Charles, as fickle as the wind, still remained undecided, and his anxieties preying upon his feeble frame, already exhausted by disease, caused him rapidly to decline. He was now confined to his chamber and his bed, and his death was hourly expected. He hated the French, and all his sympathies were with Austria. Some priests entered his chamber, professedly to perform the pompous and sepulchral service of the church of Rome for the dying. In this hour of languor, and in the prospect of immediate death, they assailed the imbecile monarch with all the terrors of superstition. They depicted the responsibility which he would incur should he entail on the kingdom the woes of a disputed succession; they assured him that he could not, without unpardonable guilt, reject the decision of the holy father of the Church; and growing more eager and excited, they denounced upon him the vengeance of Almighty God, if he did not bequeath the crown, now falling from his brow, to the Bourbons of France.

The dying, half-delirious king, appalled by the terrors of eternal damnation, yielded helplessly to their demands. A will was already prepared awaiting his signature. With a hand trembling in death, the king attached to it his name; but as he did so, he burst into tears, exclaiming, "I am already nothing." It was supposed that he could then survive but a few hours. Contrary to all expectation he revived, and expressed the keenest indignation and anguish that he had been thus beguiled to decide against Austria, and in favor of France. He even sent a courier to the emperor, announcing his determination to decide in favor of the Austrian claimant. The flickering flame of life, thus revived for a moment, glimmered again in the socket and expired. The wretched king died the 1st of November, 1699, in the fortieth year of his age, and the thirty-sixth of his reign.

On the day of his death a council of State was convened, and the will, the very existence of which was generally unknown, was read. It declared the Dauphin of France, son of the Spanish princess Maria Theresa, to be the successor to all the Spanish dominions; and required all subjects and vassals of Spain to acknowledge him. The Austrian party were astounded at this revelation. The French party were prepared to receive it without any surprise. The son of Maria Theresa was dead, and the crown consequently passed to her grandson Philip. Louis XIV. immediately acknowledged his title, when he was proclaimed king, and took quiet possession of the throne of Spain on the 24th of November, 1700, as Philip V.

It was by such fraud that the Bourbons of France attained the succession to the Spanish crown; a fraud as palpable as was ever committed; for Maria Theresa had renounced all her rights to the throne; this renunciation had been confirmed by the will of her father Philip IV., sanctioned by the Cortes of Spain, and solemnly ratified by her husband, Louis XIV. Such is "legitimacy—the divine right of kings." All the great powers of Europe, excepting the emperor, promptly acknowledged the title of Philip V.

Leopold, enraged beyond measure, dispatched envoys to rouse the empire, and made the most formidable preparations for war. A force of eighty thousand men was soon assembled. The war commenced in Italy. Leopold sent down his German troops through the defiles of the Tyrol, and, in the valley of the Adige, they encountered the combined armies of France, Spain and Italy. Prince Eugene, who had already acquired great renown in the wars against the Turks, though by birth a French noble, had long been in the Austrian service, and led the Austrian troops. William, of England, jealous of the encroachments of Louis XIV., and leading with him the States of Holland, formed an alliance with Austria. This was pretty equally dividing the military power of Europe, and a war of course ensued, almost unparalleled in its sanguinary ferocity. The English nation supported the monarch; the House of Lords, in an address to the king, declared that "his majesty, his subjects and his allies, could never be secure till the house of Austria should be restored to its rights, and the invader of the Spanish monarchy brought to reason." Forty thousand sailors and forty thousand land troops were promptly voted for the war.

William died on the 16th of March, in consequence of a fall from his horse, and was succeeded by Anne, daughter of James II. She was, however, but nominally the sovereign. The infamously renowned Duke of Marlborough became the real monarch, and with great skill and energy prosecuted the eleven years' war which ensued, which is known in history as the War of the Spanish Succession. For many months the conflict raged with the usual fluctuations, the Austrian forces being commanded on the Rhine by the Duke of Marlborough, and in Italy by Prince Eugene. Portugal soon joined the Austrian alliance, and Philip V. and the French becoming unpopular in Spain, a small party rose there, advocating the claims of the house of Austria. Thus supported, Leopold, at Vienna, declared his son Charles King of Spain, and crowned him as such in Vienna. By the aid of the English fleet he passed from Holland to England, and thence to Lisbon, where a powerful army was assembled to invade Spain, wrest the crown from Philip, and place it upon the brow of Charles III.

And now Leopold began to reap the bitter consequences of his atrocious conduct in Hungary. The Hungarian nobles embraced this opportunity, when the imperial armies were fully engaged, to rise in a new and formidable invasion. Francis Ragotsky, a Transylvanian prince, led in the heroic enterprise. He was of one of the noblest and wealthiest families of the realm, and was goaded to action by the bitterest wrongs. His grandfather and uncle had been beheaded; his father robbed of his property and his rank; his cousin doomed to perpetual imprisonment; his father-in-law proscribed, and his mother driven into exile. The French court immediately opened a secret correspondence with Ragotsky, promising him large supplies of men and money, and encouraging him with hopes of the cooeperation of the Turks. Ragotsky secretly assembled a band of determined followers, in the savage solitudes of the Carpathian mountains, and suddenly descended into the plains of Hungary, at the head of his wild followers, calling upon his countrymen to rise and shake off the yoke of the detested Austrian. Adherents rapidly gathered around his standard; several fortresses fell into his hands, and he soon found himself at the head of twenty thousand well armed troops. The flame of insurrection spread, with electric rapidity, through all Hungary and Transylvania.

The tyrant Leopold, as he heard these unexpected tidings, was struck with consternation. He sent all the troops he could collect to oppose the patriots, but they could make no impression upon an indignant nation in arms. He then, in his panic, attempted negotiation. But the Hungarians demanded terms both reasonable and honorable, and to neither of these could the emperor possibly submit. They required that the monarchy should no longer be hereditary, but elective, according to immemorial usage; that the Hungarians should have the right to resist illegal power without the charge of treason; that foreign officers and garrisons should be removed from the kingdom; that the Protestants should be reestablished in the free exercise of their religion, and that their confiscated estates should be restored. The despot could not listen for one moment to requirements so just; and appalled by the advance of the patriots toward Vienna, he recalled the troops from Italy.

About the same time the Duke of Bavaria, disgusted with the arrogance and the despotism of Leopold, renounced allegiance to the emperor, entered into an alliance with the French, and at the head of forty thousand troops, French and Bavarians, commenced the invasion of Austria from the west. Both Eugene and Marlborough hastened to the rescue of the emperor. Combining their forces, with awful slaughter they mowed down the French and Bavarians at Blenheim, and then overran all Bavaria. The elector fled with the mutilated remnants of his army to France. The conquerors seized all the fortresses, all the guns and ammunition; disbanded the Bavarian troops, took possession of the revenues of the kingdom, and assigned to the heart-broken wife of the duke a humble residence in the dismantled capital of the duchy.

The signal victory of Blenheim enabled Leopold to concentrate his energies upon Hungary. It was now winter, and the belligerents, during these stormy months, were active in making preparations for the campaign of the spring. But Leopold's hour was now tolled. That summons came which prince and peasant must alike obey, and the emperor, after a few months of languor and pain, on the 5th of May, 1705, passed away to that tribunal where each must answer for every deed done in the body. He was sixty-five years of age, and had occupied the throne forty-six years. This is the longest reign recorded in the Austrian annals, excepting that of Frederic III.

The reign of Leopold was eventful and woeful. It was almost one continued scene of carnage. In his character there was a singular blending of the good and the bad. In what is usually called moral character he was irreproachable. He was a faithful husband, a kind father, and had no taste for any sensual pleasures. In his natural disposition he was melancholy, and so exceedingly reserved, that he lived in his palace almost the life of a recluse. Though he was called the most learned prince of his age, a Jesuitical education had so poisoned and debauched his mind, that while perpetrating the most grievous crimes of perfidy and cruelty, he seemed sincerely to feel that he was doing God service. His persecution of the Protestants was persistent, relentless and horrible; while at the same time he was scrupulous in his devotions, never allowing the cares of business to interfere with the prescribed duties of the Church. The Church, the human church of popes, cardinals, bishops and priests, was his guide, not the divine Bible. Hence his darkness of mind and his crimes. Pope Innocent XI. deemed him worthy of canonization. But an indignant world must in justice inscribe upon his tomb, "Tyrant and Persecutor."

He was three times married; first, to Margaret, daughter of Philip IV. of Spain; again, to Claudia, daughter of Ferdinand of Tyrol; and a third time, to Eleonora, daughter of Philip, Elector Palatine. The character and history of his third wife are peculiarly illustrative of the kind of religion inculcated in that day, and of the beautiful spirit of piety often exemplified in the midst of melancholy errors.

In the castle of her father, Eleonora was taught, by priests and nuns, that God was only acceptably worshiped by self-sacrifice and mortification. The devout child longed for the love of God more than for any thing else. Guided by the teachings of those who, however sincere, certainly misunderstood the spirit of the gospel, she deprived herself of every innocent gratification, and practiced upon her fragile frame all the severities of an anchorite. She had been taught that celibacy was a virtue peculiarly acceptable to God, and resolutely declined all solicitations for her hand.

The emperor, after the death of his first wife, sought Eleonora as his bride. It was the most brilliant match Europe could offer. Eleonora, from religious scruples, rejected the offer, notwithstanding all the importunities of her parents, who could not feel reconciled to the loss of so splendid an alliance. The devout maiden, in the conflict, exposed herself, bonnet-less, to sun and wind, that she might render herself unattractive, tanned, sun burnt, and freckled, so that the emperor might not desire her. She succeeded in repelling the suit, and the emperor married Claudia of the Tyrol. The court of the Elector Palatine was brilliant in opulence and gayety. Eleonora was compelled to mingle with the festive throng in the scenes of pomp and splendor; but her thoughts, her affections, were elsewhere, and all the vanities of princely life had no influence in leading her heart from God. She passed several hours, every day, in devotional reading and prayer. She kept a very careful register of her thoughts and actions, scrutinizing and condemning with unsparing severity every questionable emotion. Every sick bed of the poor peasants around, she visited with sympathy and as a tender nurse. She groped her way into the glooms of prison dungeons to convey solace to the prisoner. She wrought ornaments for the Church, and toiled, even to weariness and exhaustion, in making garments for the poor.

