Louis XIV. was not so blind as Fenelon supposed; he saw the danger at the very moment when his kingly pride refused to admit it. The King of England had just retaken Namur, without Villeroi, who had succeeded Marshal Luxembourg, having been able to relieve the place. Louis XIV. had already let out that he “should not pretend to avail himself of any special conventions until the Prince of Orange was satisfied as regarded his person and the crown of England.” This was a great step towards that humiliation recommended by Fenelon.
The secret negotiations with the Duke of Savoy were not less significant. After William III., Victor-Amadeo was the most active and most devoted as well as the most able and most stubborn of the allied princes. In the month of June, 1696, the treaty was officially declared. Victor-Amadeo would recover Savoy, Suza, the countship of Nice and Pignerol dismantled; his eldest daughter, Princess Mary Adelaide, was to marry the Duke of Burgundy, eldest son of the dauphin, and the ambassadors of Piedmont henceforth took rank with those of crowned heads. In return for so many concessions, Victor-Amadeo guaranteed to the king the neutrality of Italy, and promised to close the entry of his dominions against the Protestants of Dauphiny who came thither for refuge. If Italy refused her neutrality, the Duke of Savoy was to unite his forces to those of the king and command the combined army.
Victory would not have been more advantageous for Victor-Amadeo than his constant defeats were; but, by detaching him from the coalition, Louis XIV. had struck a fatal blow at the great alliance: the campaign of 1696 in Germany and in Flanders had resolved itself into mere observations and insignificant engagements; Holland and England were exhausted, and their commerce was ruined; in vain did Parliament vote fresh and enormous supplies. “I should want ready money,” wrote William III. to Heinsius, “and my poverty is really incredible.”
There was no less cruel want in France. “I calculate that in these latter days more than a tenth part of the people,” said Vauban, “are reduced to beggary, and in fact beg.” Sweden had for a long time been proffering mediation: conferences began on the 9th of May, 1697, at Nieuburg, a castle belonging to William III., near the village of Ryswick. These great halls opened one into another; the French and the plenipotentiaries of the coalition of princes occupied the two wings, the mediators sat in the centre. Before arriving at Ryswick, the most important points of the treaty between France and William III. were already settled.
Louis XIV. had at last consented to recognize the king that England had adopted; William demanded the expulsion of James II. from France; Louis XIV. formally refused his consent. “I will engage not to support the enemies of King William directly or indirectly,” said he: “it would not comport with my honor to have the name of King James mentioned in the treaty.” William contented himself with the concession, and merely desired that it should be reciprocal. “All Europe has sufficient confidence in the obedience and submission of my people,” said Louis XIV., “and, when it is my pleasure to prevent my subjects from assisting the King of England, there are no grounds for fearing lest he should find any assistance in my kingdom. There can be no occasion for reciprocity; I have neither sedition nor faction to fear.” Language too haughty for a king who had passed his infancy in the midst of the troubles of the Fronde, but language explained by the patience and fidelity of the nation towards the sovereign who had so long lavished upon it the intoxicating pleasures of success.
France offered restitution of Strasburg, Luxembourg, Mons, Charleroi, and Dinant, restoration of the house of Lorraine, with the conditions proposed at Nimeguen, and recognition of the King of England. “We have no equivalent to claim,” said the French plenipotentiaries haughtily; “your masters have never taken anything from ours.”
On the 27th of July a preliminary deed was signed between Marshal Boufflers and Bentinck, Earl of Portland, the intimate friend of King William; the latter left the army and retired to his castle of Loo; there it was that he heard of the capture of Barcelona by the Duke of Vendime; Spain, which had hitherto refused to take part in the negotiations, lost all courage, and loudly demanded peace; but France withdrew her concessions on the subject of Strasburg, and proposed to give as equivalent Friburg in Brisgau and Brisach. William III. did not hesitate. Heinsius signed the peace in the name of the States General on the 20th of September at midnight; the English and Spanish plenipotentiaries did the same; the emperor and the empire were alone in still holding out: the Emperor Leopold made pretensions to regulate in advance the Spanish succession, and the Protestant princes refused to accept the maintenance of the Catholic worship in all the places in which Louis XIV. had restored it.
Here again the will of William III. prevailed over the irresolution of his allies. “The Prince of Orange is sole arbiter of Europe,” Pope Innocent XII. had said to Lord Perth, who had a commission to him from James II; “peoples and kings are his slaves; they will do nothing which might displease him.”
“I ask,” said William, “where anybody can see a probability of making France give up a succession for which she would maintain, at need, a twenty years’ war; and God knows if we are in a position to dictate laws to France.” The emperor yielded, despite the ill humor of the Protestant princes. For the ease of their consciences they joined England and Holland in making a move on behalf of the French Reformers. Louis XIV. refused to discuss the matter, saying, “It is my business, which concerns none but me.” Up to this day the refugees had preserved some hope, henceforth their country was lost to them; many got themselves naturalized in the countries which had given them asylum.
The revolution of 1789 alone was to re-open to their children the gates of France.