went on throughout the European world, the struggle between science and dogmatic theology altered the basis of men's thought. And while Locke from his Oxford study put forward that political philosophy which justified resistance to arbitrary power and nullified the doctrine of divine right of kings, it was but, natural that the land where freedom of thought was most fully recognized should find itself in the forefront of the scientific movement, as it was of the political. Thus as Italy had been the leader in the artistic renaissance, England became the leader in the development of science during this period.
From highest to lowest her people shared in this movement, which experienced, in consequence, a tremendous impetus. Among the members of the British Royal Society, chartered by Charles II as a scientific academy, were men of all ranks, professions, and beliefs. The king had his own chemical laboratory. His cousin, the once famous cavalry leader and admiral, Prince Rupert, divided his old age among naval affairs, company promotion, and science, to such effect that his name is perpetuated by such curiously divergent means as an Arctic land and that curious toy known as Prince Rupert's drops. The Marquis of Worcester issued his Century of Inventions, at once a record of achievement and a prophecy.
-her scientific and inventive interest --1660
Above all, another apostle of experiment, Boyle, brought from his study of "the new paradoxes of the great stargazer, Galileo" that passion for physical science which in his hands produced the air-pump, and established aerostatics as a department of knowledge, with Boyle's law as its first principle. Proceeding further, he demolished the old doctrine of the four elements, earth, air, water, and fire, and the
spagyrists "tria prima." He substituted for them a "mechanical philosophy," which, virtually basing itself on what was later to be known as the atomic hypothesis, became the accepted doctrine of matter. His experiments were innumerable. From those on temperature and the circulation of the blood, on gas, magnetism, refraction, electricity, to his efforts to weigh light, they covered the whole range of physical chemistry. Identified with no primal discovery, he was none the less one of the greatest of scientists, the champion of the revolt against scientific as well as theological dogmatism and intolerance. And as the precursor, if not the founder, of the modern school of chemistry, his extraordinary position and achievements at once advanced and dignified the title of a man of science.
Boyle was but one of the more conspicuous members of an increasing group; and the mere list of the more eminent exponents of investigation in this period bears witness both to the extraordinary development of knowledge and the growing importance of scientific studies. Hooke--who divided with the Dutchman Huyghens the honor of inventing the compound microscope and the balance-wheel which revolutionized watch-making, who conceived a flying-machine and claimed to have anticipated Newton's great discovery--led the way in this movement. Gregory, with his reflecting telescope; the naturalist, John Ray, pioneer in systematic botany and zoölogy; Ward, with his theory of planetary motion; the universal genius of the scholar-scientist-mathematician, Barron; and the rising ability of Halley, whose observations had already begun to revolutionize the knowledge of the moon and tides, added their talents to the furtherance of the cause of science. In medicine Sydenham, 1624-89 "the English Hippocrates," the friend of Locke, cut loose from the domination of both philosophic schools of medical thought, and with his insistence on the "natural history of disease," on specific remedies for specific ills, set the curative art on a stage of its existence which, in a sense, laid the foundations for modern treatment. To these may be added the discovery by Leeuwenhoek of such different phenomena The scientists 1675-1700 as the yeast plant and the construction of the eye, of bacteria, spermatozoa, and protozoa; and the labors of the greatest of microscopists, Malpighi, who, with Leeuwenhoek, completed Harvey's work. For by his discovery of the capillaries, the circulation of the blood which Harvey had "made a logical necessity" Malpighi "made a histological certainty."
Among this varied expression of original genius two circumstances were conspicuous. The first was the development of a new theory in the field of chemistry which was destined to dominate the thought of that science for nearly a century. Beginning with the German chemist, Becher, and exploited by his countryman, Stahl, this phlogiston doctrine, as it was called, assumed that all substances contained two elements, one, phlogiston, which was inflammable or combustible, the other which could not be burned. The principles of this school of thought, which were based rather upon alchemy than on chemistry, were suggested or derived from the older classification of substances on the basis of fire, which, in some form, was still to play a considerable part in many fields of science, notably geology. And it was not until the eighteenth century was nearly gone that men were converted from this last and most successful of all attempts of the old alchemy to maintain itself in modern thought.
The phlogiston theory
The second line of progress was upon sounder principles and found its chief expression in mathematics and astronomy. Here the great figures were the English Newton and the German Leibnitz. Newton Principia in this period became, indeed, the gospel of a new scientific faith, and by the establishment of the theory of gravitation, through long observation and infinite calculation, marked the greatest advance in the knowledge of the universe and its laws since Copernicus. For in Newton's hands were finally combined the contributions of the earlier astronomers. Copernicus had perceived the revolution of the earth about the sun. Kepler discovered that its orbit was elliptical. Galileo determined the law of falling bodies. All these Newton fused into that theory of gravitation which explained the binding force of The law of gravitation
the solar system, and gave a clue to the laws of the illimitable universe.
To this he added another element of intellectual progress, whose credit he shared with Leibnitz,--the development of differential calculus or fluxions. It is not easy, perhaps it is impossible, to put into words, conceptions which express themselves in mathematical terms, since these, like chemical formulæ, form a language nearly if not quite untranslatable into verbal expression. To say that "Leibnitz deserves the highest credit for the introduction of the symbols and dx," or that Newton's great contribution was the invention of x + ¯ ? z + ¯, conveys nothing to one not versed in a science which uses such symbols as expression of its mental processes. It seems impossible to define calculus in terms which make the definition intelligible to non-mathematical minds. But this much is evident, even to those meaner intellects which cannot grasp the intricacies of higher mathematics--the new science dealt with the idea of variation within limits, and with infinitesimal elements as exemplified in the rate of increase of a curve. It thus enabled men, for the first time, to consider quantitatively such problems as the motions of the heavenly bodies, and the movement of heat, and to arrive quickly and easily by one operation at such results as the content of circles and calculation of stresses, hitherto ascertainable only by long and cumbrous computations. The extension of mathematical processes into the region of the infinitesimal opened the "exact science" still further to the influence of the imagination, and provided it with a dynamic factor which enormously extended its intellectual strength as well as its practical use.
The invention of calculus
This was emphasized by other discoveries. The Frenchman, Demoivre, driven from his country by the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, found in Newton a master; and, building on his work, applied trigonometry to imaginary quantities. To this Newton himself added the discovery of the binomial theorem and the further development of the theory of equations. With these, and other contributions of less note but much utility, the second great period of mathe- The general progress of mathematics matical development reached its climax. The arithmetical and geometrical learning of the Greeks, with the numeration and the algebraic inventions of the Arabs, had been introduced to Europe in the later middle ages. Between that period and the end of the seventeenth century the development of algebra and trigonometry, the invention of analytical geometry and logarithms, marked the beginning of modern mathematics. Now, with the work of Newton, Leibnitz, and their co-workers, the science entered on another and greater stage of its progress; and, so far from being exhausted, demonstrated that it was still not merely one of the most active agents in the practical affairs of mankind but one of the most fruitful fields of intellectual expansion.
While the progress of mathematical science was remarkable in this period, and crowned a century and a half of speculation and computation with the most "stupendous triumph of the human mind in the realms of exact knowledge,"-"the mathematical explanation of a primal law"--the development of pure intellect was not the only striking feature of the scientific renaissance nor was England alone in her devotion to its interests. Her position, indeed, was not a sovereignty but a primacy. In France the astronomical abilities of the Italian, Cassini, who determined the planetary periods, gave that nation a place in the great movement of discovering the secrets of the heavens. In Holland the genius of Huyghens, who developed Galileo's ideas into the pendulum clock, shared with Hooke the credit of inventing escapements for watches, and contributed to the triumph of his pupil, Newton, in his studies of accelerating force. He discovered the rings and the fourth satellite of Saturn, with a telescope whose construction marked the beginning of a new stage of optical discovery; and he developed the undulatory theory of light, whose proposition revolutionized that whole science, and had no small effect upon all scientific thought and practice.
Astronomy and physics
Meanwhile in Germany the commanding and universal talents of Leibnitz, beginning with literature and theology, and continuing with philology and philosophy, summed the --Leibnitz 1646-1716 content of intellectual achievement of his day. He disputed with Newton the invention of the powerful mathematical instrument of calculus, which enabled men to command by one general method the most difficult problems in geometry and physics. Thence he proceeded to the most perplexing questions which confronted the European intellect as the result of these great scientific achievements. What relation did they bear to revealed religion? How were they to be reconciled with the old doctrines of God and of creation, of the immediate direction of the affairs of man and nature by divine intervention? How were they to be considered in relation to the connection between mind and matter, body and spirit? With him was completed the circle which had begun with theology and had come round through science again, by way of philosophy, to theology. To him, as to so many of his kind, it seemed imperative to combine somehow the obviously conflicting claims of science and religion. His doctrines of ideas, his theory of "monads," intermediary between Descartes' dualism and Spinoza's monism, conceived of elements possessing individuality, able to perceive and to strive. Of these God is chief, and the soul of man a single monad, amid the complex monads of which he is composed. Among these various elements, in his somewhat fantastic philosophy, God had established a harmony, and fused them, like the mind and body, into "infallible unison."
Such was the third great effort of the human mind within a century, to find some explanation for the apparent conflict between the old theology and the new knowledge. This rapidly developing school of speculative philosophy, which sought a rational, or metaphysical explanation of the universe and man, already divided the field with revelation in matters theological. But its energies were not confined to the project of harmonizing religious belief with scientific knowledge. It was no less devoted to the explanation of the phenomena of the mind itself. And in its efforts to determine man's intellectual processes and capacity,--which was not only an extension of the work of the physiologists in the determination of the functions of the various parts of the Rationalism body, but the far more subtle problem of the relation between mind and matter, and, in a sense, between the finite and the infinite,--they gradually developed the study of what was known to a later generation as psychology. This was the inevitable climax of that long process which had slowly but surely brought all fields of thought and matter and activity within the scope of human investigation. With it the intellect was recognized, not as an incidental attribute, but as a separate and powerful instrument in man's service; and it became, as well, one of the principal fields of the great controversy between the scientists and the revelationists.
This scientific advance went far beyond mere theory. If the concluding years of the seventeenth century are remarkable for the progress of mathematical and astronomical science, and the development of a new school of thought prepared to challenge the long dominant dogmatism of the church, they are no less to be remembered for the extension of man's physical resources in the field of invention. On every hand the ingenuity of mankind was aroused, and to this period we owe, not merely improvements in scientific apparatus, and the extension of man's knowledge and his mental capacity, but many devices of importance in every-day affairs. The progress of navigation, due to improved methods of construction, and especially to the growing knowledge of astronomy and the measurement of time, was particularly noteworthy. The increasing accuracy and wider use of watches and clocks, by the principle of the pendulum and the escapement device, evidenced that great concern for time and its measurement which distinguishes the European from most other peoples of the world. The first project for a diving-dress extended human capacities in another direction. The improvements of the age-old source of power, the water-wheel, whose newer forms were associated with the names of the Englishman Barker and the German Sprenger, indicated another line of progress which served to differentiate Europeans from all other peoples. The development of drainage, especially in Holland and in England, enlarged the resources of Europeans by the addition of vast tracts to their tillable
areas. Finally the improvement of canals and their construction, spreading again from Holland through the continent, marked the first advance in transportation since the fall of the Roman Empire.
To these was joined almost immediately another device, which, working along the new line of development that was to revolutionize the world, added another resource to Europe. While Louis XIV planned his last effort to impose his will upon the continent, from English hands proceeded the first successful attempt to combine the forces of fire and water into a new source of power. In the year of the Peace of Ryswick, one Thomas Savery secured a patent for a pumping engine driven by steam, which was perhaps suggested by the Marquis of Worcester Century of Inventions. The crude device was improved by Thomas Newcomen. And though its projectors were, perhaps, "neither philosophers to understand the reasons, nor mathematicians enough to calculate the powers and proportion the parts," none the less their "lucky accident" enabled them to put into men's hands the beginnings of the most powerful agency which had thus far in human history been subdued to his service. For this pumping-engine "designed to raise water by fire," which a later generation was to perfect, fitly crowned an age which marked the culmination of the great scientific movements. These, no less than humanism and absolutism, owed their origin to the fifteenth century, and now entered upon a period which was to see the triumph no less of science and invention than of popular government.
Closely connected with the development of the steamengine, as with industry generally, was the question of fuel. For, to some time toward the end of the seventeenth or in the early years of the eighteenth century must be attributed the introduction into more general use of coal, which marks the great change between modern industry and the age which preceded. It was a matter of vital importance to all mankind. From the beginning of time men had used wood or charcoal made from it, almost if not quite exclusively in the manufacture of their most useful metal, iron, and its prod- Coal ucts. So long as wood was cheap and plentiful it had proved sufficient for their purpose in smelting and working ore and metal. But it had two drawbacks. It confined iron-working to those districts where it was possible to secure such fuel, and the supply was relatively limited. As time went on these hindrances became greater. The growth of population at once increased the demand for fuel and iron, while the supply of wood decreased in like proportion. For centuries the use of coal like that of peat had been relatively common for domestic purposes, but it was considered unhealthy, and its industrial function was all but negligible. Now, however, the scarcity of wood, the imperative necessity for greater quantities of iron, and the greater attention to mechanical appliances combined to compel a substitute for charcoal. It is probable that the use of coal on a larger and more practicable scale in iron-working originated in England. It soon spread through the continent, wherever it was available. And though it was not for generations reckoned as equal to the fuel which it supplanted, a multitude of minor improvements in the methods of its use gradually accomplished that revolution in the production of a metal whose infinite adaptations in later times transformed a world of wood into a world of coal and iron.
That transformation was accompanied, especially in England, by two other phenomena belonging rather to the field of organized society, in its broader sense. These helped to complete a readjustment long needed in that realm. The remarkable commercial and industrial development of the seventeenth century was marked--as all such movements are marked--by changes in the thought and practice not only of the world of business, but of the philosophy and procedure of governments. To Antwerp is attributed the origin of that system of "securities" or shares of stock, which, developed especially among the Dutch, revolutionized the whole basis of commercial and industrial venture. The development of statistics attributed to the Dutch statesman, John de Witt, and the Englishman, Petty, became the basis not only of insurance, but of taxation and in some measure of adminis-
tration. Petty, with Child, and Sir Dudley North in the closing years of the century "raised the English school of economists to the first place in Europe and confirmed by their authority the doctrine of mercantilism in European thought." To the French minister Colbert must be allowed the distinction of putting into effect the principle of using the old revenue system of customs duties for the purpose of encouraging domestic industries, under the now familiar device known as a protective tariff.
That expedient, which owes its modern development as a national policy to the last half of the seventeenth century, was fortified by an economic doctrine which rapidly grew into a school of thought and practice that long dominated European commerce and politics, and has not wholly died out to-day. It was known as mercantilism, and under that name became the guiding policy of most European states during the eighteenth century, with profound results not only in the field of trade but in public affairs, national, international, and colonial. It was based primarily upon the fallacy that wealth, especially national wealth, was to be measured in terms of precious metals. It was reinforced by the equally fallacious observation that while Spain and Portugal had possessed great revenues from their oversea possessions, they had been powerful, and took no account of the fact that it was the decline of Spain's energy and internal economy rather than the decrease of her income from America which sapped her strength.
To this doctrine Mun's pamphlet on "England's Wealth by Forraign Trade" gave impetus; and its effect was to direct the attention of statesmen toward measures designed above everything else to keep the national store of specie intact or to increase it. To such height did this principle reach that companies trading oversea were long compelled to give security to bring back as much bullion as they took out specie. However these doctrines of the so-called mercantilist school varied in their application by different nations and at different times they were identical in the encouragement of domestic industry and commerce--in particular of exports- and the discouragement of imports. They were no less notable for the negotiation of treaties favorable to these ends, and the development of navies and merchant marines, above all of colonies from which raw materials could be drawn and to which exports could be sent--in brief, commercial and industrial independence, and highly restricted intercourse. Such a system, apart from the obvious impossibility of its maintenance by all nations engaged in manufacturing and trade at the same time, had at once elements of weakness and of strength. It enormously increased the national spirit at the expense of international relationships and comity. It restricted the exchange of ideas as well as of goods, and developed national character as distinct from that of Europe in general. Finally, as events were to prove, it tended to alienate Europeans oversea from their home governments, and so hastened the great schism which was to divide the European world.
At the same time another great change came over European, in particular English, life by the establishment of those social organizations to which we give the name of clubs. These were, and, in no small degree remain, the peculiar product of Anglo-Saxon character. The idea was, indeed, not new. The classical, especially the Roman world, had known such associations, though not precisely in their modern form. At all times the connection of men bent upon a common purpose, spiritual, intellectual, commercial, had bred societies of infinite form and number. But with the rise of city life and the peculiar condition of "loneliness in a crowd" which it produces, the gregarious instinct began to take shape, especially in London, in this organization which provided a meeting-place, the comforts of life, and a congenial society for its members. Its earliest forms were connected with those coffee-houses which the preceding generation had established in such abundance, and its earliest organization was loose in the extreme. But as its advantages to the individual, and its peculiar appeal to the nature of the Anglo-Saxon male, came to be recognized, it developed rapidly; and, within a generation, it had become a great factor in the life of
upper-class English society. Thence, as time went on, it spread, though slowly, to other nations; and though it has never taken the same hold upon them as among the people with whom it originated, it has remained a permanent and important factor in the lives of a large and influential section of society throughout the earth. A later generation was to see the transference of this principle, in different forms, to France. There, far more than in England itself, it was to play a great part in politics, and to become no small factor in the overthrow of the absolutist tradition so carefully fostered under the Grand Monarque.
The spirit of investigation and experiment was revealed in many varying forms. Whether expressed in the foundation of economics and psychology, in the enunciation of the theory of gravitation or in the establishment of national finance; in the triumph of parliamentary government or the invention of a steam-engine, it discovered new powers and new capabilities, no less than new theories and devices. With them and with the increasingly pervasive influence of capital, commerce, and colonies, the Age of Louis XIV becomes, in another view, the age of science and invention, of rationalism, of popular government and mercantilism, rather than merely another era of the aggrandizement of royalism, of nationalism, and of dynastic interests. And could one have looked forward a generation further, he might have seen in the development of these forces rather than in the more spectacular affairs of war and diplomacy, that the apparent triumph of the old order was but the prelude to its decline before the new elements of society. Whatever may be said of the years between 1661 and 1678 as the Age of Louis XIV, it is apparent that the period between the latter date and the beginning of the eighteenth century might better be named from William III. For it was the Anglo-Dutch spirit and practice which he personified that met the system of the Grand Monarque on more than equal terms. If Louis XIV crowned the long evolution of absolute statecraft, William III stood at the beginning of even greater developments.
The "Age of Louis XIV"
Among these, in the realm of political theory and practice, one factor was pre-eminent. This was the principle of popular government, which, during the preceding fifty years, had found its greatest expression in England. It was the product of a long development of doctrine as well as of procedure. For it was the result of the growing strength of the middle classes, as well as of the philosophical speculation which provided them with a rational foundation for their claims to a determining share in public affairs. And it was due no less to the devotion to historical precedent and law, which had always been so characteristic of the Anglo-Saxon race. This, it has been observed, was at once stimulated and reinforced by the activity of the lawyers, who found in the field of national affairs an opportunity to enlarge the scope of their talents and principles, which was all but impossible to their continental brethren.
In some measure, indeed, this renewed activity of lawyers and this emergence of modern public law was evident on the continent throughout the seventeenth century. But there it took a somewhat different course. The power of the absolutist kings was too great for courts and lawyers, unsupported by an overwhelming body of public sentiment, such as existed in England, to have much influence in domestic affairs. But, beginning with Grotius, there had begun to develop those principles which govern the relations between states; and beside the evolution of diplomacy and diplomats which characterized that century, went on the rapid development of international law. To Grotius succeeded the Saxon jurist Pufendorf, whose work, De Jure Naturae et Gentiunt, continued the doctrines laid down by his great predecessor and added to them the principles enunciated by the English political philosopher Hobbes. This effort "to evolve from the study of human nature a system of jurisprudence which should be of universal and permanent applicability," based itself on the three sources of law, as he conceived them, reason, the old civil law, and divine revelation. He went still further in his inclusion not only of Christian but of non-Christian peoples in the bonds of common humanity;
and he anticipated the prophets of a later age in his declaration that the will of the state is but the sum of the wills of the individuals which compose it.
