Versailles remained as they had done for years, silent and deserted.

Yet, even in their desolation, the galleries of Versailles formed a fitting monument to the memory of their founder. They told of his glory. They were memorials of his love of magnificence and display, and they told of the extravagance at which that love was gratified; and they showed to succeeding generations, what the indifference manifested at his funeral showed to his contemporaries, how fleeting and unsubstantial is the popular admiration of a sovereign who does not make the end and aim of his government the happiness of his people. But they did justice also to the genius of Louis, who, if he neglected the interests of his people at home, laboured hard to make France respected abroad; and they showed how far he, who was every inch a king," excelled, in talents and kingly tastes, those by whom he was succeeded. Versailles is, in fact, identified with Louis Quatorze; it was his palace when living, and, when dead, his tomb.

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It was, it is true, inhabited by Louis the Fifteenth; and the death of that monarch took place within its walls. His successor, and the charming Marie Antoinette, likewise kept their court here. It witnessed, moreover, some of the most striking events which preceded the Revolution, some of the most startling scenes of that eventful era. Yet, after all these changes and vicissitudes, at the mention of Versailles we think of none of these: when that name falls on the ear, the mind, overlooking all intermediate objects, rushes back at once to the contemplation of Louis the Fourteenth, and of the brilliant court which he had here created around him; for the interest which we feel in Versailles is as closely identified with that which we experience for him at whose bidding it arose, as was the progress of this proud structure with the varied aspects of its creator's reign.

We will just glance at a few of these; and then resign the matter into hands well calculated to deal with a subject like the present, which may be said to combine the truth of history with the imagiration of romance. Mr. James, who has shown in his romantic novels of "Richelieu," " Philip Augustus," and "De L'Orme," his familiarity with the history of France, more especially at those moments when its interests are of the deepest, could not have found a fitter theme for his well-practised pen than "THE LIFE AND TIMES OF LOUIS THE FOURTEENTH." The records of such an era, abounding in events of the most startling nature, and which called into activity the most daring spirits and the profoundest statesmen which that age produced, when chronicled by a writer so popular as Mr. James, cannot but be welcome to the reading public; and, accordingly, to the forthcoming and concluding volumes of his history, after bestowing some small additional tedium upon our readers, we shall beg to refer them for a more elaborate picture of Versailles when in its "most high and palmy state."

Versailles may be said to have had but one master, its first and greatest. But it witnessed the rise of three mistresses,-the gentle La Valliere, the spirituelle and imperious Montespan, and, lastly, the shrewd and ambitious De Maintenon,-whose several reigns form well-defined epochs in the history of this princely edifice.

It rose when the star of La Valliere was in the ascendant; when Louis, naturally anxious to escape from the too rigid surveillance of

Anne of Austria, and to be himself the master of his own actions, felt this anxiety strengthened by his growing but secret passion for the beautiful La Valliere. Tradition has asserted that the cause of the king's abandoning St. Germain, (where he first held his court, in consequence of his insuperable objection to reside in the capital,-an objection conceived from the troubled scenes which his childhood had witnessed at Paris,) was a morbid dislike to the sight of the Abbey of St. Denis, the burial-place of his predecessors, and which met his eye whenever he looked from the windows of the Palace of St. Germain. There may be some truth in this legend; as also in another, which attributes to Louis a belief in the divine origin of kings, very different from the metaphorical spirit in which that doctrine is generally received, and which, if true, would elucidate several points in the character of this monarch.

Was the sight of St. Denis the cause; or that more reasonable one alleged by others, and to which we have already referred, namely, the king's anxiety to escape from the observation of eyes more watchful than was agreeable to him?-it is certain that his earliest visits to Versailles, which were almost stolen ones, took place at the period when his fondness for La Valliere was a secret known but to few. At this time, as at the latest moment of his reign, the fact of being invited to join the king at Versailles was the standard of royal favour.

