A Funeral Oration OR SERMON UPON The Most High, Most Potent Lord, Francis Henry De Montmorancy, Duke of Luxembourg and Piney, Peer and Marshal of France, Governor of Normandy, Knight and Commander of the King's Orders, Captain of the Guards of His Majesty's Body, And General of His Armies.  
Pronounced at PARIS, in the Church of the Professed House of the Company of Jesus, the 21st. of April, 1695, By Father De la RVE, of the same Society.  
From the French Original.  
LONDON Printed, and Sold by Richard Baldwin at the Oxford-Arms in Warwick-lane. 1695.   

TO THE READER.  
THE following Sheets contain a Funeral Harangue upon the Duke of Luxemburgh, composed and pronounced by a Jesuit. And it is a consummate Piece of Jesuitism. For it neither speaks Truth to Man, nor to God. To make his Champion of France Great, he falsifies the Story of the Greatest Hero at this day in the World. He knew he had undertaken a Hard Task, to Praise a Man, who setting aside that he was a Soldier, had long laboured under a very Immoral Character. No wonder than he employs all the stock of his Rhotorical Flourishes to varnish over the Conduct and Actions of his Great General, by misrepresenting the more Noble Exploits of his Antagonist. We can allow him the Gingling Rhodomontadoes of a Panegyrist, so long as the Event has made it evident to the World, that if Luxembourg were able to Cope with the King of England, it was more than his Master the French King was ever able to do. Moreover, to be convinced of the Jesuits Double-dealing with Man, and his Falsifying the Records of open Story, there needs no more than to read on the Second Part of his Oration, and seeing him using the same Flourishes of Humane Oratory to God, and borrowing plausible Insinuations from Deduction, and his General's Affection to the Virgin Mary, to lift him up into Heaven. This Piece has made a Noise in the World, and has been spread over Europe in the French Language (an Effect of  Ostentation) and therefore it was thought requisite to expose it in English, that the Vanity of the Orator might be derided here, as well as in other Places. Autoritatem nullam, nec fidem Commentitiis Rebus adjungere debet (says Cicero.)   

A Funeral Oration UPON Francis Henry, Duke of Luxemburgh.  
For we do not present our Supplications before thee for our Righteousnesses, but for thy great Mercies.  Dan. 4.18. 
THESE are the Moans of a Prophet, in the midst of a Captive People, remote from their Country, and panting after Liberty. What a Force was not this able to give to Prayer, by representing to God the Services of David, of Jacob and Abraham, and by striving to draw down his Compassion upon the Children, by the Remembrance of their Forefathers? To these vain Subjects of Presumption, rather than Confidence, Daniel closed his Eyes. He found a surer Support in the mere Mercy of God, then in all the Virtues of Men; and without losing any thing of that Zeal which inclined him to Prayer, and of that Hope which ought to uphold Prayer, he Prayed, he Hoped, but still his Prayers and his Hopes were grounded upon the Mercies of God.  
What are we now come to do, my Beloved, in the Presence of the same God? Come we to bewail the Dead in vain, where it becomes us only to shed the Tears of Repentance? Come we here to vaunt their Victories, and Heroic Labours? 'Tis only to the Saints, the Vanquishers of Sin, that Religion permits us to pay Duties of this Nature, to Honour their Tombs, and to Extol their Virtues in Hymns and Songs, even to the Footsteps of the Throne of God; because they reign with Glorious Him, in the same Glory. But as for Princes and Hero's, whose Virtues, frequently Humane, were no other, for the greatest part, than Passions disguised under specious Names and Veils, when You are called to their Interments; 'tis to set before Your Eyes, Grandees of the World, a Moving Spectacle of that Inevitable End which you never think of. 'Tis to set before your Eyes that Death, which you look upon with Disdain in the bloody and precipitated Heat and furious Motion of Combat, but which you can hardly look in the Face, when Cool and Serious, exposed to your Reflections in this Funeral Pomp, which forces you to Lessons of Repentance. In short; If at any time, by a Custom established in the First Ages of the Church, we presume to interrupt the Holy Mysteries with an Elegy of their Actions, 'tis not with a Pharisaical Pride, that vaunted before God the Justice of their Works, Not for our Righteousness: 'tis with the Modesty of the Publican, who begged for Mercy only, but for thy great Mercies. The sad Recitals of so many Exploits, that exalt the great Names and Fame of Mortals, were never made to move God's Compassion, but to touch the Hearts of Men. And it is with this Intention, my Beloved, that I undertake this day, the Elegy of the Most High and Most Potent Lord, FRANCIS HENRY of MONTMORANCY, PEER and MARSHAL of FRANCE, KNIGHT and COMMANDER of the KING's ORDERS, GOVERNOR of NORMANDY, CAPTAIN of the GUARDS of the KING's BODY, and GENERAL of His ARMIES.  
Upon the only Pronouncing of this Name, what a Crowd of Things present themselves to our Minds? What Wonders, what Courage, what Resolution, what Justice also, in the Opinion of Men! But in the Sight of God, all this is nothing; Not for our Righteousness 'Tis for You, my Beloved, and for all France, who have reaped all the Fruit of his Great Actions, to find therein the Motives of Acknowledgement, and by consequence a Zeal to Pray for him. But in these same Actions, and in all the Events of so Turmoiled a Life, how many signal Traces of a particular Mercy applied to his Salvation! 'Tis there that we are to fix our Hope, and to seek the Support of our Prayers which we pour forth before God; But for his manifold Mercies.  
Reducing myself therefore to the Intention of the Church, and the Simplicity of the Text which I have chosen, I shall only show to all the Faithful whom Piety concerns in his Salvation, in the Two Parts of this Discourse, 

I. The Obligations that France has to Pray.  
II. The Reasons that she has to Hope.    
Her Obligations to Pray, from what he has done for France. The Reasons she has to Hope, from what God has done for Him. But, Lord, what has he done for Thee, and for his Salvation? For this is that which makes the Personal Merit; and weighs down in the Decisive Balance of Eternity. We shall find it included in these Two Points, which will fill our Minds with this comfortable Idea, That this God, who only crowns his Gifts, when he crowns our Merits; and who making the Virtues of Saints Meritorious, is pleased to make the Tears of Sinners also Meritorious, will have found in this Great Man whom we lament, what is sufficient to procure him that last Mercy which he bestows upon whom he pleases, and which no Man can deserve.  
St. Paul, instructing the Faithful in their Duty toward Great Men, proposes to 'em, among other Motives of Respect, the Authority which they have received from God, to protect the Good, and suppress and punish the Wicked. For (says he) they bear not the Sword in vain. And upon this establishing the Right not only of Kings, but of all Persons advanced in Dignity, he requires that those Honours and Tributes should be paid 'em that are their due; Tribute to whom Tribute, Honour to whom Honour is due. But besides these Tributes settled by Humane Laws, the Apostle, in favour of Great Personages, imposes upon Us another far differently Precious Tribute, Entreaties, Prayers and Petitions. And the Reason which he gives, is, Because that under their Authority, we live secure in Peace and Piety.  
