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 / ;/«' 
 
THE 
 
 FRENCH PREACHER; 
 
 OR, 
 
 SERMONS 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM 
 
 €&e most eminent jFrencfr Dttnnes, 
 
 CATHOLIC AND PROTESTANT; 
 
 WITH 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES OF THE AUTHORS, 
 
 AND 
 
 A CONCISE ACCOUNT 
 
 OF 
 
 OTHER DISTINGUISHED ORATORS OF THE 
 FRENCH PULPIT. 
 
 TO WHICH IS PREFIXED, 
 
 AN HISTORICAL VIEW 
 
 OF THE 
 
 REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE, 
 
 FROM ITS ORIGIN TO THE PRESENT TIME. 
 
 BY INGRAM C O B B I N. 
 
 JLontion : 
 
 / 
 
 PRINTED FOR JAMES BLACK, 
 
 York-Street, Covent-Garden ; l 
 
 J. CONDER, ST. PAUL'S CHURCH-YARD ; T. HAMILTON, PATERNOSTER- 
 ROW ; AND OGLES, DUNCAN, AND COCHRAN, HOLBORN. 
 
 1816. 
 t 
 

 ^ 
 
 Hughes and Bay lies, Printers, 
 Maiden-Lane, Covent-Garden. London. 
 
ERRATA. 
 
 Page line 
 xxxviii — 2 from top, insert like before the Spirit of Christ. 
 138 — 17 from bottom, for phrase read sentence. 
 145 — 18 from top, for should read could. 
 159 — 3 of the Sermon, for awakened read awakens. 
 213 — 14 from top, for strength read length. 
 33C — 9 from top, for abandon read acfon/. 
 
 
-£ 
 
 
 u 
 
 Hughes and Bay ties, Printers, 
 Maiden-Lane, Cevent-Garden, London. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Fage 
 
 Dedication, v 
 
 Introduction, «.- xiii 
 
 Historical View of the Reformed Church of 
 
 France, 1 
 
 CATHOLIC DIVINES. 
 SERMON I. 
 
 Providence, — Luke xvi. 25 Bos suet, 141 
 
 SERMON II. 
 
 Christmas Dai/, — Luke ii. 10 Flechier, 159 
 
 SERMON III. 
 The Passion of Jesus Christ, — Luke 
 
 xxiii. 27, 28 Bourdaloue, 180 
 
 SERMON IV. 
 For the Day of Pentecost,— lCor.ii.12. Massillon, 219 
 
 SERMON V. 
 The Difficulty of Salvation,— Matth. 
 
 vii. 14 Cheminais, 239 
 
 SERMON VI. 
 
 The Prodigal Son, — Luke xv. 20. Poulle, 249 
 
 SERMON VII. 
 The Vanity of Human Things, — Gen. 
 
 iii. 19- ----- - Bbauvais, 277 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 SERMON VIII. Page 
 
 The Dying Sinner, — Luke vii. 12. - - - Rue, 303 
 
 Plan of a Sermon, — Eph. v. 1, 2 FeNELON, 328 
 
 PROTESTANT DIVINES, 
 
 SERMON IX. 
 The Sacrifice of Abraham, — Gen. xxii. 
 
 10 Abbadie, 338 
 
 SERMON X. 
 God manifested by Jesus Christ, — 
 
 1 Tim. iii. 16. — - --- Mouchon, 361 
 
 SERMON XL 
 The Divinity of Jesus Christ, — John 
 
 x.30. ------ --- Huet, 378 
 
 SERMON XIL 
 The Wages of Sin, and the Reward of 
 
 Grace, — Rom.vi. 23 Faucheur, 399 
 
 SERMON XIII. 
 The Believer Pressing Forward, — Phi- 
 
 lipp. iii. 13, 14 Dumont, 423 
 
 SERMON XIV. 
 The Sufficiency of Grace, — 2 Cor. xii. 9. G ui lleb ert, 449 
 
 SERMON XV. 
 The Sealing of the Spirit, — Ephes. iv. 
 30. - - -'--.- Claude, 486 
 
 A Concise Account of French Preachers- 513 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 TO THE REVEREND 
 
 BENJAMIN SIGISMUND FROSSARD, 
 
 DOCTOR OF LAWS IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD^ 
 DOCTOR OF DIVINITY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF PARIS, 
 
 PRESIDENT OF THE CONSISTORY, 
 AND 
 
 DEAN OF THE FACULTY OF PROTESTANT THEOLOGY 
 IN MONTAUBAN, 
 
 &c. &c. &c. 
 
 Reverend Sir, 
 A he very handsome manner in which you 
 have granted me permission to dedicate this 
 Work to you, demands my most grateful 
 acknowledgments. I only fear, from the 
 flattering terms you have employed in anti- 
 cipating the mode of its execution, that 
 your expectations will not altogether be 
 realized; and it is scarcely a sufficient apo- 
 logy for an author, or a translator, to say 
 
VI DEDICATION. 
 
 that he has done all that he could, if he 
 disappoints those hopes which his attempts 
 have excited. 
 
 Yet, Sir, emboldened by the sanction of 
 your name, I venture to obtrude this volume 
 upon public attention; and should I be so 
 unfortunate as not to meet with that candour 
 from others which my knowledge of a liberal 
 public leads me to expect, I shall, at least, 
 from the condescension which you have al- 
 ready shown, have the pleasure of reckoning 
 upon your indulgent approval. 
 
 As a liberal and enlightened Protestant, 
 you will not be displeased to see the most 
 excellent productions of your Catholic coun- 
 trymen translated into the English language ; 
 although you will, with myself, necessarily 
 differ from many of the sentiments which 
 they contain, 
 
 Perhaps some of the Protestant divines are 
 wholly unknown to you. During those un- 
 happy persecutions, under which your church 
 
DEDICATION. Vll 
 
 has, alas, so frequently groaned, numbers of 
 your most valuable writers have often sought 
 an asylum in foreign countries, and their 
 works have disappeared with them. Those 
 which have come under my observation, 
 have been collected from various parts of the 
 Continent; and if I should have the happi- 
 ness of introducing any of those excellent 
 men to your notice, whose names and whose 
 writings were before lost to you amidst the 
 havoc of papal tyranny, I shall think nwself 
 amply rewarded for my labour. 
 
 From the intercourse of several years with 
 your countrymen, whom the circumstances of 
 war made captives in England, I have been 
 accustomed to view them with a degree of 
 interest, to which perhaps I should otherwise 
 have still remained a stranger ; and I have 
 felt myself united to them by that common 
 bond which should cement together all the • 
 
 nations of mankind, as the descendants from 
 one common Father, who " hath made of 
 
VJ11 DEDICATION. 
 
 one blood all nations of men, for to dwell on 
 all the face of the earth/' I commiserated their 
 destitute condition ; I lived in the habits of 
 intercourse with them ; and, within the walls 
 both of the temple and the prison, often, 
 with a frame exhausted b} r the labour, I 
 endeavoured to break among multitudes of 
 them the bread of life ; and by preaching the 
 word of salvation, to administer those conso- 
 lations which yet remained even to the most 
 wretched. I am proud to say, for the honour 
 of my country, wdrich you are pleased to tell 
 me " combines in an eminent degree all that 
 is great/' that in several applications which 
 were made to Government, both by myself 
 and others, to facilitate these communica- 
 tions, I met with the greatest readiness on 
 their part. Thousands eagerly listened to 
 those truths w r hich had neither in view to 
 make them Catholics nor Protestants, but to 
 lead them to the knowledge of that Saviour, 
 " whom to know is life eternal ;" and I often 
 
DEDICATION. IX 
 
 recal their respectful attention with much 8e-i 
 light I had m}' reward in my work, and 
 I desired no other. I received my blessings 
 freely, and circumstances enabled me freely 
 to distribute them, " without money, and 
 without price/' happy in the knowledge that 
 my exertions were not wholly in vain, and 
 that in the day of God there are some whom 
 I trust I shall have to present as my " joy 
 and crown of rejoicing/' 
 
 This knowledge of your countrymen first 
 led me to seek an acquaintance with the 
 names of your greatest theologians, that I 
 might examine what advantages they have 
 enjoyed, and furnish to my own country 
 a more extensive acquaintance with your 
 most celebrated writers of this class, than it 
 has hitherto obtained. In this, I flatter 
 myself that I have succeeded : but how far 
 I have done them justice in the execution of 
 my task, remains for the public to determine. 
 It affords me pleasure to recollect, that your 
 
X DEDICATION. 
 
 perfect knowledge of the English language 
 will, at all events, secure me one candid 
 judge. 
 