Claudia in three years died, and the emperor again was left a widower. Again he applied for the hand of Eleonora. Her spiritual advisers now urged that it was clearly the will of God that she should fill the first throne of the universe, as the patroness and protectress of the Catholic church. For such an object she would have been willing to sweep the streets or to die in a dungeon. Yielding to these persuasions she married the emperor, and was conveyed, as in a triumphal march, to the gorgeous palaces of Vienna. But her character and her mode of life were not changed. Though she sat at the imperial table, which was loaded with every conceivable luxury, she condemned herself to fare as humble and abstemious as could be found in the hut of the most impoverished peasant. It was needful for her at times to appear in the rich garb of an empress, but to prevent any possible indulgence of pride, she had her bracelets and jewelry so arranged with sharp brads as to keep her in continued suffering by the laceration of the flesh.

She was, notwithstanding these austerities, which she practiced with the utmost secrecy, indefatigable in the discharge of her duties as a wife and an empress. She often attended the opera with the emperor, but always took with her the Psalms of David, bound to resemble the books of the performance, and while the tragic or the comic scenes of the stage were transpiring before her, she was studying the devout lyrics of the Psalmist of Israel. She translated all the Psalms into German verse; and also translated from the French, and had printed for the benefit of her subjects, a devotional work entitled, "Pious Reflections for every Day of the Month." During the last sickness of her husband she watched with unwearied assiduity at his bed-side, shrinking from no amount of exhaustion or toil, She survived her husband fifteen years, devoting all this time to austerities, self-mortification and deeds of charity. She died in 1720; and at her express request was buried without any parade, and with no other inscription upon her tomb than—

ELEONORA,

A POOR SINNER,

Died, January 17, 1720.

Joseph, the eldest son of Leopold, was twenty-five years of age when, by the death of his father, he was called to the throne as both king and emperor. He immediately and cordially cooeperated with the alliance his father had formed, and pressed the war against France, Spain and Italy. Louis XIV. was not a man, however, to be disheartened by disaster. Though thousands of his choicest troops had found a grave at Blenheim, he immediately collected another army of one hundred and sixty thousand men, and pushed them forward to the seat of war on the Rhine and the Danube. Marlborough and Eugene led Austrian forces to the field still more powerful. The whole summer was spent in marches, countermarches and bloody battles on both sides of the Rhine. Winter came, and its storms and snows drove the exhausted, bleeding combatants from the bleak plains to shelter and the fireside. All Europe, through the winter months, resounded with preparations for another campaign. There was hardly a petty prince on the continent who was not drawn into the strife—to decide whether Philip of Bourbon or Charles of Hapsburg, was entitled by hereditary descent to the throne of Spain.

And now suddenly Charles XII. of Sweden burst in upon the scene, like a meteor amidst the stars of midnight. A more bloody apparition never emerged from the sulphureous canopy of war. Having perfect contempt for all enervating pleasures, with an iron frame and the abstemious habits of a Spartan, he rushed through a career which has excited the wonder of the world. He joined the Austrian party; struck down Denmark at a blow; penetrated Russia in mid-winter, driving the Russian troops before him as dogs scatter wolves; pressed on triumphantly to Poland, through an interminable series of battles; drove the king from the country, and placed a new sovereign of his own selection upon the throne; and then, proudly assuming to hold the balance between the rival powers of France and Austria, made demands of Joseph I., as if the emperor were but the vassal of the King of Sweden. France and Austria were alike anxious to gain the cooeperation of this energetic arm.

Early in May, 1706, the armies of Austria and France, each about seventy thousand strong, met in the Netherlands. Marlborough led the allied Austrian troops; the Duke of Bavaria was in command of the French. The French were again routed, almost as disastrously as at Blenheim, losing thirteen thousand men and fifty pieces of artillery. On the Rhine and in Italy the French arms were also in disgrace. Throughout the summer battle succeeded battle, and siege followed siege. When the snows of another winter whitened the plains of Europe, the armies again retired to winter quarters, the Austrian party having made very decided progress as the result of the campaign. Marlborough was in possession of most of the Netherlands, and was threatening France with invasion. Eugene had driven the French out of Italy, and had brought many of the Italian provinces under the dominion of Austria.

In Spain, also, the warfare was fiercely raging. Charles III., who had been crowned in Vienna King of Spain, and who, as we have mentioned, had been conveyed to Lisbon by a British fleet, joined by the King of Portugal, and at the head of an allied army, marched towards the frontiers of Spain. The Spaniards, though they disliked the French, hated virulently the English and the Dutch, both of whom they considered heretics. Their national pride was roused in seeing England, Holland and Portugal marching upon them to place over Spain an Austrian king. The populace rose, and after a few sanguinary conflicts drove the invaders from their borders. December's storms separated the two armies, compelling them to seek winter quarters, with only the frontier line between them. It was in one of the campaigns of this war, in 1704, that the English took the rock of Gibraltar, which they have held from that day till this.

The British people began to remonstrate bitterly against this boundless expenditure of blood and treasure merely to remove a Bourbon prince, and place a Hapsburg prince upon the throne of Spain. Both were alike despotic in character, and Europe had as much to fear from the aggressions of the house of Austria as from the ambition of the King of France. The Emperor Joseph was very apprehensive that the English court might be induced to withdraw from the alliance, and fearing that they might sacrifice, as the price of accommodation, his conquests in Italy, he privately concluded with France a treaty of neutrality for Italy. This secured to him what he had already acquired there, and saved France and Spain from the danger of losing any more Italian States.

Though the allies were indignant, and remonstrated against this transaction, they did not see fit to abandon the war. Immense preparations were made to invade France from the Netherlands and from Piedmont, in the opening of the spring of 1707. Both efforts were only successful in spreading far and wide conflagration and blood. The invaders were driven from the kingdom with heavy loss. The campaign in Spain, this year, was also exceedingly disastrous to the Austrian arms. The heterogeneous army of Charles III., composed of Germans, English, Dutch, Portuguese, and a few Spanish refugees, were routed, and with the loss of thirteen thousand men were driven from the kingdom. Joseph, however, who stood in great dread of so terrible an enemy as Charles XII., succeeded in purchasing his neutrality, and this fiery warrior marched off with his battalions, forty-three thousand strong, to drive Peter I. from the throne of Russia.

Joseph I., with exhausted resources, and embarrassed by the claims of so wide-spread a war, was able to do but little for the subjugation of Hungary. As the campaign of 1708 opened, two immense armies, each about eighty thousand strong, were maneuvering near Brussels. After a long series of marches and combinations a general engagement ensued, in which the Austrian party, under Marlborough and Eugene, were decisively triumphant. The French were routed with the loss of fifteen thousand in killed, wounded and prisoners. During the whole summer the war raged throughout the Low Countries with unabated violence. In Spain, Austria was not able to make any progress against Philip and his forces.

Another winter came, and again the wearied combatants, all of whom had received about as many blows as they had given, sought repose. The winter was passed in fruitless negotiations, and as soon as the buds of another spring began to swell, the thunders of war were again pealing over nearly all the hills and valleys of Europe. The Austrian party had resolved, by a gigantic effort, to send an army of one hundred thousand men to the gates of Paris, there to dictate terms to the French monarch. On the 11th of September, 1709, the Austrian force, eighty thousand strong, with eighty pieces of cannon, encountered the French, seventy thousand in number, with eighty pieces of cannon, on the field of Malplaquet. The bloodiest battle of the Spanish succession was then fought. The Austrian party, guided by Marlborough and Eugene, justly claimed the victory, as they held the field. But they lost twenty thousand in killed and wounded, and took neither prisoners nor guns. The loss of the French was but ten thousand. All this slaughter seemed to be accomplishing nothing. Philip still stood firm upon the Spanish throne, and Charles could scarcely gain the slightest foothold in the kingdom which he claimed. On the side of the Rhine and of Italy, though blood flowed like water, nothing was accomplished; the plan of invading France had totally failed, and again the combatants were compelled to retire to winter quarters.

For nine years this bloody war had now desolated Europe. It is not easy to defend the cause of Austria and her allies in this cruel conflict. The Spaniards undeniably preferred Philip as their king. Louis XIV. had repeatedly expressed his readiness to withdraw entirely from the conflict. But the Austrian allies demanded that he should either by force or persuasion remove Philip from Spain, and place the kingdom in the hands of the Austrian prince. But Philip was now an independent sovereign who for ten years had occupied the throne. He was resolved not to abdicate, and his subjects were resolved to support him. Louis XIV. said that he could not wage warfare against his own grandson. The wretched old monarch, now feeble, childless, and woe crushed, whose soul was already crimsoned with the blood of countless thousands, was so dispirited by defeat, and so weary of the war, that though he still refused to send his armies against his grandson, he even offered to pay a monthly subsidy of two hundred thousand dollars (one million livres) to the allied Austrian party, to be employed in the expulsion of Philip, if they would cease to make war upon him. Even to these terms, after blood had been flowing in torrents for ten years, Austria, England and Holland would not accede. "If I must fight either Austria and her allies," said Louis XIV., "or the Spaniards, led by their king, my own grandson, I prefer to fight the Austrians."