His labors represent another development characteristic of the last half of the seventeenth century--the tendency to break away from the French legal tradition which had dominated Europe for nearly two hundred years. From the time when the Italian jurist, Alciati, had settled in France on the invitation of Francis I and begun that long career of instruction which made his adopted country the center of European jurisprudence--and brought him John Calvin as a student-French legal primacy had been an acknowledged fact. "The mos Gallicus had become the fashion in the juristic world"; and it was hardly before the middle of the seventeenth century that this tradition began to disappear. Among the early evidences of its decline had been the work of Pufendorf and the development of "natural" law, which was to become the next phase in the development of jurisprudence and even polities. But if French legal eminence narrowed, it strengthened. The general reorganization which overtook France under Louis XIV included the field of law; and the labors of Domat and his fellows consolidated and systematized French law and procedure into greater unity and efficiency. With this general process of collecting and codifying the various legal systems then in vogue in Europe, modern jurisprudence may be said to have finally begun. And this, were there no other development of these years, would have made this age a notable period in European history. The process was naturally unequal and by no means thorough; but it evidenced in this field, as in so many others, that general tendency to seek new bases of faith and conduct for a society busy with the manifold problems of an existence altered in almost every particular from that which had dominated Europe two centuries earlier.
With Pufendorf there came an advance not only in law but in political philosophy. While the lawyers of the continent devoted themselves to the practice of their profession, they held to the old civil codes derived from Roman sources, modified, as the generations went on, by the exigencies of their own environment, with little change in either principles or practices. Pufendorf, almost alone, contributed to that advance in the conceptions of jurisprudence and the state with which the English lawyers were so greatly concerned; and he, in consequence, became the model for a school of continental jurists whose labors paralleled the more political activities of the English lawyers. Continental law, indeed, unlike that of England, took no account of that system of court practice which, by the use of a jury, introduced what may be called a popular element into legal procedure. It took still less account of laws enacted by a legislature. And in this, as in so many other directions, the European world was sharply divided into continental and Anglo-Saxon lines of development. In the former the dictum held by Louis XIV and his contemporaries, Suprema lex voluntas regis, the supreme law is the will of the king, was almost universally prevalent. And nothing better illustrates the divergent principles at work in public affairs than the contrast between this motto and that of the English law, Salus populi suprema lex, the welfare of the people is the supreme law. In that contradiction lay the prophecy of ultimate conflict.
Finally this long evolution was crowned by the genius of the Englishman John Locke, who, no less in mental than in political philosophy, became the prophet of a new school of thinkers, then slowly rising not only to recognition but to dominance in the field of European thought. It is a coincidence of no ordinary interest that his great work, the Essay on the Human Understanding, appeared in the year of the English Revolution of 1688. Moreover, an exile in Holland, whither, as the friend and secretary of Shaftesbury, he had been compelled to flee, he became, in a sense, the co-worker and heir of that school which, from Descartes to Spinoza, found refuge in the nation that had stood as the champion of liberty and individuality against all arbitrary and absolutist powers from Philip II to Louis XIV.
To Locke the great guide was reasonableness. He denounced the efforts of those metaphysicists who, in their endeavors to understand the universe and its Creator, pushed their speculations beyond the reach of human intelligence. He opposed the efforts of those dogmatists who would have stifled all inquiry by their belief in revelation. He denied the doctrine of "innate" ideas, pronouncing for that of "experience"; which, in turn, he conceived of as a combination of observation and reflection. The soul, he declared, was an "empty tablet," gradually inscribed by the activities of life. And, as opposed to positive conceptions, he offered the doctrine of relative conceptions, of probabilities and presumptions, such as must confront real men living in a real world. With him, indeed, we come more nearly to psychology, which was to be the next advance in philosophy. In such fashion he approached the great social and political problems. Here, as in everything else, he loved order, and usefulness, and, above all, reason. As his essay on the Reasonableness of Christianity in some sort represents his religious attitude, so his Letters on Toleration and his Treatises on Government express his political views in the same spirit which infused his philosophy. These, in brief, concerned themselves with the doctrines of civil liberty. Advancing from the position of Hobbes, he became the champion of the individual in affairs of state as in those of faith. In each field he applied that reason in which he found at once the chief expression of his own belief, and the principal weapon against irrational assumptions of authority, whether in matters civil or ecclesiastical.
It was inevitable that he should find himself entirely hostile to such doctrines as those of the divine right of kings which Filmer had advanced, and among his contributions to political thought, the chief is to be found in the attack upon the Patriarchia. It was no less inevitable that in his teachings every school then marshalling its forces against the intrenched powers of autocracy and dogma should find comfort. He was himself as much opposed to that latitudinarianism which renounced every element of mysticism and tended toward atheism, as he was to the party which founded itself on the pure dogma of revelation. He was no less the antagonist of that party which denied all political authority and tended toward anarchy, than of the champions of divine right; and, in consequence, this "apostle of reasonableness" contributed to the success of those who, from this time forth, sought to extend the bases of reason as against authority in every field. Thus he became the prophet of the reform and presently of the revolution which brought to ruin the principles and practices of the political school whose chief exponent was the French king.
In such fashion, as the seventeenth century came to a close, the issue was joined between the old school and the new in the realms of philosophical and religious thought, and in the theory and practice of government, at the same time that new elements of strength were added to the resources of mankind. It is a common device of those historians who strive to wean unwilling readers from the more stirring events of the world of action, the fine-spun schemes of diplomats, and the spectacular activities of captains and of kings, to emphasize the greater importance of these duller chronicles of scientists, inventors, and thinkers. To most men no literary art can make them comparable in interest with the dramatic vividness of battles lost and won, of great designs carried to victory or defeat, of the unending human comedy and tragedy whose conflicts form the undying theme of human interest. The study can never compete with the field of battle as the subject of history. Yet, in a wider view, the multitudinous activities of these untitled leaders of the common cause of humanity, engaged in this great conflict with the forces of ignorance and the dark, the struggle of these champions of liberty with those of intrenched dogma and autocracy and these discoverers of new knowledge and new power, take on an aspect no less dramatic, and far more important to the cause of progress than all the glittering triumphs of statesmen and generals. For the cause which they championed, the interest which they served, are those which went to make the world we call our own. As
The "new course"
the great German philosopher observed, the object of universal history is the growth of a world community pursuing a common purpose, the ultimate purpose of man, the creation and diffusion of knowledge and beauty. And in the fields of knowledge and capacity, popular government, and freedom of thought, these pioneers of the forces of light drove their mines deep under that stately edifice of worldly power which, at the height of his glory, the Grand Monarque was raising before the eyes of men. That edifice was to endure scarcely a century. To its fall, as to the structure which arose in its place, it was the glory of these leaders of thought to contribute; and from their efforts, rather than from the achievements of those who filled the world's eye, came the next advance in the real progress of mankind.
Yet it would be a false view of history which ignored the leadership of France in the world outside of politics during the eighteenth century. Her "empire of art" became a greater reality than the dreams of domination of Louis XIV. The foundation of the French academy in the preceding century had been reinforced by that of the French academy in Rome, and after the death of the last great Italian sculptor, Bernini, the decadent Italian school was replaced by that of the French directed by the organizing genius of Le Brun. Under the patronage of royalty the Gobelins tapestry manufacture, with the Sèvres pottery, flourished; to Poussin succeeded Watteau and his followers. Buhl and his fellows evolved new and more magnificent masterpieces of domestic furniture. The oriental influence which had begun to make its way into literature with the translation of the Arabian Nights and other eastern tales was reflected in the field of art and furnishings; and France maintained and extended that primacy in the world of art which has since been her peculiar province in the lesser as in the greater things of life. To this, beside the evolution of her school of "philosophers," she added practical contributions. First among European cities Paris organized a police force, and to this d'Argenson added a regular secret service department. Thus in arts and arms and thought she set a pattern for Europe which it was not slow to follow.
THE WAR OF THE SPANISH SUCCESSION AND THE REORGANIZATION OF EUROPE. 1700-1720
IT has been observed that many of the apparent differences which seem to distinguish the tendencies of successive periods of history are due less to real divergence of aims than to changes in modes of expression. What to one generation is known as religious is not infrequently called political by another, and perhaps social by a third. But even if that were true the very changes in terminology indicate a certain shifting of the prevailing temper of men which accompanies or foreshadows a real alteration of spirit or purpose. Beginning with the period of the Thirty Years' War the conspicuous feature of the political development of continental Europe had been the rise of France and Sweden to the dominance of the European system. Between them they had prevented the establishment of the Hapsburg Empire as a real political unit. France completed the work begun by England and Holland in breaking the power of Spain. Sweden and the north German Protestants had limited Austrian influence to southeastern Europe. Their activities aided the English and the Dutch who had destroyed the monopoly of Spain and Portugal beyond the sea and in many quarters replaced it with their own ascendancy. Moreover, during the seventeenth century, even before the Thirty Years' War came to an end, the words Catholic and Protestant had begun to lose much of their force in politics. By the middle of the reign of Louis XIV there were still apparent in European affairs the feverish ambitions of princes and peoples which tended inevitably toward the recurrence of universal war. But those ambitions were no longer religious in name or fact; they were national and
The results of the 17th century
above all dynastic; and they were conditioned by the results of the changes which had taken place during the preceding century.
Those changes were far-reaching and profound. Within a hundred years the continent had been slowly transformed into a political structure whose outlines were more familiar to modern eyes than they had been during the sixteenth century. Since that time there had been evolved a group of powers, fairly stable in form and character; more highly organized as political and military units; more conscious of their existence and situation and of their relation to their neighbors; and better prepared to maintain or extend their power. Moreover, with few exceptions, they were controlled by royal houses, inspired by the spirit of "high politics." These made war and diplomacy the chief business of life. They were influenced by few considerations which we group under the name of nationality, and determined to reckon their greatness by the accumulation of territories and subjects. From their antagonisms arose the next stage of European disturbance, and its outbreak marks with much definiteness another age of public affairs.
Europe at the beginning
The national kingdoms of Spain, Portugal, France, and England, the Netherlands, the German and Italian principalities, the Swiss republic, and the Hapsburg power, amid the rivalries, entanglements, and alterations incident to a vigorous political activity, formed, from the Atlantic to the Oder and the middle Danube, a fairly well-defined and recognized system. Beyond this much was indeterminate. The lower Danube remained a land debatable between the Turkish Empire and its enemies. The Baltic states were in unstable equilibrium. Swedish ascendancy was challenged on every side. The pretensions of Denmark, the precarious position of Poland, the rising power of Brandenburg, the vast and obscure ambitions of Russia, combined to menace the peace of eastern Europe and pointed out that quarter of the continent as the probable scene of a great struggle for political predominance.
The European system
At the same time the more general causes of disturbance,--
The old Hapsburg-Bourbon rivalry, joined to the newer antagonism of the Anglo-Dutch conflict with France,--foreboded another era of European war. This was the situation of the continent after the Treaty of Ryswick; and scarcely had that treaty been signed when two concurrent circumstances threatened to disrupt the peace of the world. The one was the question of the Spanish Succession, a dynastic issue which involved the future not of Europe alone but of a great part of her possessions oversea. The other was the sudden revival of Sweden's energies under the impulse of the last great figure of the Vasa house, Charles XII, and the ensuing effort to regain its old supremacy.
Spain and Sweden
Of these the first was of more immediate importance and of wider scope. The circumstances were, on their face, simple enough. The King of Spain, Charles II, last of the Spanish Hapsburgs, was childless and near his end. For his possessions arose three aspirants, Louis XIV, Leopold I, and the Electoral prince of Bavaria, each basing his claim upon heredity with widely varying degrees of merit. Had other circumstances not complicated the issue, it might well have been determined by diplomatic processes. But the problem was not as simple as it seemed, for it was far less legal than political. England and Holland, the great naval powers, were equally unwilling to see the Indies revert to France or Austria; Louis XIV was no less opposed to the revival of the empire of Charles V; Leopold would not willingly permit the house of Hapsburg to be replaced by that of Bourbon on the Spanish throne, and France to cross the Pyrenees.
The Spanish question
Under conditions thus pointing to inevitable war, Louis XIV and his diplomats moved to preserve French interests and avoid widespread conflict by a negotiation. As a result, a twelvemonth after Ryswick, there was signed the so-called first partition treaty. By its terms Spain, the Indies, and Spanish Netherlands were assigned to the electoral prince of Bavaria; Milan to Leopold's son, the Archduke Charles; Naples and Sicily, the Tuscan ports, and Guipuzcoa to the French dauphin. Had Charles consented to this division
The Partition Treaties 1698
it might well have saved Europe from war. But, angered by the disposal of his lands without consulting him, he gained the assent of England and the Netherlands, and made the boy prince, the Elector of Bavaria, his sole heir. But the boy died. French intrigue recommenced, and, in the last months of the seventeenth century, a new partition treaty assigned Spain and the Indies to the Archduke Charles; Naples, Lorraine, and Sicily to the Dauphin; and Milan to the Duke of Lorraine. Again Charles II, now under the influence of the French party and ambassador at his court, intervened; devised his lands to Louis XIV's grandson, Philip of Anjou; and died, leaving to Europe a fearful heritage of war. Louis XIV hesitated a moment, but the dynastic impulse was too strong. He accepted the will and recognized his grandson as Philip V of Spain; sent him to his inheritance and prepared to fight. At the same moment the exiled James II died; Louis recognized his son as King of England, and, so far as western Europe was concerned, made the conflict inevitable.
These, in brief, were the outlines of a long and bitter diplomatic duel which led to another catastrophe. At once Europe became an armed camp. Against the Grand Alliance of England, the Netherlands, and Austria were arrayed France, Savoy, Cologne, and Bavaria. And though, with the beginning of hostilities, William III died, the three leaders on whom the burden fell, the English Marlborough, the Savoyard Prince Eugene, and the Dutch pensionary Heinsius, proved worthy successors as opponents of the Grand Monarque. For ten bloody years all western Europe, save the prize of the quarrel, Spain, felt the pressure of the conflict. Beginning with the battle of Blenheim, where Marlborough and Eugene defeated the French and Bavarians, through Marlborough's victory of Ramillies, Eugene's at Turin, and their joint triumph over the French at Oudenarde, the first seven years of the war did much to humble France. The Archduke Charles was, indeed, unable to maintain himself against his popular antagonist in Spain, but Eugene's victory destroyed French influence in Italy and gave him Lombardy.
The War of the Spanish Succession 1702
The English overran the Spanish Netherlands and seized Gibraltar, where for more than two centuries they have held the key to the Mediterranean.
With the crowning catastrophe of Oudenarde, reinforced by the sufferings of the ensuing winter, whose severity further enfeebled France, Louis XIV sought terms. To the surrender of Spain to Charles; the border fortresses to the Netherlands; Strassburg and Breisach to the Emperor; to the recognition of Anne as Queen of England and the banishment of the Stuart pretenders from his realm, he gave assent. But with the last demand that he should help the allies drive Philip from Spain, his patience broke; France responded to his appeal and the war was renewed. But fortune still went against him. The overwhelming victory of Marlborough and Eugene at Malplaquet more than offset Philip's success in Spain, and Louis was driven finally to consent to pay troops to fight for Charles against his own grandson.
But with this last humiliation the tide began to turn. In England, the Tories replaced the Whigs, and Marlborough fell from power. In Austria the Emperor Joseph's death set Charles upon the Hapsburg throne, and revived the fear of the empire of Charles V. In the Low Countries the French, relieved from the genius of the great English duke, began to win victories. And, as the balance turned in favor of Louis XIV, all sides again sought peace. After twelve years of war, the treaties of Utrecht, and, after another year of conflict, those of Rastadt and Baden, brought Europe again to equilibrium. With them ended Louis XIV's great attempt to dominate the continent, and, for the time being, French ascendancy.
By this series of treaties, the greatest since Westphalia, England secured the Protestant succession to the throne; with Newfoundland, Hudson's Bay, and Nova Scotia in America; Gibraltar and Minorca in the Mediterranean; and the so-called Asiento or right to furnish slaves to Spanish colonies. The Netherlands procured the right to garrison the Barrier or border fortresses, from Furnes to Namur; and the destruction of the French forts at Dunkirk. Austria
The Peace of Utrecht 1713
obtained the Spanish Netherlands, Naples, Sardinia, and Milan; with the status established at Ryswick. Spain kept her king, and rectified frontiers with Portugal in South America. Brandenburg was re-named the Kingdom of Prussia and gained Neuchâtel with part of Gueldres in exchange for her claim on Orange, which went to France. And, from the wreck of his ambitions, Louis XIV retained Lille and its neighbors, with recognition of his grandson's claim. The war between Spain and the Emperor went on, and the former endeavored to regain her appanages in Italy. But six years thereafter a quadruple alliance among France, England, Holland, and the Empire to maintain the terms of Utrecht compelled Savoy to exchange Sicily for Sardinia, whence her rulers took their royal title; and in return for imperial recognition of the Bourbons in Spain, the latter renounced their pretensions in Sicily and Sardinia.
Such was the result of the great conflict which absorbed western Europe in the first two decades of the eighteenth century--the substitution of Bourbon for Hapsburg in Spain and of Hapsburg for Bourbon in Italy; the transfer of the Spanish Netherlands to Austria; and the collapse of Louis XIV's ambition to dominate the continent. Two years after the Peace of Utrecht the Grand Monarque died, leaving his state all but bankrupt in wealth and strength; his projects, save for Alsace and a few border fortresses, brought to naught; and the glittering edifice of courtly despotism which he had raised little more than an empty shell. The fifth attempt to bring Europe under the domination of a particular set of forces and formulæ had failed. What Roman and Frank, Papacy and Empire and Spanish-Hapsburg power had been unable to attain had again been proved impossible, and again Europe had vindicated her ineradicable determination to rest her unity on a general community of civilization rather than on the supremacy of any single state or doctrine. Unity in diversity and balance of power had again been proved the pillars of the continental system.
The end of the Age of Louis XIV 1715
But even the great war which filled the first two decades of the history of western Europe by no means exhausted the
European rulers and states
importance of that period in the political development of the continent. The years which saw the collapse of Louis XIV's ambitions had witnessed a series of minor changes among his allies and his enemies, which, like his own great adventure, bore within them seeds of a new order and of new conflicts. Almost at the moment he left the scene of his activities the death of Anne brought to the English throne the Elector of Hanover as George I; and the failure of the rebellion which the Stuart pretender, James III so-called, essayed against his rival ensured not merely the triumph of the Hanoverian house but parliamentary and Protestant supremacy, with the dominance of its champions, the Whigs. This was the more significant in that, during the crisis of the great war just past, England and Scotland, after a century of personal union under the crown, had finally achieved a legislative union under Parliament. Moreover, England had crowned her long connection with Portugal by the great Methuen treaty of commerce--and so, among other results, replaced Burgundy with port on British dinner tables. The Act of Union which took effect at the moment of the allies' triumph over the French was designed to compose the antagonisms aroused by the revolution, and the bitterness produced by the failure of the Scotch Darien Company. Thenceforth England was relieved in large measure from the danger which had long threatened her from her sister kingdom, and Scotland exchanged her partial autonomy for substantial share in England's wealth and power. The Elector of Saxony had long since become king of Poland, and this circumstance, with Hanoverian kingship in England, the elevation of Savoy and Brandenburg to like rank, altered the titular situation of the continent.
