By the middle of the seventeenth century, a century and a half after Columbus had discovered America, an awareness of the non-European parts of the world had penetrated the European consciousness. A majority of Europeans believed that the earth was round and that strange people with strange customs inhabited the distant regions. By this time, acquisition of large hunks of world real estate by European powers was well under way. Yet for most Europeans the Americas and the Orient were so distant that they were not really a part of the “world.” European attitudes toward such distant places were comparable to current attitudes toward the moon. We know it is there and that men have been there, but there is so little likelihood that we individually will visit the moon that even the possibility does not occur to us. Our real world is limited to the blue and white sphere called Earth.
In the seventeenth century the “real” world, at least in terms of diplomacy, was still limited to the tiny peninsula at the western end of the Eurasian land mass called Europe. To be sure there was conflict over claims to non-European trade and real estate which were dealt with in European treaties, and fighting in the War of the League of Augsburg was sufficiently widespread that at least one historian has called it “The First World War.”1 But for most rulers the important events were those which happened in Europe itself. Events elsewhere were peripheral to their interests.2
Even within continental Europe not all parts were equally important for “international” affairs and for the development of diplomacy. The recent practice of treating early modern European diplomatic history according to geographic areas (western, northern, and southeastern)3 is useful for helping twentieth century undergraduates understand the main issues of each area. But it is important to remember that seventeenth century statesmen could not and did not separate the areas in their own plans and decisions. When dealing with William III and Anne of England, Louis XIV had to be constantly concerned with what Charles XII of Sweden and Leopold of Austria were doing or could be expected to do. It has been argued that the concurrent fighting of the War of the Spanish Succession and the Great Northern War in the early 1700’s was “the last time, as the German historian Treitschke points out, that two great wars could go on separately and simultaneously in Europe.”4 But the separate-ness was more apparent than real. Even though the major antagonists were not bound by formal alliances, every decision-maker had to be constantly aware of events in both wars, for the mixing of the two conflicts was a constant possibility. The intertwining of issues and conflicts between the so-called western and southeastern areas was so close during the decades of the 1680’s and 1690’s that separating the two makes both incomprehensible. For example, Emperor Leopold’s relations with France were constantly thwarted and interrupted by the Turks, while the northern area was mingled with the southeastern when the Swedes called on the Turks to fight the common enemy — Russia. But, for the most part, diplomats and decision-makers tended to ignore Turkey and Russia as well as the Middle East and North Africa.
It is too strong to say that Russia (or Muscovy as it was usually still called) and the Ottoman Turks had no role at all in seventeenth century European diplomacy. Rather, they were outsiders who intervened intermittently rather than full fledged participants. For instance, the Sultan at Constantinople was willing to receive permanent embassies at his own court, but he himself maintained none abroad until the end of the eighteenth century. Furthermore, the fact that the Turks were Moslems, “the infamous infidels,” helped to keep them from being part of the European system. Because of his cooperation with them, Louis XIV (whose courtesy title was “the Most Christian King”) was frequently castigated in anti-French Protestant pamphlets as “The Most Christian Turk.” Louis was sufficiently aware of the disadvantages of the situation that he usually did his best to conceal his connections with Constantinople. But despite their disclaimers, it is likely that the Protestants would have been willing to accept the Turks’ aid if it had been offered. The theoretician Abraham van Wicquefort wrote to a friend at a time when the Nertherlands was gravely threatened by French forces saying that he had just heard that the Sultan was willing to help the Dutch against Louis XIV. Wicquefort added: “I am a good Christian and a good Protestant, thanks be to God, but I would not hesitate to make use of Turkish arms against the violence that Christians would like to do to me.”5 The occasion for the Dutch and other Protestant states to make use of Turkish aid did not arise, but the will to do so was there.
The insignificance of Russia is illustrated by the fact that a French ambassador writing home as late as 1697 apparently did not think that his use of the title Czar (spelled Kzaar) sufficiently identified the person he had in mind and that it was necessary to add the phrase, “the grand duke of Muscovy.”6 Furthermore, few western princes maintained any contact with Russia in the seventeenth century except for some low-ranking diplomats or consular officials . Peter the Great’s visit to Western Europe in the late 1690’ s created almost as much excitement as visitors from outer space would today. The visit made westerners much more aware of Russia’s existence, but it had little diplomatic effect. Although the Austrians signed a short-lived agreement with Peter to fight the Ottomans in 1697, the pact lasted barely a year. No other western power concluded an official military accord with Russia until 1726.7 Important as Russia was to become in the eighteenth century and later, she simply was not a significant power in the seventeenth century. Claims that Russia had an important role in Western Europe are anachronistic.
The powers which really did count in inter-state relations in the period from 1648-1715/21 can be named quite easily. Without defining the term exactly, there is a concensus that around 1648 certain states were “great powers” either in fact or in reputation: France, Spain, the Emperor, the Dutch Netherlands, Sweden, and England, A number of other states were sufficiently large and/or powerful that they could play an independent role at least most of the time: the kingdoms of Poland, Portugal, and Denmark; the German principalities of Bavaria, Brandenburg, and perhaps Saxony; and in Italy, the Duchy of Savoy, the Republic of Venice, and the papacy. There were a number of semi-independent states whose participation in international affairs was sporadic and often limited by the interference of a powerful neighbor. Most of the German principalities and cities, the small Italian states (like Genoa, Parma, and Modena), the Swiss cantons, and Lorraine fell into this category. A number of states which had played independent roles in previous centuries like Scotland, Hungary, and the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies had been absorbed and were no longer independent. They did of course contribute to the power of the ruler who now held them.
What determined how important the various countries were in the mid-seventeenth century? Obvious factors like area, location, size of population, natural resources, and ability of a government to utilize its wealth for diplomatic and military purposes were all important. Most historians would agree that the leader in almost all these factors was the kingdom of France. The problems threatening this government in the Wars of Religion during the late sixteenth century had been brought under control by Henry IV, Louis XIII, and Richelieu. Despite the temporary setback of the Fronde,8 France at mid-century was at the point where it has generally been recognized as the epitome of absolutism. The old principle of “one faith, one king, one law” was as close to being a reality in France as in any other seventeenth century state. France’s location at the crossroads of Western Europe made the kingdom seem almost predestined to take an interest in events everywhere in the western part of the continent — a situation which is still true today although French ability to influence these events has declined drastically.
