who was compelled to show himself, though he was too weak to stand without help.
The people being somewhat quieted, the faculties of law and theology decided that the French prince had the best claim, provided care was taken to keep the two crowns asunder, and that the oath imposed on Maria Theresa when she married Louis meant no more. The cardinal Portocarrero and the priests and monks that he had about the king alarmed his conscience by representing that eternal damnation awaited him if he wronged the legitimate heir, the son of his sister. Charles was in a dreadful state of mind, and the contending factions about him were by their alternate importunities hurrying him with double speed to his grave. He declared that he was only for the rights of his own family, the house of Austria, but then he could not run the risk of his soul on their account. He sent, therefore, the duke of Uzeda to consult the pope. This was appealing from Beelzebub to Satan; for the pope. Innocent XII., was a creature of Louis's, and the whole conclave of cardinals had been bought over to the French interest. The money spent by Louis for this object must have been equal to the cost of a war. The pope, after consulting, with all the appearance of deep cogitation, with the cardinals for forty days, of course decided that the renunciation of Maria Theresa was a forced one, and therefore wholly invalid, and that the crown of Spain descended without question to her son, the dauphin, and that, in accordance with the will of the nation, must be received by his second son, Philip, duke of Anjou, so as to keep apart the two crowns. The old pope, who was himself failing, and actually died before Charles, added weight to his decision by saying that he was about to appear before Christ, and give an account of his stewardship, and therefore gave the king only such advice as would allow him, with a clear conscience, to go to the judgment-seat of God.
But the wretched Charles's conflict was by no means ended. The queen, on the death of the inquisitor-general, had managed to expel the intriguing confessor, and to reintroduce her own. Every effort was now made to counteract the French plans. Austria was alarmed; her troops were invited to enter Spain, and the duke of Medina Celi was sent to Naples to act for Austria, and receive Austrian troops into the garrisons. The duke of Mantua was treated with to admit Austrian troops also. But all was in vain; both these noblemen were already secured by France, and Austria had neither troops to march in sufficient numbers, nor money to pay them; but Louis, on the contrary, marched large armies to the frontiers ready to repel Austria and take possession at a moment's warning. All this time the condition of the king of Spain was frightful. His conscience, accustomed to be swayed by his religious advisers, was torn to and fro by the contending exertions of Portocarrero and the queen. Portocarrero was a man of vast influence; he was not only cardinal but archbishop of Toledo, and affected a deep concern for the king. Charles, intensely attached to his own family, and having a strong persuasion that its claims were the claims of the nation, was yet so tortured by the arguments of the priests of the opposite factions, and the entreaties of the queen, that no poor soul was ever in so dreadful a purgatory. At length, after the most violent contests, he sunk in passive weakness, and on the 2nd of October he signed the will dictated by France. Having done it, he burst into tears, and sighed out "Now I am nothing!"
But this signing was effected in deepest secresy; neither the queen nor any one but a small junto of the French faction was aware of it. As Charles, however, still lingered between life and death for a month yet, the French made every preparation for the event, and Portocarrero took possession of the great seals, and dispersed all his agents, so as to secure the certain transfer of the crown to France. On the 1st of November the unhappy monarch died, at the age of thirty-nine, and the will was made known, to the consternation of the queen and the Austrian and English ambassadors, who were till the moment in profound ignorance of it. As soon as the news reached Paris, count Zinzendorf, the imperial ambassador, presented himself at Versailles, and inquired whether the king meant to abide by the treaty of partition or accept the will. The marquis de Torcy answered for Louis that he meant certainly to abide by the treaty. But this was only to gain time. Louis had long made up his mind, and when he heard that Charles was dead, he exclaimed, "There are no longer Pyrenees." Yet he acted the part of one who doubted the propriety or the expedience of accepting the will with some success. He affected to feel the necessity of keeping faith with the king of England and the States-General. Madame Maintenon had warmly advocated the right of the dauphin's son. In her chamber the council was assembled, and it was only after much apparent reluctance that Louis gave way. The whole was well got up. No sooner was it decided to accept the will than Louis took the duke of Anjou into his closet, and addressed him with all the pious wisdom of a Haroun Alraschid:—"Sir, the king of Spain has made you a king. The grandees demand you, the people wish for you, and I give my consent. Remember, only, you are a prince of France. I recommend you to love your people, to gain their affection by the lenity of your government, and to render yourself worthy of the throne you are going to ascend."
What must have been the sensations of William on the receipt of the news of the death of Charles and of this will, it would not be easy to describe. Never had a man of sense and caution been led into a dirty and unwarrantable meddling with his neighbour's property and been so completely duped. He had been engaged with the most unprincipled man of the age, and perhaps of any age, in dissecting and giving away a monarchy with which he had no more right to meddle than he had with France itself; and now he saw that all along his brother robber had merely been amusing him. The partition intended was not so bad certainly as the more recent partition of Poland, because they were separate nationalities which it was intended to detach from Spain; but the crime lay in this, that no regard was paid to the interests or wishes of these separate nationalities. Italian states were handed over from Spain to France as if they had no inherent rights of their own, but were to be disposed of as so many cattle. The disgust which this proposed partition created in England when it had become known was almost as great as in Spain. The parliament highly resented the fact that the king had presumed to compromise the honour