The Act of Union
But the effect was deeper far than that. Thenceforth Prussian ambition tended to translate its title into fact, and to extend this new-won dignity over increasing territory to the further disturbance of European peace. The personal union of Poland with Saxony and of England with Hanover tended to involve those extra-German states in the ambitions of the Hohenzollerns. Thus, among the remoter results of the War of the Spanish Succession, these dynastic changee were to bear fruit in another no less far-reaching conflict, on whose event the fortunes of the European world during the next generation were to depend.
Meanwhile, however, another series of events divided with the War of the Spanish Succession the interest and the energies of European peoples. These centered in the so-called Northern War. During the years that England and Holland Spain, Austria, France, Savoy, and German states made their half of Europe a battlefield, the circumstances of the east were of no less importance and of even greater dramatic interest, while they were intensified by a personal rivalry which succeeded the long duel between William III and Louis XIV. This was the struggle between Charles XII of Sweden and his enemies, of whom the chief was Peter the Great of Russia And what the eastern conflict lacked in dynastic importance it more than made up in a spectacular quality which far exceeded the subtler antagonism of Bourbon and Orange, and in a tragic intensity strengthened by its romantic adventures and its picturesque background.
The Northern War
Its earlier course followed closely the developments of the, western war. At the moment that the Peace of Ryswick was signed, Charles had ascended the Swedish throne and Peter finally gained the ascendancy over his turbulent nobility. At the moment that the partition treaties were being drawn, Russia, Denmark, and Saxony-Poland signed a not dissimilar agreement to wrest from Sweden those province which the house of Vasa had combined, during the preceding century, in its attempt to make the Baltic a Swedish lake. And the summer that saw the culmination of French intrigues which led to Charles II's will and the final alignment of the western powers, witnessed the joint attack of the allies on Sweden. With it began the Northern War, which, running parallel with the War of the Spanish Succession, determined the fortunes of the east, as the conflict between Louis XIV and his enemies determined those of the west.
The allies, counting on the weakness of Sweden under the rule of a boy-king but fifteen years of age, had promised
themselves an easy triumph. Never was expectation doomed to greater disappointment. While the Saxons advanced upon Livonia and the Danes invaded Schleswig, Charles landed unexpectedly in Zealand, threatened the Danish capital, and extracted from the astonished Danes the Peace of Travendal and their withdrawal from hostilities. Hastening thence across the Baltic, where the Russians were besieging Narva, the Swedish king fell on their army and overwhelmed it. Thence he turned against the Saxons, compelled them to raise the siege of Riga, invaded Lithuania, took Warsaw, defeated the Poles and Saxons in two successive engagements, and caused the election of his Polish adherent, Stanislaus Lesezinski, in place of Augustus of Saxony, as king of Poland. Following his advantage, he drove the Saxons before him and, at the instant that Marlborough's victory of Ramillies gave the Austrian Netherlands to the allies, Charles compelled Augustus to renounce his Russian alliance, abdicate the Polish throne in favor of Stanislaus, and supply the Swedish army for the next campaign.
This rapid succession of brilliant achievements now brought the romantic figure of the Swedish boy-king to European eminence. In the six years which comprised the first period of the War of the Spanish Succession, Charles XII had conquered and divided his enemies, raised Swedish arms to a height they had not attained since the days of Gustavus, and regained Sweden's pre-eminence. From this achievement he turned to complete his triumph by the conquest of Russia; and all eastern Europe was absorbed in the fierce rivalry of the great antagonists.
Seldom have two national leaders been more unlike than Peter the Great and Charles. The one, of loose morals and violent disposition in private, ruled public matters with unlimited patience and deliberate resolution. The other, passionless and of rigid private morality, pursued impossible political visions with incredible obstinacy. While Charles, with marvelous military skill, overwhelmed his enemies by rapid and brilliant strokes which dazzled the imagination, he allowed his hatred of the Saxon-Polish king to lead him
Peter the Great and Charles XII
from what should have been his chief object, the crushing of Russia. While the Swedes were busy in Poland and Saxony, Peter founded a new capital, St. Petersburg, among the Neva marshes, besieged and captured Narva, and trained an army with the aid of his west-European engineers and officers. When Charles turned from Saxony against Russia, he found his march to Moscow rendered impossible by the devastation of the country. Lured from that enterprise by the Cossack hetman, Mazeppa, who renounced his Russian allegiance, Charles marched southward into his new ally's country, the Ukraine, where he wasted time and energy in the siege of the Russian fortress of Poltava. There Peter, with an overwhelming force, fell on the exhausted and starving Swedes, defeated and destroyed their army, and at one blow demolished the edifice of Swedish supremacy. Thus, by wholly different means, the great antagonists arrived at the crisis of their careers, whose results reflected the influence of their respective characters.
The succeeding events brought those antagonisms into higher relief. As Eugene and Marlborough overthrew Louis XIV's last army at Malplaquet and marched into France, Charles XII took refuge with the Turks. As the fall of Marlborough and the death of the Emperor Joseph turned the tide in favor of the French, Charles' new allies advanced upon Russia, and surrounded Peter's army on the Pruth, where the Czar was preserved from destruction only by the bribery of the Turkish leaders. The Peace of Pruth restored Azof to the Turks and guaranteed the safe return of Charles to his kingdom; but the infatuated hero refused to depart, and harassed the patience of the Porte for three more years, while his rivals improved his absence to annex his lands. Augustus drove the Swedes from Poland; the Danes, though they failed to conquer the southern Swedish provinces, took Schleswig from Holstein-Gottorp, together with Bremen and Verden, which they gave to Hanover for her aid against Sweden. Peter the Great occupied the Swedish provinces along the eastern Baltic from Livonia to Finland; the Prussians occupied Stettin; the Poles and Danes invaded Pomerania.
The Russo-Turkish War and the Peace of Pruth 1711- 1714
Such was the result of Charles XII's obstinate sojourn among the Turks. His return, which coincided with the Peace of Utrecht, was signalized by an alliance of all the northern powers against him. For four years, amid negotiations with Russia and expeditions against Norway, which had improved the opportunity to revolt, Charles struggled on against his enemies until an assassin's shot ended the stormy and disastrous adventure of his reign. The crown, deprived of many of its earlier prerogatives, devolved on Charles' sister and so to her husband, the Duke of Hesse-Cassel; and the long northern rivalry was ended by the treaties of Stockholm and Friedrichsburg, crowned presently with the Peace of Nystadt. By them Sweden lost Bremen and Verden to Hanover; Stettin, West Pomerania, and two islands to Prussia; Livonia, Esthonia, Ingermanland, and part of Karelia, with some islands, to Russia. Though she regained Finland, exchanged her conquests with Denmark, and received money indemnities, her defeat was scarcely measured even by her lost territories. Shorn of her Baltic provinces save two, weakened, discredited, she fell from her high place, and the same twelvemonth, which finally confirmed the peace of western Europe on the basis of the terms of Utrecht, saw Sweden removed from the ranks of first-rate European powers, and her throne occupied by another of those German houses which, in this period, supplied kings to half the thrones of Europe.
The Northern War and the Peace of Nystadt 1714-18
This was not the end of the excursions and alarms which vexed the continent in this warlike period. The Swedish king's adventures not merely roused the Cossacks against their masters, they inspired the Turks to dreams of fresh conquest. Revived by their experience against the Russians, they turned again to attack the decaying power of Venice. From her they wrested the Morea, the last of her mainland possessions; and only the intervention of the Empire preserved her remaining island ports. But the pacification of the west brought Austria's great captain, the Prince Eugene, against them, and before his genius they gave way. His victory of Peterwardein and the ensuing siege and
The Austro-Turkish War and the Peace of Passarowitz 1714
capture of Belgrade not merely drove them finally beyond the Danube but secured Hungary against the danger of further attack. By the ensuing Peace of Passarowitz, Venice 1718 was compelled to cede the Morea, but she retained her conquests in Dalmatia, while Austria obtained the Banat of Temesvar, Belgrade, and part of Servia, with western or Little Wallachia. Thenceforth these Danubian territories were to be no longer a land debatable, but a military frontier against the declining power of the Ottomans.
These were the chief political readjustments resulting from the great wars that convulsed the continent in the first decades of the eighteenth century. In large measure those conflicts conditioned the development not only of Europe's polity but of her civilization. Yet they by no means fully determined that progress. The Northern War, indeed, played its part in the evolution of the Russian empire which now began to take an active share in European affairs. But the energies of Russia's ruler and his subjects were not bounded by the exigencies of war. The alienation of the Spanish empire from Hapsburg to Bourbon, though destined to great ultimate consequence, had little enough immediate effect, even where it was known, upon the millions of its subjects in South America. The transfer of the English succession from Stuart to Hanover scarcely affected the perpetuation of established Whig policy in England itself or in the colonies. And the accession of a Saxon ruler to the Polish throne, of a Hessian to that of Sweden, even the conveyance of Spanish appanages in Italy to Austrian princes, were of far less concern to the progress of the continent than the activities of the masses from whose energies that development came.
Russia under Peter the Great
To this there was one striking exception. Of all the farreaching influences then at work re-shaping the world, none was of more consequence than the development of those lands and societies scarcely reckoned within the European circle a century before. And of the influence of monarchs on history there is no better example than that now afforded by Peter the Great of Russia. It is scarcely too much to say that with his visit to western Europe, his country entered European politics. Converted to the merits of the western civilization, he strove on his return to introduce its practices among his subjects; to increase the royal authority, to reorganize the army, now first drilled, organized, and equipped after the western fashion and supplemented by the establishment of a navy. The substitution of a royal council for the council of boyars or nobles, the organization of administrative departments, the division of Russia into local governments, the revision of taxation and the reform of the church, no less than the encouragement and supervision of commerce, witnessed the fierce reforming energy of the great Czar. The foundation of a new capital, St. Petersburg, on the Baltic, his effort to gain access to the Black Sea, and the ensuing conflicts with Turkey and Sweden, like the extension of Russia's relations with western powers, expressed more than its ruler's determination to revolutionize and expand the Russian empire. With its expansion, the European system of government and society began to extend in a new direction far beyond its earlier confines. To the Tartar hordes which had so long pressed hard on Europe's eastern frontiers was now opposed a power which, though it still partook of Asiatic influence, became at once an outpost and an aggressive exponent of European civilization against its ancient enemy.
This influence soon spread outside the formal bounds of the European continent. Far beyond the lines of its conflicts, Russian explorers and adventurers contributed to the same result. In their progress the Czar's encouragement and the impulse of science bore an equal part. The seventeenth century had seen Russian adventurers in Kamchatka and the discovery of the easternmost projection of the continent. Now, at the end of the first decade of the eighteenth century, came the promise of a new advance. Two expeditions failed to locate definitely the New Siberian islands, but the extension of Russian influence to Kamchatka was strengthened by the discovery of the Kurile islands, by new information regarding Japan, and by the survey of the Sea of Okhotsk.
Russian advance into Asia 1700-25
Before his death, Peter the Great took one more step. This was the project of exploring that remote region where the eastern and western continents were all but joined. With that, the way was finally prepared for European advance through Asia to America. Though the great Czar did not live to see it, the next step of Russian progress carried his people across the narrow strait which divides the eastern from the western world, and, in the remote regions of the north Pacific, finally brought them in touch with those powers which were even then re-shaping the destinies of North America.
Upon that continent, meanwhile, the impulse of the War of the Spanish Succession had fallen with peculiar force, and no circumstance better illustrates the new unity of Europe, than the extension of that conflict beyond the sea. Nowhere in the colonial world were the three states chiefly concerned, Spain, France, and England, more powerful; nowhere were the antagonisms of their colonists more sharply defined, and nowhere, in consequence, was the conflict waged more bitterly. The Peace of Ryswick, which had ended the first stage of the struggle for the continent, had effected barely more than such a truce as the treaty of neutrality which preceded the Revolution of 1688, and the colonies had hardly waited the death of the Spanish king and the resumption of hostilities in Europe, to fly at each other's throats.
The War of the Spanish Succession overseas
For this there was cause enough in the circumstances of American affairs, apart from European rivalry. The Peace of Ryswick was scarcely signed when the English and French each strove to anticipate the other in the seizure of the mouth of the Mississippi and the settlement of Louisiana. At the same moment, a Scotch company, under direction of the promoter of the Bank of England, Paterson, made a costly and futile attempt to found a colony at Darien. This provoked Spanish resistance, and resulted in a failure which severely strained Anglo-Scottish relations until the two nations were joined by the Act of Union. In South America the Spanish-Portuguese rivalry blazed up afresh, and, beside these new causes of antagonism, the old conflict for fisheries
and the possession of lands east of the Kennebec, added fuel to the flame of Anglo-French antagonism in the north.
The result was a speedy renewal of hostilities. Eugene had scarcely invaded Italy when the Carolina colonists made a futile attack on St. Augustine; and William III was scarcely in his grave before the arrival of a new governor, Dudley, in Boston, not only revived the old quarrels between the province and its executive, but set New England in train for war. The succeeding decade took tone from these events. The French secured their hold on Louisiana and hurled raiding parties against the English frontier. In New England, Berwick, Haverhill, and Deerfield were in turn destroyed; on the south, the Spaniards and French invaded Carolina and threatened Charleston. And when the Tuscaroras took advantage of the disturbances to attack the Carolina outposts, it seemed for a time that the Franco-Spanish allies might gain in America what they lost in Europe.
Queen Anne's War
But the advantage did not ultimately lie on the side of England's antagonists. A colonial force from New England failed to take Port Royal, but, three years later, the aid of an English fleet reduced that stronghold, now re-named Annapolis. And though an expedition against Canada, a twelvemonth later, was not successful, the English colonists found themselves no longer in much danger from their foes in that quarter. Meanwhile the southern colonies were even more aggressive. The Spanish and French were expelled from Carolina with great loss. The Tuscaroras were not merely defeated but driven from their homes, and the broken remnants of their tribe, flying from English vengeance, took refuge with the Iroquois.
With the Treaty of Utrecht peace again fell on the western world. Acadia remained in English hands and the Five Nations subject to their rule. The colonists' position thus strengthened, they turned to other tasks. The seven years which followed were absorbed in regulating relations with each other and with the Indians; in the suppression of piracy, and the settlement of boundary differences. Here they were The North American colonies 1713-20 no less successful. In Carolina the Indians were finally driven into Spanish territory; in which as well as in New Providence the last remnants of piracy and buccaneering were put down. Carolina, indeed, remained a storm-center to the end; and the final effort of the Spaniards to crush this English outpost was accompanied by the beginnings of a movement to overthrow proprietary government, with which there commenced a new chapter in the history of the English colonies in North America.
The effects of the War of the Spanish Succession were felt in regions remote from the conflict in North America or even the Caribbean. Far to the south, the struggle for a foothold on the north bank of the Plata had meanwhile broken out with new vigor. From Buenos Ayres the Spanish governor led a force against the Portuguese post of Colonia. The Jesuits, relieved of the fear of Indian raids, left their island post at Sariano for the mainland; and for a time it seemed that Uruguay, or the Eastern Province, as it was called, might come at once into the hands of Spain. That hope the Peace of Utrecht defeated and Portugal resumed for a brief period possession of Colonia and projected the occupation of Montevideo. At the same moment the Creoles of Santa Fé finally overpowered the Charruas, who had held back their advance for a century and a half, and found their way to and across the Uruguay. With this, and the foundation of the river towns to secure their frontiers, the history of the Provincia Oriental, or Uruguay, may be said to begin. And at the same time that English colonists made good their position in North America, Spanish and Portuguese divided between them the rich and long debatable lands east of the Plata. Thus at the opposite ends of European empire in America, were now determined the lines of future development.
The South American colonies 1700-20
In other quarters the rival South American powers found no less rewards. Though the Brazilian Portuguese were finally balked by their Spanish rivals of the Argentine in their efforts to take complete possession of the Uruguayan lands, they found rich compensation elsewhere. In the last decade
of the seventeenth century, Paulista prospectors had finally reached the long-suspected gold deposits about the head of the San Francisco River. As the European war broke out, a mining rush such as the world had not seen since those of Zacatecas and Potosi poured thousands of colonists and Portuguese into this field. The province of Minas Geraes rose as by magic between Rio Janeiro and Pernambuco. From its mines there flowed into Europe a stream of gold unparalleled since the Spanish conquest a century and a half before, and there was added to the European world a new province whose treasures from then till now have enriched resources of capital.
At the same moment that these two widely different areas of Uruguay and Minas Geraes were thus opened to European energies, another series of circumstances extended at once the bounds of their influence and settlement in the New World. Among the Spanish provinces of western and northwestern South America there came, indeed, little change save that effected by the transfer of the slave trade from Portuguese to English hands by the Treaty of Utrecht and the increase of commerce with England and France as a result of the smuggling caused by the war. A slow and steady immigration, chiefly from northern Spain, populated Chili with a sound and hardy peasant stock, while Peru, for the time, scarcely altered its condition or its activities. But in its dependency, Upper Peru or Bolivia, the discovery of gold deposits by adventurers from the Brazilian fields, pushing up the Madeira and the Beni, paralleled the gold fever in Minas Geraes. East of Lake Titicaca, the mushroom town of Sorata soon rivaled Potosi, and, though its placer deposits were soon exhausted, the years of the great war pushed Spanish activity far to the north of La Paz through the headwaters of the Amazon, to exploit still other sources of wealth. With such wide extension of territory and the gradual growth of population came administrative change, for the creation of the viceroyalty of New Granada, including Bogota and Quito, at once indicated the further separation from Lima of the great northwestern Andean provinces.
The Pacific coast
Yet it was not an age of unrestricted success on every hand. Venezuela, her placer gold deposits exhausted, her trade wrecked by the war, fell back in the race for the time being, even though the slow advance of her llaneros and their herds in the interior laid foundations for greater future prosperity. Central America endured a not dissimilar experience under the virtual embargo which England's control of the sea enforced during the war; nor were the islands in much better case. There, as in the Pacific, the exploits of Dampier and Woodes--like the extraordinary attack on Rio de Janeiro by Guay-Tronin which, in the depopulation incident to the gold rush, only saved that great port from French hands by a huge ransom--revealed another element in the situation, of much moment thereafter. Relieved from the attack of buccaneers, the Spanish posts now felt the pressure of English naval commanders, which in the ensuing century was to play havoc with Spain's old monopoly.
The Caribbean lands 1700-20
These incidents of the world-wide war, productive of heroic exploits and profitable adventures, recalled the days of Villegagnon and Drake; as the concurrent events in the north reflected the old rivalry of Virginia and New France. Yet it was not in these that real progress lay, nor, save for Uruguay and Minas Geraes, was the chief advance made by the Spanish in South America. At the opposite end of their great empire another movement became the principal feature of importance in this period. This was the expansion of Mexico. While the slow and laborious progress of society went on through the Americas with slight regard to European war, while from Araucania to Lower California the missionary priests pressed forward their line of missions preparing the way for Spanish occupation, the greater activity lay toward the north. There, from the outlying districts of New Spain, the "internal provinces," founded in the preceding century and a half, New Biscay, New Estremadura, and New Santander, a slender stream of missions and pioneers began to push north and east across the fertile plains of the New Philippines or Texas. In that vast region, by the time that Europe was fairly settled after its great conflicts,
The expansion of Mexico 1700-20
scarcely one of the rivers which made their way across its wide prairies into the Gulf lacked an outpost of Spanish influence, from San Antonio on the Rio Grande to San Miguel de Cuellas on the Sabine. And with its occupation during this period, Spain reached her widest bounds east of the Rocky Mountains in North America.