Spain, which had been the great rival of France for the century and a half preceeding the Peace of Westphalia, was not even officially one state in the seventeenth century. The monarchs rarely used the word Spain to refer to the territories they ruled until the eighteenth century. Even then they only began to use the formula “Catholic King of the Spains, of the Two Sicilies, Jerusalem, the Indies, etc.” because the idea of Spain was emerging as a popular notion within the peninsula and among foreigners who saw only the apparent unity rather than the autonomy of its various kingdoms. But in the mid-seventeenth century there were officially no kings of Spain: only kings of Castile, Aragon, Navarre, Sicily, counts of Flanders, Hainault, and Burgundy, dukes of Milan, Brabant, Luxemburg, etc., all united in the same person. In many ways the impression given by the multiplicity of titles is more accurate than the unity implied by the word Spain. The holdings of the Spanish Hapspburgs which earlier had threatened France with encirclement — the Netherlands (now Belgium), the Franche Comté (now eastern France), Milan, and the Iberian Peninsula — were by 1648 or 1659 like ripe fruit ready to be picked by Louis XIV. The government at Madrid was consistently on the verge of bankruptcy, unable to pay for defending itself, dependent on aid from friends and allies who were unwilling to see Louis do the gathering, and unable to enforce its orders to the governors of territories who acted more like sovereigns than agents of the king. Hampered by ineffective or incompetent kings and regencies, and haunted by visions of past greatness which it was unwilling to admit were past, Madrid tried to carry out a narrowly conceived diplomacy which was “unreliable, intransigent and haughty.”9 All in all, in the seventeenth century the Spanish crown played the role of “Sick Man of Europe” which the Turks were to play in the nineteenth.
Related to the Spanish rulers by blood and numerous dynastic marriages were the Austrian Hapsburgs. For generations they had been elected as rulers of what was nominally the foremost “state” of Christendom. The Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation, stretching from the North Sea to the Danube, from the Baltic Sea to the Rhineland, was, according to Voltaire, neither holy nor Roman nor an empire and, we might add, not even wholly German. The long pattern of declining authority of the emperor and rising authority of the princes had culminated in the treaties of Westphalia which recognized the right of the German states to be diplomatically independent:
It shall be free perpetually to each of the States of the Empire to make alliances with strangers for their preservation and safety; provided, nevertheless, such Alliances be not against the Emperor, and the Empire, nor against the Public Peace, and without prejudice to the Oath by which every one is bound to the Emperor and the Empire.10
The restrictions on the diplomatic freedom of the German states were to prove virtually meaningless in the future. The Empire had become an association of sovereign princes, bishops, municipalities, and princelings more like the United Nations today than like a unitary state. The Empire’s ineffectual Diet which met regularly at Regensburg, its constitutional law, and common language did not prevent the major principalities like Bavaria and Brandenburg and even a number of the minor ones from pursuing their own foreign policies. They were helped in doing this by the fact that a distinction was made between the Emperor and the Empire. The princes could defy the Emperor while still remaining at peace with the Empire.
After the Peace of Westphalia, Emperor Ferdinand III and his successor Leopold I appeared to be on the decline as much as their Spanish cousins. Ferdinand’s heroic struggle to reverse the downward trend of the emperor’s power and establish a truly monarchical state in Germany had been defeated by the resistence of the German princes and the intervention of outsiders, particularly the French and Swedes. Thus the emperor was thrown back to his hereditary territories which were made up of a congeries of titles which was even more confusing than those of the Spanish Hapsburgs. In addition to being emperor he was king of Bohemia, Archduke of Austria, Duke of Silesia, Styria, Carniola, Count of Tyrol, etc. There was almost no unity to these miscellaneous states except that imposed by the happenstance that they had a common ruler and were mostly located in the same general area inside and outside of the southeastern borders of the Holy Roman Empire.
To outsiders the government which the Austrian Hapburgs provided for their realms seemed to be the most inefficient in the world. One English statesman described how the court of Vienna had procrastinated on a vital matter, and thus “according to their usual custom of being behind hand, have this day made the first application for the Queen’s interposition on that behalf, so that they must be always in debt to the foresight of their friends more than their own ease for their preservation.”11 Another English leader wrote: “That house of Austria has been the evil genius of Britain. I never think of the conduct of that family without recollecting the image of a man braiding a rope of hay wilst his ass bites it off at the other end.”12
At the opposite end of Europe from the Austrian Hapsburgs were two states which are often referred to jointly as the Maritime Powers — the Dutch Netherlands and England. The use ofthat phrase is defensible in the eighteenth century, perhaps, but it is inaccurate in the seventeenth. It makes people assume that the two countries were essentially the same in organization and goals and, as in the eighteenth century, that England was definitely superior to the Netherlands. This was simply not the situation in the mid-seventeenth century. Emerging from the Peace of Westphalia in which mighty Spain had finally recognized the independence of her former provinces, the Dutch Netherlands was one of the richest countries in Europe. In an age when travel by water was generally safer, quicker, easier, and cheaper than land travel, the Dutch owned more ships than the rest of Europe put together. Their location at the mouth of the Rhine where the North Sea and the English Channel met allowed them to dominate two of Europe’s three greatest waterways (the third is the Danube). These factors helped to make the Dutch a great power in the 1650’s, but perhaps even more important in these years was the fact that none of their neighbors could challenge the Dutch position. Germany, was still suffering the effects of the Thirty Years War; France was undergoing the struggles of the Fronde; Spain and France were still fighting their extension of the Thirty Years War; and England had just undergone its Civil War which culminated in the execution of Charles I in 1649. Obviously, the Dutch would scarcely have recognized English predominance nor the idea that the interests of the two states were closely linked, much less identical. The three Anglo-Dutch wars, the conflicts with France, and the threats to Dutch commercial prosperity (and thus its political position in the European states system) posed by the English Navigation Acts and French Colbertism, were all still in the future. These events plus their relatively small population, their exposed and easily invaded territory, and their dependence on free trade, all combined during the last half of the seventeenth century to tumble the United Provinces from their high position.13
Italy, the homeland of modern diplomacy during the Renaissance, had become essentially a sideshow in international relations in the seventeenth century. With the exception of the period of the War of the Spanish Succession, when the Italian problem was central to European politics, the peninsula was usually ignored. Only the papacy, Venice, and Savoy played noticeable roles in European diplomatic affairs, and even these were quite limited. During the Renaissance the popes had acted like secular rulers in establishing diplomatic relations with secular states and had later sent nuncios throughout Europe.14 But the Protestant Reformation had cut off all formal diplomatic relations between Protestant rulers and the popes. With a few exceptions like the ties established between Rome and Prussia in the 1700’s, these diplomatic relations were not restored until the time of Napoleon. Unable to exert any diplomatic influence on the Protestant half of Europe, the popes became increasingly ineffective with Catholic states also after 1648. Innocent X’s condemnation of the Peace of Westphalia was simply ignored, while his successors were treated quite harshly by many secular princes who pressured popes just like any other secular ruler. On the other hand, papal control of the territory of the States of the Church in central Italy was rarely threatened. From 1648 to 1789 it became increasingly common for secular governments simply to refuse to recognize the position or authority of a nuncio. Nevertheless, Rome continued to be an important diplomatic center simply because of the popes’ power to grant the desires of Catholic rulers like cardinals’ hats, dispensations of all kinds, and prestige. Furthermore, the papal capital was a city where many diplomats were accredited and where important news was to be discovered.