Now, if there be any one in the Degrees inferior to Sovereigns, to whom this Tribute is due from all among us that are True Frenchmen, and True Christians, is it not to this Famous and Warlike Champion, from whom the Kingdom and the Church have received such successful Services? And to search for the Foundations of his Merit in the Deserts of his Ancestors, is there any Descent, among those whose Names and Renown we Honour, of which it may be more justly said, in the words of St. Paul, They have not borne the Sword in vain? And how long since, my Lords? The Crown has not been more ancient upon the Head of our Kings, than the Nobility of the Blood of these Hero's. The Faith of Jesus Christ ascended the Throne with Clovis, but it entered into the Court with a Montmorancy. Whence that singular Title of First Christian Baron, which is Hereditary to 'em, and which equally denotes, as well their Antiquity, their Nobility, as their Descent. Let us leave these. Times of Obscurity. Are Seven hundred Years, I will not say, of Distinction, but of Constant Advancement, enough to merit our Esteem? We no sooner behold their Name issuing forth from the Darkness of Antiquity, but immediately we see it clothed with the Lustre of the Highest Dignities, and more-especially Military Employments. The Name of Constable never began to appear in the World, at least in our Histories, till they wore it. Ever since, those Transcending Dignities have been as it were perpetuated to their Family. Seven Constables, Seven Marshals, Four Admirals, Great Officers of the Crown, Governors of Provinces, Generals of Armies, almost without number, and at all times. Never was the Kingdom or our Religion in any Glorious or Dangerous Condition, but Providence, still careful of our Affairs, has supplied us out of this Noble Family most extraordinary Succours either of Wisdom or Valour. Consequently, how greatly is the Church and State obliged to pay with a zealous Fervency this Tribute of their Prayers to all those that bear this Name, seeing we have proved, that for so long a time, they have not borne the Sword in vain.  
But Oh, the Depth of God's Designs and Judgements! That this Grandeur, so Ancient, so steadfastly fixed upon such Solid, and such Just Foundations, supported by so many Arms, Allianced to all the Thrones of Christendom, should be now upon the Brink of being Extinguished! That the Principal Pillars of this so Potent Family should now be Tottering! Alas! and under those Fatal Strokes, the sole Remembrance of which makes us Tremble. That their Honours and their Merits should be so near Extinction: shall I say, their Glory with their Merits? One only Child, born in Tears, an Orphan before he came into the World, scarce able to make his Way into the Seats of Daylight, in the Midst of the Ruins of his Family, is destined to re advance the Fortune of his House, and to recall to the Elder, that Honour and Grandeur which for Two hundred Years together the Younger have acquired. And this same Infant, so dear to Providence, is the Great General for whom we Pray.  
Let us pass over the First Years of his Life, and the First Exercises of his Valour. 'Twas not He alone that needed this Indulgence; 'tis due to the Misfortune of those Times. He was enveloped in 'em, less by his own Choice, then by the Condition of his Fortune. What Illustrious Exploits, which we dare not remember, and which we cannot forget.  
What Use did he make afterwards of that lucky Habit! Shall we enumerate the Particulars of Thirty Years Labours, if I may not rather call 'em Successes? Nor think, my Lords, that I go about to degrade any one of our Hero's by Comparisons, always rash and odious. There are so many Ways that lead to Honour, and so many different Traces of Merit and Valour, that they may severally serve for Objects of Public Admiration, without defacing or resembling each other. But it is enough to say in Praise of Monsieur de Luxemburgh, That there have been few of our Great Generals, his Contemporaries, who have proved more Formidable to their Enemies, better Beloved of the Soldiers, or more Daring and Resolute in Erterprises. The Qualities of a Perfect Soldier, which Solomon paints forth in his Book of Wisdom, Terrible Kings shall fear me: I shall be able to lead a multitude, and stout in Battle.  
But when, to the end I may display what is included in these Three Qualities, I have made it manifest, that there were few who were opposed by more Puissant Enemies, and who kept himself still more then Superior; few that governed more numerous Armies; and governed 'em with more Ease; few that sustained more doubtful and hazardous Erterprises, and sustained 'em with more Resolution and Undauntedness: what Rank will you allow him among those our Generals which you most esteem? Now, 'tis this Superiority, this Facility of Genius, this Resolution and Undauntedness, that form the Character of Him we now lament.  
'Tis no new thing for France to see all her Neighbours become her Enemies. The Novelty is this, to see all her Enemies united against her, by one and the same Tie; not only a Tie of Passions and Interests, but a stronger Tie; 'tis the Ascendant of of one Captain over all the Members of the League. In all other Leagues this Union being wanting till now, France had always in the Union of her Chieftain, and the Union of her Forces, a Puissance easily superior to the Number and Efforts of her most Potent Enemies. But they have at length found out a Genius proper to reunite all their Hatred against us. To give more Force to the Instrument of their Passions, they have helped him to dethrone Virtue itself. To make an Enemy sufficient to find us Work, they have set up a Master over themselves. And who is this, my Lords? The same, upon whom some looked as the Hereditary Guardian of their Liberty; who was by others called in to defend their new Laws against the false Terrors of Arbitrary Power, and whom others feared as the Natural Enemy of their Religion: That same Holland, so jealous of the Freedom of her Trade: That same England, that dotes so much upon the pretended Privileges of her Parliament: That same Germany, so accustomed to share in Sovereign Supremacy: That same Austria, so intoxicated with her Notions of Universal Monarchy: That same Spain, so zealous for the Purity of her Faith: Lastly, That same Italy, so passionately desirous of her Repose, have rooted out of their Hearts all these so Ancient and Natural Sentiments, that they might make it their Common Interest to advance one Prince, whose Grandeur can never hurt us, but by overwhelming 'em with their own Weight. A Foreigner, and Absent, he is the Soul of their Counsels, the Head that governs 'em.  
One would think that those Sovereign Princes, in yielding him the Title of King, had paid him the Homage of their Crowns, and that Lewis is only now become the Object of their Jealousy, and their Hatred, for no other Reason but because he has taken upon himself alone to defend against 'em all the Rights of Royal Majesty; and he does uphold 'em, and Triumphs in despite of all his Enemies. They are not become so potent by their Union, as by being more sensible before him of their real Weakness. Their Efforts have nothing diminished of the Grandeur of his Empire, nor of that of his Soul. More wise and prudent then ever; if Heaven from time to time deprive him of the Ministers of his Designs, it leaves him still his Prudence and his Fortune. This Monarch imparts it to those whom he honours with his Choice; and that which rears up great Captains among us, is the exact observance of his Orders.  
