monarchy. Whether those terms were or were not too favourable to
France is quite another question. It has often been maintained
that she would have gained more by permanently annexing to
herself Guipuscoa, Naples and Sicily than by sending the Duke of
Anjou or the Duke of Berry to reign at the Escurial. On this
point, however, if on any point, respect is due to the opinion of
William. That he thoroughly understood the politics of Europe is
as certain as that jealousy of the greatness of France was with
him a passion, a ruling passion, almost an infirmity. Before we
blame him, therefore, for making large concessions to the power
which it was the chief business of his life to keep within
bounds, we shall do well to consider whether those concessions
may not, on close examination, be found to be rather apparent
than real. The truth is that they were so, and were well known to
be so both by William and by Lewis.

Naples and Sicily formed indeed a noble kingdom, fertile,
populous, blessed with a delicious climate, and excellently
situated for trade. Such a kingdom, had it been contiguous to
Provence, would indeed have been a most formidable addition to
the French monarchy. But a glance at the map ought to have been
sufficient to undeceive those who imagined that the great
antagonist of the House of Bourbon could be so weak as to lay the
liberties of Europe at the feet of that house. A King of France
would, by acquiring territories in the South of Italy, have
really bound himself over to keep the peace; for, as soon as he
was at war with his neighbours, those territories were certain to
be worse than useless to him. They were hostages at the mercy of
his enemies. It would be easy to attack them. It would be hardly
possible to defend them. A French army sent to them by land would