LA VALLIERE,

A TALE OF LOUIS THE FOURTEENTH.

(For the Parterre.)

THAT princes never become the objects of friendship, has been the frequent opinion of mankind. But do they neither ever become the objects of love? Or is the female heart capable of an elevation unattainable by the other sex, and, by casting all vanity and self-interest aside, in loving the man, of overlooking the prince?

Louis the Fourteenth, the so called great, was a man who had perhaps few real claims to such a title, but was one who, in his younger years at least, was worthy of being the object of love. Why was he called upon to conquer kingdoms, when he was satisfied with conquering hearts? Had he lived but a century before, and, instead of a sceptre, received a knightly sword in his hand, he would everywhere have borne away the prize through his valour and his mercy. His intellect was neither dazzling nor clouded. His outward bearing was noble and faultless; his stature tall and majestic; and to per

fect and regular features, he added a large commanding eye.

An arch Italian girl, of the name of Maria Mancini, and niece of the celebrated Cardinal Mazarin, was the first to draw any advantage from the peculiar disposition of the youthful monarch. Without being positively beautiful, and in spite of the disturbance which this first love-affair of Louis immediately created among the members of his family, she managed to obtain entire possession of his heart; and not content with this, even ventured to aspire to the rank of her lover. The thoughtless youth was actually on the point of yielding to her wishes by espousing her. The wily Mazarin himself was dazzled at the brilliant prospect. To the complaints of the king's family, however, was already added the murmuring voice of the people, who shuddered at the possibility of the royal blood of France, to which every true patriot owed blind obedience, being polluted by that of an Italian girl. The cardinal, afraid of the coming storm, drew back; and Maria Mancini, notwithstanding her tears and entreaties,

was obliged to leave, not only the court, but the kingdom.

After having mourned for his first love the becoming time, Louis took unto himself a consort in the person of Margaret of Savoy. Not finding, however, in this marriage all that his fickle nature required, he began again to long for novelty.

One clear and beautiful summer's night, Louis, after being present at a ball given by his consort at the château of Vincennes, strolled forth into the neighbouring grove, attended only by a few courtiers. They had not been long there before a faint and distant noise fell upon their ears. Groping their way through the thicket in the direction whence the noise proceeded, they stopped to listen ; and presently several female voices became distinctly audible.

"So late in the night ?" exclaimed the king to his favourite Beringer. "What in the name of wonder can our fair ones be seeking at this time?"

"What else, sire," answered the courtier, smiling, but the joys of some happy love, or consolation for an unhappy one?"

"Well, in either case," returned Louis, "it will be worth the trouble to watch them."

The ladies approached, and passing slowly by, were soon lost in the grove, without having perceived either Louis or his courtiers. The latter followed them softly until they saw them seat themselves on one of the benches.

The king, then making a sign to all his attendants, with the exception of Beringer, to withdraw, took his station behind a large tree, from which, although nothing could be seen, they could hear all that passed distinctly and unobserved. And what was it they heard?-Nothing more or less than a very grave discussion as to who had been the best dancer at the ball! Each gave her separate opinion; the one declaring this, and the other that courtier to have been the best. One lady, however, among them, was not very willing to concur in the critical opinion of the majority, and was consequently taken to task by the others.

"Can one then," she at length said, "for a moment look upon those whom you have been mentioning, after having seen the king?"

"Oh, oh!" they all exclaimed at once, "so the happiness of attracting your eyes is reserved for majesty alone!"

"That the king is not a private individual," replied the refractory fair one,

"is a circumstance at which, I think, we ought all to rejoice, for did he not wear a crown, we might hope"

"Well! what?" impatiently exclaimed one of the company.

She was unable to finish the sentence she had begun; but after a few moments taking courage, she continued, “even as king, however, we must confess that he must render one indifferent to any other."

With ravished eyes the monarch looked at Beringer; and, nodding to him significantly, they both receded a few steps, as they perceived the ladies preparing to depart.

"Who can that be?" was the question that first escaped the lips of Louis, as soon as he found himself alone with his favourite. "Whoever she is, tell me, you must know her."