 Happy shall I be, Sir, if this volume 
 should lead your attention, and that of the 
 pupils under your care, to the works of those 
 men who were once bright luminaries in the 
 firmament of your church, when it was over- 
 spread with an awful gloom, but are now 
 removed to a more exalted sphere, where 
 they shine in full glory for ever. The light 
 that emanated from their orbs has not yet 
 wholly forsaken the earth: may it be con- 
 centrated in that college over which you 
 preside with so much assiduity, and ulti- 
 mately shed a refulgent glory throughout 
 France, and extend its vivifying influence 
 to the whole world ! 
 
 I long to see your press teeming with new r 
 editions of the works of those devoted men, 
 " of whom the world was not worthy," and 
 to behold in your pupils living copies of 
 
DEDICATION". XI 
 
 your Faucheurs and Mestrezats, your Da 
 Boscs and Claudes, your Drelincourts and 
 Dailies. 
 
 The Historical View of the Reformed 
 Church, affixed to this volume, is only a 
 slight sketch of events, which, if I should 
 have sufficient leisure, may in time be in- 
 creased into a separate volume. I shall not 
 then fail to embrace the advantages which 
 you so kindly propose. 
 
 If in any instance my reports should be 
 incorrect, concerning the present state of 
 your church, I intreat }'ou to attribute it 
 rather to misinformation than to any dispo- 
 sition to misrepresent; for nothing would 
 more rejoice my heart, than to see the Pro- 
 testant Church of France a rival to that of 
 my own country, in piety, benevolence, and 
 zeal. 
 
 Allow me to add, that the recent sufferings 
 to which your church has been exposed, have 
 deeply afflicted my mind ; and that the suf- 
 
Xll DEDICATION. 
 
 ferers have constantly shared in my sympathy, 
 my prayers, and my exertions. May the 
 gloom which now darkens your hemisphere, 
 soon be dispersed, and may the Reformed 
 Church of France long enjoy the light of an 
 unclouded day! 
 
 I hope that the renewal of the intercourse 
 between our native countries will be the 
 means of drawing our respective communities 
 more closely together in the bonds of Chris- 
 tian union, and of more effectually promoting 
 those great objects which shall best secure the 
 permanent peace and happiness of the world. 
 
 I am, Reverend Sir, 
 
 With profound respect, 
 
 Your faithful and obliged servant, 
 
 INGRAM COBBIN. 
 
 Maida Hill, Paddington, 
 March 1, 181 6. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 It is somewhat extraordinary that no attempt has ever 
 been made to furnish the English reader with a general 
 knowledge of those eminent preachers who were once the 
 ornaments of the French pulpit. A few only have attracted 
 notice, and some of these have appeared under very con- 
 siderable disadvantages. The only work that bears any 
 affinity to this volume, is entitled, te Sermons altered and 
 adapted to the English pulpit, from French writers, by 
 the Rev. Samuel Partridge, M. A. and F. A. S. vicar of 
 Boston," &c. two volumes 8vo. ; which was published by 
 Lackington in 1809. The writer's own words will, how- 
 ever, best describe the design of his work. " This work," 
 he says, " is not properly a translation, nor yet an abridg- 
 ment: but it is rather an attempt to point out the just 
 midway betwixt the coolness of the English, and the 
 inordinate warmth of French pulpit oratory. The plan 
 of each discourse, and most of the matter, are taken (with 
 considerable alterations) from French divines. Their 
 diffuse arguments and periods are reduced ; their rhetoric 
 is rejected ; and their sound oratory (if the English writer 
 has fulfilled his design) is retained. All these divines, 
 eleven in number, are Protestant, one excepted." These 
 Sermons are much curtailed, and many passages intro- 
 duced which are not in the original ; so that none can fairly 
 
XIV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 judge by such examples. Besides, the authors are for t he 
 most part of a very inferior kind, and are neither distin- 
 guished by sentiment nor eloquence. It must be left to the 
 author to vindicate himself for giving so mutilated a work : 
 and perhaps a judicious selection from English divines, of 
 which we have so many, would have been rendering a 
 much greater service to the English pulpit. 
 
 The translator of this volume has then one advantage 
 in undertaking his work, — he has no competitor. He treads 
 in no beaten path. He has nearly all the treasures of 
 a mine hitherto unexplored, from which to enrich the 
 public. 
 
 It is natural for the reader to ask, who are these preachers, 
 and what lias contributed to render them so celebrated, that 
 they should be arrayed in an English dress, and be pre- 
 sented to the British public ? The Biographical Notices, 
 which are prefixed to each discourse, will partly answer 
 these inquiries ; but perhaps some general observations 
 respecting them will not be unnecessary. 
 
 The French pulpit was in a very degraded state till 
 about the middle of the seventeenth century. The preachers 
 of the League,* as they were called, had universally cor- 
 rupted the public taste. An ignorant priesthood governed 
 an ignorant people. They were guilty of the most ex- 
 travagant absurdities, and spouted the most contemptible 
 trash. The vulgar ribaldry of the most filthy Antinomian 
 pulpit of the present day, does not equal that of the Catholic 
 preachers of this period. Here are a few examples of the 
 nonsense which went by the name of preaching. 
 
 " I Jill up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ. 
 
 * Vide Historical View, p. 57. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 XV 
 
 Coloss. i. 24. He does not say I fill up that which is 
 wanting to the sufferings of Jesus Christ, but what is "wanting 
 of the sufferings of Jesus Christ; for nothing is wanting to 
 his sufferings, which are most perfect : but many sufferings 
 are jet to be endured by the loving heart of Jesus. When 
 you have the cholic, the gout, or the stone, if you bear these 
 as you ought, you endure what Jesus Christ wished to 
 endure : for if it were deemed right, he would desire to suffer 
 for God his Father, all the maladies that can be suffered. 
 
 " We see in scripture that the holy man Job, who was his 
 type, was smitten with all the maladies of which the human 
 body is susceptible : thus the Son of God suffers the gout 
 in you, the cholic in your neighbour, and the stone in 
 another: the sufferings of Christ abound in us"* 
 
 The same preacher thus introduces his Ave Maria, which 
 the Catholic preachers pronounce between the exordium 
 and the division of the sermon. " I have read in sacred 
 scripture, that when King Solomon seated himself upon his 
 throne of justice to judge the people of God, he also pre- 
 pared a royal throne, where he caused his mother Bethsheba 
 to be placed at the right hand of his majesty. Positus est 
 thronus matri ejus, qua sedit ad dexteram ejus. This wise 
 Prince was the type of your Son, O holy and blessed 
 Virgin ! For when Jesus Christ, the true Solomon, shall 
 be seated on the throne of his glory to judge the quick and 
 the dead, he will associate you in that office; nor is it 
 wonderful that he should grant you this honour, since he 
 "will grant it even to his beloved apostles ; the apostles will 
 enjoy this honour, because they have followed Jesus Christ 
 during his residence on earth. Fos qui secuti estis me 
 
 * Le Jeune's S«rmons, 
 
XVI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 sedibitis super sedes duodecim judicantes tribus Israel. But 
 your Son will grant you this honour, because you have 
 conceived him, borne hirn, nourished him, and brought 
 him up from your virgin bosom ; which we bless in saluting 
 you. Ave Maria."* 
 
 " Jesus Christ is the head of his mystical body ; you are 
 the neck, we are the members. All the influences which 
 the head spreads upon the members pass necessarily through 
 the neck, and all the graces with which Jesus Christ blesses 
 Lis church, are first communicated to you. You are the 
 treasure, the magazine, the fountain of them. Gabriel 
 called you full of grace, saluting you in these words, 
 Ave Maria"* 
 
 But the worst is yet to come. " The Cardinal Durand 
 says, that a friar having one day forgotten to bow the knee 
 when Et homo fact us esti was sung, Satan visibly gave him 
 a good box on the ear ; and said to him, Brazen face that 
 thou art, if God became incarnate for us, we ought to sink 
 down into the depths of humility. He was right."§ Ohe ! 
 Jam satis. 
 
 In what a low condition must the understandings of those 
 auditors have been, that could receive such trash as reli- 
 gious instruction. 
 
