THE CAMPAIGN AGAINST THE “ENEMY OF PEACE”
ERA OF LOUIS XIV
England now turned her attention to the third European Power, whose
expansion and prosperity caused ever-growing anxiety to the Chosen
People: namely France. Under her Kings the latter country had developed
into a homogeneous, centralised state. By means of a clever and
unscrupulous foreign policy, in conjunction with the energy of an
essentially progressive population, France had been able to profit
immensely by the weakness and lack of unity of the German Empire. The
German wars of religion, and especially the Thirty Years’ War, afforded
France the most magnificent opportunities for expansion. By far the
strongest European Power, France was also a maritime and colonial Power
of the first rank. The great statesman Colbert succeeded, by his wise
and far-sighted administration, in raising trade and industry to an
unprecedented height of prosperity. A bold and skilful colonial policy
was pursued in India, North and South America. In Canada and in the
southern States of the Union, the travels of intrepid French explorers
had opened up for their country immense regions, the possession of which
made France the foremost nation in America, even as she was the foremost
in the East Indies. Recognised as the leading European Power, France was
in a fair way to becoming the leading World-Power. Her strength, and
consequently the validity of her claims, resided in the fact of her
possessing this pre-eminent continental situation, as also in the facts
of her political homogeneity and of the wonderful productivity of her
inhabitants. During the second half of the seventeenth century, the
people of England became aware of the existence of a dangerous rival;
and an English historian tells us that the learned men at his side of
the Channel at once enunciated the theory of Louis XIV being the enemy
of European peace and consequently of England. For the moment, however,
political circumstances in England did not permit of the latter carrying
out her designs. She needed the “enemy of peace” to help her first of
all in her war of robbery and destruction against Holland. Louis XIV,
allied with England, waged war against the Dutch on land and sea. His
chief desire was to destroy the Dutch trade; but when peace had been
concluded between Holland and England, and Louis XIV found himself alone
at war with the Dutch, the whole of the carrying trade, which the French
had succeeded in wresting from the former, passed necessarily into the
hands of neutral England. The war brought no advantage to French trade,
and Louis recognised too late that he had labored solely for England.
Not only had this labor been in vain, as far as France was concerned;
but the maritime trade of the latter country was, as a consequence of
the war, taken over to a large extent by Albion’s merchants.
Nature had destined France to be a maritime and commercial Power of the
highest rank. She has three magnificent coasts. Her geographical
position seemed to make her the heir of Spain—and not only the heir, but
also the conqueror, in which case she must have extended her dominions
as far as the Pillars of Hercules. It was inevitable that France should,
in the North, turn her eyes towards the Spanish Netherlands (i. e.
Belgium), and, further still, towards Holland. In this way, the two
countries at the expense of which England had risen to power, appeared
destined to become simple dependencies of France. The War of the Spanish
Succession arose about the question of the future relations between
Paris and Madrid. Louis XIV claimed the Spanish throne for his grandson,
after the death of its actual occupant. Had this claim been successful,
France would not only have seen her continental power immensely
increased by the possession of the entire sea-coast from Dunkerque to
Gibraltar, and from Gibraltar to Toulon—but all the Spanish colonies
would have been henceforth incorporated in the already large French
colonial empire. Last, but not least, France would have taken over the
whole of the trade with these new colonies. The last-mentioned point was
precisely the most important of all. At that time, every colonial Power
claimed for itself the right of a monopoly of trade with its colonies.
Spain and Portugal still possessed, despite all that had been stolen
from them by England, large and wealthy colonies. Had these been annexed
to the French colonial empire, an essentially French character would
have been given to the whole of the oversea colonial world.
The English art of inducing Continental nations to fight Albion’s
battles manifested itself in its perfection during the Anglo-French wars
at the end of the seventeenth and the beginning of the eighteenth
century. The Netherlands, Prussia, and especially Austria, were stirred
up against France, and nothing was left undone in order to involve the
latter in ever fresh wars. England’s statesmen knew perfectly well,
already at that epoch, that such wars weaken all the Continental Powers,
that they increase their national debt, paralyse their trade and
industry, and render them impotent on the seas. A few years ago an
English Imperialist, Sir Harold Wyatt, wrote that naval wars are always
a time of harvest for England. The latter had already learnt this lesson
from her Dutch war. Admiral Freemantle and other English historians
speak with pride of the era when the English fleet began to undertake
the duties of “policeman of the seas,” and to impose the _pax
britannica_ on all by force. The right of policing the seas has since
been considered a Divine right of the Chosen People. This right consists
in stealing as many trading vessels, whether neutral or not, as
possible, under some pious and lying pretext.