What Instrument more safe and tractable in his Hands, to uphold against so many Enemies the Honour and Prosperity of his Arms, than the Duke of Luxemburgh? What an Ascendant had he over that famous Prince who got the start of so many others. Accustomed in the Dutch War to fly the Shadow only of the King, he began to turn head in the presence of Luxemburgh. He thought that the Cities of Zwoll, Deventer, the Groll, and Coewerden, which this General had taken, at the head of the Troops of Munster, had rendered him Illustrious enough to make him his chief Rival. He would therefore measure himself with him; but his Chief Masterpiece was a Defeat. Nor was he more happy at Bodengrave, where the frozen Morasses could not protect his Army from the impetuous Ardour of the French. These two unfortunate Essays, from that time forward, filled the Prince with such an Idea of his Vanquisher, that he durst no more contend with him; but only by calling to his Succour, Treachery and Surprise. This made him so bold at the Battle of St. Denis, at what time the two Camps ought to have been calm and secure upon the News of the signed Peace. However, in that, as well as in all other Places, he found by the slaughter of his Men, that Stratagem as little availed as Open Force, against the Courage of a General always present with himself in Combat. In short, 'tis one of the Wonders of Providence, that whatever Precautions his noble Adversary made use of, he never engaged in any Battle, wherein he did not find Luxemburgh an Obstacle to his complete Victory. He met with him in the Right Wing at the famous Battle of Seneff, and rendering to the Prince of Conde the Fruit of his Glorious Lessons, which he had received from him in his Youth. He met him commanding the Right Wing at Gasal; where France acknowledged in the Brother of her King, that the Princes of the Blood had no need of any Master to teach 'em the Art of giving or winning Battles.  
Instructed by so long and so fatal an Experience, Durst that same daring Prince sustain the sight of him before Charleroy, though surrounded with an Army of Fifty thousand Men? Durst he attempt the so much vaunted Sieges of Maubege and Dinant, in view of him for a whole Campaign together? Durst he sit down before any one Fortress? And shall we believe his own Testimony? For we surprised his Letters, wherein imparting in writing the Condition of his Affairs to a famous General of the Emperor's Forces, he acknowledges, That the Duke, who had always the good Luck to match him, had worsted him again at Nerwinde.  
But could he make a more solemn Confession to all Europe, in respect of his Genius to that of Luxemburgh's, then by the course which he took upon the Banks of the Mehaign? The main Business was to succour Namur. He found himself obliged thereto by the importance of the Place, which the Confederates looked upon as their common Bulwark; and which he seemed to have made choice of for the centre of his new Dominion in the Spanish Low-Countries, by the addition of new Works to those that rendered it almost impregnable before, and by honouring those Works with his own Name. That Name, which in the opinion of the Confederates was enough to have secured Namur from all Attempts, served only as a Bait for the Zeal of Lewis the Great, to go and revenge the Injury done Religion by the false Politics of the Spaniards, in trusting the Walls and Citadels of their Cities to the Enemies of their Altars. At the very Name of the King, who was present in Person at that Siege, and to whom the Difficulty of the Enterprise was a Pledge of the Success; upon the Approach of Luxemburgh, whom the King had ordered to advance toward the Mehaign, the Prince was soon sensible of the pressing danger of the Place, and of his own Reputation. A Victory had saved the Town: Nay, instead of a Victory, of which the past Events were but bad Prognostics, a withdrawn Battle had been sufficient to have saved his Honour. He appeared in Battle Array on the other side of the River; he covered it with Bridges; he thought the King would have disputed the Passage with him, and that after some Efforts the Honour of which would have been divided between both Armies, he should have carried off at least the Reputation of the Fight. The King being informed of all these Motions by the Duke of Luxemburgh, read all the Enemy's Designs in the Recesses of his Soul; and to ranverse 'em, What Resolution, think ye, did he take? He gave him all the Liberty to pass over, and left him Ground sufficient to embattel his Army; that he might reduce him, by that means, either to expose himself to the Hazard of a decisive Battle, or renounce the Honour of the Passage, which he feigned himself so desirous to attempt. Then was it the first time that Luxembourgh was seen to recoil with his Arms in his Hands before the Prince of Orange; but to the Vexation of the Prince himself, who seemed to wait for that Signal only to surrender up Namur to her Destiny, or rather to that of the Conqueror.  
What will Posterity say of this magnanimous Confidence? I find in sacred Antiquity, an innumerable Army of Infidels, defended and secured by a Torrent, cry out, being struck with Terror at the Approach of Judas Maccabeus, If he comes over to us, we are undone, we cannot withstand him. Our General, on the other side, inspired with a just Confidence in view of the Enemy, cries out, If he comes over to us, he's Ruined; he cannot escape us. What a Grandeur of Soul is required to take such Resolutions? What a Superiority of Courage? Thus hast thou ordained it, Lord of Hosts. Few Enemies more Potent than those whom thou hast raised up against us. But what General ever rendered himself more formidable to such a Potent Adversary? If that famous Maccabean, out of a Pious Tenderness, equal to the Resolution of his Heart, thought it an incumbent Duty to offer Sacrifices to God, for the Souls of his Soldiers, that fell in Battle by the Swords of their Enemies; 'tis the least Duty we can pay our General, to offer up the Sacrifice of our Tears, and the immortal Victim of our Altars, to a Warrior always Victorious, and who has rendered us formidable to our most terrible Enemies. Terrible Kings shall fear me.  
A second Advantage, altogether particular to Him, is this; That he had under his Command, the greatest Bodies of Armies, that ever France brought into the Field; which was an Effect of the Conjuncture of the Times. With what easiness did he give all the Motion requisite for the Success of Great Designs to those vast Bodies compsed of so many different Parts. I say Easiness, my Lords. I could have said, Prudence and Wisdom, had I been to paint forth one of those profound Souls, whose Conduct is the Fruit of a painful and laborious Application, and who suffer the Importance of their Projects to be read in their Countenances. But to have his Designs always settled in good Order, to foresee those of the Enemy with a Penetration almost certain, to find in himself the Remedies always ready at Hand, upon any sudden Counter-Events, and to cover all this with a sedateness, with an equal Temper, and to make it his continual Sport, as I may so say, These are Excellencies which make us call to mind that eternal Wisdom, of which Solomon thought he gave no mean Idea, when, to express the exaltation of her Conduct, and at the same time, how easily she executes all her great Designs, he tells us, That she makes the Government of the World her sport. Would it be an Injury to the Wisdom of Men, to set forth, by the same Expression, the sedate and easy Activity of a Mind, superior to whatever it undertakes? Such was this great General in the Conduct of his Armies.  