The venerable Republic of Saint Mark, a cluster of islands surrounded by lagoons, had once been quite important. Consequently, the reports of Venetian ambassadors have been oft-quoted sources for the history of many European states ever since the German historian Ranke began using them more than a century ago. But by the late seventeenth century Venice had settled into a refined decay recognizing that its greatness was past and would not come again. The Republic still maintained some of its possessions in the eastern Mediterranean and along the Dalmatian coast of the Adriatic, but no one expected it to do much more than hold on to what it had. Venice did join the Emperor in the war against the Turks but more as a last gasp than a major effort. Rather, Venetians and numerous visitors saw the Republic primarily as a place of pleasure and entertainment rather than as an important diplomatic power. There were occasions when important diplomatic decisions were still made in Venice by visiting rulers. The Duke of Savoy and the Duke of Bavaria discussed Savoy’s desertion of France during a visit made with the excuse of attending the famous carnival of the city of canals. The Republic also continued to send ambassadors to most of the important states of Europe, but their role was usually that of observer rather than participant.
Of all the Italian states, only Savoy was a matter of concern to the major states because of its own importance. Straddling the maritime Alps between the kingdom of France and the Spanish duchy of Milan and the Spanish-dominated city-state of Genoa, Savoy was constantly forced to play a devious game of being a mouse where the cats were playing. Dukes Charles Emanuel II and Victor Amadeus II played their game very well although the contemporaries would more likely have described them as rats than mice. One ambassador described the latter as a “spiney creature who shows his thorns on all sides. He likes to see troubled waters in order to profit from the difficulties. . . .”15 To a degree unusual even in the seventeenth century, Victor Amadeus continually negotiated with anyone who would talk, whether enemy or friend. Even in 1707 when he was ravaging southeastern France he did not cease to make propositions to Louis XIV or to respond to those sent by the Sun King. His underhanded dealings were notorious. Louis XIV had proposed peace conditions between France and Savoy which were very favorable to the latter in the hope of persuading the Duke to withdraw from the Allied side in the War of the League of Augsburg. The French thought that peace was virtually assured, but the Duke sent an abbot to Vienna to show the Allies the French offers and ask if they were not prepared to recompense him even better if he remained in the war. He suggested the marriage of his daughter to the King of the Romans. Leopold took a long time to decide and, playing his own underhanded game, even informed Louis XIV of the Savoyard propositions. Many decision-makers were hard-pressed to understand Victor Amadeus’s position. A poor, relatively weak duke like him could not play by the same rules as the rich and powerful Sun King. One of the overwhelming realities in the second half of the seventeenth century was the preponderant position of France and Luois XIV.
One reason some scholars have discussed seventeenth century international relations in terms of three geographic regions16 is that they wished to avoid the emphasis on Louis XIV and France which is characteristic of most studies of the topic. But for purposes of understanding diplomatic institutions and the course of events, this is one case where the traditional and majority opinion is still best. Louis XI V’s France did play such a central role that any attempt (like this one) to narrate the events of the period in a relatively short space is still best organized according to the pattern imposed by French international relations. For most of the period from 1648 to 1715/21, the pattern consists of Louis XIV with one or two allies fighting or dealing with a number of opponents whose common opposition to France often did not provide enough adhesive to hold the coalitions together.
After the treaties of Westphalia were signed in 1648, much of Europe was too exhausted to do more than gratefully accept the cessation of hostilities. But Spain and France were unwilling to resolve their differences and continued their war. The French, and Cardinal Mazarin who directed French policy until his death in 1661, were unable to press the war because they were distracted by the troubles of the Fronde. The essential weakness of Philip IV’s Spain, on the other hand, is shown by the fact that he was unable to gain any significant advantage from his opponent’s internal conflict. After Mazarin and the Queen Mother overcame the threat of the Fronde, the Franco-Spanish war dragged on mostly with French successes and Spanish losses. Attempts to negotiate a settlement foundered on the problem of “Le Grand Condé,” a rebellious French prince who had gone over to the Spanish after the failure of the Fronde. Both sides needed peace. France needed it because of financial difficulties, the desires of the populace, and Mazarin’s hope to make a peace “treaty that would crown his career and firmly establish his reputation as a statesman.”17 Philip IV’s financial difficulties and the desire of his people for peace were, if anything, even greater than those of the French. Perhaps even more important was the desire of him and his chief minister, Don Luis de Haro, to end the war with France. They wanted to devote all of the Catholic King’s feeble energies to a last attempt to reconquer Portugal, which had been in “rebellion” since 1640. The device which actually forced Philip to begin serious negotiations involved the marriage of Louis XIV. Almost since their births two decades earlier, both the French and the Spanish courts had assumed that Louis would eventually marry Marie-Thérèse, daughter of Philip IV. A royal journey to southeastern France, ostensibly to probe the possibility of Louis’s marriage with a daughter of the Duke of Savoy, brought a quick offer of peace negotiations from Philip.
Ths spring of 1659 saw a gathering of diplomats and royalty at the western end of the Pyrenees Mountains. On the Island of Pheasants in the middle of the river dividing the two kingdoms, a temporary structure was erected, half on “Spanish” and half on “French” soil. There Mazarin and de Haro worked out the details of the Peace of the Pyrenees and of the marriage contract between Louis and Marie-Thérèse. For the signing ceremonies, each king stayed within his own kingdom although they were in the same room. The difference was symbolized by the decorations of the two halves, red and yellow for the Spanish and blue and gold for the French. Surrounded by courtiers and relatives, the two monarchs took an oath to maintain the peace and signed the treaties. Louis agreed to stop aiding Portugal and to reinstate the rebel Prince of Condé to his positions and estates. Philip IV ceded a number of towns and territories and agreed to his daughter’s marriage to Louis XIV. As part of the marriage agreement, Marie-Thérèse renounced her claims to her father’s thrones, but the renunciation was clouded by the famous “moyennant” clause which stated that she made the renunciation in return for her dowry of 500,000 ecus. The questionable validity of the renunciation, especially since the dowry was never paid, was to be a point of contention for the rest of the century. But for the moment the Treaty of the Pyrenees reestablished peace in Catholic Europe and was easily the crowning glory of Mazarin’s career which he had desired.
Elsewhere in Europe the decade following the Peace of Westphalia was marked by the somewhat hesitant diplomacy of Cromwell in England, although he did launch the first of the Anglo-Dutch wars. This was a threat to the Dutch who ardently desired to maintain the favorable status-quo established in 1648. In Germany there were attempts to guarantee the Westphalian settlement including the League of the Rhine of 1658, whereas Scandinavia was racked by a series of “preventive” wars involving Sweden, Denmark, Prussia, and Poland.
The decade of the 1660’s opened with a profound peace settled over Europe. The Treaties of the Pyrenees and of Oliva had ended the last important conflicts of the 1650’s. The disappearance of a number of the old decision-makers and the appearance of new rulers gave opportunities to hope that the peace could continue. Charles II was restored to the English throne in 1660 without help from other sovereigns and thus did not feel bound by promises he had made while in exile. Louis XIV took over personal control of his government when Mazarin died in 1661 and felt that he had any number of different options from which to choose in international affairs. The warlike Charles X of Sweden died in 1660 and was succeeded by his infant son — a situation which made a regency inevitable; and regencies for child rulers were notoriously weak and often unable to carry out vigorous foreign policies. Leopold I had recently succeeded to the Austrian Hapsburg territories upon the death of his father in 1657 and had been elected Holy Roman Emperor the following year. In Spain the worn out Philip IV was soon to die in 1665 leaving his thrones to the sickly child Carlos II under the regency of his mother. The diplomatic status-quo could probably have been left relatively undisturbed had none of the rulers desired to change it. But, not surprisingly, major change and conflict were soon to arise again.
