Venice--that the star of her fate had declined forever.
Suddenly, however, she began to raise her head above the horizon again,
and to threaten the peace of the Continent. The peace of the Continent
could not now be threatened without menace to the peace of England, for
George's Hanoverian dominions were sure to be imperilled by European
disturbance, and George would take good care that Hanover did not
suffer while England had armies to move and money to spend. The
English Government found it necessary to look out for allies.

France was under the rule of a remarkable man. Philip, Duke of Orleans
and Regent of the kingdom, ought to have been a statesman of the
Byzantine Empire. He was steeped to the lips in profligacy; he had no
moral sense whatever, unless that which was supplied by the so-called
code of honor. His intrigues, his carouses, his debaucheries, his
hordes of mistresses, gave scandal even in that time of prodigal
license. But he had a cool head, a daring spirit, and an intellect
capable of accepting new and original ideas. He must be called a
statesman; and, despite the vulgarity of some of his vices, he has to
be called a gentleman as well. He could be trusted; he would keep his
word once given. Other statesmen could treat with him, and not fear
that he would break a promise or betray a confidence. How rare such
qualities were at that day among the politicians of any country the
readers of the annals of Queen Anne do not need to be told. The
Regent's principal adviser at this time was a man quite as immoral, and
also quite as able, as himself--the Abbe Dubois, afterwards Cardinal
and Prime-minister. Dubois had a profound knowledge of foreign
affairs, and he thoroughly understood the ways of men. {156} He had
fought his way from humble rank to a great position in Church and
State. He had trained his every faculty--and all his faculties were
well worth the training--to the business of statecraft and of
diplomatic intrigue. It is somewhat curious to note that the three
ablest politicians in Europe at that day were churchmen: Swift in
England, Dubois in France, and Alberoni--of whom we shall presently
have to speak--in Spain. The quick and unclouded intelligence of the
Regent--unclouded despite his days and nights of debauchery--saw that
the cause of the Stuarts was gone. While that cause had hope he was
willing to give it a chance, and he would naturally have welcomed its
success; but he had