There was no need of gaudy Pomp, or Haughtiness, to procure Respect and Reverence to his Person. There was no Necessity for him to make use of Rigour or Severity, for the maintaining of good Discipline; nor to employ Force or Authority to engage his Soldiers to undertake the most difficult Erterprises. All the Qualities requisite for Command were enclosed in an Air of Noble and Military Popularity, which was natural to him. By that means, my Lords, he was so well entered into their Hearts, that with an obliging and familiar Word, he infused in a moment into theirs, the Courage and Confidence that abounded in his own Heart. So soon as he showed himself, the Dangers of Assault, the Difficulties of Battle, the Pains and Trouble of hasty Marches, all vanished. They knew, that whatever the Labour was, or where ever they marched, he led 'em to Honour, and they were never deceived.  
Can that March be forgot, prodigious for an Army, of above Thirty Leagues in Three Days, which so absolutely disappointed all the Enemy's Prudence, and crowned all the Actions of the Duke of Luxembourgh? The Confederates had spent the Campaign in vainly blocking up our Quarters at Vignamont, in hopes to force us either to re-pass the , or else to expose our Flank to their Batteries, while we marched back to Namur. Constrained themselves to give way to the Victorious Constancy of Monsieur, who by his Presence added new weight to the Authority of the General, and new Fires to the Army's Zeal, they sought to repair the Shame of their Retreat by some Signal Act toward the Seacoasts. They promised themselves at least to surprise at their Pleasure the Strongest of our Towns. Great Preparations; a Threatening Fleet ready to favour their Design; the way open, without any Obstacle, in the midst of their Country; Camps ready marked out to fly about from the Parts adjoining to the , to the Banks of the Lies, and Scheld. 'Twas for us to fly after them; and what must we do to get before 'em?  
Nothing, but observe Your Countenance, and follow Your Steps, GREAT PRINCE, the Happy Son of a Victorious KING, for ever Famous, still more by the Rapidity of his Conquests, then by their Number or their Grandeur. But what a Consolation was it to You, in the height of Your Zeal to imitate the Rapidness of that Monarch, unimitable to any other but yourself; what a joy was it to You, to find a General at Hand so expert and quick to second Your Designs! Upon the First Orders given for the March, such a Fervency seized the whole Army, that they never scrupled any longer either the Length of the Leagues, the Number of Days, nor the Difficult Passages o'er the Rivers. Every one found in his Courage, and the Hopes of coming to a Battle, wherewith to harden himself against the Cries of Drowth and Hunger. We admire those brave Israelites, who pressed by Thirst, in their March against Midian, under the Leading of Gideon, durst not stop a Minute to draw Water, but still marching forward, contented themselves with sucking in the Water which they took up in the Hollow of their Hands. We see an Army altogether forgetful of their Repose, and their Necessity, and Refusing the Succour and Refreshments which the Zeal of the People, and the Foresight of the Officers had got ready upon the High Ways. They were running, said they, to Victory, and wanted nothing but the Enemy. They found him at length, but Surprised and Consternated at their Diligence, and confounded to see the Banks of the Scheld all crowded with Squadrons, Monsieur at their Head, and Luxemburg next Him. They had not the Pleasure of a Battle; but they had the Satisfaction to vanquish, and by their appearance to stifle and disappoint the Boldness, and all the Designs of the Enemy.  
If after so many Demonstrations of Consummate Ability, and Gallantry, we refuse this General the Applauses that are due to Him, shall we not have our Enemies themselves upbraiding us in his behalf? But he has no need of our Eulogies, he has more need of our Prayers. Let us leave the Care of applauding him to Foreign Nations: As for Us, who have felt the Effects of his Happy Conduct, let us take care to discharge that Duty which he expects from us. Let us cry to God, Lord, this is he who went in and out before us, when we fought for thy Cause; Save Him, who saved all Israel.  
But whence the Source, my Lords, of those two Wonders, his Superiority over our Enemies, and his Easiness, in governing our Armies? It was at the Bottom of his Heart, from that Resolution, from that Undauntedness, which produced that high Reputation, so formidable to the One, and so obliging to the Other: in bello Fortis.  
It would be a dishonour to him, to say, that Fear never appeared in his Countenance. But let us say, that Trouble and Disorder never showed themselves there. He never beheld Danger, but with Contempt. He beheld at Lleurus the danger of Forcing the Passage of the Sambre in view of the Enemy, and of going to shut up himself to fight 'em between the River and Them. He forced the Passage, fought 'em, and vanquished. At Leuse, he saw the Danger of meeting with Eighteen Battalions, all the Enemy's Cavalry, consisting of Seventy two Squadrons. But he faced and defeated 'em. But that we may the better understand him, it behoves us to look into the two last Battles, of which the One was the Reflection, and as it were the Image of the Other. At Nerwinde he repaid the Blow, which they endeavoured in vain to have given him at Steenkirk. They would have surprised him; he was resolved to surprise in his turn. But with what Success! however with what Efforts!  
Assailed at Steenkirk, in the midst of a Camp without defence, he kept his Ground there, as if he had been in a fortified Place; without any other Advantage over the Enemy, than the Resolution of his Heart, the Confidence of his Men, and the Valour of those Princes, who then secured his Victory by their Example, and honoured it with their Blood. At Nerwinde he was the Aggressor; but he assailed a Camp defended by Art and Nature, surrounded with Batteries, and secured by Entrenchments. Call to mind, my Lords, the Butchery of that Day, wherein the Resistance of the Enemy almost Equal to our Valour, made appear in all its Lustre that invincible Obstinacy which fixed our General to the pursuit of his Designs, and promised him the Success when every thing seemed Desperate. There it was, if ever, that he stood in need of it. For let us talk no more of those easy Victories, those General Routs, that in a Day change the Fortune of Kingdoms. Tho' we had not for our Enemies the Bravest People in the World, yet they have been exercising themselves so long time against Us, that 'twould be a wonder if they should not have learned by this to make a stout Defence. It ought to be for our Honour, that They who surmount us, blush not at their Defeat, and that all Europe gives this Testimony of our Nation, that they know how to triumph over Valour itself. We saw the Proofs of it then in our Army, seconded by the Choice of three warlike Nations, faithful Subjects to a King, who deserves to reign over no other than such Subjects. We saw our Army attacking so many Nations in Confederacy against us, in the midst of their Lines and Entrenchments, with as much Courage as if it had been in the Plain Field; a Battle changed into a Siege: Officers and Soldiers, not in the least discouraged, returning four or five times to the Assault; the Small and Great Shot rendered ineffectual by the downright Hacking and Hewing of the Sword: the General Present every where, giving Orders, and putting 'em in Execution himself in the midst of the Medley, as if it had been in the midst of his Friends: the Enemies forced on every side: happy in their Flight, that two Rivers hindered the Victor's Pursuit. Then we saw the Truth of those Expressions that are looked upon as fabulous, The Field covered with Heaps of the Slain, Rivers changed into Blood, and Stopped in their Course. We saw renewed in those famous Fields the Descriptions which the Prophet Ezekiel makes of those Bloody Defeats of the Enemies of God. There, says he, The Princes of the North trembling, and ashamed of their Might, and confounded in their Strength. There the Prince surrounded with the Sepulchers of his Soldiers, in the Place itself, where he expected to triumph: All run through, adds he in the same Place, all run through and slain by the Sword. Lord, one Battle more; one Year more, Lord, might have completed the Work, and recalled that Peace which has been so long Banished. And why may we not say, while we are sighing o'er his Tomb, what the Prophet Elisha said to that Warlike Prince, who had withstood all the Efforts of Syria, Smite the Earth, said he to the King. He smote it with his Javelin; but stopping too soon, Oh! cried the Prophet, full of Sorrow, Hadst thou smitten five times, thou hadst smitten Syria till thou hadst consumed it. That Generous Arm, now Dust and Ashes, struck the Earth four times. The Blows of his Four Battles were heard into all the Parts of Europe. One Victory more, Lord, a Fifth Victory, had completed our Conquest, restored Peace to the World, and reared up thy Religion upon the Ruins of its Enemies: Simo percussisses quinquies. Thou hast refused to hear our Prayers and our Tears: perhaps by reason of our Sins; perhaps, by reason of the Sins of this Great Warrior, who fight at the same time for his Prince and his God, studied less to please his God, than he applied himself to please his Prince; and minded more the Frail Laurels of a Victorious General, than the Crowns of Eternity.  