Beringer expressed extreme regret at his total ignorance of who the fair one might be; and thereupon he received his most gracious dismissal from his irritable master, but with the caution not to mention a word of what had passed in the grove.

"Most singular !" said Louis to himself, as soon as Beringer had withdrawn. "She loves me-an incognito! Here at my court, where coquetry and art are continually striving to recommend themselves to my notice, where the eye of envy is ever on the watch, here is one that loves me, and in secret!"

Who in Louis' situation could have slept the night through after such a discovery? And yet Louis, who, contrary to his habits, rose early the following morning, was obliged to wait several hours before Beringer brought so much intelligence that the ladies of the previous night were in all probability attached to the court of Henrietta, his brother's consort. Again a curious link in the chain of events! With this very Henrietta, Louis was at that time carrying on a sort of amorous intrigue, and he was now to seek out his beloved unknown at her court. At one moment he was willing to dare all; the next his fears were the master of him. His courage, however, at last prevailed, and Louis determined to go to Madame.

With devouring looks the monarch's eyes measured every female figure present. Not less busily engaged was Beringer, who felt himself in utter embarrassment until he had replaced on a sure footing, his tottering reputation as

* Henrietta of England, sister of our Charles the Second.

a courtier.

A well-known lady of the court, whose name does not at present concern us, fell under his notice, and hastily going up to the king, he whis pered into his ear, "That is the fair one, sire!" But no sooner had Louis heard her voice, than he turned his back on her, and took no further notice of Beringer. At length, however, he discovered among the crowd a figure, with her pensive eyes resting upon the ground. The veil of modesty lay in her every look. Louis accosted her. She blushed, and stammered forth some broken sentence. This was the fair one.

To have thrown himself instantly at her feet, the delighted monarch would have been but too happy. But in such a company how could he do this? The thought of the jealousy of Henrietta pierced like a dagger into his heart; he cast one look on his fair one, and went away.

Louisa Francisca de la Vallière, the newly discovered favourite of the king, was one of those charming beings, whose good qualities escape the observation of common eyes, on account of their being more touching than striking. She could hardly be called handsome; her face was rather too long for the oval, and her mouth rather large; neither was her complexion dazzling, nor her figure sufficiently embon-point.

There was nevertheless

a charm and a grace about her, which riveted the looks of the beholder. To long flowing hair and dark blue eyes, were added lips the colour of the rose; a faultless figure, a rounded arm and delicately small hand, were such as to prevent the circumstance of her being somewhat lame from being noticed. Her mind was strictly in accordance with her body; without possessing wit or remarkable talent, she had a happy spirit of observation. The idea of dazzling never entered her mind, much less that of deceiving; her heart was open as the day. whole being seemed formed for love.

Her

To have attracted the notice of the king, was certainly a thought sufficient to add to the charms of a modest and beautiful enthusiast. She was ignorant that the king was aware of her regard for him. The king himself was happy; his first wish had been granted; he had seen her.

There was still, however, much wanting to a proper understanding between them. Louis, on his part, did all that lay in his power, by frequently going to the court of Madame, and unhappily no one was less disposed to dissemble than *This is strictly true.

himself. Henrietta soon discovered that the object of his frequent visits was some other than herself, and her jealousy was immediately aroused. She watched and inquired, but all to no purpose. The ladies of the court, however, whom the unaccustomed and despotic tone of their mistress equally as much surprised as distressed, were more successful in their inquiries. It was soon whispered about, and pretty loudly, that the king was in love with La Vallière. At first no one gave credence to it, not even Henrietta.

Poor La Vallière, who soon became the object of envy and ridicule at court, grieved in secret. Even Louis, whether through frivolity or shame, appeared all at once to avoid her.

But when did not love compel even the most open character at times to put on the mask? Perhaps Louis, remembering the history of Mancini, sought only security under the mantle of indifference; perhaps he only wanted time to determine on the plan best suited to the accomplishment of his wishes. How ever this might be, he still loved La Vallière as before, and all that he wished for was an opportunity of conversing with her. This soon presented itself.

