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.

Shortly afterwards,—­by one of the most surprising and unheard-of pieces of good fortune, the crown of Spain fell into the hands of the Duc d’Anjou, grandson of the King.  It seemed as though golden days had come back again to France.  Only for a little time, however, did it seem so.  Nearly all Europe, as it has been seen, banded against France, to dispute the Spanish crown.  The King had lost all his good ministers, all his able generals, and had taken good pains they should leave no successors.  When war came, then, we were utterly unable to prosecute it with success or honour.  We were driven out of Germany, of Italy, of the Low Countries.  We could not sustain the war, or resolve to make peace.  Every day led us nearer and nearer the brink of the precipice, the terrible depths of which were for ever staring us in the face.  A misunderstanding amongst our enemies, whereby England became detached from the grand alliance; the undue contempt of Prince Eugene for our generals, out of which arose the battle of Denain; saved us from the gulf.  Peace came, and a peace, too, infinitely better than that we should have ardently embraced if our enemies had agreed amongst themselves beforehand.  Nevertheless, this peace cost dear to France, and cost Spain half its territory—­Spain, of which the King had said not even a windmill would he yield!  But this was another piece of folly he soon repented of.

Thus, we see this monarch, grand, rich, conquering, the arbiter of Europe; feared and admired as long as the ministers and captains existed who really deserved the name.  When they were no more, the machine kept moving some time by impulsion, and from their influence.  But soon afterwards we saw beneath the surface; faults and errors were multiplied, and decay came on with giant strides; without, however, opening the eyes of that despotic master, so anxious to do everything and direct everything himself, and who seemed to indemnify himself for disdain abroad by increasing fear and trembling at home.