For a brief period, interstate politics remained relatively calm. Philip IV tried to regain control of Portugal, but the situation in that kingdom had been substantially altered from that which had existed in 1640 when the Portuguese first revolted. Then Philip might well have been able to recapture the rebellious kingdom, for the House of Braganza had not yet established its control over the country nor had foreign powers come to its aid. But by 1660 both Louis XIV and the newly restored Charles II (who was soon to marry a Portuguese princess) were carefully supporting Portuguese independence despite the former’s promise in the Treaty of the Pyrenees to stop doing so. In the early 1660’s the utterly exhausted Castilian forces were no match for the Portuguese. Philip was in an even worse position to challenge his French son-in-law in the conflict over precedence which broke out in London between the French and Spanish ambassadors.18 The Spanish king was unable to do more than protest that Dunkirk still belonged to him when Charles II sold that city to Louis XIV in 1662. This agreement was but one aspect of Louis’s diplomatic activities in which he was trying to maintain good relations with the English, Dutch, Portuguese, and even the emperor at the same time.
The Sun King was so successful in maintaining good relations that the first important conflict of the 1660’s in Western Europe, namely the Second Anglo-Dutch War, did not even involve the French. The tension which had been rising between the States General and Charles II ever since the latter’s restoration led to hostilities in 1664 when the English occupied several Dutch territories in Africa and captured New Amsterdam (which they renamed New York). The relative unimportance of colonial questions in the seventeenth century is illustrated by the fact that the Dutch reacted to these conquests by making complaints through diplomatic channels. Only after these were unsuccessful did they declare war in March of the following year. Louis XIV was bound to support his Dutch Allies, but he was really more interested in his own goals and in maintaining good relations with Charles. He eventually took advantage of the Anglo-Dutch War to seize some Spanish territory which he claimed belonged to his wife after the death of her father. Utilizing the rather feeble excuse that a law governing private inheritances in some provinces of the Spanish Netherlands also applied to the inheritance of sovereignties, he began his so-called War of Devolution against Spain. French armies were successful in the Netherlands and the Franche-Comté. But to the Sun King’s astonishment, the English and Dutch almost immediately patched up a peace treaty at Breda; the Spanish regency government recognized Portugal’s independence and made peace with the Braganza king; and then, the Dutch and English concluded a treaty in the unbelievably short time of five days which, with the addition of Sweden, was called the Triple Alliance of The Hague. Ostensibly designed to force peace on both Spain and France, the Alliance actually was directed against France. Louis moderated his demands and made peace with the regency government of Carlos II at Aix-La-Chapelle in 1668.
In retrospect, Aix-La-Chapelle can be seen as the first of many times when Louis XI V’s goals were to be thwarted by an Anglo-Dutch combination. But at the time the gains he made in the treaty seemed very impressive. Louis’s position was so strong that Emperor Leopold even concluded a treaty with him in the same year on a matter which had been under negotiation ever since the death of Philip IV. This was an agreement on how the territories of Carlos II were to be partitioned among the claimants to the inheritance when the sickly child monarch succumbed, an event expected momentarily. Since Carlos did not die, the treaty had no immediate significance, but it was to be crucially important three decades later in negotiations for a later treaty, mistakenly but traditionally called the First Partition Treaty. This treaty with the emperor marked the beginning of a policy which Louis embarked on almost immediately after the Peace of Aix-La-Chapelle: the dismemberment of the Triple Alliance and the diplomatic isolation of the Dutch. These policies were preludes to his war of revenge against the presumptuous republicans of the Netherlands who had prevented him from inflicting his will upon the Spanish Netherlands.
Louis did not make the decision to go to war immediately after the Peace of Aix-La-Chapelle was signed. Rather, the Sun King seems to have decided gradually as the months passed; he came to feel that the arrogance of the Dutch was insufferable, especially when conflicts over commercial matters and tariffs continued to plague the two countries. Louis started diplomatic and military preparations for a Dutch war in 1670. In January the English and the Swedes had renewed the Triple Alliance, which apparently reinsured Dutch security. Several months later, however, Louis XIV empowered his sister-in-law to meet with her brother Charles and settle the secret treaty of Dover. There the English king promised, among other things, to support Louis in a war against the Dutch. Concomitantly, the Swedes needed subsidies to maintain their armies so badly that they also secretly withdrew from the Triple Alliance and accepted French money. A secret treaty of neutrality with the emperor, an alliance with the Archbishop of Cologne who owned the territory which the French had to cross to attack the Dutch,19 and an agreement with the Elector of Bavaria completed the French diplomatic preparations, although neither the Elector of Brandenburg nor the Spanish had agreed not to help the Dutch. Nevertheless, the diplomatic position of France and England seemed unassailable when they declared war against the Netherlands in the spring of 1672.
The astonishingly successful French military successes soon brought the Dutch to the point that they begged the Sun King to grant them peace on terms which would have had the effect of nearly destroying their independence. But Louis refused and continued the war. The breaking of their dikes which flooded the land between the French army and the Province of Holland (particularly Amsterdam), followed by an unusually mild winter in which the water did not freeze, gave the Dutch the precious commodity of time. Despite the efforts of French diplomats, Brandenburg, the emperor, Spain, and other powers came to the aid of the Dutch within the next few years while even the English and the Archbishop-Elector of Cologne withdrew from the French side. An unsuccessful attempt was made to assemble a peace conference at Cologne in 1673 with the king of Sweden as mediator. As was usual in the seventeenth century, negotiations continued among the belligerents, but serious negotiations did not take place for several years even though a new peace conference was assembled at Nijmegen in 1676. The failure to agree to a cease fire during the negotiations helped hold off settlements until 1678/9. The Peace of Nijmegen is often held up as the high point of Louis XI V’s diplomatic and military success and in some ways it was. He acquired some important territories and was able to force his enemies to return almost all their conquests to Sweden, the one country which had remained faithful to its French alliance. But, in terms of the original goals of the war20 and what could have been acquired in 1672/3, Nijmegen can be considered a distinct failure for the Sun King. Finally, the Dutch War had brought into existence the nucleus of an alliance of the emperor, the Netherlands, Spain, and (though not yet officially) England. This alliance would bedevil Louis for the rest of his reign.
Although most of the western European states had been involved in the peace settlements at Nijmegen or the related treaties, and though most of them remained nominally at peace with one another for the next decade, a number of conflicts did occur in the 1680’s. Louis XIV began his “reunion” policy wherein special French courts adjudicated the question of exactly which territories were now French as a result of the recent treaties in which certain places “and their dependencies” were ceded to France. The courts decided, according to ancient documents and traditions, which places were ceded; and then, French armies “reunited” them to the kingdom despite the fact that many had belonged to other princes for generations. Not surprisingly the owners objected to such unilateral decisions and accused Louis of brigandage. One modern author has called the Sun King as exquisite a bandit as Billy the Kid.21 Princes throughout Europe felt their security threatened by Louis’s highhanded methods. Even Louis’s one ally who had remained firm in the last war, Charles XI of Sweden, saw himself deprived of Zweibrücken. Numerous princes hastened to form alliances to protect themselves against the French aggression, and Spain even began armed conflict. Another large scale war against France might have broken out in the early 1680’s except for the great peril which loomed up in eastern Europe: the advance of the Ottoman Turks on Vienna.