But seeing that God has deprived him the Honour of putting an end to the War, and reserved it for the Valour of another Arm, in that, my Lords, we must acknowledge the Goodness of God toward him, for having shortened his Victories, that he might call him off to the Care of his Conscience, and give him Time to provide for his Salvation. But how much the greater Obligation therefore upon Us to redouble the Fervency of our Prayers for a Christian, perhaps no otherwise a Transgressor, then for having had a greater care of our Temporal Advantages, then for the Interests of his Soul, and whom perhaps the Praises which were daily given to his Valour, might have caused him to forget the Duties of Christian Dependence; and who perhaps had not fallen into the Frailties natural to every mortal Man, but because he employed all his Strength and Courage in the Service of the Kingdom, which he should have made use of to vanquish his Passions, and to keep up at Court the Honour of the Service of God against all worldly Respects. Let us Pray then, my Lords: our Prayers are owing to Him, since he has done so much for Us. But let us Hope withal: we may so, since God has done so much for Him. This is the Subject of my Second Part.  
If the Life of this Great Captain, to whom we are now paying our last Mournful Duties, were only Illustrious by those Particulars which I have hitherto made use of, to make you sensible of his Merit, we might be afraid, that so many profane Exploits and Triumphs, might be only the Reward of those feeble Efforts of Virtue, which sometimes may escape a Sinner, but for which Heaven has no Crowns in store. I should look upon him myself with an Eye of Pity, as one of those Conquerors whom God made use of to magnify Himself in Isaiah, to subdue Nations, put Kings to flight, and break down the Walls of Cities: and which he abandoned afterwards to the Merits of their Works, and the Punishments attending their Sins, after he had rewarded their ambiguous Services with the vain Lustre of Worldly Prosperity.  
God forbidden that our Charity should be cooled this day by such Sentiments as these. Too many Reasons raise our Hopes, without pretending to dispute the Rights of God's Justice: so much Care as he has taken for the Salvation of this Sinner, seems to persuade and convince us, that God has made him an Object of his Eternal Mercy. And here, my Lords, let us leave him, as a Courtier, a Warrior, and a Conqueror. All this was for the Eyes of Men: in the sight of God he is a Sinner, distinguished indeed by all those Titles of Honour which he bore upon Earth; but at the same time exposed to all those Frailties, and all those Miseries that seem to be fastened to these dangerous Titles. Yet in the midst of those Abuses which he might have made of 'em, and what at length might have led him as they have done so many others, to a Forgetfulness of his God, let us admire those singular Tendernesses, or rather Wonders of his Mercy bestowed upon him. He bestowed upon him two of the most precious Graces he could have bestowed upon Sinners; the Grace of Adversity during his Life, and the Grace of Repentance at his Death. Let him then eternally sing those words of David, Blessed be the Lord, because he has magnified his wonderful mercy upon me.  
You believe it not, Grandees of the Earth; and yet you find it by Experience, at least, you make others sensible of it, that nothing more corrupts the Heart, than a long and constant Prosperity; that nothing over-casts the Mind with a thicker Darkness; that generally there is nothing but Adversity that can call back a wand'ring Mortal to his Reason, to his Conscience, to his Salvation, and his God. You believe it not; and this Error is your Ruin. The Subject of Discourse lay under the same Error, and was subject to those Deviations which are the usual Consequences of it. He trod the Paths of Ambition for fifty Years together: What a Progress did he make in it! But the farther we advance in that Road, the more, Good God, we go out of our Way. Nevertheless, thou didst follow him step by step; Thou didst wait in expectation of a happy Moment to pour down thy Mercy upon him. 
〈◊〉 up●●●eing 〈◊〉 for a 〈◊〉 and a ●●ncer.  The happy Moment came, and thy Mercy was poured down. What a signal Kindness, my Lords, was this for all France! A Man of that Name, that Rank, clothed with so many Honours, distinguished by so many Services, to be obliged to Justify himself! Upon what account? For that which cannot fall but into the Meanest of Souls; not only without Religion, but without Reason, without Fortune, without Honour. At that very moment he perceives all the Supports of Grandeur failing: Feeble Bulrushes, nodding with every Tempest, and bowing under the weight of the Tempest. He was not astonished to see such a Change of Looks and Hearts. Solomon says, That Slander troubles the Heart of a wise man, and destroys the strength of his heart. But never did more Prudence appear in his Heart then at that time; and never did he raise himself so much above his own Strength, and undaunted Courage. The Sight of the Danger, and the Easiness to avoid it by so many open ways, and offered to his Choice: On the other side, the Dread of all things necessary for his Justification, never gave him the least Disturbance. Considering his Innocency, he looked upon his Liberty as nothing; he sacrificed it himself; he ran to the Prison with the same speed that the Guilty fly it. There he only minded the saving of his Innocence and his Honour; and there he met the Mercy of God that waited for him.  
