scars, and
grizzled whiskers, worn by ministers, priests, dandies, and grim old
commanders.--So many faces, O ye gods! and every one of them lies! So
many tongues, vowing devotion and respectful love to the great king in
his six-inch wig; and only poor La Valliere's amongst them all which had
a word of truth for the dull ears of Louis of Bourbon.

* They made a Jesuit of him on his death-bed.

** Saint Simon's account of Lauzun, in disgrace, is
admirably facetious and pathetic; Lauzun's regrets are as
monstrous as those of Raleigh when deprived of the sight of
his adorable Queen and Mistress, Elizabeth.

"Quand j'aurai de la peine aux Carmelites," says unhappy Louise, about
to retire from these magnificent courtiers and their grand Galerie
des Glaces, "je me souviendrai de ce que ces gens la m'ont fait
souffrir!"--A troop of Bossuets inveighing against the vanities of
courts could not preach such an affecting sermon. What years of anguish
and wrong had the poor thing suffered, before these sad words came from
her gentle lips! How these courtiers have bowed and flattered, kissed
the ground on which she trod, fought to have the honor of riding by her
carriage, written sonnets, and called her goddess; who, in the days of
her prosperity, was kind and beneficent, gentle and compassionate to
all; then (on a certain day, when it is whispered that his Majesty
hath cast the eyes of his gracious affection upon another) behold three
thousand courtiers are at the feet of the new divinity.--"O divine
Athenais! what blockheads have we been to worship any but you.--THAT a
goddess?--a pretty goddess forsooth;--a witch, rather, who, for a while,
kept our gracious monarch blind! Look at her: the woman limps as she
walks; and, by sacred Venus, her mouth stretches almost to her diamond
ear-rings?"* The same tale may be told of many more deserted mistresses;
and fair Athenais de Montespan was to hear it of herself one day.
Meantime, while La Valliere's heart is breaking, the model of a finished
hero is yawning; as, on such paltry occasions, a finished hero should.
LET her heart break: a plague upon her tears and repentance; what right
has she to repent? Away with her to her convent. She goes, and the
finished hero never sheds a tear. What a noble pitch of stoicism to have
reached! Our Louis was so great, that the little woes of mean people
were beyond him: his friends died, his mistresses left him; his
children,