Emperor Leopold had signed a twenty years truce with the Turks in 1664 and, as its expiration drew near, he confidently sent a delegation to negotiate its renewal. To his astonishment and horror, the Turks refused. And in 1683, a year before the truce was supposed to expire, a giant Turkish army laid siege to Vienna. Thanks primarily to a Polish army under King John Sobieski, the siege was lifted and Leopold was given the opportunity to pursue the Turks down the Danube. In order to do this, Leopold, acting both for himself and for the king of Spain, signed the twenty years Truce of Regensburg which had been negotiated under the diplomatic sponsorship of the Dutch. According to the terms of the agreement, the Franco-Spanish fighting was to stop and Louis’s acquisitions since the Peace of Nijmegen were to remain provisionally in his hands. During the next few years, while Leopold’s armies were achieving magnificent successes against the Turks, Louis and his diplomats were busily trying to turn the truce into a permanent peace. There were numerous obstacles to that goal. For instance, the widespread distrust of France in Protestant countries was greatly increased by the masses of persecuted Huguenots who fled France as a result of the revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685. But the Catholic powers were equally unwilling to give permanence to the French aggressions. Louis had not joined the Holy League of the emperor, Poland and Venice, then under the presidency of the pope, to fight against the Turks. He was even widely thought to have cooperated with the infidels. Concurrently, his refusal to recognize the succession of the emperor’s Catholic relatives, the house of Neuburg, to the title and lands of the Elector of the Palatinate engendered more anti-French feelings among Catholic rulers, especially in Germany.
One result of this anti-French feeling was the formation of the League of Augsburg at the instigation of William of Orange. The participants were the emperor, the king of Spain, the States General of the Netherlands, the king of Sweden, and a number of German princes. Louis, on the other hand, could not count on the support of a single significant ally. Even the Duke of Savoy was soon to cast his lot with the allies while James II of England, completely misunderstanding his situation, rejected the French king’s advice and offers of help until it was too late to save his throne. Louis decided to break relations with the emperor and sent his troops into Germany in September, 1688. Meanwhile he expected the coming invasion of England by the Prince of Orange to lead to a civil war which would prevent either English or Dutch intervention in the French war against the emperor. But he was mistaken. Within a few months, William and Mary were established as the new British sovereigns and James was a refugee at Saint Germain, a chateau near Paris. Even then the French could hope that the war would be short. But it was not; it was to last nearly a decade and end only when the combatants, especially France, were exhausted.
The war of 1688-1697 goes by a number of names: the Nine Years War, the War of the League of Augsburg, King William’s War, even the “First World War.” The variety of names reflects the variety of partcipants and issues involved — including what had become the traditional conflict between the Dutch, English, and Spanish versus the French over colonies, trade, and the southern Netherlands. But the Glorious Revolution had added another issue which was illustrated by a placard Louis XIV had posted in all the towns, ports, and harbors of his kingdom in May, 1689. The placard announced that Louis had declared war against the “Usurper of England,” (William of Orange). Then it explained that the king would have declared war earlier except that he did not want to intermingle the adherents of the Usurper with the faithful subjects of His Britannic Majesty (James II). The French king had also hoped that the good people of England would overthrow the Prince of Orange and return to their duty. On learning that the Prince of Orange had declared war on him on May 17, Louis himself declared war and ordered all his subjects, vessels, etc. to cease communications with England and Scotland on pain of death.22 But yet another issue also became involved when England and the Netherlands signed a secret treaty guaranteeing that the entire Spanish succession would go to one of the Austrian archdukes, sons of Leopold I. They did this despite William’s definite preference for the candidacy of the Bavarians. He was willing to sacrifice everything to the need to create a coalition including the emperor against Louis XIV. William’s task was made easier, especially in Germany, when Louis XIV ordered that the Palatinate in western Germany should be ravaged so that it could not serve as a base of operations for his enemies. The destruction of towns, villages, and fields brought on the Sun King the excoriation of pamphleteers who called him the new “ Scourge of God” and the ’Trench Attila.” The Bavarian Wittelsbachs and other German princes quickly joined the coalition. The circle of enemies surrounding France was completed when Carlos of Spain and Victor Amadeus of Savoy joined the circle in 1690.
Despite its apparent advantages of numbers, wealth, force, and mutual promises of support, the anti-French coalition suffered from the fundamental problem of all coalitions — the members had their own goals and purposes which, throughout the war, would not be subordinated to the goals of the other members. Several of the allies, particularly Savoy and the Netherlands, scarcely slowed their negotiations with Louis XIV throughout the whole course of the war. Louis, of course, was anxious to split off any of the allies he could from the coalition — his first success was with Savoy.
The negotiations leading up to the Treaty of Turin of August, 1696, were carried out in classic cloak and dagger fashion. In January, 1696, the French general commanding in the area, the Count of Tessè, was ordered to resume the secret negotiations with Duke Victor Amadeus of Savoy which had been going on and off for four years. Tessè made use of a Jesuit priest who had contacts with the Duke’s confessors, while a Savoyard official was sent to contact the French disguised as a peasant. The rough draft of the treaty was scarcely agreed upon when the Duke requested that Tessè’s secretary be sent secretly to Turin. Arriving in the middle of “the most dark and dreary night there ever was,” the secretary was received by the Savoyard official in charge of codes at two o’clock in the morning. The secretary of state interviewed him at five while the Duke himself appeared at eleven. All three pressed the poor secretary, trying to make him express some imprudent opinions or secret information, even plying him with wine to loosen his tongue. But the secretary continued to claim that he was just an insignificant nobody who knew nothing about the French king’s decisions on the treaty.
Despite such tactics Louis was so anxious to make peace with the Duke that he signed the Treaty of Turin on June 30. Victor Amadeus was so pleased that when he was alone in his rooms with only his valets around, he jumped up and down for joy in front of his mirror congratulating himself. The Duke had good reason for his joy over the treaty! He obtained the fortress of Pignerol in the Alps which the French had held since 1648; his territories and forts which had been captured by the French were to be returned without demolition and with their stores intact; his daughter was to marry the heir to the French throne, Louis’s grandson, without his having to pay a dowry; Louis promised to give him the title of Royal Highness and his ambassadors were to be treated in France in the same way as were the ambassadors of crowned heads. Of course, Louis XIV also received important benefits. One modern scholar states that Savoy’s “defection was a disaster for the allies.”23 The war in Italy had pinned down French troops and was very expensive, and this was the key reason for the allied superiority in the north in earlier years. After the Duke of Savoy convinced the emperor to neutralize Italy and to withdraw his troops from the peninsula, the French were able to mass their troops in the north. This was a key factor in the decision of the Dutch and the English to meet with France for a peace congress at Ryswick.