Especially did the English need Austria, the old adversary of
France—Austria, who had been ousted by France from her position as
foremost European Power. In the seventeenth century Austria had a
particularly heavy burden to bear: the wars with the Turks. These wars
were very welcome to England, as long as they seemed to endanger
Austria’s existence. In the same way as England manifested a deeply
sympathetic interest in the welfare of Christianity and human progress,
so did she consider the advance of the Turks through the Balkan
Peninsula and the plains of Hungary with the unruffled calm of the
businessman, who knows in advance the profit he will reap. The late
Alexander von Peez, one of those who knew best the motives underlying
English mercantile policy, wrote: “The Duke of Argyle tells us that in
1683, when the Turks attempted to take Vienna by storm, the sympathy of
the Whigs was with the Turks. The trading classes, whose political
representatives the Whigs were, wished and hoped to see Vienna captured
by the Mussulmans.” The reasons for such a pious hope were evident: a
victory of the Turks would have produced incalculable effects in the
whole of South-Eastern Europe. The triumph of the Crescent would have
spelt the destruction, or at any rate the prolonged paralysis, of
industry and commerce in all the Austrian lands. In itself this implied
an immense advantage for the English business world; for the latter
would then have been, in all those regions occupied by the Turks,
without any competition, and it could consequently have fixed the prices
to suit its convenience. The German wars of religion, and the
persecution of the French Protestants, had taught the English that,
under circumstances such as would necessarily have prevailed in the
countries conquered by the Turks, the capitalists tend to emigrate and
to seek refuge in England; whereby the capital invested in the latter
naturally increases.
The Austrians were disobliging enough to offer a successful resistance.
English diplomacy then set itself to induce the Emperor Leopold to stem
himself the tide of his troops’ victory, and to send his triumphant
armies away to the west of Europe. An English journal of that period
expressed itself, according to Peez, as follows: “Emperor Leopold,
having placed the general interest of Europe (England?) above his own,
has withdrawn a large part of his troops from Hungary and the Lower
Danube, and transferred them to the Rhine; as a result, Belgrade and
Nish have been re-taken by the Turks.” When we consider these matters
with calm impartiality, we are always tempted to ask ourselves: which
was the most remarkable, the cleverness of England or the stupidity of
the others? We believe the last of these two factors to have been the
most important, and Austrians will probably share this opinion to-day.
England did not desire to see Austria-Hungary develop into a Balkan
Power; the former has always regarded every expansion of other
nations—especially when seacoasts, harbors, navigable streams, come into
play—as an insult to the Chosen People and a menace to European peace.
Thus did Austria voluntarily sacrifice the fruits of her victory, in
order to place herself in England’s service against France. Germany
furnished, according to an ancient and hallowed custom, the
battlefields. The only Power which reaped any profits was, of course,
England. Had it not been for the Franco-Austrian quarrels, William of
Orange would never have ascended the English throne. Very rightly has
Peez said: “England’s freedom was saved by long wars on the Rhine, by
the devastation of the Palatinate, by the sacrificing of the fruits of
Austrian victories in the South-East.”
For our own part we always bear in mind the imprudent words of Disraeli:
“England’s influence has never been stronger than when her motives have
not been suspected.” Whenever her interests—or, as we should prefer to
say, her greed—demanded that a Continental State should be destroyed or
weakened, the London Cabinet always knew how to create complications for
that State, and it then came to the support of the latter’s enemies by
one means or another. The countries to whose help she came were, of
course, very grateful, and England’s virtues were celebrated with
enthusiasm. She was reputed a free country, which espoused, solely for
moral reasons, the cause of religious liberty against tyranny and
intolerance. Only much later did the Continental nations begin to see
that the whole thing was purely and simply a matter of business, and
extremely lucrative business, for Albion. And some nations have not
understood it even now!