 " At the commencement of the reign of Louis XIV. the 
 pulpit was degraded by the exhibitions of scenic buffoonery. 
 From the mob of wretched sermonizers, one eminently 
 absurd advanced, and attracted the attention of the public 
 The Father Hon ore, a friar, distinguished himself by a new 
 mode, which was in preaching to the eye as well as to the 
 ear. He sometimes held in his hand a death's head, which 
 
 * Le Je line's Sermons. f Ibid* 
 
 J And he was made man. § Ibid. 
 
INTRODUCTION. XVII 
 
 he exhibited in various attire, with infinite dexterity, ac- 
 cording to the character he intended to represent. Now 
 the skull displayed the curled tresses of the gay man of 
 fashion, now the flowing hair of a magistrate. The mili- 
 tary plumes then waved over the brow of death ; then the 
 terrific gewgaw assumed a female dress, which varied in 
 conformity to the personage, either of a prude, a coquette, 
 a widow, or a nun. To this buffoonery succeeded a friar 
 of facetious memory, known by the appellation of Little 
 Father Andre. His mode of preaching was less scenical 
 than that of his predecessor, but equally improper. He 
 was in the pulpit what Scarron, the jester, was in society. 
 A vein of low comedy ran through his compositions. His 
 similes and allusions seldom failed to excite loud peals of 
 laughter." 
 
 Whenever a royal personage entered the church after 
 the sermon had begun, it was the usual practice to reca- 
 pitulate what had been already said, with a compliment 
 in addition ; but when Anne of Austria, the queen, entered 
 one day, after this preacher had begun, the friar said, 
 Madame^ soyez la bien venue nous tfen mettrons pas phis 
 grand pot aufeu.* 
 
 When this religious mounfebank withdrew from the stage, 
 it was occupied by preachers who " added elegance to 
 thought, and dignity to expression." Yet there were 
 those even in the Augustine age of the Catholic pulpit, 
 who discovered some eccentricities. The celebrated Bridaine 
 is said to have once played the flute in the pulpit, probably 
 to soothe the minds of his hearers to receive some affecting 
 subject; and at another time he introduced a skeleton, 
 
 * Madame, you are welcome, but we need not boil the pot a second 
 time. 
 
XVU1 INTRODUCTION, 
 
 doubtless to expatiate upon the vanity of the world, or the 
 certainty of death. The first act was extravagant, the last 
 was improper. Yet the writer once heard a person of 
 veracity assert, that the celebrated Hcrvey preached in his 
 hearing on " The Rose of Sharon ;'* and took a rose in his 
 hand, which he frequently exhibited to the people while 
 illustrating his subject. The flowery taste of that excellent 
 man is some apology for the singularity of the mode of 
 illustration, which he thought proper to adopt, and the 
 introduction of a simple flower into the pulpit could excite 
 no very strange feelings in the minds of the most intelligent 
 auditory. 
 
 The glory of reforming the French pulpit belongs to the 
 name of Bourdaloue. This preacher has been considered 
 the first in eminence that France ever produced. Perhaps 
 he owes this character to accidental circumstances. His 
 light appeared the more splendid, because it suddenly burst 
 forth after a long and dark night. He has the merit of 
 being an original ; the other celebrated preachers were in 
 part his copyists. He, however, struck out a new road to 
 pulpit fame, which soon threw the contemptible horde of 
 pulpit merry-andrews, and the no less useless body of 
 scholastic doctors, into the back ground. He was speedily 
 followed by the intrepid geniuses of Bossuet and Massillon; 
 and their improved mode of preaching, supported by a 
 more enlightened age which then sprung into existence, 
 produced a change in the French Catholic church which 
 might have astonished the world. Each of these preachers 
 had his peculiarity, and they all excelled in different ways, 
 Bourdaloue addressed the understanding, Bossuet the 
 imagination, and Massillon the heart. Bourdaloue is the 
 most frigid of all the Catholic writers, Bossuet the most 
 
INTRODUCTION. XIX 
 
 pleasing, Massillon the most energetic. The preaching of 
 the first was adapted powerfully to convince, of the second 
 to delight, and of the third to touch the soul. A long 
 train of men of talents now appeared in rapid succession, 
 though all remained far behind their three distinguished 
 forerunners. The most eminent of these were Flechier. 
 La Rue, and Fenelon. 
 
 Several of the most celebrated Catholic preachers never 
 published any sermons ; and it is to be regretted, that 
 nothing is left of the discourses of these men but a few 
 scattered fragments, which were carefully gathered up by 
 their admirers. One of these preachers was the Missionary 
 du Plessis. Marmontel has recorded one anecdote of his 
 eloquence. His subject was the Day of Judgment. He 
 brought his hearers to the bar of God, interrogated them 
 respectively, answered for them, and pronounced their sen- 
 tences. At length he came to himself; — u And who are 
 you?" then exposing his hoary locks, he answered with a 
 trembling voice, and a downcast head, " I am the Missionary 
 du Plessis :" he then lamented the little fruit that he had 
 produced during his ministry, acknowledged his weakness 
 and unworthiness ; and falling on his knees, and imploring 
 mercy, he conjured the righteous souls that were present to 
 unite their supplications with that of a miserable sinner, to 
 prevail in his behalf with the Sovereign Judge. His 
 hearers were struck with consternation. Nicholas Bri- 
 daine was another preacher of extraordinary powers. 
 He was an honest country divine, and cared little to 
 obtrude himself upon the notice of the Court. " His 
 powers of delivery were such, and his address so com- 
 manding, that he could be heard distinctly by ten thousand 
 people in the open air." He seems, as a preacher, to have 
 
XX INTRODUCTION. 
 
 been the Catholic Whitefield, and he has been compared in 
 his eloquence to Demosthenes and Bossuet. " One of the 
 grand means of popular eloquence," says Marmontel, " is 
 for a preacher to throw himself into the crowd, to associate 
 himself with his auditors, to become their equal and brother, 
 to hope, to fear with them." Here Bridaine never failed. 
 " Ye poor of Christ's flock," said he, " I am poor like your- 
 selves ; I possess nothing ; but God has given me a powerful 
 voice, even to penetrate the souls of the rich, and to touch 
 them with compassion for your sorrows and your wants." 
 
 On other occasions he had recourse to the interesting 
 method of parables. Preaching on the Passion of Jesus 
 Christ, lie expressed himself thus : " A man, accused of a 
 crime of which he was innocent, was condemned to death by 
 the iniquity of his judges. He was led to punishment, but 
 ho gibbet was prepared, nor was there any executioner 
 to perform the sentence. The people, moved with com- 
 passion, hoped that this sufferer would escape death. But 
 one man raised his voice, and said, I am going to prepare a 
 gibbet, and I will be the executioner. You groan with 
 indignation ? Well, my brethren, in each of you I behold 
 this cruel man. Here are no Jews here, to-day, to crucify 
 Jesus Christ : but you dare to rise up, and say I will 
 crucify him." — " I myself," says Marmontel, " heard 
 Bridaine, with the most piercing and heart-rending voicej 
 having the appearance of the most venerable apostle, 
 though very young, and an air of compunction that no one 
 ever possessed in the pulpit like himself; — I heard him 
 pronounce these words, and I will venture to assert, that 
 eloquence never produced such an effect. Nothing 
 was heard but the sobs of the whole auditory. In the 
 course of the same sermon he said, " I have read, my 
 
INTRODUCTION". XXI 
 
 friends, in the sacred books, that when a man was found 
 murdered by the way side, all the neighbouring inhabitants 
 were assembled, and they were all made to swear one after 
 the other, over the dead body, that they were neither the 
 authors of the murder, nor accomplices in it. Brethren, 
 behold the man whom we have found murdered ; let every 
 one of you then draw nigh, and swear, if you dare to do it, 
 that you have had no share in his death." 
 