William III’s palace at Ryswick where the formal meetings took place was perfectly designed to fit the ceremonial needs which were so important a part of diplomacy in the seventeenth century.24 The building was located about halfway between the town of Delft where the French plenipotentiaries were housed and The Hague, seat of the States General and residence of the allied diplomats. The symmetry of the palace was perfect. In the center, served by the main driveway and entrance, was a large hall which was used by the Swedish mediator. The two wings were exact duplicates, each with its own bridge, gate, avenue, and entrance. Since neither side could complain that the other was given better quarters than itself, quarrels over ceremony and precedence were limited to the allies themselves rather than involving the French. At the first formal meeting of the plenipotentiaries in May, 1697, the representatives from each side presented their credentials to the mediator and resolved that the Congress would meet every Wednesday morning and Saturday afternoon. But it soon became obvious to everyone that nothing significant was going to be negotiated at Ryswick itself, despite the desperate pressures on both sides to come to an agreement.
Louis wanted peace too badly and the Maritime Powers were too pleased with the concessions the Sun King had already made for either side to break off negotiations. Arrangements were made for William Bentinck (the Dutch-born favorite of William III who had been granted the English title of Earl of Portland) and the Duke de Bouffiers (a French marshal) to talk informally in Flanders. Meeting in a variety of places, even in fields and orchards, the two men discussed the outstanding problems. As Matthew Prior, the English secretary to the delegation at Ryswick, noted in his private diary:
Whilst the conferences between my Lord Portland and Monsieur de Bouffiers went on with success in Flanders and the negotiation at Ryswick was at a standstill, Monsieur Harley remarked that the generals were making peace while the ambassadors were making war.25
With the exception of Louis’ s recognition of William as king of England, most of the important items like the Barrier Fortresses for the Dutch, tariff reductions, and the treatment of the exiled James II in France were left for private agreements rather than the public treaties which were signed in September in the palace at Ryswick. The emperor and the king of Spain at first refused to make peace, but the withdrawal of the Dutch and English fleets as well as their financial support soon forced these recalcitrants to come to terms with Louis XIV. The longest and most debilitating war Europe had seen since the Thirty Years War was finally brought to an end.
The fighting in Eastern Europe was also to end shortly thereafter when the Turks signed the Peace of Karlowitz in January, 1699, leaving the emperor in possession of all of Hungary and Transylvania. This treaty was especially significant as it marked the first time that the Turks actually acknowledged that they had been defeated by Europeans.
Unfortunately, the most important question facing Europe in 1697 had not been settled: the Spanish succession. If Carlos II had died before peace was made at Ryswick, there is no doubt but that the allies would have recognized Emperor Leopold’s claims as they had promised to do in the secret treaty of 1689. The problem of the Spanish Empire’s ownership would have merged with the War of the League of Augsburg. Despite all expectations to the contrary, Carlos continued to cling to life just as he had for thirty years. When the Treaty of Ryswick was signed, the Maritime Powers retracted their pledge on the grounds that the emperor had not kept his word to the Elector of Bavaria. William and the Dutch pretended that they would let Carlos make up his own mind about his successor. But the problem was still very real. Everyone knew that Carlos could not last much longer and that chances were nil that he would have an heir of his own body. Everyone also knew that unless some solution could be found, the conflicting dynastic claims of the French Bourbons, the Austrian Hapsburgs, the Bavarian Wittelsbachs, the duke of Savoy, the Braganzas of Portugal, and even several Spanish nobles would inevitably lead to a new war. The main problem, of course, was to find a solution which would be acceptable to the Bourbons, the Hapsburgs, and, if possible, the Spaniards themselves.
If the question were simply one of hereditary claims, there was no doubt but that the dauphin, the son of Louis XIV and Marie-Thérèse, should inherit the Spanish dominions. But the issue was clouded by renunciations, the testament of Philip IV, disagreement about which laws of inheritance applied, and the desires of Carlos II himself. However, all these technicalities were overshadowed by the fact that after Ryswick nobody wanted to give up his “just claims” to the Spanish succession. The result was a most unusual diplomatic action. Three countries, two of which had no claims whatsoever, took it upon themselves to negotiate a treaty disposing of the territories of a crown with which they were all at peace without even consulting the current owner of that crown.
Louis XIV took the first steps. He recognized that the other states of Europe would not allow him to acquire the Spanish Empire for himself or his direct heirs because the combination of France and Spain under one ruler would make the Bourbons preponderant in Europe. Thus Louis decided to try to arrange a compromise whereby the Spanish territories would be partitioned among the most important claimants. Louis knew that the Emperor Leopold would not willingly negotiate a new partition treaty because Leopold expected that his younger son would soon inherit all the possessions. For want of a better opportunity, Louis broached the subject in a roundabout way to “Mylord” Portland, William III’s ambassador to France, during Portland’s first public audience in March, 1698. Because of William’s close ties to the Netherlands, Louis was in effect also broaching the subject to the Dutch.
At first the Maritime Powers were hesitant even to agree to negotiate. Merely to participate in such negotiations was to give tacit recognition that the renunciation of the dauphin’s mother was not legitimate or binding, for if he had a right to a part of the Spanish territories, he obviously had a right to the whole. Furthermore, the Dutch and the English would be taking positive action to contravene the treaty they had signed in 1689 recognizing the emperor’s claims. The Sun King helped them overcome their scruples by showing them the treaty Leopold himself had made in 1668 agreeing to partition the Spanish Empire between Louis and himself. Finally, the disbanding of the English and Dutch armies at the insistance of Parliament and the States General made William and Heinsius, the most important Dutchman of the time, believe that they were in no position to stop the French from taking everything on the death of Carlos II. Thus they decided that the Maritime Powers might just as well negotiate to get as much as they could.
Portland turned out to be an unsatisfactory agent for carrying out the delicate negotiations so the scene was shifted to London where Louis XIV s newly arrived ambassador, the Count de Tallard, was to prove himself a much better diplomat than he was later to be a general. Despite innumerable difficulties, Tallard and Louis XIV persisted until the agreement which has come to be called the First Partition Treaty was signed between France, England, and the Netherlands in the autumn of 1698. The key point was the decision that the Electoral Prince of Bavaria, the Wittelsbach candidate, would inherit the bulk of the territories including Spain and the overseas empire. The French dauphin was to receive Naples and Sicily, while the Austrians would acquire Milan. A few other minor territories were included in both shares. Like his Spanish subjects, Carlos had no desire to see his territories partitioned. He therefore wrote a will making the Electoral Prince his universal heir. Either the treaty or the will might have been accepted by the powers but for an unexpected death. Instead of Carlos II it was the young Electoral Prince who succumbed in early February, 1699. This was disastrous as there was no other compromise candidate available whose claims were sufficiently strong to be accepted by the Austrians and/or the Bourbons.