If she hoped to retain her hold upon that quarter of the world it was high time her colonists bestirred themselves. Already the great project of La Salle, which had contributed to this display of energy by threatening their hold on northern Mexico, had found successors. Even as the Spaniards advanced, they found a formidable antagonist, and their pioneers met everywhere the agents of a rival power. But two days' march from San Miguel, La Salle's compatriots established, simultaneously with the Spanish settlement, a post at Natchitoches on the Red River, which was at once the symbol and the culmination of an extraordinary burst of expanding energy. For what Spain had been to Central and South America in the sixteenth century, what England had been to the Atlantic coast of North America in the seventeenth, France now became to the Mississippi basin and the Great Lakes; and there, as she had already challenged England in the maritime provinces of the St. Lawrence mouth, she now challenged the Spaniards in the Missouri region.
French advance in North America
Her earliest efforts following the explorations of the preceding generation had been directed to the west and north. In the first years of the great European war, Canadian officials had despatched agents along the way pointed out by Noyon, and that Sieur Greysolon Du Lhut, whose name the metropolis of Lake Superior perpetuates, toward the watershed of the great northwest. With de la Noue's foundation of a post on the so-called Kaministikia River, there began a fresh advance through a well-watered region to Lake Winnipeg. With this they tapped the heart of that rich furbearing region. Still they were not content, and the reports of Babe and Charlevoix, building on this achievement, pointed the way to that long-sought-for goal, the western sea.
The Great Lakes 1679-1738
Yet despite such a wide extension of her Canadian frontiers, her chief advance lay in that field first mapped out by La Salle. For its accomplishment the French had two great advantages. The first was their highly centralized colonial system. With scarcely more than fifteen thousand colonists, they were cut off from the direct road to the west by their enemies the Iroquois, and opposed by them and by the English simultaneously. Yet they had been able to hold their own against this joint attack, and retaliate against vastly superior forces with vigor and success, and to make the greatest territorial gains of the entire period. This was in large measure due to the second of their advantages, the courage and resource of their adventurous pioneers. Before the European war began these bold spirits had founded a fort at Kaskaskia in the country of the Illinois, and another at Biloxi, where the alertness of d'Iberville anticipated the English in securing the mouth of the Mississippi. The Mississippi valley
Scarcely were these outposts established when the Canadians hastened to strengthen their lines by other posts. In the last years of the seventeenth century Kaskaskia was reinforced by the neighboring settlement of Cahokia. The first year of the eighteenth century saw the fortification of Detroit. A twelvemonth later the Biloxi settlement was transplanted to the convenient harbor of Mobile, and in later years the northern line was further reinforced by the foundation of Vincennes to secure the line of the Wabash River. Thus, from Quebec and Montreal through Niagara and Frontenac, Detroit, Kaskaskia, and Vincennes, France held the waterways and portages which comprised the only practicable routes through the great wilderness which lay between the St. Lawrence and the Mississippi. Hardly were the treaties signed which set the seal on the provisions of Utrecht, when the establishment of Fort Chartres on the Mississippi just below the mouth of the Missouri, added another link to the lengthening chain by which France held her new empire in leash. Beyond that line, the posts of Mackinac, the missions, and the itinerant traders and priests, at once strengthened her hold on the lake region and brought her in closer touch with
the western tribes in common cause against their mutual enemies the Iroquois, who strove to exercise their suzerainty over the great region north of the Ohio. Such was the farflung if loosely woven empire which now took form in North America.
It was peculiarly fortunate for France that at this juncture the mantle of La Salle and Joliet fell on the shoulders of a family worthy to wear it. To the Le Moynes--five brothers, of whom the two best known are remembered by their titles of Iberville and Bienville--she owed whatever of success she found along the lower Mississippi and the Gulf. Three times the indefatigable Iberville, through whose efforts the English had been foiled in their attempts to obtain a foothold on the Gulf, visited this region to confirm French title by discovery and occupation; while Bienville, created governor of the scattered settlements, extended them to the Red River. Under their direction the Mississippi's course and delta were mapped, and settlers found to occupy the posts. Against the English seamen, who here as elsewhere in the Gulf of Mexico, endeavored to cripple their rivals, they combined French forces with Spanish to protect the infant colony. Against the English traders and the hostile Chickasaws, their friendship with the Choctaws preserved those settlements on the land side; and it seemed not unreasonable to hope that by joining hands with Canada they might, in time, forestall the English and confine them to the region between the Alleghenies and the coast.
The Le Moynes 1698-1720
Louisiana indeed grew slowly. Ten years after its foundation it numbered scarce four hundred souls; nor was this surprising. It was cut off from free communication with Europe by English naval power; and, remote from Canada, it found its only markets in the Spanish colonies, and garden vegetables its chief product. But in the twelfth year of its existence, a twelvemonth before the Treaty of Utrecht, came a change. On a great French promoter-merchant-capitalist, Sieur Antoine Crozat, Louis XIV conferred monopoly of trade for fifteen years within the region bounded by the Wabash, Carolina, and New Mexico. now constituted as a
colony subject to New France. With this came new activity; Bienville's energy as "commandant of the Mississippi and its tributaries" established a post at Natchez and secured the Red River district against the approaching Spaniards, and to his new venture Crozat contributed men, money, and supplies. But trade proved small, expenses large, the jealousy of a new governor, Cadillac, transferred from Detroit, ripened to open quarrel with Bienville; and Crozat, discouraged, presently gave up his charter. Yet this was not the end. The patent was conferred upon another grantee, the so-called Company of the West, and with this there opened a new chapter in the history of France and her colonies; a chapter whose events were so romantic and so intertwined with the developments meanwhile in Europe itself, that it forms one of the most significant and illuminating episodes of the entire period.
The age of the adventurers 1713-30 Few circumstances in European history are more astonishing than the results which flowed from the transfer of trading privileges in Louisiana. They were, indeed, symbolic of the times. The conclusion of the great European wars had left the continent in a state of disturbance and unrest unparalleled since the Peace of Westphalia. On every hand sprang up adventurers, high and low, eager to seize some advantage for their country or themselves from the unstable situation of affairs. In Spain the ambitions of Alberoni threatened the peace of the Mediterranean world; in the north the intrigues of Goertz and Gyllenborg involved not merely the Baltic powers but the British Isles, then disturbed by the efforts of the Pretender, James III so-called, to wrest his inheritance from George I. In France the abilities of Dubois endeavored to regain some of the prestige Louis XIV had lost. In Spain the Dutchman Ripperda, embracing diplomacy and Catholicism, succeeded Alberoni as prime minister, and failing from power there, ended his public career as the Mohammedan vizier of the Emperor of Morocco.
These men were typical of a period which placed a Hanoverian on the English throne by a Whig coup d'état, replaced the antagonism of England and France with an alli- ance, and revealed the hostility of Jesuit and Jansenist, of court and Parlement in place of the overpowering supremacy of crown and church under Louis XIV. They were the legitimate successors of the greatest adventurer of them all, Charles XII. Nor were they alone. In finance and colonies the preceding generation had made extraordinary strides. The foundation of the Bank of England and the National Debt was paralleled by the French occupation of Louisiana and the project of founding a colonial empire there. The revulsion from war, the desire for sudden wealth so characteristic of such a period, combined, with the developments in the world of credit, to produce an era of speculation which swept over western Europe like a pestilence.
Its first manifestation was the ill-fated Scotch Darien Company. The next was the so-called South Sea Company under the patronage of the English minister Harley. To restore public credit by extinguishing the floating debt, this company undertook to assume its burden in return for a grant from the government of six per cent. on the amount, drawn from the customs revenue and reinforced by a monopoly of the South Sea trade. It extended its operations, till it presently proposed to assume the whole burden of the national debt upon like terms. Against the opposition of the Bank of England and leading financiers, and in spite of the fact that only one ship was ever sent to the South Seas, Parliament lent itself to the proposal. With this a speculation craze began. The company's shares rose to ten times their value, fortunes were made in a night. Great frauds were perpetrated, till, when the bubble burst, thousands were ruined, and public confidence all but destroyed before a new minister, Sir Robert Walpole, and his associates, managed to readjust finance on a firm basis. The South Sea Company 1711-20 1716-18 At the same moment France experienced a like fate. Thither in the years following Utrecht had come a Scotchman, John Law, who, after some years of banking experience in Holland, set up a private bank in Paris in imitation of the Bank of England. Dazzled by its success, the regent, Orleans, adopted Law's plan for a national bank and soon proceeded to charter
John Law 1671-1729
Law's Company of the West. As Law's operations extended, he obtained the monopoly of beaver skins in Canada, and absorbed the East India Company. He was created Duke of Arkansas. The shares of his great corporation were rapidly taken up and an era of inflation began. When, within two years, its privileges were extended to a monopoly of the trade with China, the Indies, and the South Sea, the demand for shares of the Company of the Indies, as it was re-named, rivaled the English frenzy. It was even amalgamated with the national bank, and granted rights of coinage and farming the taxes. But over-issue of paper had produced a false prosperity, and the stoppage of payment by the bank brought about a crisis in French finance coincident and similar to the collapse of credit in England. Company and Bank went down together. Law fled from France; and the nation he had, perhaps unwittingly, deceived was compelled to readjust its finances by slow and unprofitable liquidation of its debts.
Such were the beginnings of European experiments in high finance. Their earliest effect was disastrous. In them the establishment of national credit combined with the lure of huge profits from the colonies to produce a craze for speculation. But when that craze was past and sober second thought at last prevailed, the ultimate result was to alter the whole basis of Europe's financial theory and practice. State banks and national debts, stock issues and operations, the interdependence of home countries and their colonies, became a part of the fabric of that widening society, and political economy one of its most clearly recognized functions.
By such circumstances the twenty years which followed the outbreak of the War of the Spanish Succession were distinguished in the field of politics and the now closely allied realm of finance and colonies. The great circle of European power in the western hemisphere was now all but complete, with the discovery and exploitation of the north and west, the opening of the Ohio and Mississippi, the transMississippi regions, and the Pacific coast. The entry of Russia into the concerns of Europe and farther Asia, and her progress across the straits into America, marked a new The results of the period era in her own history and that of the world. No less the emergence of Brandenburg-Prussia from German into European politics presaged the reshaping of policies and powers in both fields. And, though for the time being it was of less consequence, the erection of the duchy of Savoy into the kingdom of Sardinia was prophetic of scarcely less important revolution in the more distant future. The final triumph of the Whigs in England, with the accession of the Hanoverian line and the union of Scotland and England; the introduction, in whatever modified form, of new ideas into the Spanish monarchy, with the transfer of power from Hapsburg to Bourbon hands; and, still more, the connection thus established between France and Spain, were of no less importance to Europe on both sides of the sea. At the same time the relative decline of France and Sweden left the field open for new forces and new powers to assert themselves, and new issues for statesmen to face. Finally, the developments in the colonial and the commercial fields gave to this situation fresh form and direction. It now became apparent that the period which endured the two great wars had brought about not only a shifting of the European system greater than it had experienced in two centuries, but had ushered in an age which differed from its predecessor scarcely less than that period had differed from the era of the Thirty Years' War. For the Age of Louis XIV marked at once the crown and culmination of a development already giving way to far different theories and practices even in the world of polities.
Two movements in particular characterized the coming age. "The problem of Utrecht was how to set the equilibrium of states against the private interests of the dynasts;" and, in effect, the Peace of Utrecht created a "dynastic deadlock" as well as registering a national protest against those personal absolutisms. To its negotiators Fénelon presented a memoir against altering the European system; but even while it sat there appeared the Abbé St. Pierre's Project of Perpetual Peace, founded on the earlier conceptions of Crucé and of Sully "Great Design," proposing international agreement and action in place of a system of dynastic alliances.
CHAPTER XXX - IMPERIAL EUROPE. 1720-1742
THE contrast between the first two decades of the eighteenth century and the twenty years which followed, forms one of the striking antitheses which from age to age sustain our interest in the evolution of mankind. The opening years of the century had been filled with wars which reached to every corner of the continent and involved the greater part of European possessions oversea. Then the figures of William III and Louis XIV, Charles XII and Peter the Great, Eugene and Marlborough, occupied the center of the stage. Scarcely had they gone when the whole aspect of politics and the whole character of its chief directors were changed. To soldier-statesmen succeeded men of peace, Walpole in England, Fleury in France, the Emperor Charles VI, and Frederick William of Prussia. These, however they differed from each other in private qualities and public policies, were of one mind in seeking to avoid another general European war. In consequence no such universal catastrophe as had just taken place broke the long era of relative peace; and though from time to time one state or another became involved in conflict with its neighbors, but one war of any great importance occurred in the two decades following the Peace of Utrecht.
The age of the pacifists 1720-42
Yet if the period in which their activities fell was an age of peaceful rulers, it was none the less an era of feverish political activity; an activity, however, which found its chief expression not so much in the open fields of war and politics as in the darker realms of intrigue and diplomacy, conspiracy and rebellion. Seldom if ever among the many tortuous and complex epochs in which European interests crossed each other in a tangled maze of conflicting ambitions, have inter- --and the intriguers national affairs been so subject to the influence of scheming diplomats and restless adventurers as in the years between 1721 and 1742. This is not to be wondered at. The circumstances under which Hapsburg was replaced by Bourbon in Spain, and Bourbon by Hapsburg in Italy; the reversal of the rôles of Sweden and Russia in the northeast; the dynastic changes which brought a Hanoverian to the English throne and a Saxon to that of Poland; the extinction of the male line of the house of Hapsburg; and the existence of pretenders or rival heirs to half the crowns of Europe, offered a fertile field for the devices and desires of a crowd of ambitious spirits, high and low. On the one hand, in consequence, stood the exponents of settled peace and the establishment; on the other, those who would have gladly seen the dying waves again lashed into storm.
This was the situation, in particular, of the two greatest western powers. England, now dominated by the Whigs, was absorbed in securing herself against Jacobite designs and the results of the South Sea Bubble, while striving, under Walpole's guidance, to preserve and increase the fruits of her exertions. France, feverish from the hemorrhage of war and the excitement of the Mississippi Scheme, fearful of the ambitions of Orleans and Philip V, consumed with civil quarrels and the open licentiousness which succeeded the decorous vices of the court of the Grand Monarque, found little energy to devote to outside interests. Both joined, therefore, to oppose further disturbances and after long enmity found themselves allied against those who threatened their peace.
England and France
What France and England lacked in disturbing elements, Spain meanwhile more than supplied. There the ambition of her successive ministers, Alberoni, Ripperda, and Patiño, with the power behind the throne, the queen, Elizabeth Farnese, the Italian wife of Philip V, strove mightily to revive the glories if not the strength of Spanish power. Through an infinity of negotiation, and alliances, first with Austria, then with France and England, Spain's intrigues had for their object the accession of Elizabeth's son to
Parma and Spain 1714-66
Piacenza with the reversion of Tuscany; and this result the shrewd diplomacy of the queen finally achieved.
These were not the only nor even the most important of the negotiations which filled European chancelleries with business in those years. The introduction of a Spanish dynasty in Italy, which was the most spectacular political event of the decade that followed the great European settlement, was accompanied and largely aided by the simultaneous efforts of the Emperor to obtain Europe's assent to an extraordinary document. This, the so-called Pragmatic Sanction, was intended to secure the throne to his daughter Maria Theresa, in defiance of that so-called Salic Law, which had long dominated dynastic settlements among the western powers of the continent. To this result the situation of England and France, each equally desiring peace, contributed. For this Charles sacrificed Italian principalities to Spain. And, to the accomplishment of his design, the genius of Eugene and the exhaustion of the Turks, with the disturbed condition of Russia after the death of Peter the Great, conduced no less than the peaceful, parsimonious policy of Frederick William, which slowly made Prussia ready to play a greater part in international affairs.
The Pragmatic Sanction
Yet with all the vast network of intrigue and diplomacy which centered in Charles VI's design and the ambitions of "the termagant of Spain," Elizabeth Farnese; with all the efforts of England and France to hold the balance even, at home and abroad; the ultimate importance of the period lay outside the realm of politics, largely outside of European boundaries, and wholly beyond the merely dynastic problems with which it chiefly concerned itself. Not merely did the arts of peace receive new impetus, commerce and wealth increase, and city population, that sure index of a material prosperity, grow more rapidly than at any previous time; not merely did new schools of thought find opportunity to intrench themselves. New forms of comfort and luxury were developed, as the growth of wealth found opportunity to express itself. Already an agrarian revolution was under way, an industrial revolution was preparing; and, above all, new
The arts of peace
worlds beyond the seas were being thrown open to European enterprise, to reinforce the old world with their resources and opportunities.
Of these, two in particular were now coming to occupy European attention. The first was India, where an event, midway of the great wars just closed, was to be of supreme importance to the whole colonial world. This was the death of Aurungzebe, last of the great Mogul emperors. The name doubtless meant little to the men directing European destinies in the days when Russia and Sweden came to death grips; when in the Netherlands and Italy French generals strove to make head against Eugene and Marlborough. To men engaged in conflict for European supremacy a change in Asiatic rulers seemed of small significance. To Europe generally Mahratta and Mogul, Nawab and Peishwa and Nizam, if known at all, were merely curious collocations of vowels and consonants; Aurungzebe as mythical a name as that of Jenghiz Khan. Apart from half a dozen ports and provinces, Goa and Calicut, Madras, Bombay, Calcutta and Bengal, with Pondicherry, Delhi and Agra, and that synonym of wealth, Golconda, the geography of India was scarcely better known to most Europeans than that of central Africa. Yet Aurungzebe's death not merely revolutionized affairs in India; it was of the same nature as those events which had made possible the Spanish conquest of America. It was fraught with something of the same importance to the European world; and the names which seemed no less barbarous than those of Montezuma and Atahualpa two centuries earlier, were soon to be a part of European knowledge.
It is not surprising that, though India was the first Asiatic land to come within the circle of European interests, its vast interior should have remained for more than two centuries all but unknown to Europe in general. Its distance no less than the size and strength of its great native states precluded conquest. The nature of the enterprise which planted factories along its coast and fought for trade, was alien to political expansion; and the adventurous companies, even when they came in contact with the central power, remained its suppliants or tributaries, existing in no small degree on sufferance. That India, like Europe, was not a state, much less a nation, but an area, occupied by rival peoples, cultures, and faiths was scarcely realized. That, like Italy, it was divided against itself and subject to foreign conquerors, from the day when the migrating Aryans overran the northern plains before the dawn of history, through Alexander's conquests to the comparatively recent invasions of Afghans and Turks; these facts were not as yet a part of European experience.
Still less was her internal history understood, though on it hung the situation which was now about to confront the European world. When the Portuguese had first landed at Calicut, the two great powers which shared Indian allegiance, the Mohammedan sultans of Delhi in the north and the Hindu rajahs of Vijanayagar in the south, were each, after three centuries of existence, on the point of breaking into groups of semi-independent states. Thus the petty sovereignties which the Europeans had first encountered, felt little obligation to any central authority. But scarcely had the Portuguese established their trading empire when India saw a new conqueror. Under a descendant of that Timur the Lame whose arms a century earlier had spread his power from the Ganges to the Hellespont, and from the Volga to the Persian Gulf, a fresh horde of so-called Moguls, half Tartar and half Turk, had swept from the Jaxartes through Samarcand and Afghanistan into the Punjab. There, at the moment that Luther defied the Papacy and Cortez conquered Mexico, the Mogul leader, Babar, had crushed the Sultan of Delhi at Panipat. Repulsed by Afghan rulers of Bengal, the Moguls had returned under Babar's grandson, and conquered the Afghans on the same field where thirty years before the Delhi sultan had been overthrown. In the ensuing half century all India north of the Deccan had come under the rule of the contemporary of Elizabeth and Philip II, Akbar, surnamed the Great.