At length, in the spring of the year 1664, Louis announced his intention of giving a grand festival at Versailles; and this, which was ostensibly in honour of the queen, but in reality in compliment to the beautiful and amiable Louise de la Valliere, was the first event which betokened the future destiny of this chosen spot. The king had commanded that this entertainment should exceed in magnificence all that had preceded; even the splendid tournaments which, two years before, had formed the admiration and delight of all Paris. The king's commands were faithfully obeyed. The management of the entertainment was entrusted to the Duke de Saint Aignan; the plan to the Italian, Vicarani; and the result was an allegorical pageant in the taste of the times, founded on a scene in Ariosto, and entitled" Les Plaisirs de l'Isle Enchantée." In this, Louis, covered from head to foot with jewels, and surrounded by a dazzling retinue of heralds, knights, pages, and squires, displayed the beauty and majesty of his person and his skill in arms, by entering the lists, and carrying off no less than four times the victor's prize. It was at this festival, which is invested on that account with considerable literary interest, that Louis read the three first acts of the then unfinished " Tartuffe."

From this time Versailles became the scene of those gay festivals with which the king was accustomed, more especially during his liaison with the Duchess de la Valliere, to excite the wonder and admiration of his courtiers, among whom it now became a matter of ceaseless anxiety and intrigue to obtain the king's commands to form one of the royal party, which henceforth yearly took up their abode in the buildings constantly erecting for their accommodation. The peace of Aix-la-Chapelle was here celebrated, on the 18th July 1668, by a sumptuous entertainment far surpassing that entitled "L'Isle Enchantée:" and, four years after this, we find these additional buildings so far completed, that Louis found himself en

abled to remain at Versailles with his ministers, and his more immediate circle, for the greater portion of the year.

The chivalrous spirit, however, which had up to this period, or very nearly so, characterised the court of Louis, was shortly doomed to change. On the 19th April 1674, Louise de la Valliere took her formal departure from the court, in the chamber of her successful rival, Madame de Montespan, in order to enrol herself as "Sœur de la Misericorde" in the Carmelite nunnery of the Rue St. Jaques, at Paris; where, brooding over her sorrows, and seeking by good works to atone for those errors into which she had been betrayed by her own beauty and a monarch's love, she lived for many years, to use her own expressive language, "not happy, but content!"

The successor of this "humble violet," as she was styled by Madame de Sévigné, was La Marquise de Montespan, who enjoyed the affections of Louis during the most brilliant part of his reign. The dominion of this witty, spirited, and haughty woman, and the transitory appearance of her sisters, the still more beautiful and witty Abbess de Fontevrault, and the captivating and gifted Madame de Thianges, form a brilliant era in the history of Versailles. Madame de Maintenon, who eventually supplanted the mistress who had introduced her to Louis, describes her as "amusing herself by allowing six dormice, harnessed to a chariot of filagree, to nibble her finger's ends, while she exhibited the king to the ministers as if he had been a child; at the same time, knowing all the most important affairs of state, and giving very beneficial and very baneful advice upon them, according to the humour in which she happened to be."

Madame de Montespan was clever as she was haughty; and her raillery-and what raillery is so effective as that which proceeds from the mouth of a pretty woman?-was so dreaded by the whole herd of courtiers, that it is said, there was not one amongst them who would venture to pass the windows of her apartments at such times as they knew the presence of the king would enable her to point the shafts of her ridicule with increased bitterness and assured success; and this talent contributed greatly to the establishment of that rigid system of etiquette by which the whole affairs of Louis' court were from this time regulated. The elevation of Madame de Montespan to the distinguished position which she enjoyed was a measure pregnant with the greatest danger to that extraordinary respect in which Louis had succeeded, as it were, in enshrining the throne. Yet the character of the favourite, who held that it was good to assume a virtue though we had it not, and whose wit and beauty enabled her to preach this doctrine far more effectually than sterner moralists could have done, combined with that love of order which Louis always exacted from those around him, to bring to perfection that mysterious engine of state policy, entitled Etiquette; which, regarding the monarch as its supreme source or centre, superior to the ordinary observances of life, sanctioned his violation of the laws of virtue and propriety, without erecting his conduct into a pattern for imitation. The reign of Madame de Montespan forms the gayest period in the history of Versailles; the court had regularly taken up its residence within its walls, destined to form the model of half the palaces of the continent, and every court in Europe resounded with the praises

of those festal displays of magnificence in which Louis so much delighted.

But while Madame de Montespan still enjoyed the favour of Louis, and even in the midst of his transitory passion for the beautiful Duchesse de Fontanges, the spirit of Madame de Maintenon was busily weaving around the king those toils from which he was doomed never more to extricate himself. At length she obtained the object for which she had so long struggled, the hand as well as the heart of her royal lover. During the winter following the death of the queen, which took place in July 1683, the "charming" Madame Scarron, now transformed into the "canting" Madame de Maintenon (Reader, the epithets are Walpole's,)—was secretly married to Louis by the Archbishop of Paris, in a private chapel of the castle, and in the presence of Père la Chaise, Bontemps the king's first chamberlain, and other confidential witnesses.