Yes surely, my Lords, 'tis so; and if what I have said has not proceeded from the Mouth of Fame, yet has it issued from the Lips of Truth. In view of this very Church where we are now met together, which was in his way, he made a stop; and at that very moment, notwithstanding the Confusion of Thoughts which turmoiled his Mind, he acknowledged the Hand of God lifted up against him. Far from being consternated like the Heathen Prince at the sight of the Celestial Handwriting, which wrote his Destiny; but rather full of Confidence and Humility at the same time, he entered the Church, and pouring forth his Soul at the Feet of this same Altar, he confessed, that his Sins had been the Source of his Misfortune; he adored the Goodness of God, who had made choice of that means, to draw him from the Precipice, and set him in the right way of Salvation. And less Touched with the Danger his Estate and Reputation were in, than the Peril of his Soul, he renounces (Harken Christians!) he renounces his Justification before Men, if his Justification were opposite to his Salvation. This was then the Sense and Spirit of his Prayer. He has often explained his Meaning upon it, at a Time when the Confession he made of it ought to be a Reproach to his Conduct. Thou, Lord, who heardest him, and hast promised every thing to Prayer, more-especially to that which is put up for Salvation; Thou who hast afforded him this signal Justification in the Eyes of the World, which he implored but faintly of Thee, wouldst Thou have refused him that Salvation which he sued for then so earnestly, in the Bitterness of a Soul sincerely humbled?  
This was not ineffectual; and if I may be permitted to apply to him, what the Scripture speaks of a Just Man persecuted, Wisdom descends with him into the Prison, and forsakes him not in Bonds. He there detested his Vanities; he searched into the Errors and Disorders of his Life; he solemnly atoned for 'em by the Use of the Sacraments: nor was he delivered from his Captivity, till enlivened with more Pious Resolutions. To corroborate him in it, God permitted, that being Justified as he was, Free and Triumphant over Envy, a Retirement of several Months should serve as a Trial of his Fidelity. Faithful to God all that time, he spent his Leisure in the same Exercises, and continued the Purifying of his Heart by frequent Confessions. 'Twas then another Heart, formed by Adversity, and consecrated by Repentance: the Work of the Grace of God. How long, think ye, should any of you have held out? Answer, you that hear me, and search for the Answer in your own Hearts. After so many Oaths which you have sworn to God, and which you believed to be sincere, what would it require to make you forget all? The slightest Occasion presented to your Eyes and Hearts, overturns all your Designs, and makes ye break all your Promises. What Occasions assailed at first this Heart so changed by Adversity! Employments, Commands, Honours, Victories, Applauses; all the whole Train of Prosperity. If his Heart held not out as it ought to have done, against so many violent Assaults, let Us bewail our common Frailty. Condemn Him, but at the same time give Sentence against yourselves: accuse in his behalf, as in your own, the contagious Air of the World, but more-especially the Air of the Court where you live. Nevertheless, in all the Relaxations of which he might be guilty since, admire the several Impressions of Grace and Virtue which Mercy had still left in his Heart; to show that he was still her Care, and that the Fugitive should not escape her.  
Call to Mind the Scorn and Forgetfulness of Injuries, which was signal in him, even to the Complaint of his Friends; who judging of his Attention to the Services he did 'em, by his Indifferency in reference to ill Offices done him; and of his Gratitude, by his Carelessness in Point of Resentment, made that a Crime in Matter of Friendship, which is a Virtue, in regard to Revenge. Insensible, or rather Deaf to scandalous Reports, Railleries', and malicious Stories and Discourses, you should see him admit with a sedate and caressing Air those of his Inferiors, of whose Ingratitude he had been informed. He found 'em more worthy of his Pity, than his Indignation. As he was Easy to return his Friendship to those who had Contemned him, he was no less Facile to return his Esteem and good Offices to those who Offended him. Who had ever more Enemies, more manifest Reasons to repel Injury by Injury, more Opportunities and Means to Revenge himself? Upon whom did he ever revenge himself? At what time? and in what manner? Oh, my Lords! after what manner, with what an Air of Moderation and Humanity did he manage even the Public Revenge! this Minister of War, which usually infuses Cruelty? While the Vanquished revenged with rigour the Ignominy of their Defeat upon such Officers of Ours that fell into their Hands by the Chance of War, this Victor made it the Pleasure and Honour of his Victories, to treat his Prisoners as he had done his Friends. Did he not restore that Intercourse of Civility and Generosity which always ought to accompany Valour, and which was interrupted by the first Furies of the War?  
Did he forget the Duties of Charity? You Praise the Christian who is tender toward the Necessities of the Miserable, who is assiduous to Succour the Dying, and zealous to Honour the Church. Praise then a General, who coming from the Field of Battle, o'er whelmed with Labour, and covered with Blood, takes diligent care to have the Living separated from the Dead, to rally the languishing Remainders of those Generous Victims to the Honour of the Kingdom; to hasten the Spiritual Consolations of Consecrated Pastors and Ministers, by express Orders issued forth to all the Country round about. Praise the General, who in the Devastations of War, applies himself, as much as lies within his Power, to turn the Tempest from the Fields of the poor and defenceless People; and rather, if there be Occasion, to let it fall upon the Possessions and Castles of the Wealthy, even to the neglect of the Suits and Lands of most of his Illustrious Kindred, so that he might spare the Revenues and Estates of the Church. Commend a General, who out of a Spirit of Religion, at his own Expenses repairs the Disorders of Impiety; who makes Restitution out of his own Purse, to the Altars despoiled by the Rapines of the Soldier, and restores the Vessels appointed to enclose the Sacred Mysteries. Who, lastly, out of the same Spirit of Piety, and with a Diligence altogether singular, keeps off Fire and Sword from the Churches and Places where the Saints are honoured.  
Famous Church, which renders the City of Hall so dear to all Flanders! Ancient Monument of the Devotion of those People to the Mother of God You must be also a Monument of that Veneration which this Warrior paid to the Name of the same Holy Virgin: and when Posterity shall behold that City surrounded with the Ruins of her Ramparts, and the Church exalting her Front in the midst of so many Ruins, while they bewail the dire Necessities of the War, can they forbear to remember with joy the Piety of such a General? He took the same Care, and for the same Reason, when he demolished Braine-le-Compte. He made profession of a particular Veneration for the Mother of Mercy. And his Letters are to be seen to Persons of the highest Quality, wherein he blushes not to declare, That in all his Misfortunes he still addressed himself to Her, and had been sensible of the Effects of Her Protection.  
All these Actions of his are certain; and I should desire, my Lords, no other credit to be given to all these Actions, than what is readily given to Slander and Envy, when we hear the Reputation of great Personages rend and torn, without any ground or proof, by the foulest of Lies, can that Credit be refused me, in this Sacred Place, and this Illustrious Assembly, where I have the Honour to speak; and upon Actions that cannot be questioned by the malignity of human Wit, but only because they are advantageous to the Memory of so great a Man?  