Its situation 1498 1526 1556
When the Dutch and English arrived in India, therefore, they found the peninsula divided between the Mogul empire, the small Hindu states of the Deccan, and the still smaller principalities along the coast. The first English agent, Fitch, had visited Akbar's court at Agra. His successor, Roe, found Akbar's son, Jehangir, on the throne; and the authority of these rulers was invoked for trading rights against the privileges of the Portuguese which had been derived from the lesser princes of the coast. Meanwhile, the Mogul power made its way, and when, in the year Cromwell died, Jehangir's heir, Shah Jehan, was deposed by his son, Aurungzebe, it approached its culmination. For, by that able if bigoted ruler's conquests at the close of the seventeenth century, the whole peninsula, save for Mysore and some small border states, owned the Delhi sovereignty. Before such power Europe was impotent. The "Great Mogar," with his "thousand elephants and thirty thousand horses," his "myriads of troops and strong places," offered no opportunity for conquest to trading companies little concerned with land, much less with political supremacy.
But Aurungzebe died, and the effect on India was not unlike that of Charlemagne's death upon Europe nine hundred years before. Against the ambitions of peoples within his far-flung boundaries, eager for independence; against Hindus resenting Mohammedan supremacy as much as Lombard, Arian, or Saxon pagans resented Frankish and Athanasian dominance; against rulers like the Mahratta chief, Sivaji, "whose death was worth more than a great victory," Aurungzebe had long contended. With his removal the Empire began to disintegrate. Like the lieutenants of Alexander, the Mogul viceroys aspired to separate sovereignties, and local rulers and adventurers raised their heads. Nizam and Nawab were transformed from viceroys to all but independent princes. Rajah and Sultan and Peishwa, as these subordinates were called, resumed their place in Indian polity. In Hyderabad the Turcoman Nizam ul Mulk, in Oudh a Persian adventurer, in Mysore the local family, became supreme; and Bengal's Nawab, almost alone, remained true to the puppet emperor.
The deathy of Aurungzebe 1707-40
Among these one power became predominant. Along the western Ghâts, through the hill country, five hundred miles from north to south in central India, where the Maharashtra, or "great kingdom" of a Hindu race, the so-called Mahrattas, had once been, the rebellion of Sivaji in the late seventeenth century had begun a Hindu revival which presaged the fall
of the Moguls. Upon Sivaji's death, the Brahman ministers 1680of his incompetent successors had become mayors of the palace under the title of Peishwa, and from their separate sovereignty at Poona claimed the allegiance of all Mahratta tribes. These meanwhile spread from their hill fastnesses till by the middle of the eighteenth century their wild riders' boast that they had "watered their horses in every stream from the Kaveri to the Indus" showed at once their strength and the disorganized weakness of central India. One of their leaders carved a kingdom from Nagpur, Orissa, and Behar, and invaded Bengal. Another became the Gaekwar or prince of Baroda on the west. Another took Malwa and centered his authority in Scinde; while princes of Sivaji's own house seized Sindhia and Tanjore, fell upon Hindustan, and made themselves masters of the Emperor's person. In such fashion Mahratta rule replaced the Mogul empire throughout central India. 1740
All the advantage hitherto in the struggle for Indian preponderance had been with the English, whose spirit, organization, and resources had outstripped the French in the commercial field. But, in the altered situation of affairs, it was by no means sure that the French genius for diplomacy and war, their gift for dealing with non-Europeans, would not more than compensate for their defects in trade; for it was evident that new methods must be devised to meet the crisis in Indian affairs. France had failed thus far to found her colonial power on the two firm bases of trade and emigration. But those qualities which she had clearly revealed in other fields, the daring of picturesque adventurers, the skill in treating with savage chiefs, the personal ascendancy of individuals--if ever there was a field opened for these, it certainly was India during the eighteenth century.
England and France in India
Such was the situation of Indian affairs as the great European wars came to a close. It was an opportunity for intervention and conquest such as the world had scarcely seen since Aztec and Inca fell before the Spanish arms. Yet, for the moment, no European power moved. Nor was this to be wondered at, since, even had the intricacies of Indian politics been better understood, the years which saw the great peninsula convulsed with the fierce rivalries of its ambitious leaders found Europe busy readjusting her affairs in the light of the late wars and the no less disturbing political and economic situation which ensued. Holland was now an English satellite; and Portugal, since the great Methuen treaty which bound her closer to her old ally by strong commercial ties, was scarcely more. Neither England nor France was inclined to enter on new wars for the time being; to each it seemed sufficient to preserve amid the general anarchy what they had managed to secure. In Madras, as in Calcutta and Bombay, men like old Thomas Pitt, uncle of the great Chatham, maintained the English power. In Pondicherry and Chandernagore, men like the young Dupleix were learning the lessons of Indian politics, and waiting their opportunity to extend French influence. In both, the more cautious commercial elements held back from meddling with affairs which might well cost them all that they had won.
For, however ignorant Europeans were of Indian politics, the value of Indian trade was well understood; and apart from the old English and Dutch East India companies, new efforts were being made to take advantage of that source of wealth. Law's energy had created from the moribund East and West India companies, with those of China and Senegal, a new and more vigorous French Company of the Indies. Among the enterprises to which the Emperor Charles VI had lent his countenance was an Ostend Company financed by Flemish capital from his new subjects in the Netherlands and manned by old employees of the English and Dutch establishments. And when those maritime powers made its suppression part of their price for giving their assent to the Pragmatic Sanction, its officers took service in a new Swedish company for Indian trade. Meanwhile, the so-called interlopers, or independent traders swelled the rivalry for this rich and increasing commerce; till it grew only too evident that trade must presently give way to war and politics, if Europeans were to keep their hold upon the ports which made that commerce possible.
Yet if this growing interest in India revealed one aspect of Europe's attitude toward new sources of wealth and power, concurrent developments throughout the western hemisphere were scarcely less significant of other phases of European energy. There, too, the war's conclusion brought its great problems; for there, to complicate the older rivalry of England, France, and Spain, appeared a new aspirant for North America as Russian traders and adventurers made their way southward from the frozen north. Not merely were the two
Americas the scene of far-reaching explorations, and of a huge increase of trade and population; they soon became political centers of the first magnitude. Their expanding peoples, coming to blows over conflicting territorial and commercial claims, drew Europe in their train; and presently began a series of intercolonial wars which inevitably widened to international conflict.
Among these rival colonists the English, hemmed in on every side, revealed the most varied activity; and scarcely were the great wars at an end when they turned to the problems which confronted them. The first was the imperative necessity of securing their frontiers. The second the no less pressing problem of asserting their rights. It was but natural that each should find early expression in the newer and outlying colonies. Of these the Carolinas were the most conspicuous; and there, in consequence, the conflict began.
That province had been founded half a century earlier under a company whose proprietors still claimed their older, arbitrary rights, and it had filled up with a peculiarly independent element, opposing with increasing bitterness the exactions and pretensions of their rulers. The close of the war brought opposition to a head. They formed an association, refused to obey the governor, elected a new executive, and defied the proprietary force. In the face of such spirit and concurrent danger from the Spanish, whose armed expedition had only been destroyed by the New Providence authorities and a convenient storm, the English Council was not disposed to risk rebellion by supporting the proprietors. The old charter was, in consequence, withdrawn; a provisional royal government was set up; and a governor appointed by the crown. This action was confirmed by Parliament, the proprietors yielded their political rights and for the most part disposed of their holdings. The temporary arrangement became permanent. The province was divided into North and South Carolina, and the two royal colonies took their place among their fellows under the new form of government. In such fashion began another era of colonial activity.
With this and with the settlement of the boundaries between Virginia and North Carolina, and between Connecticut and New York, there came a fresh enterprise. For scarcely had the new colonies been formed when English power spread beyond their boundaries. On the west and south their borders were open to occupation and attack by Spanish and French. Their sparsely settled or uninhabited stretches of forest and plain could scarcely be administered from the older settlements; and here in consequence a new burst of energy found field for its endeavors. James Oglethorpe, sometime member of Parliament, had drawn from his investigation of the prisons in which men were confined for debt a lively sense of their horrors and of pauperism generally. From this he sought remedy in colonizing schemes. To him and his twenty associate trustees, aided by parliamentary grant and private subscription, were chartered the lands between the Savannah and the Altamaha rivers, with ultimate reversion to the crown. Four years after the Carolinas were finally established, Oglethorpe came out with his settlers to found his first post at Savannah. The colony, named in honor of the first Hanoverian king, Georgia, was a unique experiment. For military no less than for humanitarian reasons no negro slavery was permitted. Freedom of conscience and worship was assured to all but Roman Catholics; rum was forbidden; the Indians were made friends. As spiritual advisers, the Wesleys, now busy founding the new English sect of Methodists, were secured; and Charles Wesley came out as Oglethorpe's secretary, succeeded in time by the evangelist Whitefield. Scotch Presbyterians and German Moravians swelled the population of the little colony, whose vigor and strong military character made it at once a most effective barrier against the Spaniards of St. Augustine, with whom it came almost at once to blows. When, six years after the foundation of this last of the thirteen original English colonies in North America, war was begun with Spain, it was by the resistance of Oglethorpe and his few followers that the attack from St. Augustine was repelled. In this, no less than the humanitarian principles of the new colony, it justified itself;
and as its population spread through the broad and fertile coast plains along the slow-flowing rivers to the uplands beyond, it formed at last an impregnable barrier against all dangers from the south.
Its history was characteristic of the period. Throughout the long and straggling frontier of the English settlements danger was imminent. Against the French who stirred the Indians to resist the oncoming wave of English occupation, the governor of New York built a post at Oswego on Lake Ontario and prohibited trade between the natives and the French. Against the Abenakis, angered by the progress of the New England pioneers and fired to resistance by French Jesuits, war was declared and they were pushed back further in the wilderness. Against the Yamassees in Florida, the Carolinians, defying the Spaniards, sent a punitive expedition. And with the Iroquois, whose Five Nations were now increased to six by the admission of the Tuscaroras seeking refuge from their southern enemies, the governor of New York entered into engagements of friendship at the same moment that Massachusetts made final peace with the eastern Indians. Thus, by the re-establishment of peace, and the extension of English protection to all of the Iroquois, the Indian question seemed for the moment at an end, at the same time that the foundation of outlying forts and colonies gave further security to the older settlements. And these, taking advantage of this situation, turned to the problem of maintaining their rights against the mother country and the development of their own resources.
The English and the Indians 1713-30
For it was not the nature of an English colony to acquiesce without protest in the extension of a home authority which, during nearly half a century, had sought a wider exercise of its powers; and the conflict, long brewing, had now reached a critical stage. Its origin was simple enough. The New York governor, Burnet, who was transferred to the Massachusetts post, had not been able to suppress a quarrel that ahad broken out between his predecessor and the colonists; which revealed, in its progress, a fundamental issue in the colonial world. This had arisen over the most fruitful sub-
The English colonies and the home goveernment
ject of contention, a fixed salary for the governor. It had already involved the crown authority. And not even the "explanatory charter" which, new to colonial experience, conferred on the executive the right to suppress debate and to limit the term of adjournment of the general court,--by which latter device the astute colonists sought to circumvent the governor,--had quieted resistance. The question hung undetermined, and the flame was fanned by the arrest and trial of a New York printer for a libel on the governor.
Thus amid unparalleled prosperity which in these twenty years doubled the population of the colonies and more than doubled their wealth, amid a wide extension of their boundaries, and the repulse or subjection of their enemies, there remained the grounds of an insoluble dispute. Was the authority of the crown and Parliament to be increased and confirmed by the establishment of a royal executive, independent of colonial control; or were the colonies to determine for themselves their obligations and relations to the home authority? Such was the question which, in varying forms, had taken its place among the problems of English colonial government. Despite its local character, it was to become in no long time a vital issue of world-politics.
Matters such as these troubled the chief rivals of England little or not at all. While Englishmen found their energies divided among the formation of new colonies, farming and planting, the slow winning of the wilderness, resistance to their hostile neighbors, and the assertion of their rights against the mother country, France, acting on wholly different impulses, made a spectacular advance. Hardly was the ink dry on the treaties of Utrecht when her rulers prepared to secure their hold on North America. After the genius of their race and age, their first thought was of war. On a promontory jutting out between Gavarus Bay and a still smaller harbor near the southeastern point of Cape Breton Island was begun the fortress of Louisburg, the "Dunkirk of America," as Quebec was the Gibraltar. To its construction and defense were detailed French engineers and troops, the French inhabitants of Nova Scotia were drawn from New France
their homes to populate the new town. Vast sums were spent, and gradually the English saw with dismay the frowning walls of one of the most powerful fortresses in the colonial world threaten their position on the north Atlantic coast. Against it the feeble post of Annapolis was all but helpless and not until the foundation of Halifax in the next generation did it endure a rival.
The building of Louisburg marks the beginning of a new Anglo-French struggle for the St. Lawrence mouth, northern New England, and the West, which was to absorb the next generation. From this outpost of French influence, the long line of fortifications continued with Quebec and Montreal. These guarded the middle St. Lawrence, and became the headquarters for a propaganda carried on by officers and Jesuits, which kept New England frontier settlements in constant apprehension of savage attack and against which they, in turn, aroused their own allies. Beyond Montreal, Fort Frontenac had for forty years stood at the outlet of Lake Ontario into the St. Lawrence, and Fort Niagara held the passage from Lake Erie to Ontario. In due course of time Fort Rouille, now Toronto, was set to connect this line of forts with another group which was to stretch southward to the Ohio and west to the Wabash and Illinois; while beyond these still lay others which controlled the Great Lakes and the Mississippi. Thus, from the mouth of the St. Lawrence to the Mississippi delta, there ran a network of stations, guarding the great highways of that vast wilderness, the rivers and lakes, holding the portages between the waterways, and, for all purposes of trade or war, giving to France the mastery of the whole region through her hold on these strategic points. The French Empire
This was the first project of the rulers of New France. Their next was still more daring; for, starting from this line, they pressed boldly forward to seize the more remote interior. As Frontenac and La Salle had directed the occupation of the great Middle West, and Radisson had led the way to Hudson's Bay; so now a new group of adventurers introduced French influence into the trans-Mississippi region. The occupation of the mouth of the great river furnished at
The French and the trans-Mississippi region
once a basis of operations and an inspiration for further exploration, designed to find gold mines and open trade with the Indians, or the Spaniards of New Mexico. To these men, and still more to those who were then tempting the dangers of the northern wilderness, was added that hope of finding ways overland to the Pacific which had succeeded the longcherished delusion of a water-route thither. Already Le Sueur had found his way to a new tribe of Indians who dominated the southwestern plains, and the names of Sioux and Dakotah took their place in French vocabulary beside Iroquois and Illinois. Already the French had made war and peace with the Wisconsin tribe of Antagomies, and their neighbors, the Winnebagoes and the Sacs. Already transient posts had been set up and trade begun in beaver skins, as well as buffalo. Already scattered individuals and groups began to make their way west from the Mississippi and up the Missouri to the vast plains beyond. Traders venturing too far had been seized by the Spaniards and carried to Mexico. In brief, the opening of the Far West was begun.
Now it was taken up by other hands. From Natchitoches, La Harpe and his men pushed up the Red River and crossed to the Arkansas. Du Tisne found his way through the country of the Missouri to the Osages and Pawnees beyond; and Bourgmont was despatched to build a fort on the Kansas against the Spaniards, who, with Comanche allies, had attacked the French. To him succeeded the Mallets, who, by way of the Kansas, all but reached the Rocky Mountains, and so opened the central plains to trading enterprise. Finally the mission of Charlevoix, despatched by the French agent to secure news of a way to the Pacific, had led to a post on Lake Pepin; and from that beginning came the next great exploit of the French advance. One Pierre de Varennes, surnamed La Vérendrye,--Canadian-born, sometime lieutenant in the armies of France, and nearly killed at Malplaquet,--returned from his adventures on the continent filled with the project of cutting across the rich fur trade which the English of Hudson Bay enjoyed and turning its current toward Montreal. Through Lake Superior and so to Lake Vérendrye
Winnipeg and the Kaministikia "great portage," his first trip led to failure. Once and again he tried, till he had explored a great part of the vast northwest, diverted no small part of the English trade to French hands, and established posts from Rainy Lake to Winnipeg. This achievement he finally crowned with a greater exploit. From the Assiniboin he made his way to the upper Missouri and the Yellowstone, where, guided by successive tribes, then new to European eyes,--Mandans, Crows, Horse, Fox, and Bow Indians,--to the borders of their old enemies, the Snakes or Shoshones, he beheld the northern Rockies, the Bighorn Mountains. In such wise was the trans-Mississippi region of America laid bare to Europeans, and the bounds of Louisiana extended to the headwaters of the Missouri. And though the Vérendryes were oppressed and robbed by the government they served, and died in poverty and neglect, they had done their work. It had begun in the years that the intrigues of Elizabeth Farnese had made her son the Duke of Parma; it reached its climax as that son secured the throne of Naples, whence he ascended to the throne of Spain. To contemporary European eyes that royal pilgrimage would have seemed incomparably the greater of the two events. Yet it may be doubted whether, in the long resolution of affairs, it can compare with the exploits of those all but unknown adventurers who blazed the trail of European progress in the western hemisphere and added an empire to the crown of France.
For even in the remotest fastnesses of America the influence of European royalty was felt. Wherever French adventurers penetrated west of the Mississippi they met the power of that people on whom France had bestowed a king; and if the statecraft of the Italian queen of Spain had been a powerful factor in her native land, that of her French husband, Philip V, had been no less important in America. Everywhere the French had gone they had come in touch with Spain. The tales told them by northern tribes of bearded men who worshipped in strange houses and of books whose leaves rustled like husks of corn; the stories of stone buildings beside the great water and the far sterner evidence of the
France and Spain in America
attack and capture of stray traders by white men, revealed how, in that distant quarter of the world, the powers so lately allied found their new interests far from identical. For, toward the north, Spain's outposts were being slowly pushed forward on the lines laid down by her adventurers two centuries before. From New Galicia her traders and priests
Sketch map of northeastern Siberia and China, re-drawn from d'Anville Atlas (cf. p. 353). This includes much of the information derived from the Russian advance, and is noteworthy for the general accuracy of the Chinese Empire and adjoining regions.
now occupied the lands far to the north and west of the old provincial capital of Santa Fé. Thence they had already begun that occupation of the Californian coast which was to give it wholly into their hands! Here, as elsewhere in Spanish America, was felt something of that revivifying influence which the French prince had brought to his kingdom to reinforce colonial enterprise.
Spanish and French soon found rivals in their contention for the farther west; for southward to meet them, meanwhile, came the Russian advance. It had been long prepared. The
Russia in America 1725-41
beginnings of this new burst of exploration lay in the reign of Peter the Great, and scarcely had he died when the plans he had approved began to be carried into effect. Under the impulse of the government, of the St. Petersburg Academy, and of individual enterprise, the Siberian wilds were surveyed and mapped, the coast line about the northeastern extremity of the continent explored and charted. Much of this work was under the direction of the most famous of Russian explorers, whose name the strait between Asia and America perpetuates, Vitus Bering. The work was not limited to the mainland. One voyage carried the Russians to Yezo, the northernmost of the Japanese archipelago, and revealed to European eyes the curious tribe of so-called hairy Ainus, to the perplexity of ethnologists then and since. Finally, with the discovery of the Kurile Islands, and of Mount St. Elias on the American side, Alaska was brought to Russian knowledge and influence. With this, trappers and traders pushed forward on the track of the explorers, and, at the moment that the French made their way across the plains between the Mississippi and the Rockies, Russia confirmed her hold on the northwestern shores of the American continent and began to advance southward along the coast.
But the reviving energy of colonial enterprise was not confined to those adventurous spirits which from four quarters advanced to the possession of the North American interior. Far to the north the factors of the Hudson's Bay Company extended their trading operations deep into the heart of the great northwest. And far to the south, meanwhile, their fellows and their rivals, the smugglers, invaded the long-guarded preserves of Central and South America. Nothing, indeed, better exemplified the altering status of the colonial world and its problems than the activities which found their chief expression during this period in Spanish America.