 The Cardinal Maury has preserved one fine extract 
 from this preacher. " I recollect," says he, " having heard 
 him pronounce the introduction of the first sermon that he 
 preached in the church of St. Sulpice at Paris, in 1751. 
 The most distinguished persons of the capital attended him 
 out of curiosity. Bridaine observed several bishops in the 
 congregation, persons of fashion, and a large crowd of 
 ecclesiastics; but this sight, far from intimidating him, 
 suggested to his mind the exordium which I am going to 
 relate. I give what I can call to recollection of this, with 
 which I have always been exceedingly impressed, and 
 which will perhaps not seem unworthy of Bossuet or 
 Demosthenes. 6 At the sight of an auditory so new to me, 
 it would seem, my brethren, that I ought to rise for no 
 other purpose than to solicit your candour and indulgence 
 in favour of a poor missionary, completely destitute of 
 those talents and acquisitions which you expect in those 
 who address you as the messengers of salvation. I feel, 
 however, to-day, a sentiment widely different ; and if I am 
 dejected, take care that you do not imagine that it arises 
 from the miserable inquietude of vanity. God forbid that 
 a minister of the truth should ever need an apology in your 
 presence ! for, whoever you may be, you are only sinners 
 like myself. It is before your God and mine that I feel 
 
NX11 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 constrained at this moment to smite upon my breast. Until 
 now I have published the righteousness of God in temples 
 covered with thatch ; I have preached the rigours of 
 repentance to the miserable who have wanted bread; I 
 have announced to the simple and pious inhabitants of the 
 country, the most terrific truths of my religion : wretched 
 man that I am, what have I done ! I have grieved the poor, 
 the best friends of my God ; I have carried affliction and 
 terror into those humble and believing souls that I ought to 
 have encouraged and consoled. It is here, where I behold 
 around me, none but the great and the rich, oppressors of 
 suffering humanity, or bold and hardened sinners : Ah ! it 
 is here alone, that the holy word should be made to resound 
 in all the force of thunder, while I point you from this 
 pulpit to death, threatening you on one side, and to my 
 great God, who appears to judge you on the other. I seem* 
 this day, to hold your sentence in my hand. Tremble, then, 
 ye proud and disdainful men who hear me. The necessity 
 of salvation, the certainty of death, the uncertainty of that 
 hour, so alarming to you, final impenitence, the last judg- 
 ment, the small number of the elect, hell, and, above all, 
 eternity. — Eternity! lo, these are the subjects on which 
 I am going to treat, and which, without doubt, I ought to 
 have reserved chiefly for you. And what need have I of 
 your suffrages, which might perhaps damn me, without 
 saving you ? God is now about to touch you by the voice 
 of his unworthy minister ; for I have acquired a long 
 experience of his mercies. Then, penetrated with horror 
 for your past offences, you will throw yourselves into my 
 arms, pouring forth tears of grief and repentance, and 
 proving, by the force of your remorse, that through his 
 assistance I am sufficiently eloquent.' " 
 
INTRODUCTION. XX111 
 
 The Pere Beauregard was another of those popular 
 preachers, whose sermons are lost to the world. The seen© 
 of his labours was the French metropolis. A striking 
 proof of his eloquence is on record. He once " addressed 
 his hearers on the impiety of reading deistical authors. The 
 next day he received from them many parcels, containing 
 the sacrifice of all the irreligious books in their possession. 
 He was a harsh preacher, and might be deemed the Juvenal 
 of the French pulpit." 
 
 There is evidently in all the French Catholic preachers 
 a great deal of bombast, and those whose names stand the 
 highest have the most. The second-rate preachers have less 
 show, but very often much more sense; and the sermons of 
 many of these are well worthy of a perusal. A wish to 
 give the public samples of the more distinguished orators, 
 has alone prevented the introduction of more of those that 
 rank below them. 
 
 Verbosity is another great fault which is common to the 
 French preachers ; and it is no easy thing for a translator 
 to perform his task with fidelity, and avoid this evil of his 
 original. 
 
 It will be observed, that several of the discourses begin 
 with the word Sire, and perhaps it may be necessary to 
 explain to some few readers that the sermons, to which this 
 is prefixed, were preached before the Court; and, accord- 
 ing to etiquette, were always addressed to the king. 
 
 The lines which occasionally introduce the A~ce Maria 
 are omitted, as not essential to the connection. 
 
 The most unexceptionable discourses have been selected, 
 but in all of those that are Catholic, there are perhaps some 
 slight traces of their origin. Without, however, altering 
 or omitting more than a word or two, or occasionally 
 
XXIV INTRODUCTION'. 
 
 leaving out a sentence in a sermon, tbey appear in such a 
 form as must afford gratification, and it is hoped improve- 
 ment, to every serious reader. 
 
 It is believed, that the peculiar tenets of the Catholic 
 divines are scarcely visible in these discourses, nor is this 
 giving an unfair specimen ; because the aim of the trans- 
 lator was to present the public witli those which he deemed 
 the most unexceptionable, in order to give a fair character 
 of the eloquence rather than the sentiments of the author. 
 
 Few, excepting Protestant readers, will peruse this 
 volume, and to them it would not be very gratifying to 
 dwell upon transubstantiation, and extreme unction, and 
 purgatory, and other peculiar tenets of the Catholic religion. 
 The translator has, therefore, sometimes made a sacrifice in 
 omitting passages on these subjects, which have been the 
 most impassioned in a whole sermon. 
 
 The difficulty has been greater to repress the prevalent 
 sentiments of meritorious penitence, and regeneration by 
 initiatory admission into the bosom of the church, which 
 it is necessary to notice, though many Protestants and mem- 
 bers of the established Church of England, whose creed is 
 decidedly Calvinistic, may feel no hesitation in receiving 
 these sentiments. No violence has, however, been done to 
 the authors to conceal these Anti-Protestant doctrines ; the 
 chief effort used was to avoid as much as possible those 
 discourses which lead to these topics ; and if the transla- 
 tions are compared with the originals, it is hoped that no 
 one will be able to say, this is not Massillon, nor that 
 Bossuet ; but that these illustrious preachers will be easily 
 recognized, though divested of the crucifix, the host, and 
 the canonical robes of the Romish priest. 
 
 In fact, without being slavishly literal, the discourses here 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXV 
 
 presented to the public can at least claim the merit of 
 being a fair translation ; for the liberties taken with the 
 authors are too few to need any apology. 
 
 As the translator has not done such violence to the au- 
 thors as to conform their opinions to his own standard, but 
 only rejected those which appeared to him to be the most 
 objectionable, it would be unjust in any one to make him 
 responsible for the sentiments in this volume. The Jesuits 
 hold tenets in his views further removed from truth than 
 those of the Jansenists : and the Protestants in France 
 have as many shades of difference as are to be found 
 among that body in our own country ; even the most 
 excellent of them cannot " see eye to eye. 1 ' The trans- 
 lator who could agree with them all in every tiling, must, 
 then, have as many minds as Ihe tabled hydra had heads. 
 It must be remembered, that the design of the work was 
 not only to make a selection of sermons, all in some re- 
 spects excellent, in the translator's views, either for 
 beauty of diction, grandeur of thought, strength of rea- 
 soning, brilliancy of imagination, or purity of senti- 
 ment, — but also to give a specimen of the principal 
 preachers, both Catholic and Protestant, for which France 
 has been so justly famed ; so that the reader, and especially 
 the French student, might, by the model here presented to 
 him, be able to choose his own author without the labour 
 and expence of ransacking many volumes unknown to the 
 world. It was also designed to give the English reader a 
 taste of the pleasant things which the varieties of the French 
 pulpit afford, and to create an appetite in those who have 
 hitherto had no relish for this rich intellectual food. 
 
 Many have objected to the publication of French theology 
 in our language, for which various reasons may be as- 
 
XXVI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 signed. Some, attached to the bolder modes of express- 
 ing divine truth, have imagined that all the French Pro- 
 testant preachers were as delicate as Saurin, the only French 
 Protestant divine generally known in this country, and 
 therefore considered as a fair sample of all the rest. 
 Others, knowing that the French language is frequently 
 very bombastical when rendered into English, have feared 
 lest French sermons should lead young preachers to adopt 
 an improper style in the pulpit. Others have a kind of 
 antipathy to every thing that is French, just as some people 
 have to frogs and toads, and in the littleness of their con- 
 tracted souls, are ready to ask, when presented with a 
 volume from the French, " Can any good thing come out 
 of Nazareth." These will now have an opportunity of 
 being shamed out of their prejudices. They will know 
 that there have been preachers in France as plain, as 
 faithful, and as evangelical, as many of the most distin- 
 guished ornaments of the pulpit in this country ; and if they 
 are candid, they will be ready to admit that they have too 
 hastily drawn their conclusions. 
 