The returning sun of the summer of 1710, found the hostile armies again in the field. The allies of Austria, early in April, hoping to surprise the French, assembled, ninety thousand in number, on the Flemish frontiers of France, trusting that by an unexpected attack they might break down the fortresses which had hitherto impeded their way. But the French were on the alert to resist them, and the whole summer was again expended in fruitless battles. These fierce conflicts so concentrated the energies of war in the Netherlands, that but little was attempted in the way of invading Spain. The Spanish nobles rallied around Philip, melted their plate to replenish his treasury, and led their vassals to fight his battles. The ecclesiastics, as a body, supported his cause. Philip was a zealous Catholic, and the priests considered him as the defender of the Church, while they had no confidence in Charles of Austria, whose cause was advocated by heretical England and Holland.

Charles III. was now in Catalonia, on the Mediterranean coast of Spain. He had landed at Barcelona, with a strong force of English and Germans. He was a man of but little character, and his military operations were conducted entirely by the English general Stanhope and the German general Staremberg. The English general was haughty and domineering; the German proud and stubborn. They were in a continued quarrel contesting the preeminence. The two rival monarchs, with forces about equal, met in Catalonia a few miles from Saragossa, on the 24th of July, 1710. Though the inefficient Charles was very reluctant to hazard a battle, the generals insisted upon it. The Spaniards were speedily and totally routed. Philip fled with a small body-guard to Lerida. His array was thoroughly dispersed. The conquerors pressed on toward Madrid, crossed the Ebro at Saragossa, where they again encountered, but a short distance from the city, an army strongly posted upon some heights. Philip was already there. The conflict was short but bloody, and the generals of Charles were again victorious. Philip, with a disheartened remnant of his troops, retreated to Madrid. The generals dragged the timid and reluctant Charles on to Madrid, where they arrived on the 28th of September. There was no force at the capital to oppose them. They were received, however, by the citizens of the metropolis as foreign conquerors. Charles rode through the deserted streets, meeting only with sullen silence. A few who were hired to shout, were pelted, by the populace, with mud, as traitors to their lawful king. None flocked to his standard. Nobles, clergy, populace, all alike stood aloof from him. Charles and his generals were embarrassed and perplexed. They could not compel the nation to receive the Austrian king.

Philip, in the meantime, who had much energy and popularity of character, was rapidly retrieving his losses, and troops were flocking to his camp from all parts of Spain. He established his court at Yalladolid, about one hundred and fifty miles north-east from Madrid. His troops, dispersed by the two disastrous battles, were reassembled at Lerida. The peasants rose in large numbers and joined them, and cut off all communication between Charles at Madrid and his ships at Barcelona. The Spanish grandees sent urgent messages to France for succors. General Yendome, at the head of three thousand horse, swept through the defiles of the Pyrenees, and, with exultant music and waving banners, joined Philip at Valladolid. Universal enthusiasm was excited. Soon thirty thousand infantry entered the camp, and then took positions on the Tagus, where they could cut off any reinforcements which might attempt to march from Portugal to aid the invaders.

Charles was apparently in a desperate situation. Famine and consequent sickness were in his camp. His army was daily dwindling away. He was emphatically in an enemy's country. Not a soldier could stray from the ranks without danger of assassination. He had taken Madrid, and Madrid was his prison.



CHAPTER XXII.

JOSEPH I. AND CHARLES VI.

From 1710 to 1717.

Perplexities in Madrid.—Flight of Charles.—Retreat of the Austrian Army.—Stanhope's Division Cut Off.—Capture of Stanhope.—Staremberg Assailed.—Retreat to Barcelona.—Attempt to Pacify Hungary.—The Hungarian Diet.—Baronial Crowning of Kagotsky.—Renewal of the Hungarian War.—Enterprise of Herbeville.—The Hungarians Crushed.—Lenity of Joseph.—Death of Joseph.—Accession of Charles VI.—His Career in Spain.—Capture of Barcelona.—The Siege.—The Rescue.—Character of Charles.—Cloisters of Montserrat.—Increased Efforts for the Spanish Crown.—Charles Crowned Emperor of Austria and Hungary.—Bohemia.—Deplorable Condition of Louis XIV.

Generals Stanhope and Staremberg, who managed the affairs of Charles, with but little respect for his judgment, and none for his administrative qualities, were in great perplexity respecting the course to be pursued. Some recommended the transference of the court from Madrid to Saragossa, where they would be nearer to their supplies. Others urged removal to Barcelona, where they would be under the protection of the British fleet. It was necessary to watch over Charles with the utmost care, as he was in constant danger of assassination. While in this state of uncertainty, tidings reached Madrid that the Duke of Noailles was on the march, with fifteen thousand men, to cut off the retreat of the Austrians, and at the same time Philip was advancing with a powerful army from Valladolid. This intelligence rendered instant action necessary. The Austrian party precipitately evacuated Madrid, followed by the execrations of the people. As soon as the last battalions had left the city, the ringing of bells, the firing of artillery, and the shouts of the people, announced the popular exultation in view of the departure of Charles, and the cordial greeting they were giving to his rival Philip. The complications of politics are very curious. The British government was here, through years of war and blood, endeavoring to drive from his throne the acknowledged King of Spain. In less than a hundred years we find this same government again deluging Europe in blood, to reseat upon the throne the miserable Ferdinand, the lineal descendant of this Bourbon prince.

Charles put spurs to his horse, and accompanied by a glittering cavalcade of two thousand cavaliers, galloped over the mountains to Barcelona. His army, under the leadership of his efficient English general, followed rapidly but cautiously on, hoping to press through the defiles of the mountains which separated them from Arragon before their passage could be obstructed by the foe. The troops were chagrined and dispirited; the generals in that state of ill humor which want of success generally engenders. The roads were bad, provisions scarce, the inhabitants of the country bitterly hostile. It was the middle of November, and cold blasts swept through the mountains. Staremberg led the van, and Stanhope, with four thousand English troops, occupied the post of peril in a retreat, the rear. As the people of the country would furnish them with no supplies, the pillage of towns and villages became a necessity; but it none the less added to the exasperation of the Spaniards.

A hurried march of about eighty miles brought the troops to the banks of the Tagus. As General Staremberg, at the head of the advance guard, pressed eagerly on, he left Stanhope at quite a distance behind. They encamped for a night, the advance at Cifuentes, the rear at Brihuega. The hostility of the natives was such that almost all communication was cut off between the two sections of the army. In the confusion of the hasty retreat, and as no enemy was apprehended in that portion of the way, the importance of hourly communication was forgotten. In the morning, as Stanhope put his troops again in motion, he was surprised and alarmed in seeing upon the hills before him the banners of an opposing host, far outnumbering his own, and strongly intrenched. The Earl of Stanhope at once appreciated the nearly utter hopelessness of his position. He was cut off from the rest of the army, had no artillery, but little ammunition, and was almost entirely destitute of provision. Still he scorned to surrender. He threw his troops behind a stone wall, and vigorously commenced fortifying his position, hoping to be able to hold out until Staremberg, hearing of his situation, should come to his release.

During the whole day he beat back the assaults of the Spanish army. In the meantime Staremberg was pressing on to Barcelona. In the evening of that day he heard of the peril of his rear guard. His troops were exhausted; the night of pitchy blackness, and the miry roads, cut to pieces by the heavy artillery and baggage wagons, were horrible. Through the night he made preparations to turn back to aid his beleaguered friends. It was, however, midday before he could collect his scattered troops, from their straggling march, and commence retracing his steps. In a few hours the low sun of a November day sunk below the hills. The troops, overtaken by darkness, stumbling through the gloom, and apprehensive of a midnight attack, rested upon their arms, waiting, through the weary hours, for the dawn of the morning. The second day came, and the weary troops toiled through the mire, while Stanhope, from behind his slight parapet, baffled all the efforts of his foes.

The third morning dawned. Staremberg was within some fifteen miles of Briehuga. Stanhope had now exhausted all his ammunition. The inhabitants of the town rose against him and attacked him in the rear, while the foe pressed him in front. A large number of his troops had already fallen, and no longer resistance was possible. Stanhope and the remnant of his band were taken captive and conducted into the town of Briehuga. Staremberg, unaware of the surrender, pushed on until he came within a league of Briehuga. Anxiously he threw up signals, but could obtain no response. His fears of the worst were soon confirmed by seeing the Spanish army, in brilliant battle array, approaching to assail him. Philip himself was there to animate them by his presence; and the heroic French general, the Duke of Vendome, a descendant of Henry IV., led the charging columns.

Though the troops of Staremberg were inferior in number to those of the Spanish monarch, and greatly fatigued by their forced marches, a retreat at that moment, in the face of so active an enemy, was not to be thought of. The battle immediately commenced, with its rushing squadrons and its thunder peals. The Spaniards, sanguine of success, and inspired with the intensest hatred of their heretical foes, charged with irresistible fury. The left wing of Staremberg was speedily cut to pieces, and the baggage taken. The center and the right maintained their ground until night came to their protection. Staremberg's army was now reduced to nine thousand. His horses were either slain or worn out by fatigue. He was consequently compelled to abandon all his artillery and most of his baggage, as he again commenced a rapid retreat towards Barcelona. The enemy pressed him every step of the way. But with great heroism and military skill he baffled their endeavors to destroy him, and after one of the most arduous marches on record, reached Barcelona with a feeble remnant of but seven thousand men, ragged, emaciated and bleeding. Behind the walls of this fortified city, and protected by the fleet of England, they found repose.