The Hudson's Bay Company
To this, three circumstances simultaneously contributed. The first was the disorganization of Spanish administration due to the war. The second was the more efficient policy of the new Spanish Bourbon house of Philip V. The
Spanish America 1720-42
third was the increased attention paid by other powers to this great field, as typified by the transfer of the Asiento to English hands and the temporary permission obtained for French ships to trade with Spanish colonies. The results of these new stimuli upon the colonies were soon manifest. The revenues from the mines which had slowly declined during the seventeenth century, were improved by the revival of prospecting and the discovery of new deposits. The relaxation of the old Cadiz monopoly not merely increased customs receipts from a nominal sum to a substantial figure for the time being, but even after the restoration of the old conditions, which had been demoralized by the war, left its result in a greater commerce, legitimate as well as illegitimate. The more enlightened policy of the Bourbon government relieved some of the worst abuses of colonial administration. The income from the colonies gradually increased. And improved conditions and new opportunities, as in the English colonies of North America, brought a fresh wave of immigrants to the south seeking in the New World relief from the conditions of the old, and a more open field for their abilities and energy.
Into the fertile valleys of southern Chili, as into the farreaching plains of Texas, into the mining districts of Peru, the plains and plantations of the Orinoco and the Plata, poured this fresh stream of colonial blood. The effect was immediate and permanent. Little by little the warlike Araucanians were pushed back and Spanish occupation spread southward through Chili, founding outposts and cities as it went. The Portuguese effort to control the peninsula which commands the northern shore of the Plata was foiled, and the town of Montevideo was founded and fortified, as the strategic key to Uruguay, and the outlet for trade of a growing Spanish population along the Parana and Uruguay. Farther north, the Jesuit theocracy of Paraguay, which had its chief connection with the outside world through Buenos Ayres, was transferred to the protection of that government from the overlordship of Asunción. At the same time the Charruas, who had long held the Europeans back in the
Spanish expansion in South America
lands between the Uruguay and Parana, the so-called province of Entre Rios, were finally crushed by the Creoles and another rich field opened to Spanish settlement.
With this came, naturally, administrative change. Among the many results of Bourbon accession to the Spanish throne, an altered colonial policy was not the least. It had become apparent that Spanish South America could no longer be administered properly from Lima. It was no less apparent that new regulations were necessary to meet the situation created by the war. In consequence, as soon as Philip V was secure on his throne, the temporary erection of New Granada into a viceroyalty, comprehending the provinces of the northern coast, marked the beginnings of a reorganizing policy, which was made permanent two decades later. With the elevation of Bogotá from the rank of audiencia to that of viceroyalty over the mountain districts of the northwest, that policy was confirmed as the first step in a farreaching change which lasted through the century. In like measure more intelligent control of administration and revenue accompanied increase of population and resource. Municipalities grew in number while retaining their older comparative independence in local affairs. The growth of trade and common interests which established agents in Spain for the colonies revealed a like tendency; so that Spanish America, like the English settlements, and on not dissimilar lines, emerged from the great war into new paths of progress. It was not well nor wisely administered, perhaps, even allowing for the all but insuperable difficulties of the case, racial, geographical, economic, and historical; but in comparison with what had gone before, its situation was incomparably improved.
The same could scarcely be said for Portuguese America. The accession of John V during the great European war had brought to the throne a monarch who was intent on marriage alliance with the Spanish house, and who found in the erection of Lisbon to a patriarchate, and the title of the "most faithful" king, ample reward for a devotion to the Papacy which impoverished his own country and despatched on a last
crusade against the Turks the fleet with which his Brazilian subjects might have been able to maintain themselves. For these, meanwhile, were hard pressed by their rivals on the west. What the Anglo-French rivalry for northern New England and the West was to North America, the struggle between Spanish and Portuguese colonists for Montevideo and the Uruguayan region was to the southern continent. There, amid the internal disturbances which outlived the war, the Brazilians strove, with less and less success, to maintain themselves against Spanish advance, till the final outbreak of open conflict brought to an end a long period of raid and counter-raid, and finally determined the balance of power in that quarter of the world.
These circumstances in the West preceded and accompanied the outbreak of new wars, which, beginning almost simultaneously in Europe and America, were to involve the whole European world in desperate and far-reaching conflict for supremacy. They were the culmination of a twofold rivalry, half European, half colonial, in their origin. First was the long-standing antagonism of Hapsburg and Bourbon which set the spark to the inflammable material, whose center was the Polish throne. The death of Augustus II of Saxony and Poland, just twenty years after the Peace of Utrecht, brought forward two candidates for that uneasy crown. A majority of the Polish nobles, influenced by France, chose Stanislaus Lesezynski, the father-in-law of Louis XV. A minority, dominated by Russia and Austria, chose Augustus III. With that, the continent again flew to arms. In Italy, the allies--France, Spain, and Sardinia--drove out Austria from all but Milan; along the Rhine they wrested Lorraine from the Empire. In Poland, the Russo-Austrian alliance remained supreme. Five years of war and diplomacy, which found expression in the Peace of Vienna, confirmed Augustus in possession of the Polish crown. Stanislaus was compensated by Lorraine and Bar, with their reversion to France upon his death. The Duke of Lorraine, now the husband of the Hapsburg heiress, Maria Theresa, was indemnified by Tuscany, whose Medicean rulers now opportunely became ex-
The War of the Polish Succession
The Peace of Vienna 1738
tinct. Spain received from Austria, Naples and Sicily, with Elba, while Austria regained Parma and Piacenza, consolidating her power in the north, and securing fresh guarantees of the Pragmatic Sanction.
These were the most obvious political results of the War of the Polish Succession; but it was now clear that behind them lay a readjustment of European powers. France and Spain, under their Bourbon kings, obviously tended toward a community of interests and policy; and the Austro-Russian entente, which expressed itself in a joint attack on Turkey as soon as the Polish war was done, was even more significant of a new era in European affairs. For the first time in history Russian troops appeared in western Germany. And this, no less than the fact that the long-coveted port of Azof rewarded her enterprise against Turkey and so gave her a foothold on the Black Sea, revealed the fact that another state was thenceforth to be reckoned with in European polity.
Political readjustment in Europe --Russia
That circumstance was further emphasized by the decline of all her neighbors save one. Sweden had fallen from her high estate with the death of the last great Vasa, Charles XII. Poland, as the war had clearly shown, was now the pawn of her rivals and on the way to be their victim. Prussia alone, among the northern powers, showed signs of increasing vitality. On the south, Turkey now lost her old monopoly of the Black Sea; and in so far exhibited strong symptoms of decline, despite successes against Austria. And the house of Hapsburg, compelled to relinquish Belgrade with parts of Wallachia and Serbia to its ancient enemy, as result of the ill-omened Turkish war, found, at the same moment, that though Charles VI had secured Europe's assent to the Pragmatic Sanction, it had lost by the death of Eugene the best security for the success of that agreement, and of its position in general. Though Austrian Hapsburg divided Italy, save for Sardinia, with Spanish Bourbon, and so seemed more secure in that quarter, a braver spirit than the old Emperor might have looked forward with well-founded anxiety to the accession of his young daughter to the headship of such wide. and disunited realms.
--The east European states
That contingency was not long delayed. Scarcely was peace signed with the Turks when, in the same twelvemonth, the Prussian king, the Czarina, and the Emperor himself were removed from their earthly activities. Two years later Walpole, after the longest lease of power ever vouchsafed to an English prime-minister, was driven from his place. Fleury soon followed; and the next act of the European drama fell to the hands of very different characters from those who, for twenty years, had striven with more or less success, for peace. In Prussia the young prince Frederick II inherited the treasure and the army collected by his father, with whatever ambitious dreams the Hohenzollerns entertained. Russia for the moment fell into the nerveless hand of Ivan VI, then, by a military revolution, into those of Peter the Great's daughter, Elizabeth, the third of those extraordinary women rulers of that empire during the eighteenth century. In Austria the girl Maria Theresa succeeded to the dangers and perplexities which characterized the Hapsburg rule. In France frail mistresses and feeble ministers inherited the influence which Fleury had enjoyed over the weak Louis XV; and in England the young Whigs, who had begun their attack upon Walpole on the issue of war with Spain, replaced his policy of Quieta non movere with the more ambitious projects of Carteret and Pitt.
The new rulers 1740
In some form, indeed, the character of the incoming period had already begun to define itself in far distant fields. Before the Peace of Vienna had been signed, colonial hostilities in North and South America had continued along the whole Atlantic coast the rivalries of the continent. These were primarily due to the activities of the colonists themselves. Now that their adventurous spirits had made their way through the wide wildernesses which had long separated their outposts and so remained the best guarantee of peace, it was apparent that the aggressive elements of either side could be restrained from conflict hardly or not at all, when they met on the remote frontiers of empire. No less active in promoting hostilities were the smugglers. The greatly relaxed control of trade during the War of the Spanish Suc-
Europe and America
cession had brought in its train not merely a huge increase of trade with maritime powers, particularly England and Holland, but a feeling that such commerce was a right. That feeling was confirmed by the transfer of the Asiento, or slave trade, to English hands; and it was acted on by a host of free-traders, or smugglers, long after the war ceased. The old traditions of the buccaneers, moreover, had been carried on by pirates who, like the famous Captain Kidd and Blackbeard of an earlier generation, though they harassed all commerce impartially, had a peculiar weakness for Spanish ships.
It was inevitable that when, on the accession of Philip V, Spanish administration was rescued from the chaos into which it had fallen, reorganized and administered with more energy, the coast-guards and free-traders should come to blows. As France and Spain developed a greater community of interests, the simultaneous fortification of Louisburg and Montevideo, the efforts of Quebec and St. Augustine to check English advance, and the activities of the Spanish against Brazil, strengthened at once the older ties between England and Portugal in opposition to their common enemy. This roused the English, in particular, to war. When, a year after the Peace of Vienna was finally signed, an English captain, Jenkins, prompted by Walpole's enemies, appeared before the House of Commons to exhibit the mutilations which Spanish coast-guards had inflicted on him, England was roused to wrath, and the "War of Jenkins' Ear" brought the long period of colonial rivalry upon the European stage. Thus at the moment that Spain's arms and diplomacy had given her rulers a fresh hold on Italy, she found herself at war in America.
The War of Jenkins' Ear 1739-48
What with the Spanish besieging the Brazilian outpost of Colonia and Portuguese attack on Montevideo--the Louisburg of South America; the English of Carolina fighting the Spaniards of St. Augustine; projected attacks upon the southern colonies by Caribbean governors; Oglethorpe's new colony of Georgia and Brazil's fortress of Rio Grande do Sul against the Argentine, that conflict had been long under way. Upon England's entry into war it took another turn. Vernon had boasted in Parliament that he could capture Porto Bello with six ships; and, given a squadron, he made good his boast. But his initial success was not continued. Anson, indeed, despatched to the Pacific, made his way to Manila and took the Acapulco galleon with a cargo valued at half a million pounds. But he lost all his ships save one; and a greater attack on Cartagena failed through disease and dissension among its leaders. For their part the Spaniards were even less successful; and the military efforts of each side were still more futile than their naval operations. Oglethorpe besieged St. Augustine and the Spanish governor of Florida launched an attack on Georgia, with equal ineffectiveness. Joint British and colonial attack upon Cuba broke down; and the war ended, as it had begun, in petty reprisals and border skirmishes.
Long peace had weakened the offensive strength of either side. The distances were great; the prizes small; and, save for two circumstances, one of merely curious interest, the war would have been of less consequence than the concurrent struggle of Brazil and Argentine for the land debatable between them. The Spaniards, convinced by Anson's great exploit of the dangers of the galleon system of voyages, abandoned it during the war, and finally replaced it with permits for individual ships. Vernon, finding the longestablished custom of serving out neat rum to the sailors inimical to discipline and efficiency, replaced it with a more diluted drink, and thus added "grog" to the English seaservice and vocabulary; an initial step, as it was to prove, of far-reaching reform in naval service.
Wholly different as these circumstances were, the latter in particular evidenced a certain tendency toward the regulation and betterment of human relationships. This was especially noticeable in England. There the foundation of the Society for the Promotion of Christian Knowledge in the last years of the seventeenth century had been followed by the establishment of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, whose work was now becoming evident in North
America. There too was being felt the influence of men who, like the greatest of Anglo-American administrators, William Johnson, began that remarkable tradition of English relations with non-European subjects, which was to become a leading characteristic of the spread of the British Empire. And, however incongruous it may seem, however unrelated apparently to these other movements of its time, it is perhaps not unworthy of observation that in this period were first formulated the rules of the English national sport of boxing or "prize-fighting." Their adoption, like these other phenomena, exhibited the same tendency toward the amelioration of ruder customs; and the introduction of reason and laws even in that field which seemed on the surface remote from both.
Even so trifling a circumstance as this serves to illuminate the changing standards of a period; since, like Oglethorpe's restrictions in his colony, it typified an altering concept of social order and efficiency. The abandonment of the galleon trade revealed a similar spirit; for that revolutionary policy marked the decline of an older commercial system in its last stronghold. And, wider still, the war was typical of changes now evident in world-polity. Long dragged in the train of the European powers, the colonies had been drawn into alien rivalries despite their inclination or their interests. Now they had come to play a recognizable part, not merely in causing but in initiating such conflicts. The era of intercolonial war had now begun on a scale which made it a powerful factor in international affairs. Henceforth it was increasingly difficult to separate colonial from European politics. The "line," beyond which Europes's relationships and law were almost inoperative a century earlier, had disappeared; and Europe, at home and oversea, was now all but one. Hereafter it was scarcely possible to touch this vast web of interests at any point without producing a reaction throughout the whole. And, in particular, the powers at the center became peculiarly sensitive to disturbance on the remotest edge of their empires. Altered position of the colonies
This was not confined to politics and trade. The great currents of European thought and practice, however unequally they reached into the extra-European world, were not without their influence, especially upon the communities of European blood. And the conceptions of those more distant societies, in turn, not infrequently produced reactions upon the old world, no less important because they were not always recognized. In the main, they differed fundamentally from the earliest reflexes of colonial influence. Those had reinforced the absolutist, military, and reactionary elements in the old world society, by lending their strength and resources to the less liberal powers of the continent. Now it was the progressive elements which gained. And, among the manifold influences which went to the reshaping of Europe during the eighteenth century, not the least were those which radiated from the North American colonies.
CHAPTER XXXI - RELIGION, INTELLECT, AND INDUSTRY. 1700-1750
IF there is one characteristic of European peoples more extraordinary than another in the field of intellect it is the amazing discrepancy between their actual and their recorded history. Had their development been confined to those concerns which fill their annals to the exclusion of almost every other topic,--the ambitions and activities of their rulers, war and diplomacy--the story of the three hundred years which culminated in the careers of Louis XIV and Charles XII would resemble nothing so much as the accounts of the rise and fall of Tartar and Zulu tribes, the exploits of Jenghiz Khan and Timur the Lame, of Chaka and Dingaan. Where there are a score of volumes on the elaborate and, for the most part, futile intrigues over the disposition of the inheritance of Charles II of Spain, there is scarcely one on the evolution, in the same period, of the mightiest agent of the modern world, the steam engine. Where there are a hundred narratives of the battles of the wars with which the eighteenth century began, there is hardly to be found a tolerable account of that economic revolution which then commenced to alter the whole basis of civilized society.
Fortunately for Europe and mankind in general, however, the long coil of bloodshed and intrigue from which the system of European states had begun to emerge by the close of the seventeenth century, had been but one manifestation of the energy of its peoples during that period. The growth of commerce and industry, with the attendant leisure and opportunity which wealth engendered; the consequent development of letters and learning; the progress of science and invention; and the gradual transformation of an age of faith and authority into an era of doubt and investigation,
The altered world
had now altered the whole aspect and tendencies of life and thought, and created the beginnings of a truly modern world.
Had a belated traveler, left over from the time when Prince Henry the Navigator and Poggio Bracciolini began to extend European knowledge and power into the realms of the unknown, made his way across the continent in the days of the treaties of Utrecht and Nystad, he would have found himself confronted on every hand with evidences that a revolution had taken place in the world he had known three centuries earlier. He would, indeed, have traveled scarcely more rapidly than in his own day, since, though roads were better, horses' legs or men's had improved but little, and canals, though they increased the facilities, contributed nothing to the speed of transportation. But the wagon-trains, the post-riders, the vehicles of all sorts which he met would have seemed a striking contrast to the pack-horses, the pedlars, the pilgrims, and men-at-arms with which his own time had been familiar. These, no less than the chateaus and country houses which he passed, the decaying or decayed castles and monastic establishments, the cities stretching far beyond their mediæval walls, with their great warehouses, dockyards, and wharves would have argued not merely an increase of population and wealth but of a peace unknown to feudal times, and a commerce impossible to that earlier period.
He would have seen peasants working in fields whose methods of cultivation and whose crops had changed but little from those of his own day. But once within the walls of the inns or private houses he would have been tickled with a hundred dishes unknown to his generation. The plate and napery and furniture, knives, forks, and spoons, china and glassware, even the tables and chairs would have seemed amazing to one accustomed to the semi-barbarous furnishings and cookery of the early fifteenth century. He might have felt a certain loss of the more picturesque side of life. The men's broad-skirted coats, knee-breeches, stockings, and buckled shoes, their marvelous waistcoats, their shirts and neckwear, their wigs and three-cornered hats, might have seemed to him a poor exchange for doublet and curt-hose. Comparison with Europe of the 15th century
The women's hoopskirts and high dressed hair might well have roused the awe if not the admiration of one who remembered the simpler and more graceful robes of an earlier time.
An artist or an architect, he would have been scarcely less amazed at the marvels of color and form which looked out at him from canvas and fresco, than at the domed and pillared neo-classical monuments which had replaced the graceful Gothic arches of his day. A soldier, he would have been as much surprised at the absence of armor as at the musket and pistol, the field and siege artillery; the fortresses which had replaced the mediæval castles; the size and discipline of the national armies. A man of affairs, he would have been absorbed by the contrast between the volume and methods of public and private business and that of his own time, the huge increase in circulating medium, of banks and credit, of national finance, no less than in a world-commerce unfamiliar to his experience. For he would have heard on every hand of distant lands, their very names unknown to him, now forming part of the great European world.
Above all, had he been a scholar or scientist, he would have been confounded by a new world of thought and speech. He would have met with no universal tongue, which, like the Latin of his own day, served as a common medium of expression among the different peoples of the continent. He would have found no universal church; and, in place of the narrow circle of accepted truth, half-scriptural, half-Aristotelian, of his time, he would have been confronted by a body of knowledge and a variety of opinions no less overwhelming in range than in content. New faiths, new processes of thought, new doubts, new methods of attaining truth, would have assailed him on every hand. In his own day men had greatly feared that they might sail over the world's edge into space; they had feared still more that too great daring of the spirit might bring on them the terrors of eternity. Now, neither the dangers of the earth nor the fear of the church held them back from adventures all but inconceivable to mediæval minds. They looked about a world now tolerably well known; they viewed a sky no longer the unknowable abode of spirits, but filled with the visible evidences of a universe in which earth and man played very different parts from that conceived three centuries earlier. The natural had largely replaced the supernatural in men's thought; this world, the next. Dogma and revelation had largely given way to reason, investigation, law; and superstition had been modified to faith or even to doubt in matters still beyond the intellect to solve. In such a world the mediæval mind would have found itself at loss; and a man of the fifteenth century might well have dreamed that Revelation had come true, that he beheld a new heaven and a new earth.