 Some would rather that the sermons had been all from 
 Protestant divines. But why not select a few of the most 
 distinguished among the Catholics ? There is too much 
 gold mixed with their dross, to cast the whole indis- 
 criminately away. Amidst the corruptions of the Church 
 of Rome, and the " vast mass of additions to the primitive 
 faith," we may yet discover that faith at the bottom. " Jt 
 holds what the majority of Protestants consider to be the 
 principal doctrines of the Christian religion : the divine 
 inspiration and authority of the scriptures; the true deity 
 of the Redeemer and of the holy Spirit ; the union of the 
 divine and the human natures in the person of Christ; his 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXV11 
 
 obedience and sufferings for the redemption of men ; sal- 
 vation only by his atonement, righteousness and grace ; the 
 renewing and purifying influences of the holy Spirit ; the 
 general obligations of holiness ; a separate state ; the 
 universal judgments ■ and the eternal retributions of the 
 righteous and of the wicked."* Here are, then, many 
 choice flowers from which the diligent bee may extract the 
 sweetest honey, and where the weeds have not been pulled 
 up by the hand of the translator, they cannot so prevail as 
 to destroy the fragrance of these fairer plants. Besides, 
 much good is lost where the art of selecting is not acquired ; 
 and even Luther, the great Reformer, said, u under the 
 Papacy there is much Christian good." It is well then 
 often to practise that maxim, — 
 
 " Seize upon truth where'er 'tis found, 
 On Heathen or on Christian ground." 
 
 This sentiment is well expressed by the Catholic Bishop, 
 Beauvais. " Let us seize upon truth and virtue wherever 
 they are found. All virtue, say the godly, all virtue should 
 belong to us, since we are the disciples of him who is virtue 
 itself and sovereign truth." The same writer with great 
 propriety justifies the judicious perusal even of heathen 
 writers, whose sentiments may often be employed for a 
 useful purpose. " Thus," he says, " David completed his 
 victory with the sword of the Philistine whom he had 
 overthrown ; thus Israel decorated its tabernacle with the 
 spoils of Egypt ;" and he might have added, thus Paul, the 
 apostle, employed the language of their own poets to con- 
 demn the idolatry of the Athenians. Caillot, who is himself 
 a French Catholic, asks the Catholics in his Preface to his 
 
 * Dr. Pye Smith's Reasons of the Protestant Religion. 
 
XXVU1 - INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Extracts from Protestant Sermons, " If the maxims of 
 morality are not less worthy of regard in the mouths of 
 Pagan philosophers than hi those of the sages of Christianity, 
 why should the maxims of religion delivered by a Pro- 
 testant orator, be less respected than when announced by a 
 Catholic ?" The same question may be proposed, mutatis 
 mutandis, respecting the Catholic writers, to a prejudiced 
 Protestant. 
 
 Calvin and Beza were both Frenchmen, and were the 
 grand instruments in spreading the doctrines of the Reform- 
 ation in their own country. Consequently, the doctrines of 
 Calvinism were very generally received by the people, and 
 were as generally preached by their ministers. There was 
 an age of Puritans in France. The Reformed, whom 
 we are accustomed to call Protestants, were very devoted 
 characters, and their ministers zealous servants of Christ. 
 The French have had their Owens, their Charnocks and 
 their Flavels. The same spirit may be traced in a Du 
 Bosc, a Claude, a Faucheur, and a Mestrezat. It would 
 be easy to add to the number. Among those here trans- 
 lated are some more modern, which are less doctrinal. 
 It is, however, with much regret, that the translator 
 has been obliged to omit many valuable sermons of other 
 preachers, as he had confined his labours to the limits of a 
 volume. 
 
 These preachers all, more or less, bear the marks of the 
 style refugie. Voltaire assigns a just reason for this pecu- 
 liarity : " The defects of the language of the Calvinistical 
 Pastors," he observes, " originated in their copying the in- 
 correct phrases of the first Reformers ; moreover, almost 
 every one of them having been brought up at Saumur, in 
 Poitouj Dauphine, or Languecloc, they retained the vicious 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 XXIX 
 
 modes of speaking peculiar to each province." They are 
 also much less eloquent than the Catholics. " The Pro- 
 testants," says Bayle, " do not value the worldly orna- 
 ments, and the soft and effeminate rhetoric wherewith the 
 Popish preachers adorn themselves." It is certain that 
 they preached much less to the passions, and more to the 
 understanding and the heart. It is hoped that the English 
 student will here find a Thesaurus Theologicus, from which 
 he may derive a large portion of intellectual treasure. 
 
 It was thought that some would naturally be desirous of 
 obtaining a knowledge of the state of the church in which 
 these worthy men lived. The history of the French Catholic 
 Church is more generally known, and presents little com- 
 paratively interesting; nor could it have been given in 
 addition without swelling the volume to an undue size, 
 or curtailing the number of the sermons. The trans- 
 lator would also willingly have spared himself the labour 
 of his History of the Reformed Church of France, and 
 Lave used Robinson's, which is so admirably condensed ; 
 but he thought that many would be in possession of 
 the latter, and as he was furnished with materials which 
 that writer could not procure, he deemed it better to 
 write a new abridgment. In doing this, it was impossible 
 to give a faithful narration without treading partly on 
 the ground which his predecessor in this task has occu- 
 pied ; but those who possess Robinson's " Memoirs of the 
 Reformation in France," will find, that though there is a 
 general agreement in facts, the narration of particulars 
 is very different, as the " Historical View" dwells more 
 largely upon those points which Robinson has omitted. 
 The subject is also wholly untouched by that gentleman 
 after the time of the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, 
 
XXX INTRODUCTION. 
 
 -whereas this brings it down to the present period.* At the 
 time of writing this part, the author "was unacquainted with 
 Laval's History of the Reformation in France, and Quick's 
 Synodecon, a knowledge of which would have saved him 
 much labour ; but he has discovered other sources of infor- 
 mation, after which he should not then have so diligently 
 inquired, and from these he has obtained some interesting 
 facts. He here begs leave to acknowledge the assistance 
 which he has received from the Rev. Emile Frossard of 
 Montauban, and the Rev. Francis Martin of Bourdeaux, 
 but especially the latter, in that part of the " Historical 
 View" which relates to the present time. He regrets that 
 its contracted limits would not admit of the use of their 
 favours in a more extensive manner. 
 
 If any degree of asperity has been manifested towards the 
 Catholics, in the " Historical View," it is hoped that the 
 very nature of the volume will prove that this asperity 
 is not shewn towards their persons, their rights, nor even 
 their doctrinal sentiments, for error claims pity more than 
 indignation ; — but only towards the intolerance which is 
 interwoven with their creed, and towards such of them in 
 particular, as have disgraced their names by being the 
 abettors and agents of persecution; a conduct which the 
 writer would censure in a Protestant towards a Catholic 
 with equal indignation. For their persons he would at all 
 times claim that protection which is the birth-right of every 
 citizen ; for their privileges he has ever been a firm advocate ; 
 and for their sentiments, widely as they differ from his 
 
 * In the Statement of the Persecution of the French Protestants, 
 lately published, the translator has given a short summary of their 
 sufferings, but as it is confined to their sufferings only, it has not 
 intruded on this History. 
 
INTRODUCTION, XXXf 
 
 own, he would always feel that respect which every en- 
 lightened man ought to pay to the rights of conscience. 
 
 The translator is indebted to various sources for his 
 Biographical Notices. Sometimes he has abridged those 
 prefixed to the original works, and where these were 
 deficient or wholly wanting, he has gained a knowledge of 
 the author from contemporary authors : Bayle's Dictionary 
 has also been consulted, and from several Encyclopaedias 
 and Biographical Dictionaries,* he has obtained much assist- 
 
 * Among the biographical dictionaries alluded to, Lempriere's 
 Universal Biography has been of great use ; which, though shame- 
 fully partial and bigotted in describing the characters of some English 
 divines, does not appear to partake of that fault when speaking of 
 those of France. A man who writes a biographical dictionary should 
 not have the jaundice of spleen and prejudice, to throw an ugly hue 
 over every man's political or religious sentiments which may not 
 agree with his own. Though the translator is no advocate for the 
 sentiments of Priestley and Wakefield, yet he cannot but feel indig- 
 nant at the biographer who can do no more justice to the characters 
 of men of such exalted talents, and who, in his political rage, has 
 represented those victims of troublous times as no better than fac- 
 tious demagogues. And because Whitefield and Romaine preached 
 sentiments to which this writer seems to be a total stranger, he has 
 shamefully mangled those illustrious names, and laden them with 
 defamation. Of Whitefield he says, " Enthusiasm and the love of sin- 
 gularity influenced his conduct; he preached not only in prisons but in 
 the open fields, aud by strong persuasive eloquence, he prevailed upon 
 multitudes to regard him as a man of superior sanctity." To this 
 character the translator begs permission to oppose that given by the 
 poet Cowper, which he thinks, when put into the other side of the 
 scale of public opinion, will completely weigh down the illiberal 
 insinuations of Dr. Lempriere. 
 