We must now turn back a few years, to trace the progress of events in Hungary and Austria. Joseph, the emperor, had sufficient intelligence to understand that the rebellious and anarchical state of Hungary was owing to the cruelty and intolerance of his father. He saw, also, that there could be no hope of permanent tranquillity but in paying some respect to the aspirations for civil and religious liberty. The troubles in Hungary distracted his attention, exhausted the energies of his troops, and deprived him of a large portion of his political and military power. He now resolved to try the effect of concessions. The opportunity was propitious, as he could throw upon his father the blame of all past decrees. He accordingly sent a messenger to the Hungarian nobles with the declaration that during his father's lifetime he had never interfered in the government, and that consequently he was in no respect responsible for the persecution of which they complained. And he promised, on the honor of a king, that instead of attempting the enforcement of those rigorous decrees, he would faithfully fulfill all the articles he had sworn to observe at his coronation; and that he accordingly summoned a diet for the redress of their grievances and the confirmation of all their ancient privileges. As proof of his sincerity, he dismissed those ministers who had advised the intolerant decrees enacted by Leopold, and appointed in their place men of more mild and lenient character.

But the Hungarians, deeming themselves now in a position to enforce their claims by the energies of their army, feared to trust to the promises of a court so often perjured. Without openly renouncing allegiance to Austria, and declaring independence, they, through Ragotsky, summoned a diet to meet at Stetzim, where their session would be protected by the Hungarian army. There was a large gathering of all the first nobility of the realm. A spacious tent was spread for the imposing assembly, and the army encircled it as with a sheltering embrace. The session was opened with prayer and the administration of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. Will the time ever come when the members of the United States Congress will meet as Christian brethren, at the table of our Saviour, as they commence their annual deliberations for the welfare of this republic? The nobles formed a confederacy for the government of the country. The legislative power was committed to a senate of twenty-four nobles. Ragotsky was chosen military chief, with the title of Dux, or leader. Four of the most illustrious nobles raised Ragotsky upon a buckler on their shoulders, when he took the oath of fidelity to the government thus provisionally established, and then administered the oath to his confederates. They all bound themselves solemnly not to conclude any peace with the emperor, until their ancient rights, both civil and religious, were fully restored.

In reply to the advances made by the emperor, they returned the very reasonable and moderate demands that their chief, Ragotsky, should be reinstated in his ancestral realms of Transylvania, that the claim of hereditary sovereignty should be relinquished, and that there should be the restoration of those ancient civil and religious immunities of which Leopold had defrauded them. Upon these conditions they promised to recognize Joseph as their sovereign during his lifetime; claiming at his death their time-honored right of choosing his successor. Joseph would not listen for one moment to these terms, and the war was renewed with fury.

The Hungarian patriots had seventy-five thousand men under arms. The spirit of the whole nation was with them, and the Austrian troops were driven from almost every fortress in the kingdom. The affairs of Joseph seemed to be almost desperate, his armies struggling against overpowering foes all over Europe, from the remotest borders of Transylvania to the frontiers of Portugal. The vicissitudes of war are proverbial. An energetic, sagacious general, Herbeville, with great military sagacity, and aided by a peculiar series of fortunate events, marched down the valley of the Danube to Buda; crossed the stream to Pesth; pushed boldly on through the heart of Hungary to Great Waradin, forced the defiles of the mountains, and entered Transylvania. Through a series of brilliant victories he took fortress after fortress, until he subjugated the whole of Transylvania, and brought it again into subjection to the Austrian crown. This was in November, 1705.

But the Hungarians, instead of being intimidated by the success of the imperial arms, summoned another diet. It was held in the open field in accordance with ancient custom, and was thronged by thousands from all parts of the kingdom. With great enthusiasm and public acclaim the resolution was passed that Joseph was a tyrant and a usurper, animated by the hereditary despotism of the Austrian family. This truthful utterance roused anew the ire of the emperor. He resolved upon a desperate effort to bring Hungary into subjection. Leaving his English and Dutch allies to meet the brunt of the battle on the Rhine and in the Netherlands, he recalled his best troops, and made forced levies in Austria until he had created an army sufficiently strong, as he thought, to sweep down all opposition. These troops he placed under the most experienced generals, and sent them into Hungary in the summer of 1708. France, weakened by repeated defeats, could send the Hungarians no aid, and the imperial troops, through bloody battles, victoriously traversed the kingdom. Everywhere the Hungarians were routed and dispersed, until no semblance of an army was left to oppose the victors. It seems that life in those days, to the masses of the people, swept incessantly by these fiery surges of war, could only have been a scene, from the cradle to the grave, of blood and agony. For two years this dismal storm of battle howled over all the Hungarian plains, and then the kingdom, like a victim exhausted, prostrate and bleeding, was taken captive and firmly bound.

Ragotsky, denounced with the penalty of high treason, escaped to Poland. The emperor, anxious no longer to exasperate, proposed measures of unusual moderation. He assembled a convention; promised a general amnesty for all political offenses, the restitution of confiscated property, the liberation of prisoners, and the confirmation of all the rights which he had promised at his coronation. Some important points were not touched upon; others were passed over in vague and general terms. The Hungarians, helpless as a babe, had nothing to do but to submit, whatever the terms might be. They were surprised at the unprecedented lenity of the conqueror, and the treaty of peace and subjection was signed in January, 1711.

In three months after the signing of this treaty, Joseph I. died of the small-pox, in his palace of Vienna. He was but thirty-three years of age. For a sovereign educated from the cradle to despotic rule, and instructed by one of the most bigoted of fathers, he was an unusually good man, and must be regarded as one of the best sovereigns who have swayed the scepter of Austrian despotism.

The law of hereditary descent is frequently involved in great embarrassment. Leopold, to obviate disputes which he foresaw were likely to arise, had assigned Hungary, Bohemia, and his other hereditary estates, to Joseph. To Charles he had assigned the vast Spanish inheritance. In case Joseph should die without male issue he had decreed that the crown of the Austrian dominions should also pass to Charles. In case Charles should also die without issue male, the crown should then revert to the daughters of Joseph in preference to those of Charles. Joseph left no son. He had two daughters, the eldest of whom was but twelve years of age. Charles, who was now in Barcelona, claiming the crown of Spain as Charles III., had no Spanish blood in his veins. He was the son of Leopold, and of his third wife, the devout and lovely Eleonora, daughter of the Elector Palatine. He was now but twenty-eight years of age. For ten years he had been struggling for the crown which his father Leopold had claimed, as succeeding to the rights of his first wife Margaret, daughter of Philip IV.

Charles was a genteel, accomplished young man of eighteen when he left his father's palace at Vienna, for England, where a British fleet was to convey him to Portugal, and, by the energy of its fleet and army, place him upon the throne of Spain. He was received at Portsmouth in England, when he landed from Holland, with much parade, and was conducted by the Dukes of Maryborough and Somerset to Windsor castle, where he had an interview with Queen Anne. His appearance at that time is thus described by his partial chroniclers:

"The court was very splendid and much thronged. The queen's behavior toward him was very noble and obliging. The young king charmed all who were present. He had a gravity beyond his age, tempered with much modesty. His behavior in all points was so exact, that there was not a circumstance in his whole deportment which was liable to censure. He paid an extraordinary respect to the queen, and yet maintained a due greatness in it. He had the art of seeming well pleased with every thing, without so much as smiling once all the while he was at court, which was only three days. He spoke but little, and all he said was judicious and obliging."

Young Charles was engaged to the daughter of the King of Portugal; but the young lady died just before his arrival at Lisbon. As he had never seen the infanta, his grief could not have been very deep, however great his disappointment might have been. He made several attempts to penetrate Spain by the Portuguese frontier, but being repelled in every effort, by the troops of Philip, he again embarked, and with twelve thousand troops in an English fleet, sailed around the Peninsula, entered the Mediterranean and landed on the shores of Catalonia, where he had been led to believe that the inhabitants in a body would rally around him. But he was bitterly disappointed. The Earl of Peterborough, who was intrusted with the command of this expedition, in a letter home gave free utterance to his disappointment and chagrin.

"Instead of ten thousand men, and in arms," he wrote, "to cover our landing and strengthen our camp, we found only so many higglers and sutlers flocking into it. Instead of finding Barcelona in a weak condition, and ready to surrender upon the first appearance of our troops, we found a strong garrison to oppose us, and a hostile army almost equal to our own."

In this dilemma a council of war was held, and though many were in favor of abandoning the enterprise and returning to Portugal, it was at last determined, through the urgency of Charles, to remain and lay siege to the city. Barcelona, the capital of Catalonia, was then the principal sea-port of the Spanish peninsula on the Mediterranean. It contained a population of about one hundred and forty thousand. It was strongly fortified. West of the city there was a mountain called Montjoy, upon which there was a strong fort which commanded the harbor and the town. After a short siege this fort was taken by storm, and the city was then forced to surrender.

Philip soon advanced with an army of French and Spaniards to retake the city. The English fleet had retired. Twenty-eight French ships of war blockaded the harbor, which they could not enter, as it was commanded by the guns of Montjoy. The siege was very desperate both in the assault and the defense. The young king, Charles, was in the most imminent danger of falling into the bands of his foes. There was no possibility of escape, and it seemed inevitable that the city must either surrender, or be taken by storm. The French and Spanish army numbered twenty thousand men. They first attempted to storm Montjoy, but were repulsed with great slaughter. They then besieged it, and by regular approaches compelled its capitulation in three weeks.

This noble resistance enabled the troops in the city greatly to multiply and increase their defenses. They thus succeeded in protracting the siege of the town five weeks longer. Every day the beleagured troops from the crumbling ramparts watched the blue expanse of the Mediterranean, hoping to see the sails of an English fleet coming to their rescue. Two breaches were already effected in the walls. The garrison, reduced to two thousand, and exhausted by superhuman exertions by day and by night, were almost in the last stages of despair, when, in the distant horizon, the long looked-for fleet appeared. The French ships, by no means able to cope with such a force, spread their sails, and sought safety in flight.

The English fleet, amounting to fifty sail of the line, and transporting a large number of land troops, triumphantly entered the harbor on the 3rd of May, 1708. The fresh soldiers were speedily landed, and marched to the ramparts and the breaches. This strong reinforcement annihilated the hopes of the besiegers. Apprehensive of an immediate sally, they retreated with such precipitation that they left behind them in the hospitals their sick and wounded; they also abandoned their heavy artillery, and an immense quantity of military stores.

