A change in the leadership of the Spanish forces in Italy had already weakened them, and the recall of six thousand men to Spain greatly increased Lichtenstein’s advantage, as results were not slow in proving. The battle of the tenth of August disposed of the Spaniards as far as Maria Theresa’s army was concerned, and left it free to chastise Genoa. That Republic, already alarmed at the turn of events, became panicstricken when the Austrians captured Bocchetta, and the Senate bowed its once proud neck beneath the foot of the victor. The punishment it had so well merited was not lacking when the day of reckoning came. Maria Theresa magnanimously, indeed, sought to save Genoa from the depths of humiliation to which Botta relentlessly subjected it, for the crippled Republic had suffered enough,—and too much, as the sequel showed. At this juncture, when the army was victorious and both ready and able to continue the work, Maria Theresa’s plans were frustrated by the jealousy of England and Sardinia. The two allies felt obliged to turn their arms against Naples, which lay so near, and the result was obvious: the Empress was forced to abandon them and follow the French and Spaniards to Nice. The advance into Provence, however, was suddenly brought to a standstill, because of the harsh treatment Genoa had received. The bow had been bent too far, and it broke. A popular insurrection was the fruit of Botta’s revenge. Austria’s disregard of the fact that a people driven to desperation will risk everything—a fact unfortunately too often forgotten, in spite of the terrible examples in history,—cost it dearly; for, aside from its material losses in men and supplies, Botta’s flight and the forced retreat of Browne from Provence were bitter fruit. Nor was it made any less so by the loss of Genoa itself, and the fact that Austria had only itself to blame; for the brutal severity of the conqueror and his overbearing arrogance were alone responsible. Genoa retained its freedom after this, and the war was continued with varying results until the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle put an end to the bloodshed; but Austria had no cause to rejoice over this peace, and Maria Theresa felt it deeply. The Queen, however, now turned her vigorous mind and generous sympathies into other channels than those which ran red with human blood, and devoted herself to the welfare of her people. War, even in its grandest aspect, is and must always be degrading to humanity and a source of untold misery. The old German saying that “Peace nourishes; strife consumes,” is a true one. In spite of manifold disasters, Maria Theresa had emerged from the long struggle with success; she had defeated the efforts of her enemies to break her power, and had strengthened her empire. It had taken eight years of war; but the great Empress had not been through this hard school of experience without profiting much by it, even if her gains were not those of territory.