 " Leuconomus (beneath well sounding Greek 
 I slur a name, a poet must not speak) 
 Stood pilioried on infamy's high stage, 
 And bore the pelting scorn of half an age; 
 The very butt of slander, and the blot 
 For every dart that malice ever shot. 
 
XXXH INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ance. The Bibliotheque Portatif has been of considerable 
 service to him, and a work published in France, under the 
 
 The man that mentioned Mm, at onee dismissed 
 
 All mercy from his lips, and sneered and hissed : 
 
 His crimes were such as Sodom never knew, 
 
 And perjury stood up to swear all true ; 
 
 His aim was mischief, and his zeal pretence, 
 
 His speech rebellion against common sense; 
 
 A knave when tried on honesty's plain rule, 
 
 And when by that of reason, a mere fool; 
 
 The world's best comfort was, his doom was passed; 
 
 Die when he might, he must be damned at last. 
 
 Now truth perform thine office ; waft aside 
 The curtain drawn by prejudice and pride, 
 Reveal (the man is dead) to wondering eyes 
 This more than monster in his proper guise. 
 
 He loved the world that hated him : the tear 
 That dropped upon his Bible was sincere: 
 Assailed by scandal and the tongue of strife, 
 His only answer was a blameless life ; 
 And he that forged, and he that threw the dart, 
 Had each a brother's interest in his heart. 
 Paul's love of Christ, and steadiness unbribed, 
 Were copied close in him and well transcribed. 
 He followed Paul ; his zeal and kindred flame, 
 His apostolic charity the same. 
 Like him crossed cheerfully tempestuous seas, 
 Forsaking country, kindred, friends, and ease ; 
 Like him he laboured, and like him content 
 To bear it, suffered shame where'er he went. 
 Blush, calumny 1 and write upon his tomb, 
 If honest eulogy can spare thee room, 
 Thy deep repentance of thy thousand lies, 
 Which, aimed at him, have pierced the offended skies! 
 And say, Blot out my sin, confessed, deplored, 
 Against thine image in thy saint, O Lord !" 
 
 Lempriere's character of Romaine shews the grossest ignorance of 
 him both as a man and a preacher. He says, that " a propensity to 
 the doctrines of Calvin prevailed upon him to seek for distinction 
 among a London audience ;" and that " he was in 1764 rector of 
 St. Ann's, Biackfriars, and continued to collect those numerous 
 
INTRODUCTION. XXXLU 
 
 title of Morceaux a" Eloquence Ext raits, des Sermons, des 
 Orateurs Protestans Francois, les Plus Ceitbres Du Dix- 
 
 <:ongregations which admired the addresses of a vociferous preacher*" 
 All that knew Romaine will hear witness that he was not a kind of 
 man that sought for distinction, though that is not always a crime : 
 and as for his preaching, the translator can testify that he was the 
 very opposite of a vociferous preacher. It is plain that neither the 
 doctor, nor his authority, knew much about him, though pretending 
 to give the public his character. Romaine's popularity was acquired 
 by his using great plainness of speech. Instead of vociferating, he 
 was quite an easy colloquial preacher. The translator was but a 
 youth when he was frequently accustomed to hear him, but he has 
 a perfect recollection at this moment of his countenance, his voice, 
 and his manner. He addressed his congregation as a father would 
 address his family. His countenance was always smiling in the 
 pulpit, and seemed to indicate that he was in the element in which 
 he delighted. His voice was never raised beyond the tone of con- 
 versation, lie appeared to resemble a child innocently exhibiting 
 a toy that pleases, when speaking on the themes on which he 
 delighted to dwell. It was this quiet but fascinating address that 
 caught the attention of the hearers, and made them watch his lips 
 with eager anxiety. He was the same in his pleaching as in his 
 writing. Never great, but never uninteresting. Never new, but never 
 trite. He much resembled what the apostle Paul describes himself 
 to have been in his address to the Corinthians; " And I, brethren, 
 when I came to you, came not with excellency of speech or of 
 wisdom, declaring unto you the testimony of God : For I determined 
 not to know any thing among you, save Jesus Christ, and him 
 crucified." 
 
 From the general circulation of Lempriere's Dictionaiy, the trans- 
 lator could not abstain from obtruding these remarks, to counteract, 
 if possible, some of the impressions, which such partial and false 
 statements might produce upon many minds. No one. would 
 suspect a writer of such gross defamation, after having said to the 
 public in his preface, " He trusts that he has spoken of the Christian 
 and the Pagan, of the Catholic and the Protestant, of the Churchman 
 and the Sectary, with the bold language of an unprejudiced narration, 
 which would not condescend to flatter the great and the powerful, 
 when in the height of authority, at the expence of historical veracity, 
 and which disdains to insult their memory after they have descended 
 to the tomb." But he has not only misrepresented the characters of 
 these men as citizens, or as ministers, but attributed to all of them 
 
 e 
 
XXXIV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Septieme Steele, by A. Gaillot, before mentioned. Voltaire^s 
 Louis XIV. has also afforded some help. Other hints 
 have been derived from a number of authors, which are 
 interspersed among their writings ; and to these, the trans- 
 lator has added many of his own observations, en passant * 
 which he hopes may be useful, and which he more espe- 
 cially designs to render assistance to young preachers. 
 
 The writer was not unacquainted with the name of 
 Vincent Houdry's Bibliotheque des Predicateurs, pub- 
 lished in 1733, in twenty-two quarto volumes; but that 
 voluminous work has not come under his immediate notice. 
 It is exceedingly scarce, and confined to Catholic preachers. 
 A work is also just published in France, called Ilistoire 
 des Peres de VEglise, but none having yet arrived in 
 England, this could likewise afford no assistance. 
 
 The concise account of French Authors, at the end of 
 the volume, will make it a complete vade mecum for those 
 who wish for a general guide to the knowledge of French 
 divines. This part of the volume, though least in bulk, 
 has not been the least in labour, and has put the trans- 
 lator to considerable expence. Many volumes have been 
 consulted, and many sermons perused, to furnish matter for 
 a few lines. And this small part may, perhaps, require 
 the greatest exercise of candour ; for though the writer has 
 
 the most unworthy motives; thus daring to assume the prerogative of 
 even searching the heart. Indeed, an impartial account of any 
 Calvinist is hardly to be expected from a wiitcr who roundly asserts, 
 (article Calvin) that " the untenable doctrines which he (Calvin) pro- 
 pagated about an absolute predestination, have tended to render his 
 followers, not only during his age, but in succeeding times, gloomy, 
 presumptuous, obstinate, and uncharitable:' Pity that this universal 
 biographer should not himself possess more of that " charity which 
 koneth all things." 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 XXXV 
 
 endeavoured to avoid severity, be could not always speak 
 as favourably of every preacher as he wished. But in the 
 diversity of tastes and sentiments, it is very probable that 
 some preachers are censured whom others would praise, 
 and that some are extolled whom others would condemn. 
 In many cases, he has indeed given the opinions of others, 
 but in many more he has read for himself, and has ventured 
 to commit his judgment to the scrutiny of the public. 
 Perhaps some may think that much unnecessary labour 
 has been employed by the minute details of some of the 
 characters; but it is often desirable in forming opinions 
 of an author, especially of a religious cast, to ascertain his 
 dispositions, his studies, his habits, and associates, — in short, 
 whatever may tend to throw light upon his character, 
 comprising at least the most remarkable events of his life, 
 and the manner of his death. In performing this task, 
 the method has been diversified as much as circum- 
 stances would allow. The occasional notices of the 
 most distinguished works of the French preachers, will, 
 it is hoped, prove botli useful and acceptable. It is to 
 be observed, that no mention has been made of those 
 authors and preachers, whose sermons have not been given 
 to the public, as it would have occupied too much room, 
 and would have been foreign to the object of this work. 
 Several whose names appear in the Biographical Notices 
 prefixed to the Sermons, are mentioned again in this 
 catalogue, in consequence of some interesting particulars 
 respecting them having been discovered too late to be 
 inserted in their proper place. Faucheur and Massillon 
 are among this number. 
 
 In arranging the work, the translator has thought proper 
 to divide it into two parts; the one for the Catholic 
 
XXXVI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 preachers, and the other for the Protestant. The princi- 
 pal reason for this distinction is the diversity of their 
 styles; for a Protestant sermon, though having the advan- 
 tage in theology, would generally appear cold and insipid, 
 if read in connection with the more spirited productions 
 of the celebrated Catholic divines. One of these classes 
 was obliged to be placed first. The claims of antiquity 
 would have given the priority to the Protestant preachers, 
 but the splendid talents and popularity of the Catholics 
 whose sermons are here translated, determined their position 
 at the head of the volume. 
 