Whatever energy Charles might have shown during the siege, all seemed now to evaporate. When the shot of the foe were crumbling the walls of Barcelona, he was in danger of the terrible doom of being taken a captive, which would have been the annihilation of all his hopes. Despair nerved him to effort. But now his person was no longer in danger; and his natural inefficiency and dilatoriness returned. Notwithstanding the urgent intreaties of the Earl of Peterborough to pursue the foe, he insisted upon first making a pilgrimage to the shrine of the holy Virgin at Montserrat, twenty-four miles from Barcelona.

This curious monastery consists of but a succession of cloisters or hermitages hewn out of the solid rock. They are only accessible by steps as steep as a ladder, which are also hewn upon the face of the almost precipitous mountain. The highest of these cells, and which are occupied by the youngest monks, are at an elevation of three or four thousand feet above the level of the Mediterranean. Soon after Charles's pilgrimage to Montserrat, he made a triumphal march to Madrid, entered the city, and caused himself to be proclaimed king under the title of Charles III. But Philip soon came upon him with such force that he was compelled to retreat back to Barcelona. Again, in 1710, he succeeded in reaching Madrid, and, as we have described, he was driven back, with accumulated disaster, to Catalonia.

Three months after this defeat, when his affairs in Spain were assuming the gloomiest aspect, a courier arrived at Barcelona, and informed him that his brother Joseph was dead; that he had already been proclaimed King of Hungary and Bohemia, and Archduke of Austria; and that it was a matter of the most urgent necessity that he should immediately return to Germany. Charles immediately embarked at Barcelona, and landed near Genoa on the 27th of September. Rapidly pressing on through the Italian States, he entered Milan on the 16th of October, where he was greeted with the joyful intelligence that a diet had been convened under the influence of Prince Eugene, and that by its unanimous vote he was invested with the imperial throne. He immediately proceeded through the Tyrol to Frankfort, where he was crowned on the 22d of December. He was now more than ever determined that the diadem of Spain should be added to the other crowns which had been placed upon his brow.

In the incessant wars which for centuries had been waged between the princes and States of Germany and the emperor, the States had acquired virtually a constitution, which they called a capitulation. When Charles was crowned as Charles VI., he was obliged to promise that he would never assemble a diet or council without convening all the princes and States of the empire; that he would never wage war, or conclude peace, or enter into alliance with any nation without the consent of the States; that he would not, of his own authority, put any prince under the ban of the empire; that confiscated territory should never be conferred upon any members of his own family, and that no successor to the imperial crown should be chosen during his lifetime, unless absence from Germany or the infirmities of age rendered him incapable of administering the affairs of the empire.

The emperor, invested with the imperial crown, hastened to Vienna, and, with unexpected energy, entered upon the administration of the complicated interests of his widespread realms. After passing a few weeks in Vienna, he repaired to Prague, where, in May, he was, with much pomp, crowned King of Hungary. He then returned to Vienna, and prepared to press with new vigor the war of the Spanish succession.

Louis XIV. was now suffering the earthly retribution for his ill-spent life. The finances of the realm were in a state of hopeless embarrassment; famine was filling the kingdom with misery; his armies were everywhere defeated; the imprecations of a beggared people were rising around his throne; his palace was the scene of incessant feuds and intrigues. His children were dead; he was old, infirm, sick, the victim of insupportable melancholy—utterly weary of life, and yet awfully afraid to die. France, in the person of Louis XIV., who could justly say, "I am the State," was humbled.

The accession of Charles to the throne of the empire, and to that of Austria, Hungary and Bohemia, while at the same time he claimed sovereignty over the vast realms of the Spanish kingdom, invested him with such enormous power, that England, which had combined Europe against the colossal growth of France, having humbled that power, was disposed to form a combination against Austria. There was in consequence an immediate relaxation of hostilities just at the time when the French batteries on the frontiers were battered down, and when the allied army had apparently an unobstructed way opened to the gates of Paris. In this state of affairs the British ministry pressed negotiations for peace. The preliminaries were settled in London on the 8th of October, 1711. By this treaty Louis XIV. agreed to make such a change in the law of hereditary descent, as to render it impossible for any king to wear at the same time the crowns of France and of Spain, and made various other important concessions.

Charles, whose ambition was roused by his sudden and unexpected elevation, exerted all his energies to thwart the progress of negotiations, and bitterly complained that the allies were dishonorably deserting the cause which they had espoused. The emperor dispatched circular letters to all the courts of Europe, and sent Prince Eugene as a special ambassador to London, to influence Queen Anne, if possible, to persevere in the grand alliance. But he was entirely unsuccessful. The Duke of Marlborough was disgraced, and dismissed from office. The peace party rendered Eugene so unpopular that he was insulted in the streets of London. The Austrian party in England was utterly defeated, and a congress was appointed to meet at Utrecht to settle the terms of peace. But Charles was now so powerful that he resolved to prosecute the war even though abandoned by England. He accordingly sent an ambassador to Utrecht to embarrass the proceedings as much as possible, and, in case the grand alliance should be broken up, to secure as many powers as possible in fidelity to Austria.

The States of the Netherlands were still warmly with Austria, as they dreaded so formidable a power as France directly upon their frontier. The other minor powers of the alliance were also rather inclined to remain with Austria. The war continued while the terms of peace were under discussion. England, however, entered into a private understanding with France, and the Duke of Ormond, who had succeeded Marlborough, received secret orders not to take part in any battle or siege. The developments, upon fields of battle, of this dishonorable arrangement, caused great indignation on the part of the allies. The British forces withdrew, and the French armies, taking advantage of the great embarrassments thus caused, were again gaining the ascendency. Portugal soon followed the example of England and abandoned the alliance. The Duke of Savoy was the next to leave. The alliance was evidently crumbling to pieces, and on the 11th of April, 1713, all the belligerents, excepting the emperor, signed the treaty of peace. Philip of Spain also acceded to the same articles.

Charles was very indignant in being thus abandoned; and unduly estimating his strength, resolved alone, with the resources which the empire afforded him, to prosecute the war against France and Spain. Having nothing to fear from a Spanish invasion, he for a time relinquished his attempts upon Spain, and concentrating his armies upon the Rhine, prepared for a desperate onset upon France. For two years the war raged between Austria and France with war's usual vicissitudes of defeat and victory on either side. It was soon evident that the combatants were too equally matched for either party to hope to gain any decisive advantage over the other. On the 7th of September, 1714, France and Austria agreed to sheathe the sword. The war had raged for fourteen years, with an expenditure of blood and treasure, and an accumulation of misery which never can be gauged. Every party had lost fourfold more than it had gained. "A war," says Marshal Villers, "which had desolated the greater part of Europe, was concluded almost on the very terms which might have been procured at the commencement of hostilities."

By this treaty of peace, which was signed at Baden, in Switzerland, the States of the Netherlands were left in the hands of Austria; and also the Italian States of Naples, Milan, Mantua and Sardinia. The thunders of artillery had hardly ceased to reverberate over the marshes of Holland and along the banks of the Rhine, ere the "blast of war's loud organ" and the tramp of charging squadrons were heard rising anew from the distant mountains of Sclavonia. The Turks, in violation of their treaty of peace, were again on the march, ascending the Danube along its southern banks, through the defiles of the Sclavonian mountains. In a motley mass of one hundred and fifty thousand men they had passed Belgrade, crossed the Save, and were approaching Peterwarden.

Eugene was instantly dispatched with an efficient, compact army, disciplined by twelve years of warfare, to resist the Moslem invaders. The hostile battalions met at Karlowitz, but a few miles from Peterwarden, on the 5th of August, 1716. The tempest blazed with terrific fury for a few hours, when the Turkish host turned and fled. Thirty thousand of their number, including the grand vizier who led the host, were left dead upon the field. In their utter discomfiture they abandoned two hundred and fifty pieces of heavy artillery, and baggage, tents and military stores to an immense amount. Fifty Turkish banners embellished the camp of the victors.

And now Eugene led his triumphant troops, sixty thousand in number, down the river to lay siege to Belgrade. This fortress, which the labor of ages had strengthened, was garrisoned by thirty thousand troops, and was deemed almost impregnable. Eugene invested the place and commenced the slow and tedious operations of a siege. The sultan immediately dispatched an army of two hundred thousand men to the relief of his beleaguered fortress. The Turks, arriving at the scene of action, did not venture an assault upon their intrenched foes, but intrenched themselves on heights, outside of the besieging camp, in a semicircle extending from the Danube to the Save. They thus shut up the besiegers in the miasmatic marshes which surrounded the city, cut off their supplies of provisions, and from their advancing batteries threw shot into the Austrian camp. "A man," said Napoleon, "is not a soldier." The Turks had two hundred thousand men in their camp, raw recruits. Eugene had sixty thousand veteran soldiers. He decided to drive off the Turks who annoyed him. It was necessary for him to detach twenty thousand to hold in check the garrison of Belgrade, who might sally to the relief of their companions. This left him but forty thousand troops with whom to assail two hundred thousand strongly intrenched. He did not hesitate in the undertaking.



CHAPTER XXIII.

CHARLES VI.

From 1716 to 1727.

Heroic Decision of Eugene.—Battle of Belgrade.—Utter Rout of the Turks.—Possessions of Charles VI.—The Elector of Hanover Succeeds to the English Throne.—Preparations for War.—State of Italy.—Philip V. of Spain.—Diplomatic Agitations.—Palace of St. Ildefonso.—Order of the Golden Fleece.—Rejection of Maria Anne.—Contest for the Rock of Gibraltar.—Dismissal of Ripperda.—Treaty of Vienna.—Peace Concluded.