But had he been a statesman, considering rather the interaction of rulers and states upon each other than these deeper matters of man's daily life, he would have been far better able to understand the world about him. Europe had changed, indeed, in its concepts of government and international relationships, and still more in the formal conduct of its business. Public affairs were now on greater scale and involved a different set of powers from those he knew; but the motives behind them still remained the same, and political methods were not so widely different from those in other ages, that he would have found himself wholly at fault. Feudalism, indeed, was no longer in evidence as an active factor in polity, since the nation or the state had replaced it in affairs. Yet one who had witnessed the earlier conflict between England and France could have conceived, despite its different scope and circumstance, this second Hundred Years' War in which the Peace of Utrecht brought a truce. He who had seen the first Frederick of Hohenzollern become the first Elector of Brandenburg could well have understood this later Frederick who from that dignity now became the first king of Prussia. He who had lived in the days of the Great Schism and the death of Huss would have been able to comprehend something of the ecclesiastical division of western Europe into Catholic and Protestant communions. Nor would one who had seen the house of Hapsburg ascend the imperial throne have been wholly at a loss to understand the situation
of that dynasty at the beginning of the eighteenth century. Given the knowledge of the great geographical discoveries, he could even have understood the conflict for lands beyond the sea which had become a part of European history. Beside these things, material, and especially intellectual, advance would have appeared but little short of the miraculous. For the ambitions of princes and peoples are among the oldest motives of politics, while the elements which gave Europe of the eighteenth century a different character from that of the fifteenth lay chiefly outside the scope of their activities.
Among these the developments in science and literature, philosophy, and theology were not alone. In the preceding generation, not even the glitter of the Grand Monarque had quite obscured the triumphs of Newton and Leibnitz, nor the advance in the art of war surpassed the triumphs of the men of peace. So in the era of European war and diplomacy which followed, the skill of the inventors and the progress of society rivaled the activities of the diplomats and the productions of the men of thought and letters.
These last, indeed, were by no means contemptible, though even while France under Louis XIV and the Regency rose to courtly and literary eminence there were signs of an approaching change. The vigor of that movement, which had signalized the earlier years of the great king had exhausted itself, and his power had not been enough to raise up genius worthy of comparison with what had gone before. The dramatic talents of the court favorite, Crébillon, were far from equaling those of Molière and Racine, and fell below them in morals as in inspiration. The novels of Le Sage, crowned by his masterpiece of Gil Blas, which introduced the so-called picaresque romance into European literature, surpassed, indeed, the earlier efforts of Madame Lafayette. But the poems of Jean Baptiste Rousseau, or memoirs of St. Simon, with all their interest, scarcely reached the heights of the masters who had preceded them. And even the delicate beauty of Watteau's painting, in its courtly medium of fans and furniture, its charm of artificial shepherds and shepherdesses playing at a return to nature, lost
something of the strength it might have shown in a freer and less sophisticated atmosphere.
None the less his paintings, in which were mingled the artificial and the simple life, revealed a spirit destined to revolutionize the life and thought of European society; and, in its very failure to create a perfect illusion of simplicity, showed the direction in which European taste was rapidly tending. This was almost immediately made manifest in other fields. Scarcely was Louis XIV in his grave when the appearance of a new drama, the Henriade, introduced a new figure into European literature, the young Voltaire, as he chose to call himself. During his imprisonment in the Bastille, he had meditated this dramatic conception of the first Bourbon, Henry of Navarre, and with it gave a new turn to French literature. Scarcely were the treaties confirming the Utrecht settlement signed when the Lettres Persanes, from the pen of another author, as yet unknown, Montesquieu, began not only a new genre of letters, but inaugurated the attack on the formal authority which had been crystallized in the preceding reign. And scarcely had Orleans assumed the regency when the long quarrel between the Jesuits and the so-called Jansenists came to a head in the latter's appeal from Papal authority to that of a general council of the Church.
Voltaire and Montesquieu
Such an incident was peculiarly significant. The growing strength of reactionary influence during the later years of Louis XIV had found expression in the destruction of Port Royal, the center of Jansenist influence. Simultaneously with the Peace of Utrecht, the Pope, inspired by the Jesuits, had issued the Bull called Unigenitus, condemning the Jansenist propositions. But not all the power of Pope and Jesuits, backed by the influence of the aged king and the half-hearted acquiescence of the Parlement, could stifle discussion or prevent a schism in the Church of France. A third of the French bishops refused assent to the Papal-Jesuit contention. The liberal Catholics, the literary men, now relieved from the repression of the Grand Monarque's later years, above all the rising school of so-called Philosophers, among whom Voltaire and Montesquieu were conspicuous. The Papacy and the Jansenists 1713 rallied not so much to the support of the Jansenists as to the attack upon the Jesuits and the tyranny of authority. With this France entered on a long controversy which was to affect the whole future of her thought and practice in political scarcely less than ecclesiastical affairs.
Of all the figures of the time, perhaps that of the Pope who issued the pronouncement against the Jansenists best typified the forces then at work remaking Europe--for upon him they bore the hardest. The career of Clement XI was, in fact, the tragedy of the old order. An able and accomplished man, he found himself impotent before the forces which dominated his time. He desired to remain neutral in the War of the Spanish Succession--and he was compelled to recognize first Philip V, then the Archduke Charles as king of Spain! In the Peace of Utrecht, almost alone among the powers of western Europe, the Papacy was ignored, and its various claims on Italian territory were not even given the courtesy of consideration. His Papal interdict on Savoy was treated with contempt, and his reaffirmation of Papal infallibility in matters of fact met with perhaps even less success than his condemnation of Jansenist heresies or his advocacy of the more humane treatment of criminals. He was the symbol of an age already past, and in his day the office which he held sank to the lowest point it had reached since the Reformation.
The situation in which he found himself was typical of Europe at the close of the great national wars from which she was beginning to emerge. It was a curious compound of the old and new. The neo-classicism which, since the Renaissance, had gradually replaced scholasticism in the European mind, had reached its culmination. The splendid burst of natural vigor which succeeded the humanistic revival in arts and letters had, after the manner of all things human, hardened to a school. The educational leaders of Europe had replaced the mediæval trivium and quadrivium with a system chiefly confined to classics, mathematics, and theology. In letters the influence of Boileau, "the legislator of Parnassus," had served to crystallize a tendency toward formalism as
against flexibility, and conformity to rules as opposed to spontaneity. His L'Art Poétique, and the Essay on Criticism of the Englishman Pope, alike condemned the winged Pegasus of the two preceding centuries to tread the roads laid out for him through the far-spreading fields of poetry. Prose followed the same course, and the last years of Louis XIV, like the Age of Anne, revealed a powerful impulse toward formal models in the two chief centers of European literature. For,
Song from celestial heights had wandered down
Put off her robe of sunlight, dew, and flame,
And donned a modish dress to charm the town.
. . . . . . .
She saw with dull emotion--if she saw,
The vision of the glory of the world."
In architecture the same tendency expressed itself. The influence of Palladio had gradually made its way through western Europe and to those eastern states where French models were now increasingly accepted as the acme of taste, till its heavy hand was evident on every building. In France, beside the extravagance of Versailles, was seen Perrault's completed masterpiece, the Louvre, with the Hôtel des Invalides and the Pantheon; in England, the Cathedral of St. Paul's--whose dome and portico echo the glory of St. Peter's --reflected the same Palladian influence. The services of Marlborough were rewarded by a palace which in Vanbrugh's hands became a model of massive magnificence, and the epitaph of that architect, "Lie heavy on him, Earth, for he Laid many a heavy weight on thee," might well be taken as the motto of the whole neo-classic school. The Great Elector's buildings in Berlin exhibited the same monumental character. Even in the newly erected Russian capital, French architects carried out the principles of the Italo-Vitruvian school, whose triumph at once destroyed the beautiful pointed Gothic, which it now replaced, and obscured the glories of true classic models which it professed to represent. Domestic architecture took tone from the same influence, as beside the spired châteaus of France rose the square monoliths of city
and country house; and in England the neo-Gothic Tudor was replaced by Jacobean and now by Georgian formality.
Social affairs had followed much the same course. From the court of Louis XIV had flowed a stream of ceremonial which, paralleled or imitated by the rulers of the continent, and taken up by society in general, tended to rob human association of every symptom of spontaneity and make men's intercourse a series of formalized observances from which meaning had fled. The clothing in which society lived, and, in so far as it could, moved, was peculiarly ill-adapted to any practical purpose. The elaborate and beautiful silk coats and waistcoats of the men; the still more marvelous costumes of the women, which the improvements in the weaving industry, and especially the extraordinary increase in the use of silk provided, contributed at once to the gayety of plumage and the wealth of that nation to which Colbert's foresight had introduced the manufacture of silk. The powdered wigs of the males, indeed, paled into insignificance beside the vast and towering head-dresses of the female leaders of society, but together they made this the golden age of hair-dressers.
Manners and amusements took on the same tone. The freer and livelier dances froze into the stately minuet. The cardtable became not merely the scene of gambling but a kind of social shrine. The use of snuff became universal, and snuff boxes claimed the talents of goldsmith and miniaturist. Duelling maintained and even increased its vogue; and the code of honor became continually more rigid. The stage revealed the same tendency. Shakespeare was discredited by the critics as rude and uncouth. When his plays appeared at all--and no amount of formalism could quite drive them from the stage--they were too often enlivened by the appearance of Hamlet and Lady Macbeth in full eighteenthcentury costume! The result was an age of dullness which in France was rendered endurable by the taste which adorned it with some saving graces, but which in many quarters, especially in the lesser German courts, reached depths scarcely supportable to even their habitués, however inspirited with the vastly increasing use of the more potent beverages of this "age of port."
Even great fields of intellect were infected with the same formality, and as one passes from the more spontaneous literature of the seventeenth century into the more dignified productions of its successor, he is acutely conscious of a decrease of interest in the form if not in the matter of much that held the attention of a more sedate era. It was, indeed, productive along certain lines, as the development of antiquarianism testified. In others, notably in education, it had become conventional almost to sterility. But in all it revealed that tendency toward form, that devotion to ceremonial, which, whether expressed in stately mansions and formal gardens, or in the verses which were inspired by Pope or Boileau, marked a movement which had lost its vigor.
Yet by that curious law of human no less than of physical evolution which gives to every action its inevitable and equal reaction, at the height of this new reign of formal authority a change prepared. The development of absolute and national kingship which reached its height under Louis XIV had been accompanied by the revolution which drove the Stuarts from the English throne. The French effort to dominate Europe had been foiled by the reassertion of its unity in diversity, expressed in grand alliances and the doctrine of balance of power. Now in the world of intellect the same phenomenon was observable.
This was particularly true in the realm of theology. There the assaults of science in the two preceding centuries had driven men to one of these alternatives: complete rejection of all discoveries which trenched in any way upon the doctrines of revealed religion; or the rejection of dogma where it was weakened by the new knowledge. From this arose a fresh antagonism bearing little relation to the older divisions of Catholic and Protestant. On the one side, however they differed among themselves on questions of theology and ecclesiastical supremacy, were ranged the champions of orthodox belief. On the other stood the growing company of those who under whatever name, deist, philosopher, agnostic,
unbeliever, atheist, free-thinker, scientist, accepted the conclusions of investigation and reason. These, either rejected wholly church dogmas; or held judgment suspended; or strove to reconcile reason and dogma. But they looked toward the substitution of some intellectually defensible doctrine of universe and man and their creation and Creator for irrational belief. The old predicate, "I believe, therefore I know," found itself confronted by the new, "I know, therefore I believe." Cutting across all bounds of race or faith, the principle made way. Whether one said with the English Shaftesbury, "A wise man has but one religion, but what it is a wise man never tells"; or, with the French Voltaire, observed that "if there were no God it would be necessary to invent one"; or declared with the Swedish botanist he "thought God's thoughts after him," the principle was the same. Rationalism, having established itself in thought, had begun to make headway against a blind belief. In the words of the English poet, Pope, whose formal versification aptly typified the spirit of his times, it came to be recognized that "order is Heaven's first law."
With the efforts to discover the secrets of the law and order of the universe there came, inevitably, a definite break with that theology which for more than a thousand years had reckoned such subjects beyond the limits of human prerogative even more than of human capacity. The theologians of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries had spent an infinity of energy in argument as to whether man was or was not a free agent, whether the course of every individual was predetermined from the beginning, or whether he had a choice dependent on his own will, wholly or in part. That long and bitter controversy which has, in some sort, conditioned all theological and philosophical speculation, in all places and at all times since thought began, has, indeed, an endless fascination. It is, like all such abstract and metaphysical problems, insoluble. But this much is certain. Whatever the ultimate fact, men have acted as if they were free agents; and upon the doctrine of free-will, whether consciously or unconsciously, have been based man's material achievements. And it is not the least significant commentary on the relation between known faith and human practice that among the believers in predestination have been some of the most active and successful examples of the influence of a determined will to achieve.
At this juncture there appeared another of those antagonisms on which the religious life is based--reason against revelation, or perhaps better, mysticism against materialism. It was revealed in an almost coincident attack from two quite opposite directions, and by two wholly antagonistic elements, on the existing ecclesiastical establishments, Protestant no less than Catholic. Since the convulsions of the sixteenth century, and in the face of scientific progress in the seventeenth, the churches had tended to entrench themselves in system and dogma equally removed from the rationalism of the scientists and the zeal of the fanatics. Though they differed from each other, they had tended toward uniformity themselves and grown from a concern of the spirit into a school or cult. Such is the tendency of human thought, and such, inevitably, brings further reaction. By the eighteenth century "the church," whether Protestant or Catholic. tended to become not so much a spiritual force as an "estate," a social institution, which, like the aristocracy, was a static element, desiring only to be let alone. Liberalism, on the other hand, was less a party than it was the mass of educated men. The eighteenth century, in consequence, saw a scientific renaissance, like the fifteenth-century classical movement, which produced, not paganism, but indifference, or antagonism.
The scientific renaissance
For men filled with the restless and skeptical impulse which science had brought, the churches took far too much on faith. For men to whom the universe and life remained a vast, insoluble mystery, the churches seemed far too practical and material. From the beginning, the mystic and the scientist had found themselves equally opposed to the establishment, and the preceding centuries are full of their conflicts. Copernicus and Galileo, German Anabaptist and English Quaker, alike had found themselves outside the law
no less of Reformed communions than of Roman. Now, with the triumph of science and a freer thought, across the broadening gulf between belief and knowledge one element found expression for its state of mind in mystical concepts, the other in an effort to explain man's relations to the universe and its Creator on rational grounds.
Sprung from the older stock of German and English dissent, new shoots grew side by side in friendly emulation. One group of German Lutherans, denied by their brethren, looked back to Huss as their founder. These, owing their strength rather to their simple pietism than to the Augsburg confession which they professed, were known from the place of their origin as Moravians. Under the leadership and protection of a Saxon nobleman, Count Zinzendorf, they now began to extend their labors outside their old confines. From the first their missionary impulse was strong. During the War of the Polish Succession they despatched a mission to St. Thomas and began a work in. Greenland which brought that cheerless and long-neglected land within the circle of Christianity. In British North America they found a fertile field for their energies. At Bethlehem in Pennsylvania, beside the Quakers who welcomed them, Zinzendorf established one of those "communities" in whose peculiar organization the Moravian spirit found its characteristic expression. From there, as well as from Georgia, where some of them had joined Oglethorpe's colony, their missionaries soon pushed past the frontier to rival the zeal of the Jesuits among the Indian tribes between the Ohio and the Great Lakes.
They were not alone in their advent into the western world. Beside them settled in Pennsylvania the adherents of that German sect, known from their Reformation founder as Schwenkfelders. In later years these bodies were reinforced by others who, like the so-called Shakers, with their celibate communities, added another element to religious experience and to New World society. Hither, also, came the leaders of another and, as it was to prove, a greater communion, not uninfluenced by the Moravians, the so-called Wesleyans or Methodists. These were the product of that The Methodists 1720-42 serious Puritanism not unknown even within the Anglican establishment. They owed their origin to a little religious society which began in Oxford undergraduate days, and under the influence of two of its original members, John and Charles Wesley, and the eloquence of its apostle Whitefield, had slowly expanded into a new communion. All three of these founders were connected with Oglethorpe's experiment in Georgia, where their relations with the Moravians at once inspired and affected their further development. Based on a doctrine of personal salvation by conviction of sin and conversion, they relied on the emotional appeal of exhortation by itinerant ministers. The new gospel, preached wherever men could be gathered to hear, in churches, houses, marketplace, or fields, appealed to classes little touched by an establishment which rejected the new society as it had earlier expelled the nonconformist "denominations."
Like the Moravians, to whom they owed so much, the Methodists revealed a missionary spirit as fervid as that which had fired St. Dominic and St. Francis five centuries earlier, and still inspired their followers in the remoter districts of New Spain. Along the far-reaching frontiers of the English colonies, no less than in the more thickly settled districts, and in the cities and countryside of England, their itinerant ministers and circuit-riders spread a network of congregations, keeping pace with the expansion of their countrymen abroad as they sought to bring the gospel to the neglected elements at home. They were reinforced by men who, like Isaac Watts, the great hymn-writer and William Law with his Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life, profoundly influenced this so-called Evangelical movement. Their labors were supplemented by those of other remarkable men, one of whom attained a peculiar eminence by his labors in this eighteenth-century religious reformation, or rather revival, which was known in the English colonies as the Great Awakening.
This was the Scandinavian mystic, Emanuel Swedenborg. He began his intellectual life with an interest in science, and his contributions and prophecies make him a
prodigy of his times. He anticipated the discoveries of the palæontologists, suggested the nebular hypothesis of the formation of planets, advanced theories of light, of molecular magnetism, and cosmic atoms,--even proposed the principle of a flying machine which a later generation found practical. Though a man of the world, he advanced from science through philosophy to "soul analysis" and so to a new revelation upon which a new sect founded itself. Combining, as he did, eminent talents for practical affairs, great scientific attainments, and those mystical qualities which made him seem more than human to many men of his generation, he was not merely one of the most extraordinary characters which Europe has produced, but a symbol of the extraordinary period in which he lived.
The older ecclesiastical establishments felt more than the pressure of the men of greater faith, for, at the same moment of this far-reaching religious revival, beside Moravians and Methodists, Schwenkfelders and Swedenborgians, the men of reason made their way into the arena of theological controversy. Apart from the conflict which seemed then inevitable between dogma based on revelation and doubt based on reason--between science and religion as it has come to be incorrectly known--the efforts of the philosophers from Descartes through Spinoza and Locke to Leibnitz, had endeavored to find a reconciling formula between knowledge and faith. Thus they developed another school, the so-called Deists. They denied revelation and based their belief on a Creator as demonstrated by the discoveries of science and the "natural constitution" of the universe. Their beginnings lay chiefly in England, where the teachings of Lord Herbert of Cherbury in the preceding century were continued by Locke and taken up by a group which included the political leaders, Shaftesbury and Bolingbroke. Thence these doctrines spread to the continent where, in this period, they found their greatest champion in the chief man of letters of his time.
This was the Frenchman, François Marie Arouet, better known by his assumed name of Voltaire, whose brilliance
was then bringing him into European view. He had already won his spurs as a dramatist, and a visit to England put him in touch with a new intellectual and political world which he, in turn, with Montesquieu, now introduced to the continent. Gifted with an almost inconceivable fecundity of genius, and a delightful style, versatile, original, epigrammatic, unconventional, he was inspired with a sardonic wit which made him the most effective and formidable of champions. In society, in the state, above all in the church, he found himself continually in conflict with constituted authority, for he was, essentially, the spirit that denies. A poet and a dramatist inferior only to the greatest France produced, a story-teller and a moralist, an essayist and a philosopher, his epigrams became the subtlest weapons in the armory of those forces opposed to the shams of existing authority. An historian, he directed that branch of letters into new channels; a dabbler in experimental science, his tendencies were continually toward doubt. Above all a satirist, he became the most followed and feared of all freethinkers. No dignity was too high, no superstition too sacred to escape his barbed wit, no cause too hopeless to enlist his support, no individual too humble to engage his protection, no device of authority too subtle for his adroitness in evading its penalties. And, amid the mixed meanness and greatness of the man, the intellect of Voltaire became a dominating influence in European thought.