All this while, if the Root of Divine Grace and Charity have not conferred a Soul and Strength, requisite to produce the Fruit of Salvation, these are no more then unprofitable Leaves that will not save the barren Figtree from the Danger of being cut down. Whatever we expatiate thereupon, would be no more then, as Saint Paul says, the sound of tingling Brass, or a tinkling Cymbal. 'Tis very true: But this feeble Sound, in the celebrated Centurion, than out of the Pale of Grace, and the true Faith, failed not to reach the Ears of the Almighty, who was pleased to repay this Sound with the Favour of Conversion. Would it be too much to presume the same in Favour of a Person full of Faith? Would it be too much to presume upon the Mercy of God, which was always so liberal to him, as to look upon the Impressions of his Virtue and Piety, as Ties, which, as weak as they were, were a Help to bring him again to God, and to draw down upon him the Grace of Repentance, which at length put an end to his Life.  
Oh! what a Favour, my Lords, was this! To how many of his Equals has it been refused? From how many Dangers has he been lifted up by the Hand of God, that he might be reserved to that favourable Minute? There have been seen several of the Enemy, who have singled themselves from their Squadrons on purpose to give him the fatal Stroke: as it happened in the Medley at the Conflict of Leuze. He warded off the Blow; 'twas God that gave him the Address and Strength. But what befell him at Nerwinde? He fought after the manner of the ancient Hero's of his Race, that is to say, in the midst of his Children. The youngest, at Seventeen Years of Age, was there the Second time that ever he had been in the Field, and it was the Second Battle wherein his Courage had been tried. The Third, forcing the Enemy's Trenches at the Head of his Brigade, happened to receive a dangerous Wound. The Father still advanced and driving the Recoilers to a dangerous Post, not regarding the Importunities of his Officers, who laid the Danger before him, the eldest Son, the worthy Heir of his Courage and Name, here present, and paying his last Duties to his Memory, running with a design to stop him, received the Blow that was designed against his Father. 'Twas God that watched over 'em, and who measured their Paces, who by the Danger of the Son, prolonged to the Father the Minutes of a Life profitable for his Condition, to conduct him to this Time of Salvation still concealed in the Bosom of Previdence.  
What a short time was this to Prepare for Salvation! A few Days of Sighs and Tears, after a long Series of Years spent in the Engagements and Passions of this World. I grant, and upon this Subject I know the Reflections of the Holy Fathers. I grant that when they admit Sinners to Repentance at the late Hour of Death, they do not assure 'em of their Salvation. I can admit Repentance, but not assure Salvation. But let Charity cause you to distinguish upon whom this Sentence is given. Upon Sinners, whose Faith is without Light, and whose Religion is without Authority. Upon Sinners, whose Reason is besotted, and whose Hearts are incapable of any steady Resolution: Sinners, who by a long Abuse of Holy Things, are become blind to all the Ideas of God: who neither then submit to the last Duties of Religion, till after they are as it were constrained by all that Zeal, Prudence, and the respect of the World is capable to suggest. Sinners, whose Reason, good Sense, Faith, Hope, Confidence, and Fear of God, must be settled, before you mention Sorrow and Repentance for Sin. For a Sinner, under this Character, who expects approaching Death, for him to tell us, That he believes, that he hopes, and that he loves God, We grant him, says St. Austin, Repentance; but what Assurance of Repentance?  
The Case was not the same with our Penitent, whose Salvation is this Day the Subject of our Prayer. Faith, Religion, the Fear of God, a Veneration for Holy Things, Contempt of Death, Indifferency for Life, a lively and displayed Reason, Great and Noble Sentiments: These were the Dispositions of his Soul to Repentance. 'Tis then upon this Occasion, or never, that the Sentence of St. Cyprian ought to be of great Force: That Repentance ne'er comes too late, provided it be true, nor is there any thing but what may be remitted, provided the Repentance be a part of the Heart. Now in regard of our Penitent, every thing demonstrated the visible Marks of a sincere and solid Repentance.  
Uncapable of Cowardice and Baseness, during the whole course of his Life; accustomed to raise his Courage proportionably to the Grandeur of the Danger; upon the Approach of the Danger of his Life, which was declared to him by his real Friends, or rather at the Approach of the Danger of his Soul, of which he was more sensible than any Body, he followed Grace, which raised him above every thing, and forming to himself an Idea of God, according to the Attractions of that Grace, and the natural Propensity of his Heart, he measured the Extent of his Mercy by the infinite Extent of his Grandeur. Was he deceived? 'Twas the measure which the wise Man took: According to his Greatness, such is the greatness of his Mercy. No Presumption all this while in this Confidence. It was accompanied with a Humility, proper for a Sinner, ashamed of his Ingratitude, and the long Abuse of God's Gifts. No dissimulation in his Veneration of the Holy Mysteries. We found that all he did, when he disposed himself to receive 'em, all he said when he received 'em was the sincere and voluntary Act of a Heart accustomed, in despite of Mortal Passions, to humble itself before God, to adore, invoke him, and to be sorrowfully sensible of not loving him sufficiently. No honing after the Grandeurs of the Age. With all the Vivacity, and all the presence of Mind that was natural to him, he turns away his Eyes from that same glittering Fortune which he saw vanishing before him: he thought it not worthy of one single Sighs. If there were any Cares of this World, or any thing of human Thoughts that remained behind, 'twas only to accomplish the Duties of Justice. He extended his Cares to his Domestics; there was not one that had not a share in his Remembrance according to his Merits and his Services. And who does he choose for the Confident of his last Will? That Son, always by his side in the Confusion of Battle, was still at hand in his late fatal Conflict, to receive and execute his Orders: Alas! not with that joy, as when he obeyed him with his Arms in his Hands. With a trembling Hand, and throbbing Heart, he wrote what with a serene Air the dying Father dictated. And there it was that he found himself too unable to imitate him. All his Children came to his Bedside, lead in by a Hand which Friendship rendered still more precious; to which we may add the Lustre of Birth, of Merit, and high Dignities, both in the Church and Court. In the presence of a Friend of this Importance and Reputation, he scrupled not to discover the tenderness of his Heart, and to take his Friend for a Witness and Depositary of his Thoughts. But how far does his Tenderness for his Children extend? To inspire into 'em Sentiments of God above his own, Sentiments for the King equal to his own, and for themselves Sentiments of Concord and Union worthy of themselves. With the same Constancy, sensible of the Sorrows of his Friends, he is touched with it without the least weakness, he distinguishes 'em all by particular Marks of Esteem, without partiality. To those also, whom he had no reason to look upon as his Friends, he made it appear, by his Examinations of himself, and made 'em confess by their Tears, that he had always deserved to be so, and that he had always been so.  