The enterprise upon which Eugene had resolved was bold in the extreme. It could only be accomplished by consummate bravery aided by equal military skill. The foe they were to attack were five to one, and were protected by well-constructed redoubts, armed with the most formidable batteries. They were also abundantly supplied with cavalry, and the Turkish cavalry were esteemed the finest horsemen in the world. There was but one circumstance in favor of Eugene. The Turks did not dream that he would have the audacity to march from the protection of his intrenchments and assail them behind their own strong ramparts. There was consequently but little difficulty in effecting a surprise.

All the arrangements were made with the utmost precision and secrecy for a midnight attack. The favorable hour came. The sun went down in clouds, and a night of Egyptian darkness enveloped the armies. The glimmer of innumerable camp-fires only pointed out the position of the foe, without throwing any illumination upon the field. Eugene visited all the posts of the army, ordered abundant refreshment to be distributed to the troops, addressed them in encouraging words, to impress upon them the importance of the enterprise, and minutely assigned to each battalion, regiment, brigade and division its duty, that there might be no confusion. The whole plan was carefully arranged in all its details and in all its grand combination. As the bells of Belgrade tolled the hour of twelve at midnight, three bombs, simultaneously discharged, put the whole Austrian army in rapid and noiseless motion.

A dense fog had now descended, through which they could with difficulty discern the twinkling lights of the Turkish camp. Rapidly they traversed the intervening space, and in dense, solid columns, rushed over the ramparts of the foe. Bombs, cannon, musketry, bayonets, cavalry, all were employed, amidst the thunderings and the lightnings of that midnight storm of war, in the work of destruction. The Turks, roused from their slumber, amazed, bewildered, fought for a short time with maniacal fury, often pouring volleys of bullets into the bosoms of their friends, and with bloody cimeters smiting indiscriminately on the right hand and the left, till, in the midst of a scene of confusion and horror which no imagination can conceive, they broke and fled. Two hundred thousand men, lighted only by the flash of guns which mowed their ranks, with thousands of panic-stricken cavalry trampling over them, while the crash of musketry, the explosions of artillery, the shouts of the assailants and the fugitives, and the shrieks of the dying, blended in a roar more appalling than heaven's heaviest thunders, presented a scene which has few parallels even in the horrid annals of war.

The morning dawned upon a field of blood and death. The victory of the Austrians was most decisive. The flower of the Turkish army was cut to pieces, and the remnant was utterly dispersed. The Turkish camp, with all its abundant booty of tents, provisions, ammunition and artillery, fell into the hands of the conqueror. So signal was the victory, that the disheartened Turks made no attempt to retrieve their loss. Belgrade was surrendered to the Austrians, and the sultan implored peace. The articles were signed in Passarovitz, a small town of Servia, in July, 1718. By this treaty the emperor added Belgrade to his dominions, and also a large part of Wallachia and Servia.

Austria and Spain were still in heart at war, as the emperor claimed the crown of Spain, and was only delaying active hostilities until he could dispose of his more immediate foes. Charles, soon after the death of his cousin, the Portuguese princess, with whom he had formed a matrimonial engagement, married Elizabeth Christina, a princess of Brunswick. The imperial family now consisted of three daughters, Maria Theresa, Maria Anne and Maria Amelia. It will be remembered that by the family compact established by Leopold, the succession was entailed upon Charles in preference to the daughters of Joseph, in case Joseph should die without male issue. But should Charles die without male issue, the crown was to revert to the daughters of Joseph in preference to those of Charles. The emperor, having three daughters and no sons, with natural parental partiality, but unjustly, and with great want of magnanimity, was anxious to deprive the daughters of Joseph of their rights, that he might secure the crown for his own daughters. He accordingly issued a decree reversing this contract, and settling the right of succession first upon his daughters, should he die without sons, then upon the daughters of Joseph, one of whom had married the Elector of Saxony and the other the Elector of Bavaria. After them he declared his sister, who had married the King of Portugal, and then his other sisters, the daughters of Leopold, to be in the line of succession. This new law of succession Charles issued under the name of the Pragmatic Sanction. He compelled his nieces, the daughters of Joseph, to give their assent to this Sanction, and then, for the remainder of his reign, made the greatest efforts to induce all the powers of Europe to acknowledge its validity.

Charles VI. was now, as to the extent of territory over which he reigned and the population subject to his sway, decidedly the most powerful monarch in Christendom. Three hundred princes of the German empire acknowledged him as their elected sovereign. By hereditary right he claimed dominion over Bohemia, Hungary, Transylvania, Wallachia, Servia, Styria, Carinthia, Carniola, the Tyrol, and all the rich and populous States of the Netherlands. Naples, Sicily, Mantua and Milan in Italy, also recognized his sovereignty. To enlightened reason nothing can seem more absurd than that one man, of very moderate capacities, luxuriating in his palace at Vienna, should pretend to hold dominion over so many millions so widely dispersed. But the progress of the world towards intelligent liberty has been very slow. When we contrast the constitution of the United States with such a political condition, all our evils and difficulties dwindle to utter insignificance.

Still the power of the emperor was in many respects apparent rather than real. Each of these States had its own customs and laws. The nobles were tumultuary, and ever ready, if their privileges were infringed, to rise in insurrection. Military force alone could hold these turbulent realms in awe; and the old feudal servitude which crushed the millions, was but another name for anarchy. The peace establishment of the emperor amounted to one hundred thousand men, and every one of these was necessary simply to garrison his fortresses. The enormous expense of the support of such an army, with all the outlays for the materiel of war, the cavalry, and the structure of vast fortresses, exhausted the revenues of a kingdom in which the masses of the people were so miserably poor that they were scarcely elevated above the beasts of the field, and where the finances had long been in almost irreparable disorder. The years of peace, however, were very few. War, a maelstrom which ingulfs uncounted millions, seems to have been the normal state of Germany. But the treasury of Charles was so constantly drained that he could never, even in his greatest straits, raise more than one hundred and sixty thousand men; and he was often compelled to call upon the aid of a foreign purse to meet the expense which that number involved. Within a hundred years the nations have made vast strides in wealth, and in the consequent ability to throw away millions in war.

Charles VI. commenced his reign with intense devotion to business. He resolved to be an illustrious emperor, vigorously superintending all the interests of the empire, legislative, judicial and executive. For a few weeks he was busy night and day, buried in a hopeless mass of diplomatic papers. But he soon became weary of this, and leaving all the ordinary affairs of the State in the hands of agents, amused himself with his violin and in chasing rabbits. As more serious employment, he gave pompous receptions, and enveloped himself in imperial ceremony and the most approved courtly etiquette. He still, however, insisted upon giving his approval to all measures adopted by his ministers, before they were carried into execution. But as he was too busy with his entertainments, his music and the chase, to devote much time to the dry details of government, papers were accumulating in a mountainous heap in his cabinet, and the most important business was neglected.

Charles XII. was now King of Sweden; Peter the Great, Emperor of Russia; George I., King of England; and the shameful regency had succeeded, in France, the reign of Louis XIV. For eighteen years a bloody war had been sweeping the plains of Poland, Russia and Sweden. Thousands had been torn to pieces by the enginery of war, and trampled beneath iron hoofs. Millions of women and children had been impoverished, beggared, and turned out houseless into the fields to moan and starve and die. The claims of humanity must ever yield to the requisitions of war. This fierce battle of eighteen years was fought to decide which of three men, Peter of Russia, Charles of Sweden, or Augustus of Poland, should have the right to exact tribute from Livonia. This province was a vast pasture on the Baltic, containing about seventeen thousand square miles, and inhabited by about five hundred thousand poor herdsmen and tillers of the soil.

Peter the Great was in the end victorious in this long conflict; and having attached large portions of Sweden to his territory, with a navy upon the Baltic, and a disciplined army, began to be regarded as a European power, and was quite disposed to make his voice heard in the diplomacy of Europe. Queen Anne having died, leaving no children, the law of hereditary descent carried the crown of England to Germany, and placed it upon the brow of the Elector of Hanover, who, as grandson of James I., was the nearest heir, but who could not speak a word of English, who knew nothing of constitutional law, and who was about as well qualified to govern England as a Patagonian or Esquimaux would have been. But obedience to this law of hereditary descent was a political necessity. There were thousands of able men in England who could have administered the government with honor to themselves and to the country. But it is said in reply that the people of England, as a body, were not then, and probably are not even now, sufficiently enlightened to be intrusted with the choice of their own rulers. Respect for the ballot-box is one of the last and highest attainments of civilization. Recent developments in our own land have led many to fear that barbarism is gaining upon the people. If the ballot-box be overturned, the cartridge-box must take its place. The great battle we have to fight is the battle against popular ignorance. The great army we are to support is the army of teachers in the schools and in the pulpit, elevating the mind to the highest possible intelligence, and guiding the heart by the pure spirit of the gospel.

The emperor was so crowded with affairs of immediate urgency, and it was so evident that he could not drive Philip from the throne, now that he was recognized by all Europe, that he postponed the attempt for a season, while he still adopted the title of King of Spain. His troops had hardly returned from the brilliant campaign of Belgrade, ere the emperor saw a cloud gathering in the north, which excited his most serious apprehension. Russia and Sweden, irritated by some of the acts of the emperor, formed an alliance for the invasion of the German empire. The fierce warriors of the north, led by such captains as Charles XII. and Peter the Great, were foes not to be despised. This threatened invasion not only alarmed the emperor, but alarmed George I. of England, as his electorate of Hanover was imperiled; and also excited the fears of Augustus, the Elector of Saxony, who had regained the throne of Poland. England and Poland consequently united with the emperor, and formidable preparations were in progress for a terrible war, when one single chance bullet, upon the field of Pultowa, struck Charles XII., as he was looking over the parapet, and dispersed this cloud which threatened the desolation of all Europe.