He was but one, though the most eminent, of a class now making a place for itself in affairs, the men of letters. "The thinking heads of all nations had in secret come to a majority and rose fiercely against restraint," challenging the ecclesiastical and even the political authorities for leadership and popular allegiance. It was as yet, indeed, impossible for scientists, even inventors, to live by the exercise of their talents. Letters was not a wholly independent profession. The private patron or some separate source of income was necessary, for public support as yet scarcely enabled a man to live by his pen. But the preceding hundred years had seen a rapid development, especially in the west. Printers
Letters and philosophy 1700-42
had grown into publishers; newspapers and periodicals were now an element in the daily life of thousands; and literature was fast learning to walk alone.
The result was notably conspicuous in England. As the Age of Louis XIV brought forth a Boileau whose Art Poétique had molded French poetry on more rigid lines, and the Age of Anne had found its characteristic expression in the rhymed epigrams of Pope; so, following the triumphs of Rochefoucauld, La Fontaine, and Fénelon in French prose, the English essayists Steele, Addison, and Swift had founded a new school of English literary expression. As Voltaire had crowned the line of French satirists, Swift, whose talents fell short only of Voltaire's, filled a like place in English letters. At the same time Defoe, turning from political pamphleteering, where his ability had ranked him all but equal to Swift, continued the tradition established by Mrs. Behn and Madame de Lafayette, with the publication of his 1719 immortal story of Robinson Crusoe. This was followed by other tales from his own pen and by those of his imitators and successors. And in the year that saw the European panorama change with the exit of the rulers of Austria, Prussia, and Russia, came the issue of Samuel Richardson's more ambitious experiment in fiction, the story of Pamela. With it and its companion-piece, Joseph Andrews, from the 1742 pen of another journalist and pamphleteer, Henry Fielding, the modern novel was born. Thus, as the classical school reached its climax, from the side of journalism there sprang a new form of writing destined to play a major part in the future development of letters. Simultaneously, the English 1731 Gentleman's Magazine, following the example already set in Holland and in France, added another element of strength to the growing power of the press with the beginning of the periodical. As these forces were added to the newspaper, which was now firmly established, a new age of literature began.
The English novel 1740
But if the novel of life and character, as distinguished from the mere romance, pointed the way to fresh developments in the world of letters, a concurrent event in the field of music
led to scarcely less far-reaching results. This was the development of the oratorio, a dramatic form of religious music which, originating in Italy, found its highest expression in the hands of Bach and his fellow-countryman, Handel. The one, in Germany, now advanced from his triumphs in the newer forms of suites, preludes and fugues, so-called, through the choral, to the great Passion music which crowned his fame. The other, meanwhile, in England, turned from his earlier successes in church music and opera to the same form, and in a brilliant succession of oratorios, beginning with Esther and culminating in the Messiah, brought this kind of choral and solo work to a pitch of perfection only equaled by his contemporary and never since excelled. With it, music, like literature and art, became more truly democratic. This was the more marked since the progress of the musical instrument makers had been particularly notable in the century preceding. In the hands of Stradivari the violin had just attained a perfection of form and tone which even now remains unequaled. The seventeenth century had seen the invention of the harpsichord, and in the years following the great wars of Europe the genius of the Italian inventor, Cristofori, gave Europe its first pianoforte. These, with the many improvements in wind and string instruments, made possible a new world of music.
These were but a few of the notable phenomena of a period characterized by innovations in almost every phase of human endeavor. It was an age of scholars only less eminent than those who had shed luster on the three preceding centuries; and memorable for discoveries scarcely less noteworthy than those of the Renaissance; yet in each case with a difference peculiarly characteristic of the eighteenth century. At the same moment that the Northern War had come to an end, the site of the city of Herculaneum, buried under the ashes of Vesuvius in the first century of the Christian era, was found and a beginning made of those great excavations which from that day to this have added to our knowledge and enriched our artistic life with the material treasures of antiquity. Another generation saw Pompeii similarly recov-
ered, and the science of classical archæology firmly established as an adjunct of history and art. The study of inscriptions, so-called epigraphy, received fresh impulse; and, with it, advancing from the achievements of Du Cange who, in the generation just past had bridged the gap between ancient and modern speech with his great mediæval Latin glossary, other scholars enlarged the knowledge of that past. Art tended to follow the same impulse; and this age of antiquarians revealed no more typical figure than the engraver Piranesi, whose burin preserved an almost infinite number of the architectural remains of classical antiquity.
To the work of Montfauçon and others on Greek handwriting, or palæography, was added one on Roman script issued by the order of Benedictines to which he belonged, and whose services to knowledge were so eminent. These increased the knowledge of the past no less than the material which Italy now supplied in the edition of her chronicles by Muratori; while his countryman, Maffei, reconstructed the history of Verona and revised so-called diplomatics contributed by Mabillon to the modern science of documents, and Dumont began his Corps Universel diplomatique du droit des gens. Nor was this industry confined to Romance nations. England issued the Latin text and the translation of Bede, and continued that study of Anglo-Saxon which the seventeenth century had begun, by publishing her early chronicles. Still more, she related scholarship to practical affairs, by bringing together and printing, for the first time, collections of debates in Parliament, the description of her older institutions, and her treaties in Rymer Fdera, which were of no less importance to her publicists than to her scholars.
This was, indeed, the great, outstanding, characteristic of the period; the mingling of the intellectual and the material. If the Renaissance had been peculiarly an age of the discovery and editing of manuscripts, the eighteenth century renaissance was the age of the antiquarians. And if the earlier period had seen its chief advance along the lines of pure science, and mathematics in particular, this period revealed that tendency toward transforming those principles into Applied science and invention 1700-50 practice, and relating science to industry. The extraction of gas from coal, the extension of the principle of Newcomen's steam pumping-engine to the propulsion of vessels, Hadley's sextant, and the thermometers of Fahrenheit and Réaumur, witnessed the growing tendency to enlist scientific knowledge in the affairs of life as the age of invention approached. No less the experiments in cattle-breeding, in fertilizers, crop-rotation, soils and methods of cultivation which had set England on the path to agricultural revolution, promised at once an increase in the resources of the oldest of civilized pursuits and a surer foundation for the support of population whose rapid growth was already in evidence throughout Europe. In view of this it was at last coming to be recognized that "he who made two blades of grass grow where one grew before" was a factor thenceforth to be considered in the world's affairs.
Through all of this activity, particularly on the side of science, two general principles were observable. The first was the decline of the classical tradition as well as of mediæval ignorance and superstition. Each of these, in its way, had been an opponent of progress. The triumph of rationalism over the blind dogmatism of the middle ages had been powerfully aided by the introduction of the learning of the Greek and Roman world into the content of European thought and knowledge. That learning had been so preeminently helpful in the destruction of theological obscurantism, it had been so tremendously stimulating to the intellect, that, naturally enough, its value had been exaggerated. The long ascendancy of the church fathers had been replaced by that of the classical philosophers. Augustine and Athanasius, Origen and Tertullian gave way to Ptolemy and Pliny, Galen and Hippocrates, who thenceforth had dominated men's minds scarcely less than their predecessors. The decline of classicism
Every department of life had been influenced by this change. Theology and education, science and scholarship, philosophy and literature fell before the new conquerors. In some measure this was essential to European progress; and from it flowed that impulse which set Europe on the path which led through the Renaissance and the Reformation to a modern world. But men had scarcely begun to perceive that, however valuable the content and method of the ancients, their learning neither exhausted the field of knowledge nor was without its errors. Thenceforth, beginning with the second quarter of the sixteenth century, there had been carried on a twofold conflict. On the one hand the apostles of the modern school combated the ignorance of mankind and the superstition engendered by mediæval theology. On the other, they were compelled to struggle with those who adhered as blindly to the dicta of the classical writers as their predecessors had clung to the dogmas of the Church.
In general, the burden of this long contention was borne by those men to whom was given the name of scientists, and they became the chief opponents of authority, whether classical or theological. They were aided by that group to which was ascribed the vague and generic name of philosophers, and from these proceeded the great antagonisms which marked the seventeenth century in particular. Little by little they made way. Before reason and investigation the authority of Pliny and Ptolemy, Galen and Hippocrates declined, Aristotle lost his ascendancy over the European intellect; and classical learning was infused with modern discovery. The classical tradition lingered longer in other fields. Education was still almost wholly dominated by it, architecture revealed its peculiar forms and characteristics, literature and scholarship were deeply tinged with its influence. But by the middle of the eighteenth century it had ceased to be the prevailing note in that scientific and philosophical activity upon which a great part of European progress depended. To it succeeded the devotion to "nature" which was to play as great a part in the future. This was due in part to actual progress, in part, no doubt, to changing taste. "Fashion perishes of its own vogue, and that vogue in turn by its own vogue." Man's mind revolts against monotony as it shrinks from too violent change; and the very progress of knowledge tends to destroy the forces which gave it birth.
The scientists and philosophers
Another of the principal factors in this change was that scientific advance is not, like the changes of taste, and even of politics, an erratic force. It is a cumulative process. With the invention of printing and the gradual diffusion of culture, the development of knowledge was secured as the investigators of each generation were enabled to build upon preceding labors and transmit their discoveries to their successors. Moreover, their work had another advantage. Especially as the eighteenth century came on, science contributed more and more to the practical side of life, increasing the capacity of men to achieve results in many fields which added at once to the comfort, the safety, and the satisfaction of the community. If the seventeenth century was the era of pure scientific discovery, the eighteenth century is preeminently the age of the beginning of what came to be known as applied science, whose results were clearly apparent in nearly every field of material endeavor, in manufacturing, in agriculture, in commerce, even in war and government.
There are an infinite number of examples of this, and if the period of the early eighteenth century gave to the world no such discoveries as those which illuminated the generations from Galileo to Newton, science, like scholarship, entered upon an era scarcely less important. In it there is perhaps no more eminent figure than the Swedish botanist, Linnæus. He was a great collector and a great teacher, but he was much more. His Systema Naturae appeared in 1735 and a dozen editions were required in the ensuing generation. It was the beginning of that classification which characterizes the century; while his so-called "binominal" system of nomenclature, to indicate genus and species, became the standard for science to our own day. This scientific activity was not confined to cataloguing and classifying the knowledge of natural phenomena which established the socalled systematic branches of science. Nor was it unrelated to the antiquarianism and annotation which characterized much of the scholarship of the period. Human knowledge, indeed, had increased so greatly in the two preceding cen-
turies that such a process was as necessary as the concurrent preparation of dictionaries and encyclopedias in almost every conceivable field which accompanied this general stock-taking of the intellect, preparatory to another advance. But beside this apparently mechanical work went on a very real advance in attainment. The very collection and arrangement of material suggested new relations and new lines of investigation; and these suggestions were multiplied by the solution of problems whose answers pointed to still other questions in a field whose limits were the universe itself.
This was accompanied by another phenomenon which characterized this epoch of intellectual progress,--the establishment of an extraordinary number of organizations and institutions to perpetuate and further the knowledge and skill acquired, to ameliorate suffering, and to stimulate interest in such work. In this great field all peoples, classes, and interests combined. France, England, Prussia, Russia, Sweden, Switzerland, Italy, royal and noble patronage, learned societies and individuals, joined in the movement. The earlier unity of western Europe which had been claimed by the Empire, and in large measure provided by the mediæval church, had broken down. Politically it had failed; religiously and intellectually it had been scarcely more effective. But as every nation took its place in the concurrent progress of science, letters, art, and scholarship, the field of intellect offered a more substantial meeting-place than any which had thus far appeared. Unlike the genius of individualism which had filled the seventeenth century with great discoveries, the eighteenth century used its talent for formal organization to systematize knowledge and develop co-ordination in its pursuit. For all Europe joined forces to conquer the realms of the unknown and make the world more endurable for the race.
Growth of intellectual and cultural organization
The accomplishment of this task was aided by the encouragement of wealth and influence directed to these ends. The foundation of the Academy of St. Petersburg gave Euler an opportunity to continue the work of Newton in mathematics; while Maupertuis found his labors in the same field sup- ported and encouraged by his appointment to the presidency of the Berlin Academy. Buffon's intendancy of the French royal gardens and museums enabled him to embark on the great task of classifying animals, which paralleled and supplemented Linnæus' work under the auspices of the Stockholm Academy, and laid the foundations of systematic zoölogy beside those of systematic botany. And with these great contributions to biology that science was fully embarked upon its long and important career.
Such activity was not confined to the foundation of academies and museums, nor the appointment of savants to their management. It took the form, among other things, of an extraordinary revival in the foundation of hospitals, unequaled since the middle ages. As the church in that period had exercised its humanitarian functions in this field among others, so now science roused itself to the same task, under far different conditions, if not from different motives. London, Paris, Edinburgh, Dublin, Dresden, Berlin, Vienna, Lisbon, New York, and Philadelphia, with a score of lesser places, set up new hospitals, lying-in wards, lectureships in medicine, clinics, and many sorts of practical instruction in healing. To this the wars which produced so much suffering contributed; and among the destructive results entailed by the ambitions of Prussia, the establishment of an improved system of medical and surgical arrangements for the army was perhaps the most substantial good which they produced.
Two fields of scientific activity were conspicuous in their progress during this period. The first was chemistry. If the mid-eighteenth century were notable for nothing else, it would be memorable for the contributions of investigators like the Swedish pharmacist, Scheele, who, in his humble laboratory, probably made more important discoveries than any single individual before or since. The organic acids, so familiar to modern practice under the names of tartaric, oxalic, citric, and gallic; manganese, chlorine, baryta; estimates of the proportions of oxygen in the air, which had so long puzzled mankind, rewarded his patient labors. In his hands technical chemistry, upon which so much of the rapidly
approaching age of industrialism was to depend, took on new life. Still greater, on the more purely intellectual side, were the researches of the young Lavoisier, to whom the final overthrow of the long-lived phlogiston fallacy was due. With these men modern chemistry may be said to begin. And while it is futile to make the trite moral comparison between the labors of such men as these and the spectacular achievements of captains and kings, in their respective contributions to the comfort and capacity of the race, one may, at least, claim a place for them in the history of Europe beside the mistresses of Louis XV or even the conquests of the great Frederick.
The second of the sciences which showed signs of renewed vitality was geology. For almost the first time since Agricola wrote his great treatise on mineralogy in the sixteenth century, the constitution of the earth came into the active consideration of the European mind. This had profound results not only upon practical affairs and scientific progress, but, ultimately, upon such an apparently remote field as that of theology. It began, naturally enough, with conflict of theories regarding the origin of the rocks; and it had not gone far before it developed two schools of thought. On the one hand, the Vulcanists or Plutonists, as they were called, attributed geological action to fire, and so formed the igneous school, which held to a belief in a fiery central core to the earth. On the other, the Neptunists contended for the formation of rocks by crystallization or sedimentation from water. To this was added the study of fossils which, from the time of Leonardo da Vinci, had attracted the interest of intellectual men. And it was no long time before these elements were combined into speculation over the origin and the age of the planet. This, naturally, brought the new science into conflict with the adherents of the first chapter of Genesis, a conflict comparable to and perhaps even more bitter than that between the revelationists and the followers of Copernicus in the preceding century.
The age now well under way has been declared to be a "bankrupt century." Viewed merely from the standpoint
Character of the 18th century
of politics perhaps few periods have better merited such a title than the decades which followed the conclusion of the great wars. Yet an era which saw France push the bounds of European power through the Missouri valley, Russia secure the north Pacific coast of North America, Spain advancing to meet them both, and the English colonies doubling their population and their wealth, can scarcely be reckoned of no value to even political history. Still less can an era which boasts the names of Voltaire and Montesquieu, Fielding and Richardson, Handel and Bach, the Wesleys, Swedenborg, Linnæus and Buffon, with all their fellow-workers, be counted as nothing to the advancement of the race. Little as men had gained by the transfer of sovereignty from one royal house to another, in those realms beyond the reach of princeling and diplomat the world revealed, in this eventful period, the dawn of a new era of mankind.
There is a law of nature which decrees that the very success of any organism tends to bring about its extinction. The sedge at the lake-side gradually builds up soil by its decay and makes the foundation for other forms of vegetable life which replace it. The pine forest, by its too great crowding, dwarfs and stunts its own members. Excess of human population brings its attendant evils of dirt and pestilence, of degradation and starvation, unless relieved by artificial means. The frontiersman pushes forward into the wilderness until frontiersman and frontier alike disappear; the pioneer clears the land and makes it cultivable and habitable by increasing numbers--and there are no longer pioneers. The same is true in many fields, even in that of intellect, where it is strengthened by other forces; and it was peculiarly characteristic of eighteenth-century thought and literature.
The classical influence which had set Europe on a new stage of its progress during the Renaissance had followed the natural course of such movements. It had triumphed over scholasticism through its product, humanism. It had become the dominant element in European intellectual life; it had grown into a cult, with fixed rules and inflexible standards. It had become formalized, and it had begun to lose itself in blind alleys of repetition and imitation. In some degree the same tendency had overtaken society. The courtliness which had made such progress in the preceding century had become so formalized as to make human intercourse all but unendurable to the more intelligent or the more original members of society. Government and war took the same course. The one lost its energy in routine; the other turned soldiers into disciplined machines. Class distinctions hardened into caste; and the very virtues of organization for which the eighteenth century was distinguished threatened to stifle originality in those who submitted to its restrictions.
In no small degree this was true of literature. As the eighteenth century came on, the formal essay and still more formal verse replaced the more spontaneous fashions of the seventeenth century. The regular beat of rhymed pentameter and hexameter overpowered the freer measures of an earlier age. The artificial seemed about to conquer the natural. Had there not come a revolt against all this, the world might, as during the middle ages, have been reduced to formal sterility. But the spirit of individualism was too strong by this time to submit to mere authority. Revolt stirred on every hand; and originality, however discouraged by those who directed the business of life, continually burst the bonds of convention. The charm of formalism, whether in dress or gardens, in letters, art, and manners, which must always appeal to one side of human nature, did not, indeed, disappear. But beside or against it the tendency toward deviation from the prescribed path continually made way. Under the dominance of classicism, romanticism made its feeble beginning. The middle ages again found expression in literature and scholarship; to the court painters and their splendor of robes and trappings succeeded the pastoral painters, then the "natural" school. Against the artificial conventions, naturalism began to make head in every field. To the reign of reason succeeded the appeal to nature and the law of nature. In this the dictators of letters as well as the political absolutists found their most dangerous enemy. The first third of the century saw archæology revolutionize scholarship, and journalism revive litera- ture, while state and church felt the disintegrating influence of Montesquieu and Voltaire, and political economy altered under the assaults of the Physiocrats. And, especially in England, there began that movement which was to produce a revolution against the literary establishment.
"Men felt life's tide, the sweep and surge of it,
And craved a living voice, a natural tone.
. . . . . . .
From dewy pastures, uplands sweet with thyme
A virgin breeze freshened the jaded day,
It wafted Collins' lonely vesper-chime,
It breathed abroad the frugal note of Gray."
Thus, at the very moment when classicism, absolutism and formalism were most in evidence, from the ground which they themselves had so largely prepared, sprang new forms of thought and practice which were to challenge and finally to overthrow the older order.
Moreover the age of the miraculous was passing with that of mere authority, and nowhere was this more evident than in recording the history of the past. With the appearance of Voltaire Essai sur les Murs social history may be said to begin, and though the "catastrophic" school of historiography paralleled the development of that same principle in geology, it was accompanied and modified by the philosophic principles which began to supersede the old "providential" doctrine of human development. To this the great Italian thinker Vico added the idea of a "science" of history, of much revolutionary significance, and the encyclopedic genius of the French philosopher Bayle developed in his Dictionnaire historique et critique that school of minute, critical, intensive study upon which true scientific work must of necessity be based. To these succeeded in another generation Herder with his Reflections on the Philosophy of the History of Humanity, and the development of these social-scientific-philosophical schools found expression in a fresh burst of historical activity, of which at least one masterpiece had not been matched since the days of Thucydides.
[ Continue to VOL.2 - Ch.XXXII ]