The western powers went to work again. William and Heinsius tried to substitute the candidacy of the Elector of Bavaria for that of his son despite his lack of substantial hereditary claims but gave up when they realized that it was impossible. Another crisis arose when Portland decided to withdraw from the English court, but he returned when he was assured that his presence was essential for the negotiations with Tallard. Eventually the Second Partition Treaty was signed in March, 1700. It gave the Spanish crowns and the bulk of the territories to Emperor Leopold’s younger son, while the dauphin’s share remained the same except for the addition of Milan. Louis XIVs diplomats worked indefatigably throughout Europe trying to get other rulers, particularly the emperor, to accede to the treaty and guarantee its provisions. Their efforts were to be brought to naught by an astonishing development. Carlos II confounded the hopes and plans of everyone concerned by dying in November, 1700, and leaving a will which made Louis XIV’s second grandson, Philip of Anjou, his universal heir.
The testament was cunningly written to put Louis XIV in a difficult position. If the Sun King refused to accept the entire inheritance for either his grandson Philip or Philip’s younger brother, the Spanish ambassador was to go directly to Vienna and offer the crowns to the Archduke Charles, second son of Emperor Leopold. Louis’s decision seemed inevitable, but the Spanish ambassador was astonished on his arrival at Versailles to have Louis respond to the tremendous offer with his customary remark: “We shall see.” There were good arguments both in favor and against accepting the offer. Eventually Louis decided in favor and presented Philip to the ambassador with the remark that the Spaniard could salute his king. The ambassador’s supposed reply that the Pyrenees mountains had ceased to exist and that France and Spain were now one reflected both the hopes and fears caused throughout Europe by Louis’s acceptance of the will. His decision immediately changed the pattern of diplomatic activity in Europe. Ever since negotiations for the First Partition Treaty had begun, the Maritime Powers and France had been trying to avert war through a division of the Spanish possessions rather than allowing them to be added to another crown. The device of giving them to Louis’s second grandson created a third alternative since technically Philip was not in the direct line of succession to the French crown. But many decision-makers naturally feared that French interests would henceforth predominate at Madrid, and there was always the possibility that Philip would in fact succeed to the throne of France if his elder brother died without heirs.
When deciding whether or not to accept Spain for his grandson, Louis probably assumed that he would have to fight Leopold in either case. Now the question became one of whether the conflict of France and Spain against the emperor could be limited to them or whether other powers would become involved, thereby precipitating the general war nearly everyone wished to avoid. In the months after the partition treaties had been signed, French diplomats throughout Europe (somewhat weakly seconded by Dutch and English diplomats) had been trying to get other rulers to agree to the partition. After the acceptance, their job suddenly became one of convincing these same rulers that they should now accept the new situation and recognize Philip as legitimate ruler of the Spanish Empire. The French diplomats were remarkably successful at first. The pope, the Duke of Savoy, and a number of other sovereigns rapidly recognized Philip. Even William III, whom Louis had notified of his decision as soon as possible,26 and the Dutch recognized the new king. These last two were the key powers in determining whether the war would become general. Unfortunately for the peace of Europe, they found themselves in positions where they did not think they could stay uninvolved.
Blame for the outbreak of the War of the Spanish Succession has often been placed directly on Louis XIV himself. He undoubtedly should bear some blame because he did commit several blunders. For example, he publicly affirmed that Philip would retain his rights to the French throne even after he became king of Spain. This rekindled fears of a potential Bourbon hegemony in Europe which in itself weakened the positions of the peace parties in Britain and the Netherlands. In addition, Louis’s expelling the Dutch troops from their “Barrier” fortresses in the Spanish Netherlands and his accepting special benefits for French traders in Spain completed the rout of the Anglo-Dutch peace parties. However, a certain amount of blame must also be placed at the feet of Emperor Leopold. He had had a number of opportunities to accept the Partition Treaty which would have given the bulk of the Spanish inheritance to his son, but he had refused, insisting instead that his son should receive the whole. Even after Louis had recognized his grandson as king, there is evidence that the Sun King was still willing to compromise with Leopold.27 But Leopold prepared for war, not for compromise, especially since he knew that the Turks were unlikely to break the recently concluded Peace of Karlowitz. In his conflict with the Austrians, Louis XIV would no longer enjoy the advantage of having a helpful belligerent at his enemy’s rear. Furthermore, Leopold was right when he asserted that the Maritime Powers would be forced to join him against the Franco-Spanish combination. They did just that when the Grand Alliance was reestablished by a treaty signed at The Hague in September, 1701. The death of the exiled King James a few weeks later and Louis’s recognition of his son as James III thus did not cause the outbreak of the war. But Louis’s generous act did greatly strengthen William’s position in England for the coming war despite French avowals that the recognition in no way changed their relationship with William. The English ambassador in France left without taking formal leave, and the French secretary in London was expelled.28
The Franco-Spanish diplomatic situation looked very good in 1700 and improved in the short run with the adhesion of the Duke of Savoy, Portugal, Bavaria, and Cologne to their cause during the months when William III and the States General had recognized Philip V. But the Bourbon position soon worsened as more and more princes joined the Grand Alliance of The Hague — including the Danes and several German states. The Elector of Brandenburg adhered to the emperor’s cause in order to receive imperial recognition of his new dignity as King in Prussia. The outbreak of the Second (“Great”) Northern War involving Sweden, Russia, Poland, and Saxony in the early weeks of 1700 lessened the possibility that the Sun King could get direct aid from the northeast. The war started badly for the French and Spanish. The Austrians fought effectively in Italy and soon forced the Elector of Cologne to declare his neutrality. The death of William III, after a fall from his horse, gave temporary hope that war could be halted. But William was replaced as a military-political leader by John Churchill, the Duke of Marlborough, whose wife Sarah was the constant companion of the new Queen Anne. Marlborough was to dominate the English government and carry out William’s programs even more successfully than William himself was likely to have done.
Among the earliest diplomatic successes of the Allies was the detachment of the king of Portugal from his rather hesitant support of Philip and Louis. He openly sided with England and the Grand Alliance by signing the Methuen Treaties in May, 1703. Less than six months later, Victor Amadeus of Savoy was once again to betray his ally, this time Louis XIV, in a way which is reprehensibfe to people who believe that honesty and keeping one’s pledged word is more important in diplomacy than duplicity and benefitting one’s interest. The Allies simply were willing to give the Duke more than Louis and Philip would — specifically some Spanish territories in Italy. Victor Amadeus shifted from being supreme commander of the Franco-Spanish armies in Italy to being supreme commander of the Allied armies in Italy. The diplomatic isolation of the Franco-Spanish was almost complete. It only took the disastrous battle at Blenheim in 1704 to destroy the effectiveness of the last ally they had. The Elector of Bavaria withdrew from his devastated electorate into France to avoid being captured. There were now no potential French allies available. All the important states of Europe were already involved in one or the other war. Both sides in the western conflict hoped to bring Charles XII of Sweden over to their side, but the attempts came to naught. The few neutrals left, like Venice, were simply of no significant value.