Austria was now the preponderating power in degenerate Italy. Even those States which were not in subjection to the emperor, were overawed by his imperious spirit. Genoa was nominally independent. The Genoese arrested one of the imperial officers for some violation of the laws of the republic. The emperor sent an army to the gates of the city, threatening it with bombardment and utter destruction. They were thus compelled immediately to liberate the officer, to pay a fine of three hundred thousand dollars, and to send a senator to Vienna with humble expressions of contrition, and to implore pardon.

The kingdom of Sardinia was at this time the most powerful State in Italy, if we except those united Italian States which now composed an integral part of the Austrian empire. Victor Asmedeus, the energetic king, had a small but vigorous army, and held himself ready, with this army, for a suitable remuneration, to engage in the service of any sovereign, without asking any troublesome questions as to the righteousness of the expedition in which he was to serve. The Sardinian king was growing rich, and consequently ambitious. He wished to rise from the rank of a secondary to that of a primary power in Europe. There was but one direction in which he could hope to extend his territories, and that was by pressing into Lombardy. He had made the remark, which was repeated to the emperor, "I must acquire Lombardy piece by piece, as I eat an artichoke." Charles, consequently, watched Victor with a suspicious eye.

The four great powers of middle and southern Europe were Austria, England, France, and Spain. All the other minor States, innumerable in name as well as number, were compelled to take refuge, openly or secretly, beneath one or another of these great monarchies.

In France, the Duke of Orleans, the regent during the minority of Louis XV., whose court, in the enormous expenditures of vice, exhausted the yearly earnings of a population of twenty millions, was anxious to unite the Bourbon' branches of France and Spain in more intimate alliance. He accordingly affianced the young sovereign of France to Mary Anne, daughter of Philip V. of Spain. At the same time he married his own daughter to the king's oldest son, the Prince of Asturias, who was heir to the throne. Mary Anne, to whom the young king was affianced, was only four years of age.

The personal history of the monarchs of Europe is, almost without exception, a melancholy history. By their ambition and their wars they whelmed the cottages in misery, and by a righteous retribution misery also inundated the palace. Philip V. became the victim of the most insupportable melancholy. Earth had no joy which could lift the cloud of gloom from his soul. For months he was never known to smile. Imprisoning himself in his palace he refused to see any company, and left all the cares of government in the hands of his wife, Elizabeth Farnese.

Germany was still agitated by the great religious contest between the Catholics and the Protestants, which divided the empire into two nearly equal parties, bitterly hostile to each other. Various fruitless attempts had been made to bring the parties together, into unity of faith, by compromise. Neither party were reconciled to cordial toleration, free and full, in which alone harmony can be obtained. In all the States of the empire the Catholics and the Protestants were coming continually into collision. Charles, though a very decided Catholic, was not disposed to persecute the Protestants, as most of his predecessors had done, for he feared to rouse them to despair.

England, France, Austria and Spain, were now involved in an inextricable maze of diplomacy. Congresses were assembled and dissolved; treaties made and violated; alliances formed and broken. Weary of the conflict of arms, they were engaged in the more harmless squabbles of intrigue, each seeking its own aggrandizement. Philip V., who had fought so many bloody battles to acquire the crown of Spain, now, disgusted with the cares which that crown involved, overwhelmed with melancholy, and trembling in view of the final judgment of God, suddenly abdicated the throne in favor of his son Louis, and took a solemn oath that he would never resume it again. This event, which surprised Europe, took place on the 10th of February, 1724. Philip retired to St. Ildefonso.

The celebrated palace of St. Ildefonso, which became the retreat of the monarch, was about forty miles north of Madrid, in an elevated ravine among the mountains of Gaudarruma. It was an enormous pile, nearly four thousand feet above the level of the sea, and reared by the Spanish monarchs at an expense exceeding thirty millions of dollars. The palace, two stories high, and occupying three sides of a square, presents a front five hundred and thirty feet in length. In this front alone there are, upon each story, twelve gorgeous apartments in a suite. The interior is decorated in the richest style of art, with frescoed ceilings, and splendid mirrors, and tesselated floors of variegated marble. The furniture was embellishcd with gorgeous carvings, and enriched with marble, jasper and verd-antique. The galleries were filled with the most costly productions of the chisel and the pencil. The spacious garden, spread out before the palace, was cultivated with the utmost care, and ornamented with fountains surpassing even those of Versailles.

To this magnificent retreat Philip V. retired with his imperious, ambitious wife. She was the step-mother of his son who had succeeded to the throne. For a long time, by the vigor of her mind, she had dominated over her husband, and had in reality been the sovereign of Spain. In the magnificent palace of St. Ildefonso, she was by no means inclined to relinquish her power. Gathering a brilliant court around her, she still issued her decrees, and exerted a powerful influence over the kingdom. The young Louis, who was but a boy, was not disposed to engage in a quarrel with his mother, and for a time submitted to this interference; but gradually he was roused by his adherents, to emancipate himself from these shackles, and to assume the authority of a sovereign. This led to very serious trouble. The abdicated king, in his moping melancholy, was entirely in subjection to his wife. There were now two rival courts. Parties were organizing. Some were for deposing the son; others for imprisoning the father. The kingdom was on the eve of a civil war, when death kindly came to settle the difficulty.

The young King Louis, but eighteen years of age, after a nominal reign of but eight months, was seized with that awful scourge the small-pox, and, after a few days of suffering and delirium, was consigned to the tomb. Philip, notwithstanding his vow, was constrained by his wife to resume the crown, she probably promising to relieve him of all care. Such are the vicissitudes of a hereditary government. Elizabeth, with woman's spirit, now commanded the emperor to renounce the title of King of Spain, which he still claimed. Charles, with the spirit of an emperor, declared that he would do no such thing.

There was another serious source of difficulty between the two monarchs, which has descended, generation after generation, to our own time, and to this day is only settled by each party quietly persisting in his own claim.

In the year 1430 Philip III., Duke of Burgundy, instituted a new order of knighthood for the protection of the Catholic church, to be called the order of the Golden Fleece. But twenty-four members were to be admitted, and Philip himself was the grand master. Annual meetings were held to fill vacancies. Charles V., as grand master, increased the number of knights to fifty-one. After his death, as the Burgundian provinces and the Netherlands passed under the dominion of Spain, the Spanish monarchs exercised the office of grand master, and conferred the dignity, which was now regarded the highest order of knighthood in Europe, according to their pleasure. But Charles VI., now in admitted possession of the Netherlands, by virtue of that possession claimed the office of grand master of the Golden Fleece. Philip also claimed it as the inheritance of the kings of Spain. The dispute has never been settled. Both parties still claim it, and the order is still conferred both at Vienna and Madrid.

Other powers interfered, in the endeavor to promote reconciliation between the hostile courts, but, as usual, only increased the acrimony of the two parties. The young Spanish princess Mary Anne, who was affianced to the Dauphin of France, was sent to Paris for her education, and that she might become familiar with the etiquette of a court over which she was to preside as queen. For a time she was treated with great attention, and child as she was, received all the homage which the courtiers were accustomed to pay to the Queen of France. But amidst the intrigues of the times a change arose, and it was deemed a matter of state policy to marry the boy-king to another princess. The French court consequently rejected Maria Anne and sent her back to Spain, and married Louis, then but fifteen years of age, to Maria Lebrinsky, daughter of the King of Poland. The rejected child was too young fully to appreciate the mortification. Her parents, however, felt the insult most keenly. The whole Spanish court was roused to resent it as a national outrage. The queen was so indignant that she tore from her arm a bracelet which she wore, containing a portrait of Louis XV., and dashing it upon the floor, trampled it beneath her feet. Even the king was roused from his gloom by the humiliation of his child, and declared that no amount of blood could atone for such an indignity.

Under the influence of this exasperation, the queen resolved to seek reconciliation with Austria, that all friendly relations might be abandoned with France, and that Spain and Austria might be brought into intimate alliance to operate against their common foe. A renowned Spanish diplomatist, the Baron of Ripperda, had been for some time a secret agent of the queen at the court of Vienna, watching the progress of events there. He resided in the suburbs under a fictitious name, and eluding the vigilance of the ministry, had held by night several secret interviews with the emperor, proposing to him, in the name of the queen, plans of reconciliation. Letters were immediately dispatched to Ripperda urging him to come to an accommodation with the emperor upon almost any terms.

A treaty was soon concluded, early in the spring of 1725. The emperor renounced all claim to the Spanish crown, entered into an alliance, both offensive and defensive, with Philip, and promised to aid, both with men and money, to help recover Gibraltar from the English, which fortress they had held since they seized upon it in the war of the Spanish succession. In consideration of these great concessions Philip agreed to recognize the right of the emperor to the Netherlands and to his acquisitions in Italy. He opened all the ports of Spain to the subjects of the emperor, and pledged himself to support the Pragmatic Sanction, which wrested the crown of Austria from the daughters of Joseph, and transmitted it to the daughters of Charles. It was this last clause which influenced the emperor, for his whole heart was set upon the accomplishment of this important result, and he was willing to make almost any sacrifice to attain it. There were also some secret articles attached which have never been divulged.

The immediate demand of Spain for the surrender of the rock of Gibraltar was the signal for all Europe to marshal itself for war—a war which threatened the destruction of hundreds of thousands of lives, millions of property, and which was sure to spread far and wide over populous cities and extended provinces, carnage, conflagration, and unspeakable woe. The question was, whether England or Spain should have possession of a rock seven miles long and one mile broad, which was supposed, but very erroneously, to command the Mediterranean. To the rest of Europe it was hardly a matter of the slightest moment whether the flag of England or Spain waved over those granite cliffs. It seems incredible that beings endowed with reason could be guilty of such madness.

England, with great vigor, immediately rallied on her side France, Hanover, Holland, Denmark and Sweden. On the other side were Spain, Austria, Russia, Prussia and a large number of the minor States of Germany. Many months were occupied in consolidating these coalitions, and in raising the armies and gathering the materials for the war.