The War of the Spanish Succession likewise brought in a rich harvest for
England. When the Peace of Utrecht was concluded in 1713, England was
the only maritime Power in the world. The late well-known American
historian, Admiral Mahan, describes England’s position at that period as
follows: “England ... meanwhile was building up a navy, strengthening,
extending and protecting her commerce, seizing maritime positions,—in a
word, founding and rearing her sea power upon the ruins of that of her
rivals, friend and foe alike.” That this should have been the case, as
it incontestably was, will perhaps not surprise our readers. Mahan’s
judgment is all the more interesting, as its author is an enthusiastic
admirer of Great Britain and all her deeds. In fact, according to him,
an unassailable British world-empire is something so supremely
magnificent, that all means are justified in order to create it.
It was in the first years of the War of the Spanish Succession that
England stole Gibraltar—an event of far-reaching importance. This event
did not mean a return to the Continental policy of the Plantagenets, but
merely proved that England had risen to the rank of the first maritime
Power—it embodied in a concrete manner England’s claim to rule the seas.
Henceforth her aim was to secure as many naval stations as possible; and
this aim could not be realised otherwise than at the expense of the
Continental nations. The latter, as far as they possessed coasts, were
in future to be perpetually menaced by the guns of the English fleet.
France had coveted Spain; but it was England who stole Gibraltar, which
commands the entry into the Mediterranean. This act of robbery was the
second of the decisive steps taken with a view to ensuring England’s
supremacy in the last-named sea.
Another important event which took place during that period was a treaty
of commerce, which England concluded with Portugal—the so-called Methuen
Treaty. England had wisely allied herself with weak Portugal; for the
latter was a large, albeit defenceless, colonial Power. The Methuen
Treaty was characteristic of English methods: on the one hand England
conceded to Portugal a reduction of the English duties on Portuguese
wines, etc.; on the other hand, she obtained for English goods the right
of free entry into Portugal. An English historian has remarked
concerning this treaty: “Our alliance with Portugal and the Methuen
Treaty between them gave England the monopoly of Portuguese trade.” The
final result was that Portugal’s industry was annihilated by English
competition; Portugal was compelled to purchase everything for itself
and its colonies from English producers! The exported products were
shipped on English vessels, and thus did it come about that the entire
carrying trade to and from the Portuguese colonies fell into English
hands. It is a historical fact that the Methuen Treaty completed the
irreparable ruin of Portugal. Concluded in 1703, it has obliged Portugal
to remain England’s obedient vassal down to the present day.
England’s statesmen have therefore every reason to speak in the most
caressing and loving way of their dear friend and ally Portugal!
It is not less interesting to consider the Assiento Treaty between Spain
and England which was incorporated in the Treaty of Utrecht. The
Assiento Agreement enabled England to import every year a certain number
of negroes into the Spanish colonies; it gave her the further right of
sending every year a trading ship to Portobello. In this way did England
open for herself a market in the Spanish possessions, thanks to which
the products of English industry could be despatched thither in ever
increasing quantities. The Assiento Treaty shattered the Spanish
colonial trade monopoly as effectively as the Methuen Treaty shattered
that of the Portuguese. The great plan of Louis XIV had been to unite
France, Spain, and Portugal in one vast Continental and Colonial Empire.
The two treaties above mentioned show us clearly how this plan had
collapsed, and how immense was England’s profit—especially by comparison
with England’s sacrifices. The English losses in the naval war had been
very small, and those on land had been smaller still; for the so-called
“English” armies on the Continent, commanded by Marlborough, were not
English at all, but German. England had sacrificed nothing but money,
just as every business firm must advance the costs of foundation of a
new enterprise. But such a firm knows beforehand that it will recoup
those costs; so did England. She recouped them along with colossal
interest, although her risks had been insignificant, seeing that the
enemy could not possibly do her any great harm. The belligerents on the
Continent, however, fought so desperately and so long for England’s
business interests, that over and above the profits already indicated,
England was able to evict France from her settlements in India, Canada,
and the United States.
It was the same old story: the Continental nations obtained for England,
at the cost of their own blood and riches, the control of the seas and
the predominant position as colonial Power. The English statesmen
understood this perfectly well. We are told that William Pitt the Elder
once said that he would conquer America on the battlefields of Germany.