 The discourses are arranged, not according to superior 
 rity, or antiquity, but in something of a theological 
 order. In the selection, a regard has been paid as 
 much as possible to variety ; and this claim, in some in- 
 stances, has superseded a discourse, which had otherwise 
 that of superior merit. 
 
 It has been justly said, that " severe precepts, austerity 
 of doctrine, and unremitted rigour, prevail in the discourses 
 of the French Catholic preachers;" "they survey the 
 Christian Institution with a splenetic eye, a sombrous and 
 monastic melancholy broods over their religious instructions, 
 they dwell on the terrific part of the Christian doctrine, 
 deepening those clouds which appear to the affectionate 
 believer little more than relieving shades to attemper the 
 blaze of mercy." This general hue cannot indeed be well 
 discovered in the discourses here selected, and therefore it is 
 right to give this statement to the reader. The Catholic 
 sermons in this volume bear but few of the marks of gloomy 
 severity, compared with those which might have been pro- 
 duced. Several of the preachers, being accustomed to 
 address the great, strike more at the sins of a court, than ad 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 XXXV1L 
 
 the general crimes of society ; and all, perhaps, dwell too 
 much upon the sins of the life, without sufficiently assailing 
 the native depravity of the heart ; while they direct the 
 conscience, which they have wounded, to acts of penitence, 
 more than to the blood of atonement, and to that great In- 
 tercessor, who, " if any man sin,' 1 is the u advocate with 
 the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous." Yet they have 
 the peculiar properties of energy and fidelity, which make 
 them in these respects worthy of the imitation of every 
 preacher. 
 
 The discourses of the Protestant divines are of course 
 not all equally excellent ; they are, however, uniformly free 
 from those things which ever disgrace the pulpit, — -fanati- 
 cism, vulgarity, barbarous metaphors, and indecent levities. 
 They are characterized by " sound speech, which cannot 
 be condemned." 
 
 Both Protestant and Catholic preachers have many modes 
 of expressing their sentiments, to which English theologians 
 are not accustomed. The meaning must often be deter- 
 mined from the connection. It is an unpardonable severity 
 to make a preacher an offender for a word. Terms convey 
 ideas, and ought therefore to be carefully employed ; but 
 every man is not obliged to use the same terms. Perhaps 
 all those which pass current as orthodox, if carefully ex- 
 amined by scripture and reason, would not stand the test 
 of inquiry. And yet some people seem to make their 
 religion consist in terms, and half the zealots for particular 
 words and phrases, if asked to define them, could give no 
 more explanation of their meaning than the wise men of 
 Belshazzer could of the hand-writing upon his majesty's 
 wall. Those characters are insufferable that set up tests for 
 truth of human invention, and deal out damnation against 
 
XXXV1U INTRODUCTION. 
 
 every man that cannot pronounce their Shibboleth. This is 
 lih:t> the spirit of bigotry, but it is notjthe Spirit of Christ. 
 There are, however, some grand truths that must run 
 through every discourse moulded according to the gospel, 
 and which will appear like so many golden veins enriching 
 the mine, the industrious labourer lays open to view. 
 These veins often delight the eye of the Christian even in 
 the Catholic discourses, but in those of the Protestants they 
 are conspicuous. It is here pleasing to observe, how all 
 good men in all ages, taught by the same spirit, have seen 
 the grand principles of the Christian religion in the same 
 light, and uniformly directed the anxious inquirer after 
 salvation to him who is " the way, the truth, and the life." 
 The French Catholics are not to be imitated in their 
 bombast any more than in their theology ; but they are 
 worthy of imitation in the zeal which they discover, and in 
 the affectionate manner in which they uniformly address 
 their hearers. It is impossible to read their sermons without 
 being convinced of their sincerity ; and how much more 
 powerful must have been the effect produced when delivered 
 viva voce, and with that fascinating address which riveted 
 the attention of their hearers. But there was sometimes 
 too much of an appeal to the passions, without regard- 
 ing the understanding; yet the passions are the avenues 
 to the heart, and they ought never to be neglected. Jesus 
 Christ frequently appealed to them in his discourses, and 
 the same way is still open. Dry and cold reasoning will 
 not do for the understandings of the multitude ; at the same 
 time, redundant declamation is equally to be avoided. The 
 Catholic preachers sometimes lost themselves, and uttered 
 many words without meaning : whole sentences, whole 
 passages, and almost whole sermons, are sometimes to be 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 found, that are little more than sound without sense. 
 Their imaginations hurried them away, at the expence of 
 their judgments. 
 
 If the distinguished Catholic and Protestant preachers 
 could have combined their peculiar excellencies, it 
 would in no small degree have proved of mutual advan- 
 tage; for the French Protestants have light without a 
 sufficient proportion of heat, and the Catholics in ge- 
 neral have heat without a sufficient proportion of 
 light. 
 
 Most of the modern French volumes have been pub- 
 lished in Geneva, Switzerland, and Holland, by ministers 
 settled over the French churches in those countries. 
 It is to be lamented that many of these preachers have 
 recently forsaken the principles of the first Reformers, and 
 whatever now comes from Geneva should be read with 
 peculiar caution. 
 
 The French divines have never been in the habit of 
 reading their sermons. The translator has heard that La 
 Rue stands as a solitary exception to this rule, and that he 
 read so ably that he drew vast crowds to hear him, 
 notwithstanding the general prejudice of the French is 
 against reading. The lively genius of that people would 
 not allow them to listen to those cold essays called sermons, 
 which often freeze the English auditory, while retailed from 
 the lips of school-boys "of a larger growth;" and which 
 have no other merit than that of being short. Nor is the 
 practice of reading countenanced in France to this day. A 
 few Catholics read, but they are not deemed preachers ; 
 and the Protestants, for the most part, repeat their sermons 
 memoriter^ a practice which one justly calls that rock 
 of Sysiphus which must be rolled incessantly. The custom 
 
xl INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of reading sermons did not prevail in England till the time 
 of the civil wars, and was afterwards forbidden by a statute 
 of" Charles II. to the University of Cambridge. It is evident 
 that this mode of address loses many of the advantages 
 which belong to that which is unfettered. Many argue for 
 the practice of reading sermons, because it is considered 
 that the chain of ideas may be better continued, and that 
 the language may be more correct. This may be disputed, 
 where the extemporary speaker has been in the habit of 
 close reasoning, and where he has taken pains to acquire the 
 chaste style as the medium of communicating his thoughts. 
 But even where this is not the case, it must be evident that 
 the advantages gained by an extemporary address, in 
 seizing the attention of the hearer and producing a striking 
 (effect upon a whole auditory, are peculiarly great, and must 
 very much counterbalance any advantages of composition 
 or connection. The most eminent patterns of eloquence are 
 found in the senate and at the bar, and these do not read 
 their speeches. What then should prevent a pulpit orator 
 from equalling them, by availing himself of the same 
 method of address ? It may be replied, that the subjects 
 differ. True ; but if any subject can call forth the energies 
 of the mind in a greater degree than another, it is the 
 subject of religion. The Christian orator speaks upon the 
 most sublime themes. Souls, eternity, heaven and hell, 
 alternately engage his attention. To be cold upon such 
 topics is to be criminal; and the preacher who reads is 
 often unjustly censured as being cold, because he wants 
 that energy which the more popular mode of address 
 enables him to throw into his subject. 
 
 So common was extemporary preaching at the time 
 of the Reformation, that when a discourse was published it 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Xll 
 
 was taken from the notes ; and in the title-pages of many of 
 the books then printed, of this nature, there was a picture 
 representing a congregation, with a minister preaching and 
 a clerk seated at the foot of the desk with a book and pen 
 in his hand. Indeed, many sermons of those times were 
 published by the notaries, as they were called ; and Luther 
 on the Galatians, v*as prepared in this manner, by such 
 persons, for the press. 
 