In the meantime Ripperda, having so successfully, as he supposed, concluded his negotiations at Vienna, in a high state of exultation commenced his journey back to Spain. Passing down through the Tyrol and traversing Italy he embarked at Genoa and landed at Barcelona. Here he boasted loudly of what he had accomplished.

"Spain and the emperor now united," he said, "will give the law to Europe. The emperor has one hundred and fifty thousand troops under arms, and in six months can bring as many more into the field. France shall be pillaged. George I. shall be driven both from his German and his British territories."

From Barcelona Ripperda traveled rapidly to Madrid, where he was received with almost regal honors by the queen, who was now in reality the sovereign. She immediately appointed him Secretary of State, and transferred to him the reins of government which she had taken from the unresisting hands of her moping husband. Thus Ripperda became, in all but title, the King of Spain. He was a weak man, of just those traits of character which would make him a haughty woman's favorite. He was so elated with this success, became so insufferably vain, and assumed such imperious airs as to disgust all parties. He made the most extravagant promises of the subsidies the emperor was to furnish, and of the powers which were to combine to trample England and France beneath their feet. It was soon seen that these promises were merely the vain-glorious boasts of his own heated brain. Even the imperial ambassador at Madrid was so repelled by his arrogance, that he avoided as far as possible all social and even diplomatic intercourse with him. There was a general combination of the courtiers to crush the favorite. The queen, who, with all her ambition, had a good share of sagacity, soon saw the mistake she had made, and in four months after Ripperda's return to Madrid, he was dismissed in disgrace.

A general storm of contempt and indignation pursued the discarded minister. His rage was now inflamed as much as his vanity had been. Fearful of arrest and imprisonment, and burning with that spirit of revenge which is ever strongest in weakest minds, he took refuge in the house of the British ambassador, Mr. Stanhope. Hostilities had not yet commenced. Indeed there had been no declaration of war, and diplomatic relations still continued undisturbed. Each party was acting secretly, and watching the movements of the other with a jealous eye.

Ripperda sought protection beneath the flag of England, and with the characteristic ignominy of deserters and traitors, endeavored to ingratiate himself with his new friends by disclosing all the secrets of his negotiations at Vienna. Under these circumstances full confidence can not be placed in his declarations, for he had already proved himself to be quite unscrupulous in regard to truth. The indignant queen sent an armed force, arrested the duke in the house of the British ambassador, and sent him, in close imprisonment, to the castle of Segovia. He, however, soon escaped from there and fled to England, where he reiterated his declarations respecting the secret articles of the treaty of Vienna. The most important of these declarations was, that Spain and the emperor had agreed to drive George I. from England and to place the Pretender, who had still many adherents, upon the British throne. It was also asserted that marriage contracts were entered into which, by uniting the daughters of the emperor with the sons of the Spanish monarch, would eventually place the crowns of Austria and Spain upon the same brow. The thought of such a vast accumulation of power in the hands of any one monarch, alarmed all the rest of Europe. Both Spain and the emperor denied many of the statements made by Ripperda. But as truth has not been esteemed a diplomatic virtue, and as both Ripperda and the sovereigns he had served were equally tempted to falsehood, and were equally destitute of any character for truth, it is not easy to decide which party to believe.

England and France took occasion, through these disclosures, to rouse the alarm of Europe. So much apprehension was excited in Prussia, Bavaria, and with other princes of the empire, who were appalled at the thought of having another Spanish prince upon the imperial throne, that the emperor sent ambassadors to these courts to appease their anxiety, and issued a public declaration denying that any such marriages were in contemplation; while at the same time he was promising the Queen of Spain these marriages, to secure her support. England and France accuse the emperor of deliberate, persistent, unblushing falsehood.

The emperor seems now to have become involved in an inextricable maze of prevarication and duplicity, striving in one court to accomplish purposes which in other courts he was denying that he wished to accomplish. His embarrassment at length became so great, the greater part of Europe being roused and jealous, that he was compelled to abandon Spain, and reluctantly to sign a treaty of amity with France and England. A general armistice was agreed upon for seven years. The King of Spain, thus abandoned by the emperor, was also compelled to smother his indignation and to roll back his artillery into the arsenals. Thus this black cloud of war, which threatened all Europe with desolation, was apparently dispelled. This treaty, which seemed to restore peace to Europe, was signed in June, 1727. It was, however, a hollow peace. The spirit of ambition and aggression animated every court; and each one was ready, in defiance of treaties and in defiance of the misery of the world, again to unsheath the sword as soon as any opportunity should offer for the increase of territory or power.



CHAPTER XXIV.

CHARLES VI. AND THE POLISH WAR.

From 1727 to 1735.

Cardinal Fleury.—The Emperor of Austria Urges the Pragmatic Sanction.— He Promises His Two Daughters to the Two Sons of the Queen of Spain.—France, England and Spain Unite Against Austria.—Charles VI. Issues Orders to Prepare for War.—His Perplexities.—Secret Overtures to England.—The Crown of Poland.—Meeting of the Polish Congress.— Stanislaus Goes to Poland.—Augustus III. Crowned.—War.—Charles Sends an Army to Lombardy.—Difficulties of Prince Eugene.—Charles's Displeasure with England.—Letter to Count Kinsky.—Hostilities Renewed.

The young King of France, Louis XV., from amidst the orgies of his court which rivaled Babylon in corruption, was now seventeen years of age, and was beginning to shake off the trammels of guardianship and to take some ambitious part in government. The infamous regent, the Duke of Orleans, died suddenly of apoplexy in 1723. Gradually the king's preceptor, Fleury, obtained the entire ascendency over the mind of his pupil, and became the chief director of affairs. He saw the policy of reuniting the Bourbons of France and Spain for the support of each other. The policy was consequently adopted of cultivating friendly relations between the two kingdoms. Cardinal Fleury was much disposed to thwart the plans of the emperor. A congress of the leading powers had been assembled at Soissons in June, 1728, to settle some diplomatic questions. The favorite object of the emperor now was, to obtain from the European powers the formal guarantee to support his decree of succession which conveyed the crown of Austria to his daughters, in preference to those of his brother Joseph.

The emperor urged the Pragmatic Sanction strongly upon the congress, as the basis upon which he would enter into friendly relations with all the powers. Fleury opposed it, and with such influence over the other plenipotentiaries as to secure its rejection. The emperor was much irritated, and intimated war. France and England retorted defiance. Spain was becoming alienated from the emperor, who had abandoned her cause, and was again entering into alliance with France. The emperor had promised his eldest daughter, Maria Theresa, to Carlos, son of the Queen of Spain, and a second daughter to the next son, Philip. These were as brilliant matches as an ambitious mother could desire. But while the emperor was making secret and solemn promises to the Queen of Spain, that these marriages should be consummated, which would secure to the son of the queen the Austrian, as well as the Spanish crown, he was declaring to the courts of Europe that he had no such plans in contemplation.

The Spanish queen, at length, annoyed, and goaded on by France and England, sent an ambassador to Vienna, and demanded of the emperor a written promise that Maria Theresa was to be the bride of Carlos. The emperor was now brought to the end of his intrigues. He had been careful heretofore to give only verbal promises, through his ministers. After his reiterated public denials that any such alliance was anticipated, he did not dare commit himself by giving the required document. An apologetic, equivocal answer was returned which so roused the ire of the queen, that, breaking off from Austria, she at once entered into a treaty of cordial union with England and France.

It will readily be seen that all these wars and intrigues had but little reference to the welfare of the masses of the people. They were hardly more thought of than the cattle and the poultry. The only purpose they served was, by unintermitted toil, to raise the wealth which supported the castle and the palace, and to march to the field to fight battles, in which they had no earthly interest. The written history of Europe is only the history of kings and nobles—their ambitions, intrigues and war. The unwritten history of the dumb, toiling millions, defrauded of their rights, doomed to poverty and ignorance, is only recorded in the book of God's remembrance. When that page shall be read, every ear that hears it will tingle.

The frail connection between Austria and Spain was now terminated. England, France and Spain entered into an alliance to make vigorous war against Charles VI. if he manifested any hostility to any of the articles of the treaty into which they had entered. The Queen of Spain, in her spite, forbade the subjects of the emperor from trading at all with Spain, and granted to her new allies the exclusive right to the Spanish trade. She went so far in her reconciliation with England as to assure the king that he was quite welcome to retain the rock of Gibraltar which he held with so tenacious a grasp.

In this treaty, with studied neglect, even the name of the emperor was not mentioned; and yet the allies, as if to provoke a quarrel, sent Charles VI. a copy, peremptorily demanding assent to the treaty without his having taken any part whatever in the negotiation.

This insulting demand fell like a bomb-shell in the palace at Vienna. Emperor, ministers, courtiers, all were aroused to a frenzy of indignation. "So insulting a message," said Count Zinzendorf, "is unparalleled, even in the annals of savages." The emperor condescended to make no reply, but very spiritedly issued orders to all parts of the empire, for his troops to hold themselves in readiness for war.

And yet Charles was overwhelmed with anxiety, and was almost in despair. It was a terrible humiliation for the emperor to be compelled to submit, unavenged, to such an insult. But how could the emperor alone, venture to meet in battle England, France, Spain and all the other powers whom three such kingdoms could, either by persuasion or compulsion, bring into their alliance? He pleaded with his natural allies. Russia had not been insulted, and was unwilling to engage in so distant a war. Prussia had no hope of gaining any thing, and declined the contest. Sardinia sent a polite message to the emperor that it was more for her interest to enter into an alliance with her nearer neighbors, France, Spain and England, and that she had accordingly done so. The treasury of Charles was exhausted; his States were impoverished by constant and desolating wars. And his troops manifested but little zeal to enter the field against so fearful a superiority of force. The emperor, tortured almost beyond endurance by chagrin, was yet compelled to submit.