crucial Cape of Good Hope at the
southern tip of Africa and the superb harbor at Trincomalee on the north-
eastern side of Ceylon, just off India, were the British not justified in feeling
their sea links with India to be vulnerable and perhaps imperiled? Under the
circumstances, Prime Minister Pitt’s gloss upon British–French trade talks
was understandable: “Though in the commercial business I think there are
reasons for believing the French may be sincere, I cannot listen without sus-
picion to their professions of political friendship.”19 In the twilight of his
life, the comte de Vergennes found the entire thrust of a century of French
hostility toward British overseas interests – hostility, ironically, given new
life by his own North American policy! – to be militating against his dream
of a future Anglo-French rapprochement.
Vergennes’s death early in 1787 was symbolically appropriate, coming
as it did at the start of an epochal political crisis to which his own foreign
policy had so powerfully contributed. But there is a larger point to make
here. Vergennes’s policies – and, for that matter, those of all his eighteenth-
century predecessors – were above all problematic because of their consis-
tent failure to reckon adequately with the major changes in the European
state system. That system had been transformed by the emergence on its
outer flanks of Great Britain, Russia, and Prussia as major powers.
Britain’s ability in the eighteenth century to carry out an international
mission drawing general support from its affluent and articulate elites was
rooted in the political revolutions of the preceding century. Those revolu-
tions had beheaded one absolute Stuart monarch and chased another out
of the land. It was particularly the second, or “Glorious,” revolution of
1688 that proved decisive. It placed the profit-oriented agriculturalists of
the peerage and gentry in a newly secure position of power. The English
landlords, who wished to produce cereals and other crops for domestic
and foreign markets and to purchase various colonial and domestically
processed goods, plainly had much in common with English merchants
whose livelihood consisted in the domestic and international exchange of
such raw and finished commodities. Both groups perceived a compelling
need for a diplomatic policy that ranked the acquisition and/or defense of
colonies, trading posts, and commerce alongside dynastic and other purely
19 Blanning, Origins , p. 46. The foreign secretary, Carmarthen, “suspected that Vergennes was plotting a sinister plan to ruin England.” Murphy, Charles Gravier, Comte de Vergennes , p. 436.
22
Reinterpreting the French Revolution
“political” considerations. Beginning in 1689, these interests were ideally
situated, through their influence in the central and local organs of govern-
ment, to urge such a policy on successive monarchs. William III may in
his own mind have accorded a higher priority to humbling his detested foe
Louis XIV than to fostering English commerce, and the Georgian kings
seemed at times to be obsessed with the need to protect their Hanoverian
homeland from predators one and all on the Continent. Nonetheless, the
logic of British politics guaranteed that the country’s foreign policy became
almost as much a vehicle for upper- and middle-class economic interests
as an expression of the general “patriotic” desire for British prominence in
the world’s affairs.20
Almost . . . bu t not qu ite. The bitter Anglo-French contest over colonies
and commerce had for both powers a transcending geostrategic impor-
tance. England and France were competing above all for security and
prestige, whether calculated in quantifiable terms of relative economic
advantage or in terms of their constitutional systems, their religious and
cultural values, or (most directly) their military and diplomatic establish-
ments. Accordingly, both