The year afterwards the King led in person the siege of Ghent.  The peace of Nimeguen ended this year the war with Holland, Spain, &c.; and on the commencement of the following year, that with the Emperor and the Empire.  America, Africa, the Archipelago, Sicily, acutely felt the power of France, and in 1684 Luxembourg was the price of the delay of the Spaniards in fulfilling all the conditions of the peace.  Genoa, bombarded, was forced to come in the persons of its doge and four of its senators, to sue for peace at the commencement of the following year.  From this date, until 1688, the time passed in the cabinet less in fetes than in devotion and constraint.  Here finishes the apogeum of this reign, and the fulness of glory and prosperity.  The great captains, the great ministers, were no more, but their pupils remained.  The second epoch of the reign was very different from the first; but the third was even more sadly dissimilar.

I have related the adventure which led to the wars of this period; how an ill-made window-frame was noticed at the Trianon, then building; how Louvois was blamed for it; his alarm lest his disgrace should follow; his determination to engage the King in a war which should turn him from his building fancies.  He carried out his resolve:  with what result I have already shown.  France was ruined at home; and abroad, despite the success of her arms, gained nothing.  On the contrary, the withdrawal of the King from Gembloux, when he might have utterly defeated the Prince of Orange, did us infinite harm, as I have shown in its place.  The peace which followed this war was disgraceful.  The King was obliged to acknowledge the Prince of Orange as King of England, after having so long shown hatred and contempt for him.  Our precipitation, too, cost us Luxembourg; and the ignorance of our plenipotentiaries gave our enemies great advantages in forming their frontier.  Such was the peace of Ryswick, concluded in September, 1697.

This peace seemed as though it would allow France some breathing time.  The King was sixty years of age, and had, in his own opinion, acquired all sorts of glory.  But scarcely were we at peace, without having had time to taste it, than the pride of the King made him wish to astonish all Europe by the display of a power that it believed prostrated.  And truly he did astonish Europe.  But at what a cost!  The famous camp of Compiegne—­for ’tis to that I allude—­was one of the most magnificent spectacles ever seen; but its immense and misplaced prodigality was soon regretted.  Twenty years afterwards, some of the regiments who took part in it were still in difficulties from this cause.