displayed her accustomed naivète, wit, and pathos. To that work Mr. Bulwer seems to have been indebted for many of the thoughts and the incidents that grace his five-act play.

As in the original story, the Marquis de Bragelone, a chivalric, and unsullied knight of France is betrothed to Mademoiselle, afterwards Duchess de la Vallière, who has an unbounded esteem for him, but of true and ardent love, none. Like a noble-minded man, he does not urge his suit inconsiderately or cruelly, but hopes that time and his warlike exploits may gain her heart. Their parting interview is thus given.

Brag. Louise! Louise! this is our parting hour:
Me war demands-and thee the court allures.
In such an hour, the old romance allowed
The maid to soften from her coy reserve,

And her true knight, from some kind words, to take
Hope's talisman to battle!-Dear Louise!

Say, canst thou love me?—

M. de la Vall.

It is a word that

Brag.

Sir!-I-love !—methinks

Sounds upon thy lips

Like' land' upon the mariner's, and speaks

Of home and rest after a stormy sea.

Sweet girl, my youth has passed in camps; and war
Hath somewhat scathed my manhood ere my time.
Our years are scarce well-mated: the soft spring
Is thine, and o'er my summer's waning noon
Grave autumn creeps. Thou say'st I flatter!'-well,
Love taught me first the golden words in which
The honest heart still coins its massive ore.
But fairer words, from falser lips, will soon

Make my plain courtship rude.-Louise! thy sire
Betrothed us in thy childhood: I have watched thee
Bud into virgin May, and in thy youth

Have seemed to hoard my own!-I think of thee,
And I am youthful still! The passionate prayer-
The wild idolatry-the purple light

Bathing the cold earth from a Hebe's urn;-
Yea, all the soul's divine excess which youth

Claims as its own, came back when first I loved thee!
And yet so well I love, that if thy heart

Recoil from mine-if but one single wish,

A shade more timid than the fear which ever

Blends trembling twilight with the starry hope

Of maiden dreams-would start thee from our union,

Speak, and my suit is tongueless !

M. de la Vall.

If to believe all France's chivalry

O, my lord!

Boasts not a nobler champion-if to feel

Proud in your friendship, honoured in your trust,—

If this be love, and I have known no other,
Why then
Brag.

Why then, thou lov'st me!

M. de la Vall. (aside.)

I feel 'twere to deceive him! Is it love?

Shall I say it?

The transcendant beauty of Mademoiselle de la Vallière has reached the ears of the dissolute and gay king of France, Louis XIV., who gains her over to his court. He is not yet "The Great," but the Louis of Fontainbleau, in the flush of a brilliant youth, and in the excitement of a first-love. Though under his protection, and becoming deeply enamoured of him, she is for a time still more alive to the beauty and value of virtue. The following is part of a scene, at night, in the Gardens of the Fontainbleau, which are brilliantly illuminated for the delight of the King and his court.

"Louis. Sweet La Vallière !

M. de la Vall. Ah!

Louis. Nay, fair lady, fly not, ere we welcome
Her who gives night its beauty!

Thyself the example? What if I had listened,
Veiled by yon friendly boughs, and dared to dream
That one blest word which spoke of Louis absent
Might charm his presence, and make Nature music?
M. de la Vall. You did not, Sire! you could not!
Louis.

Nor pine for these divine, unwitnessed moments,
To pray thee, dearest lady, to divorce

Could not hear thee,

No more the thought of love from him who loves thee,
And-faithful still to glory-swears thy heart

Unfolds the fairest world a king can conquer !

Hear me,

Louise!

M. de la Vall. No, Sire; forget those words!
I am not what their foolish meaning spoke me,
But a poor simple girl, who loves her King,
And honour more! Forget, and do not scorn me!
(Exit Mademoiselle de la Vallière).

Louis. Her modest coyness fires me more than all
Her half-unconscious and most virgin love."

In perfect accordance with the confession, he pursues his

purpose.

"Louis. (To Mademoiselle de la Vallière.)

Nay, if you smile not on me, then the scene

Hath lost its charm.

M. de la Vall.

O Sire, all eyes are on us!

Louis. All eyes should learn where homage should be rendered.
M. de la Vall. I pray you, Sire-

The Queen.

To try your fortune?

'Will't please your Majesty

Fortune! Sweet La Vallière,

(Looks scornfully at Mademoiselle de la Vallière.) Louis.

I only seek my fortune in thine eyes,

(Music. Louis draws, and receives a diamond bracelet. Ladies crowd

round.)

First Lady. How beautiful!

Second Lady.

Each gem were worth a duchy!

Third Lady. Oh, happy she upon whose arm the King
Will bind the priceless band!

Louis. (Approaching Mademoiselle de la Vallière.)

(Clasps the bracelet.)

Permit me, Lady.

Lauzun. Well done-well play'd! In that droll game call'd Woman, Diamonds are always trumps for hearts.

First Lady.

Too light!

Her hair's

Second Lady. Her walk is so provincial !
Third Lady. D'ye think she paints?

Lauzun. Ha! ha! What envious eyes,

What fawning smiles, await the King's new Mistress !"