The whole court was one day walking in the park of Vincennes, when a heavy and unexpected shower came on, so that every one sought shelter for himself, without paying much regard to the king. Louis, who during the confusion, had fixed his eyes unceasingly on La Vallière, soon perceived that on account of her partial lameness, she was unable to keep up with the rest of the company. He held back ;-the company were soon out of sight, and the king was alone with his fair one.

"May I be permitted to offer my arm?" asked Louis.

The poor girl blushed crimson, and stammering forth some broken answer, accepted it. They had thus walked on a few yards, when Louis proceeded ;—

"Perhaps you are not so well acquainted with this road as myself. I will lead you the nearest way back."

For a minute or two there was a perfect silence. The two lovers walked on together without looking at each other. Louis became embarrassed, until at length La Vallière timidly observed

"I am sorry that the company should have been so disagreeably disturbed by the rain."

"If you only knew for what I am indebted to this rain”

"What might that be?"

"The power of at length disclosing to you, what so long hath made me both so happy and so miserable. Oh! could I but calculate that you would listen to it with favour."

During the discourse, the words of Louis became somewhat more connected. The impetuous and irresistible ardour of his address deprived the timid girl of her senses, and her embarrassment only served to increase the eloquence of the king. He well knew that every word from the mouth of a lover is sacred; and if he had not been previously persuaded of her love towards him, her present conduct must have betrayed it. Minute after minute thus glided away, and instead of returning to the company, they lost themselves deeper and deeper in the wood, and, after the lapse of an hour, on their arrival at the château, the king first perceived that during the whole time he had been walking with his head uncovered.

And now the path to a secret understanding between them was broken; but notwithstanding this, it was impossible for them to think of seeing each other again for the present, on account of the unceasing watchfulness of Henrietta, whose suspicions had been aroused far more than was agreeable to either. Epistolary correspondence, however, that universal assistant of separated lovers,-Louis determined should help to alleviate the dreary interval; and Beringer was again brought into requisition, to be the bearer to La Vallière of a letter full of burning expressions of tenderness. But, how unexpected was its reception! The poor simple-hearted girl certainly loved the king more than he loved her; she would really have done, what he merely said-have cast away a sceptre to share a cottage with him. But the thought of being his mistress, fell like a poisonous mildew on every budding flower of her wishes and her fancy. Although the conviction of the king's inability to marry her might have pleaded for the lover, yet the knowledge of that lover being the husband of another, was sufficient to destroy her peace of conscience. To his first letter, therefore, the king received no answer.

Aroused by this opposition, Louis wrote a second, and Beringer, the bearer, made the necessity of an answer so apparent, that the timid La Vallière consented to answer it.

The correspondence which the lovers now carried on, was certainly of a curious description; nor can anything but

a knowledge of the manners of the court at that period, preserve it from ridicule. That striving after esprit, the national malady of the French, was then in its infancy, and consequently, like all other epidemics, at its greatest height. Whatever was spoken, must have been spoken with elegance; and whatever was written, must have been capable of appearing as an appendix to the letters of Voiture.* Truth, without colouring, was looked upon as simplicity; and the language of love, without the flowers of speech, as insensibility. Unfortunately there was not a single lady at the court less acquainted with these requisite flowers of speech, than the child of nature, La Vallière. She thought and thought of a well-written answer, but all to no purpose; until, at length one day, when buried in meditation on the subject, it chanced that she received a visit from the rhymster Benserade, who, although not exactly the appointed poet-laureate, generally performed all the duties appertaining to that honourable office.

"You seem quite lost in thought, gracious lady," said Benserade, "one would almost imagine that you were in secret communication with the Nine Sisters."

No, dear Benserade, it is precisely because I am not in this secret communication, that you find me thus in thought. Suppose you were to assist me. I am in one of those desperate situations in which I can neither say yes -nor no-but yet must say something." "Most gracious lady! all my little riches are quite at your service. But might I presume to ask "

"Oh yes! The whole of the affair is that I am to write a letter to one whom I must deprive of all hope, but yet without seriously hurting him."