What Thronging! What a Concourse to his Bedside of all that was great in France, or at the Court! What Surprise and Astonishment at the heavy News of the pressing Danger he was in! How was the King disturbed for the Loss of such a Subject, who had conquered and saved so many Provinces! What Lamentations of all the great Princes who had commanded under him! that is to say, of those who had had him for their General, the Companion of their Dangers, and their Guide to Victory. Honoured by their Tears, he is as little troubled as mollified by 'em; nothing moved, he shows himself a Spectacle to the Grief of some, and the Pity of others. He calls to their remembrance the vanity of Grandeurs, that have no other Foundation than the Frailty of this Life. He brings into their Minds the Importance of the Journey which he is going to take before 'em, and which they must all prepare for, after him. Penetrated with Sorrow to see himself defective in requisite Purity, to offer up his Soul a sweet Savour to God, he offers it as a Victim to his Supreme Will, and believes that God will vouchsafe him Salvation, seeing that after so many Sins committed, he leaves him still a lively and humble Hope. He accompanies the Sacred Ceremonies with a faithful and reverend Attention; and he is desirous to breathe his last Gasps, embracing the Cross, in Adoration of his Master. Enfeebled at length, and feeling the Approaches of Death, he employs the last Efforts of his Speech, to desire the Succour of the Holy Ministers, and his faithful Friends, that with their Voices and their Thoughts they would uphold to the last the Union of his Heart with God.  
In these Sentiments of Submission of a Creature to his Master; of the Fear and Humility of an Offender before his Judge; of Religion and Piety of a Christian before his Saviour; of the Confidence and Love of a Prodigal and Penitent Son toward his Father, he expires, he goes to appear before the Sovereign Tribunal: followed by his Works, 'tis true; but laden, Lord, with thy great Mercies. They would never have accompanied him so many Years, they would never have been redoubled at last with so much splendour, to fail him at the last Moment; that very Moment to which all the Moment's and Favours of this Life tend.  
This is that which has hitherto upheld his Hope, and which at this day ought also to uphold ours in favour of him. Not for our Righteousness, but for thy great Mercies. Let those that know thee not, O God, blame our Confidence. But let those that know thee, by a real Faith, by long Experiences of thy Goodness; those who are entered into the Treasuries of thy Mercy, who know, That thou hast Pity upon all Men, because thou art Almighty; that thou pardon'st all, because we are all thy Creatures; that for the gaining of their Pardon, thou only demandest we should turn to thee with all our hearts: That thou art the good Shepherd that leavest the whole Flock to look after the strayed Sheep, and takest her upon thy shoulders with so much the more Charity, as being more feeble, and more in a languishing and dying Condition. Let those who know thee for such a God, Hope in thee, O my God. And let 'em cry aloud with David, Because thou never forsakest those that seek thee, Lord. The Person for whom we implore all this Clemency, was full of these Sentiments. He has never ceased to Know Thee. If he went astray, thou soughtest after him, by Adversity, by Repentance. Invited by the Inquiries of thy Grace, he has sought after thee by the Fervency of his Sighs. Lord, thou never forsakest those who know thee, and who seek after thee. We know thee too well, not to depend upon thee. Let 'em Hope in thee, that know thy Name, because thou hast not forsaken those that seek thee, O Lord.  
The let us not fall into the Snares of the Enemies of Repentance, as also of Virtue itself. The World is full of Men without Faith, who not being in a Condition to pretend to the Hopes of Future Life, make it their De light to think ill of those that go out of This; and strive (as says St. Jerome) to Comfort themselves with their own Despair, by despairing of the Salvation of all others. They believe it an Ease of their Pain, that no body should be Righteous. But let us not afford 'em this false Joy; but let all the truly Faithful reunite themselves, to uphold the merciful Strength of the Grace of God, against the false Inflexibilities and aflected Zeal of Libertinism.  
Let the Children of this Hero, all so capable to uphold here below the Honour which he has left 'em, never imagine that they have not more for him. Let 'em be mindful of that Glory of happy Eternity, where Repentance has a share as well as Innocency; and striving themselves to attain to the most safe of these two ways, let 'em be convinced, that God opens the Other, when, to whom, and after what manner he pleases.  
Let Him, among his Illustrious Children, whom Providence has made Choice of for the Service of his Church, and who was Consecrated to it in his most tender Years, with such happy Dispositions to the most Noble Virtues and most High Dignities of that excellent Condition; Let this Son, I say, so justly sensible of the Loss of such a Father, apply himself speedily to procure him, by his Piety, the Peace and Glory of the Elect, with as much Fervency, as his other Children by their Valour shall do Honour to his Memory.  
Let that Afflicted Widow, as remote from the Pomp and Corruption of the World, by Choice and Inclination, as she approaches near to what the World accounts most Great, by the Blood of Luxembourg and Clermont, the Splendour of which she has united to the Blood of Montmorancy, now redouble with more Confidence the Exercises of her Charity, which she made her sweetest Employment while he lived, for the eternal Repose of her Husband.  
Let that Lady, in the last place, strong above her Sex and her Age, who gave Life to this Hero, than the Child of her Sorrow, now the Crown of her Old Age, who saw him covered with Honour, after she had seen him born in the midst of the Shadow of Death, at this day surviving so many Revolutions, as a public Witness of the Wonders of Providence, after Threescore and eight Years of Virtuous Widowhood, equal or superior to the Widowed Prophetess, considering the Number of her Years, and her Love for her Country, and like to her in Wisdom and Piety, consecrate the remainder of her Life, to bless the Mercies which God has exercised upon her Son, and to draw 'em down upon the Flourishing Family, of which God was pleased that He should be the Chief.  
Let Us. My Lords, excited to Pray for Him, by so many Motives of Hope, work out our Salvation with Fear and Trembling, convinced of this Truth so brightly shining in St. Paul, That it is God who works in us both the Will and the Deed, according to his Good Will. If God has wrought in Him this wonderful Operation, Has he wrought it for all Sinners? If this Penitent showed himself Faithful upon this last Effort of the Goodness of God for Him, Are all others therefore Faithful? If He have had a Time, Shall you have the same? If the Felicity of this End seems to harden ye to Sin, let the Seldomness of the Happiness carry you to Repentance; to this Favourable Death of a Penitent; opposite to so many Violent, Unexpected, Untimely, and many otherwise Fatal Deaths. In the mean time, but for this End so full of Consolation, what would become of all the Wonders of his Life? What Kindness would the Luster of so many Victories do him before the Tribunal of his God? Nay, What stead would they stand him in, before the Tribunal of the World, and Public Opinion? Therefore it is by this End that we ought to measure all the Grandeur of this Man. And God (My Lords) and the World will Judge of You by your Ends. May it have been for Him, and may it be for every one of Us, the Beginning of Blessed Eternity.  
THE END.