The King's unblushing profligacy, even in the presence of his queen, is not more forcibly pourtrayed in this scene than history warrants; but we cannot compliment the author either for his vulgar wit about diamonds and hearts, or for the third lady's scullerylike piece of insinuated detraction.

It is not long before rumours injurious to the fair fame of Mademoiselle reach Bragelone. He hurries from the field of war to the royal residence, and obtains an interview with the object of his pure and unwavering affections, at the moment when she has been reasoning with herself concerning the King's devotion to her. She says,

He loves me, then! He loves me! Love! wild word!
Did I say love? Dishonour, shame, and crime

Dwell on the thought! And yet-and yet he loves me! (Re-enter Bragelone, at the back of the stage.

picture.)

She takes out the King's

Mine early dreams were prophets !-Steps! The King?
Brag. No, lady; pardon me! a joint mistake;
You sought the King-and I Louise la Vallière !
M. de la Vall. You here, my Lord!-you here!

Brag.

Fairer than many fair; but sweet and humble,
And good and spotless, through the vale of life
She walked, her modest path with blessings strewed;
(For all men bless'd her ;) from her crystal name,
Like the breath i' the mirror, even envy passed:
I sought that maiden at the court; none knew her.
May I ask you-where now Louise la Vallière?

M. de la Vall. Cruel!-unjust!-You were my father's friend, Dare you speak thus to me?

Brag.

You have learnt your state betimes!

M. de la Vall.

Dare! dare!-'Tis well!

Brag.

I know not by what right you thus assume
The privilege of insult!

Ay, reproach!

The harlot's trick-for shame! Oh, no, your pardon !
You are too high for shame: and so-farewell!

M. de la Vall. My Lord !-my Lord, in pity—No!—in justice, Leave me not thus !"

He becomes convinced of her innocence and exclaims,

"Curs'd be the lies that wrong'd thee !-doubly curst

The hard, the icy selfishness of soul,

That, but to pander to an hour's caprice,
Blasted that flower of life-fair fame!

Accurst

The King who casts his purple o'er his vices!
M. de la Vall. Hold!-thou malign'st thy king!
Brag. He spared not thee!

M. de la Vall. The king-God bless him!
Brag.
Wouldst thou madden me?
Thou!-No-thou lov'st him not?-thou hid'st thy face!
Woman, thou tremblest! Lord of Hosts, for this
Hast thou preserved me from the foeman's sword,
And through the incarnadined and raging seas
Of war upheld my steps?-made life and soul
The sleepless priests to that fair idol-Honour?
Was it for this ?-I loved thee not, Louise,
As gallants love! Thou wert this life's IDEAL,
Breathing through earth the Lovely and the Holy,
And clothing Poetry in human beauty!
When in this gloomy world they spoke of sin,

I thought of thee, and smiled-for thou wert sinless!

And when they told of some diviner act

That made our nature noble, my heart whispered

So would have done Louise!'-'Twas thus I loved thee!
To lose thee, I can bear it; but to lose,

With thee, all hope, all confidence, of virtue-
This-this is hard!-Oh! I am sick of earth!

M. de la Vall. Nay, speak not thus!-be gentle with me.

Come,

I am not what thou deem'st me, Bragelone;
Woman I am, and weak. Support, advise me!
Forget the lover, but be still the friend.

Do not desert me-thou !

Brag. Thou lov'st the King!

M. de la Vall. But I can fly from love!"

This extract contains not the only expression and appeal to heaven in the play, which is shockingly irreverent. There occur such words as these, "O Father, bless her," which, we are happy to learn, were received by the audience in Covent-garden theatre, on the first performance of the piece, with the most unqualified testimonies of disapprobation. Really novel and play-writers should remember, that if they spend their days in catering for public amusement, the least thing that can be demanded of them is that their works be harmless-that they offer no glaring indignity to the most solemn and precious feelings which religion has fostered.

Mademoiselle is induced, by the earnest solicitations of Bragelone, to fly to a convent. But no sooner does his Majesty hear of the extraordinary event-that of a maid of honour flying from a kingthan he swears that he will bring her back, and that he who stands between his royal will and her he loves, becomes a traitor. He makes good his word, and forcibly carries her from the convent. It must be allowed, however, that although she at first clung to a crucifix, she insensibly lets it go, and not unwillingly resigns herself to him. She becomes his victim; he showers wealth and honours upon her; she is created a duchess; and for a time she engrosses all his attentions and love.

But Louis, like many other men, was fickle as well as heartless; and the Duchess is forced to feel and exclaim,

"" Oh, to what a reed

We bind our destinies, when man we love!

Peace, honour, conscience lost-if I lose him,
What have I left ?"

Not only has the King's love cooled for the Duchess, but he has chosen a new mistress, and insults the former, by proposing that she should marry one of his coxcomb courtiers, the Duke de LauThis is too much to be borne, and her simple nature is aroused to vindicate itself with a degree of magnanimity, of which she had hitherto afforded no symptoms. She says to Lauzun, as soon as she learns the purpose of a special visit he pays to her,

zun.

"Duch. de la Vall.

So, thou art he

To whom this shattered heart should be surrendered ?—
And thou, the high-born, glittering, scornful Lauzun,

Wouldst take the cast-off leman of a King,

Nor think thyself disgraced! Fie !-Fie! thou'rt shameless!