"I always thought, that to write such letters was the innate talent of the ladies. You must say much, in order to say nothing; promise much, in order to promise nothing; and grant much, in order, unobserved, to take away the more."

Jest soon became earnest; and Benserade really indited a pretty tolerable extempore answer, which, possessing the requisite qualities, La Vallière copied, of course with a few alterations and additions, and forwarded to the king.

"So she has esprit too! exclaimed the astonished Louis. Without loving

* A courtier of those days famed for the extravagant style of his letters.

her the more, the king rejoiced at this newly discovered perfection; and in order not to be backward in gallantry, he gave a small fète in her honour, and commanded Benserade to write a poetical epistle to her on the occasion.

No sooner had La Vallière received this poetical effusion, than she invited Benserade to pay her a visit, but with the caution to keep it secret. What cannot the vanity of a poet conceive? Benserade imagined that at least the lady was in love with him. He appeared at the appointed time-twilight, and cautiously opened the door. The lady beckoned to him slightly with her hand, and in a moment the laureate was at her feet, in due theatrical attitude.

The poet rose, and recovering from his delusion, became from that moment the confidant of both La Vallière and Louis. Behaving himself with praiseworthy discretion, he enjoyed the felicity, through the means of the letters and answers, which he alternately wrote, of playing with the hearts of the lovers.

But La Vallière and Louis, soon found that the most elegant sentences brought them no nearer to the goal of their wishes. To see each other daily, without being able to utter more than a few hasty words, was too much for the selfdenial of a king. How willingly would he have concealed his love altogether from the eyes of the court, if he could have enjoyed it in secret! But this was not possible. He therefore boldly determined to seize the first opportunity of publicly bestowing on La Vallière some distinguished mark of his favour.

In those days, it was customary for elderly ladies to pass away their leisure evenings, either over their breviaries, or at cards; but with the queen-mother, the game of lottery was the usual amusement; and those who were so happy as to be in her good graces, were generally presented with a ticket. The prizes were not unfrequently of great value. It happened one evening, that the king was one of the party, and the first prize a pair of beautiful bracelets. The king drew, and won. Every lip was eloquent in the praises of the bracelets, and every eye strained to see who would receive them. The queen-consort smiled full of curious hope, and Henrietta of England sat in haughty and silent expectation,

The timid La Vallière was almost concealed in one corner of the room, when Louis, with the bracelets in his hand, and accompanied by every eye, walked up to his charmer.'

"What do you think of these bracelets, Mademoiselle?" at the same time handing them to her. With down-cast eyes, she took them out of his hand, and inspected them.

"They are uncommonly beautiful! " answered La Vallière, making a motion to return them. The king however, drew back, adding; " and in hands too beautiful ever to be returned into mine."

The blood rushed to the cheeks of the astonished girl. Henrietta sunk back in her chair. Looks were exchanged in every direction. The queen-mother was uneasy; the whole company was disturbed.

The king alone walked stately and unconcerned up and down the

room.-—

How much is it to be regretted that Louis, daring enough to enter upon the most hazardous enterprise, was not endowed with sufficient courage to proceed with it. From that evening, La Vallière was watched with more than Argus eyes, and seldom enjoyed one happy mo

ment.

Henrietta, however, bought her ungenerous persecution of this poor girl at a dear price. Louis gave several fêtes nominally in honour of her, but in which, in reality, his beloved played the principal character. Hunting parties especially, were the favourite amusement, as the ladies then appeared in their Amazonian habit, and no dress displayed the slender figure of La Vallière to greater advantage. It is true that Henrietta often struggled to be absent from these parties, but the etiquette of the court would not allow her presence always to be dispensed with.

Louis soon became impatient to have another interview with La Vallière, at whatever price; and after adopting and rejecting many plans in his mind, he at length resolved on the following enterprise.

The chamber of La Vallière in the chateau, was adjoining to the chamber of Mademoiselle d'Artigny, which bordered on one side of the roof. Around the roof ran a leaden gutter. This neckbreaking way of getting to the object of his love, was right welcome to the chivalrous nature of Louis. Beringer was so fortunate as to obtain the consent of Artigny to the king's passage, through her room; and the very evening on