The king now gave her apartments on the same floor which he himself occupied, and, indeed, immediately opposite to his; and, having here established her throne, this queen, in all but name, very seldom quitted it. From this time she was seen but little in public. The king received her visits only on the occasion of his indisposition; and the Duchess of Burgundy was the only one, with the exception of his majesty, who could boast of such an honour.

These were the gloomiest days which Versailles witnessed during the long reign of Le Grand Monarque, notwithstanding they formed the golden age of the celebrated Oeil de Bœuf. The same good star which had so long shone brightly over the destinies of France, had sunk beneath the horizon. Those able ministers who had so long guided her counsels, had dropped one by one into the silent grave. Scarcely were those wounds healed which the unfortunate war and fearful winter of 1709 had inflicted upon the people, when death robbed Louis of all his direct and legitimate descendants, with the exception of the sickly Duc d'Anjou. From this moment the king was rarely seen in the vast saloons of Versailles except in the garb of mourning.

Nor was it "the inky suit alone" which marked the sorrow which had taken hold upon him, and the change which adversity and the counsels of Madame de Maintenon had wrought upon his mind. Louis le Grand, that mighty sovereign, who had dictated the peace of Nimeguen, formed the Canal of Languedoc, and sanctioned the performance of "Tartuffe," gradually sunk into a doting bigot, who transferred the seat of empire to the bedchamber of Scarron's widow.

"Oh, what a falling-off was there, my masters!"

Said we not rightly then, that Versailles saw its gloomiest days under the foundress of St. Cyr?

ON POPULAR AND NATIONAL POETRY.

BY CHARLES MACKAY.

FRANCE.

BACON did not invest poetry with undue importance when he wrote, "Give me the writing of songs for a people: let who will make their laws." It would be no uninteresting or uninstructive study, taking the remark for a text, to note the influence which songs have exercised upon the fortunes of nations, by keeping alive from generation to generation the hopes, the fears, and the prejudices of the people, and thus weakening the effect of such laws as may have been forced upon them in spite of either. It is not my object, however, to take such high ground on the present occasion; but rather to traverse the pleasant fields of European song, and cull on the way some of the fairest flowers which may be indigenous to each particular soil. In France" la chanson" wields a power which has been at times sufficient to make a monarch wince upon his throne, and which in the days of Louis XIV. and XV. fully justified the remark that the government was an absolute monarchy "temperée par les chansons.” In Germany, Switzerland, Hungary, Scotland, and the Tyrol, the songs of the people are mirrors in which the national mind is vividly reflected. In England the songs, with a few exceptions, possess a more cosmopolitan character. Our lyrics, beautiful though they be, do not in general embody the characteristics and aspirations of our people. This remark applies more particularly to our modern songs, which have nothing exclusively English about them except the language, and might be translated into French, German, or Spanish, without the loss of a beauty, or the necessity for explanation, even to a reader totally unacquainted with our history and present state. But our deficiencies in this respect will be apparent if we make a more intimate acquaintance with the popular poetry of other countries, especially of those which have suffered the most from political causes. Among nations, as among individuals, sorrows and trials draw out the latent poetry, which but for them might have slumbered for ages. Sorrow is indeed the nurse of song, and inspires more music than joy or triumph.

To begin with France. What a faithful index to the national mind may be found in the songs which delight the people! How redolent they are of the land which gave them birth! How untranslateable in all their original freshness, and how incomprehensible in some of their most delicate and touching allusions to the stranger who is not thoroughly acquainted with the history of the country and the characteristics of the people! Songs which cheer the husbandmen, or are hummed by cottage girls at their rustic labours; and the uncultured but still poetic staves sung by the corn-reapers or the vintagers, in which, ever and anon, there recurs a word full of meaning to the politician who is acute enough to understand it. There are very few songs of this description current among the French people which can boast of a date anterior to the Revolution, and these are mostly fragments. The old songs of Ronsard, Villon, Piron, Marot, Panard, and others, and the still more ancient lays of the troubadours, do not come within our category. They were songs suited only for the atmosphere of courts