As usual, negotiations were attempted during the course of the War of the Spanish Succession. Louis XIV discussed the Spanish Netherlands with the Dutch. He even corresponded with the man whom he considered a renegade, the Duke of Savoy, at a time when Savoyard armies were ravaging southeastern France. But no serious negotiations developed until 1709 when the French military position had become so disastrous that Louis decided he had to have peace at almost any cost. Discussions opened in the Netherlands. The Dutch and English were in such a strong position relative to France (although they were unsuccessful in Spain) that they kept upping their demands. At last Torcy, the French Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, went north to the Hague to talk with the Allies himself. Louis had ordered him to find peace at almost any price. The Allies demanded that Louis give up much territory including Strasbourg and withdraw his support and troops from Philip V; they also insisted that Louis actually send French troops to expel his grandson from Spain. Louis replied that it was better to make war on his enemies than on his own family and, despite the disastrous French situation, prepared to try to continue the struggle.
It turned out that 1709 was truly the darkness before dawn for the French, while the Allies were to find their position eroded significantly. Just as Louis would have been wise to accept the highly beneficial terms offered him years before by the Dutch in 1672,29 so the Allies were soon to rue their decision not to accept Louis’s terms in 1709. In 1710 Louis again tried unsuccessfuly to make a peace by giving up much French territory and withdrawing his support of his grandson. Thereafter a weakening of the Allied military situation, the death of Emperor Joseph I which made his brother “Charles III of Spain” the new emperor, and a change in the English government were shortly to lead the English to negotiate the peace preliminaries known as “Mart’s Peace.”30 Despite their dissatisfaction with the situation, the Dutch were forced to invite all the belligerents to send representatives to a peace conference at the Dutch town of Utrecht in the early months of 1712. Despite delays typical of early modern conferences, the English were able to pressure most of their allies into signing peace treaties at Utrecht in 1713. The Empire and the emperor held out until the next year when they eventually signed after another pair of conferences were held at Rastatt and Baden.
These settlements, known collectively as the Peace of Utrecht, and the Treaty of Nystad which ended the Great Northern War in 1721 marked the end of the great wars of the seventeenth century. They set the conditions of the “international” stage which were to last until the great wars of the French Revolutionary period began three quarters of a century later. Utrecht was not the unqualified success the Allies had hoped for and could probably have had in 1709. Philip retained the Spanish throne although he lost his Italian possessions to the Austrian Hapsburgs and had to give trading concessions to the Dutch and the English. The French kingdom came out relatively intact but with no substantial benefits from her extraordinary efforts. At least Utrecht did accurately reflect the true power relationships of eighteenth century states. Thus it may be that the quarter of a century of relative peace which followed the settlement of 1713/14 was primarily the result of the fact that it was a negotiated rather than an imposed peace settlement.
1J. Wolf. Louis XIV, New York, 1968, pp. 446-88.
2. Even the Spanish Council of State and the Spanish Crown, which had more overseas interest than almost any other early modern country, considered Europe to be more important than the American scene. G. Bensusan. Early draft of “The Spanish Struggle against Foreign Encroach ment in the Caribbean, 1675-1697,” Ph.D. dissertation, UCLA, 1970, Chap. 10.
3. See, for example, A. L. MoDte. The Seventeenth Century, Lexington, Mass., 1970, pp. 235-36.
4. R. B. Mowat. A History of European Diplomacy, 1451-1789, N.P., 1928 [reprinted 1971], p. 189. See below, Chap. II.
5. F. Kramer, ed. Lettres de Pierre de Groot, The Hague, 1894, p. 233, 20 November 1673.
6. Archives des Affaires Etrangères. Paris. Correspondance Politique, Danemark, Vol. 57, Bonrepaus to Louis XIV, 25 June 1697.
7. K. A. Roider, Jr. The Reluctant Ally: Austria’s Policy in the Austro-Turkish War, 1737-1739, Baton Rouge, 1972, pp. 32-36.
8. The Fronde was the revolt against the French royal government and Cardinal Mazarin from 1648 to 1652. Disturbances and conflict were widespread in the kingdom but have traditionally been called the parlementary Fronde and then the Fronde of the princes. The best study of the Fronde available in English is A. L. Moote. The Revolt of the Judges, Princeton, 1971, 407 pp.
9. G. L. Belcher. “Anglo-Spanish Diplomatic Relations, 1660-1667,” Ph.D. dissertation, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, 1971, p. v. See also A. D. Ortiz. The Golden Age of Spain, 1516-1659, Trans, from Spanish by J. Casey, New York, 1971, pp. 1-2.
10. This or a very similar statement was included in most of the different treaties signed at Munster or Osnabrück which are jointly called the Peace of Westphalia. The texts of sample treaties have been widely published in many different editions. Today they are most easily available in C. Parry, ed. The Consolidated Treaty Series, Dobbs Ferry, New York, 1969- ; F. L. Israel, ed. Major Peace Treaties of Modern History, 1648-1967, Commentaries by E. Chill, New York, 1967, 4 vols; and F. G. Davenport, ed. European Treaties bearing on the History of the United States and its Dependencies, Gloucester, Mass., 1917-1937 [reprinted 1967], 4 vols.
11. J. F. Chance, ed. British Diplomatic Instructions 1689-1789; Sweden, 1689-1727, London, 1922, p. 35, Robert Harley to Dr. John Robinson, 3/14 June 1707.
12. Bolingbroke as quoted in D. B. Horn. The British Diplomatic Service, 1689-1789, Oxford, 1961, pp. 22-23.
13. F. P. Dalerac. Anecdotes de Pologne, Vol. I, Paris, 1699, pp. 8-11.
14. See below, Chap. III, pp. All students of early modern diplomacy are indebted to G. Mattingly. Renaissance Diplomacy, Boston, 1955,323 pp., now available in several paperback editions.
15. Rambuteau, ed. Lettres du maréchal de Tessè, Paris, 1888, p. xiv.
16. See above, Chap. I, p
17. Wolf. Louis XIV, see note 1, p. 116.
18. See below, Chap. VII, pp.
19. See map in G. Zeller. “Les Temps modernes, II, de Louis XIV à 1789,” Vol. III of Histoire des relations internationales, Paris, 1955, p. 39. See also H. H. Rowen. The Ambassador Prepares for War, The Hague, 1957, 210 pp.
20. P. Sonnino. “Louis XIV’s Mémoires pour l’histoire de la guerre de Hollande,” French Historical Studies, Vol. VIII, 1973, pp. 29-50.
21. J. L. White. The Origins of Modern Europe, New York, 1964, p. 90.
22. Issued 25 June 1689. Biliothèque Nationale. Paris. Manuscripts. Fonds français, NA 7487, fol. 16.
23. S. B. Baxter. William III and the Defense of European Liberty, 1650-1702, New York, 1966, p. 341. See also P. Canestrier. “Comment M. de Tessè prépara, en 1696, le traité de paix entre Louis XIV et Victor-Amédée II de Savoie,” Revue d’histoire diplomatique, Vol. 48, 1934, pp. 370-92.
24. See below, Chap. VII, p.
25. British Museum. London. Loan 29/335, Matthew Prior’s private journal, 17/27 May 1697. See below, Chap. IV, pp. for biographical sketch of Prior.
26.See below, Appendix, pp. for a translation of the letter Louis XIV sent to William III on 7 December 1700.
27. Wolf. Louis XIV, see note 1, pp. 506-10.
28. See below, Chap. IV, p.
29. See above, Chap. I, p
30. See below, Chap. IV, pp