 Yet, let it not be supposed that the translator would 
 from these observations wish to reflect for one moment 
 upon some industrious ministers, who, after they have pre- 
 pared their thoughts on paper, are unable to recollect them. 
 They have intellectual powers, but no mechanial powers of 
 memory ; they often have the talent, but they want the 
 courage ; they possess the art of thinking, but not the art 
 of speaking; while many a shallow-pated animal, dressed in 
 a gown and band, draws the silly crowd by a stentorious 
 voice and a copia verborum, who never in all his life knew 
 what is meant by thinking. After all, it is difficult to 
 decide upon a point on which even doctors disagree ; for 
 Dr. Blair disapproves of preachers reading their sermons, 
 and Dr. Campbell justifies it. This must then be left to 
 opinion and to the decision of the public voice.* 
 
 * The late Rev. Samuel Lavington, of Bideford, always read his 
 sermons, yet no preacher was ever more useful, nor did ever any 
 preacher more powerfully fix the attention of his auditory. This 
 was the more singular, as he cultivated none of the alluring charms 
 of oratory. He had a fine figure, but it always remained immove- 
 able ; a commanding countenance, but he never gave it expression ; 
 a deep voice, but he never varied its tones. The composition of his 
 sermons was perfectly simple, the matter contained neither profound 
 ratiocination, nor the soaring flights of fancy. In short, he had not 
 any of the adventitious aids of the orator, and yet no orator ever 
 
Xill INTRODUCTION. 
 
 While introducing these observations on modes of preach- 
 ing, the translator embraces the opportunity to bear testi- 
 
 excelled him in the effect of his discourses ; nor was that effect 
 produced by a false humility, a feigned affection, or the audacities 
 of Autimonianism; he always supported the authority of a teacher, 
 observed the strictest propriety in the choice of epithets, and generally 
 dwelt on practical and experimental theology. The secret of his success 
 may perhaps be attributed, under the divine blessing, to the origina- 
 lity of his thoughts, to the simplicity of his illustrations, to the solem- 
 nity of his manner, and to the holiness of his life. He had always some- 
 thing new, his hearers always understood him, he always preached 
 as " a dying man to dying men," and his life was known every 
 where to shed a lustre upon his ministry. He was uniformly 
 the same man. " He feared God always." Many of the happiest 
 days of his life as a minister, have been spent by the translator 
 under Lavington's hospitable roof, and he had numerous oppor- 
 tunities of observing this inestimable preacher. It was in the 
 closet that he became great for the pulpit. Frequently have his 
 aged limbs shuffled along by the writer's chamber at break of day, 
 from his own chamber to his study, and there for several hours 
 before breakfast he communed with his God, and prepared those 
 discourses which then delighted his young friend and the people, and 
 of which many have since delighted the world. The effect of Laving- 
 ton's preaching was very strikingly exhibited on one occasion ; it was 
 at the ordination of the Rev. Mr. Seaward of Barnstaple. The dis- 
 course which he then delivered is printed in the first volume of his 
 sermons, and was thus introduced by the preacher. " What a mul- 
 titude is here assembled to see an ordination ! Many of you were 
 perhaps never present at such a solemnity before; ami I should be 
 very sorry if when the assembly breaks up, you should go away with 
 visible disappointment, and say, ' Is that all? 7 Why, ' what came ye 
 out for to see V Did you expect to see a number of apostles met 
 together, to lay their hands upon the head of a young minister, and 
 communicate to him some miraculous powers ? Alas! we have them 
 not ourselves. If we had, you should not take all this trouble for 
 nothing. If we had, you should have something by which to 
 remember an ordination, as long as you live. If the Holy Ghost were 
 at our command, most gladly would we lay our hands upon you all : 
 and this assembly should be like that mentioned in the Acts of the 
 Apostles: 'While Peter yet spake these words, the Holy Ghost fell 
 on all them which heard the word.' But what we cannot command 
 
INTRODUCTION". xliii 
 
 mony against (bat pernicious taste which too much prevails 
 iii the present day, and which threatens to banish all real 
 eloquence from the English pulpit. A disgusting familia- 
 rity or noisy declamation, begins universally to prevail ; 
 and where both of these exist, or either of them, a con- 
 gregation is sure to be gathered. In some solitary in- 
 stances, real eloquence and sound sense are appreciated, 
 and a few discerning hearers will listen to nothing but the 
 truth preached in its natural simplicity ; but the thoughtless 
 crowd are to be attracted only by eccentricity, chit-chat, 
 colloquial freedoms, bombast, or sermons seasoned with a 
 few favourite doctrines. The divine institution of pastors 
 is in many instances disregarded, and those places are 
 most crowded where the people are allured by a variety 
 of voices. The talents of preachers are not so much 
 considered as their claim to novelty, and a preacher from 
 Otaheite or Tombuctoo would draw all the world after 
 him, though he might have but few ideas to express, 
 and few words in which to express them; while devoted 
 ministers, of long standing, of unsullied reputation, and 
 respectable talents, who have most diligently laboured for 
 the public benefit, who aim at nothing but to reach the 
 
 we may humbly and earnestly supplicate. Shall I then beg the 
 favour of you to join with me, in this short ejaculalion to the God of 
 all grace? — ' O God the Lord, to whom belong the issues from death, 
 pour out thy Spirit upon all in this assembly; and command on every 
 one of us a blessing out of Zion, even life for evermore. Amen.'" 
 — The congregation, abstracted for the moment from all other objects, 
 forgot the order of worship, rose from their seats, joined in the col- 
 lect, and then resumed their places with the greatest solemnity. 
 The finest extemporary addresses of a Massillon or a Bossuet never 
 in effect rivalled this written discourse of Lavington. Every planet 
 must be allowed to move in its own orbit. 
 
xl'lV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 heart, simply to explain divine truth, and harmoniously to 
 connect all its parts, — who feel that their office is too solemn 
 to admit of pulpit jesting, and too grand to allow of low 
 familiarities, may remain in obscurity, unnotieed and un- 
 known, except to a few more discriminating hearers, to an 
 approving conscience, and to a gracious God, who will not 
 forget their " works of faith and labours of love." Here 
 and there, indeed, an extraordinary light appears for a 
 season ; and because it is an extraordinary light, the gaping 
 multitude follow it, but they know not its peculiar pro- 
 perties. How many fixed stars, even of distinguished lustre, 
 with which God has been pleased to adorn the firmament 
 of the church, shine around them unnoticed I 
 
 But every thing has its day. A hope may therefore be 
 encouraged, that this vitiated taste will come to an end, 
 and that the ministers of God will be approved, not in 
 proportion as they are strangers to the people, but in pro- 
 portion as they are knozen; not for their eccentricities, but 
 for their faithful exposition of divine truth ; not on account 
 of the multitudes which they draw after them, but on 
 account of their usefulness in the conversion of men from 
 " the paths of disobedience to the wisdom of the just." 
 
 It is now time to return to the subject of the volume, from 
 which these remarks may seem to be a digression. The 
 translator has not rashly engaged in his task without being 
 conscious of its difficulties. Few have succeeded well in 
 clothing French sermons in an English dress, and should 
 the public voice condemn his labours, he will only have 
 to endure the censure inflicted upon many others, and 
 will enjoy the satisfaction of his own conscience, that h<* 
 " hath done what he could." He has, however, endea- 
 voured to avoid the faults complained of in others ; but it 
 
INTRODUCTION. xlv 
 
 -will be more unpardonable in him to err, when his pre- 
 decessors in the same path have been set up as beacons 
 to -warn him of the stumbling stones which checked their 
 career. 
 
 It does not become a translator to paraphrase his author; 
 he then makes his work entirely his own, and not that of 
 another rendered into his own language. But a servile 
 translation, under the idea of fidelity, is equally cen- 
 surable. 
 
 Nee verbum verbo curabis reddere fidus 
 Interpres. 
 
 The question has been frequently asked by the translator 
 in the course of the work, and as much as possible prac- 
 tically answered, " how would the preacher have expressed 
 himself, had he been an Englishman ?" Yet it was found 
 impracticable, nor was it perhaps wholly desirable, to avoid 
 sometimes giving a French turn to a phrase. The manner 
 of treating a subject, and the peculiar cast of genius dis- 
 covered by some of the French preachers, rendered it ne- 
 cessary either wholly to metamorphose them, or to shew 
 them in some of their own dress. The latter is the most 
 faithful method, and the opinion of Dr. Johnson is some 
 apology for occasionally adopting it. " No book," says 
 that eminent scholar, " was ever turned from one language 
 into another, without imparting something of its native 
 idiom." It has, therefore, been the translator's aim not to 
 injure his own language by retaining many French idioms, 
 while be has still endeavoured to preserve in some degree 
 the spirit of his original. In so doing, he thinks that he 
 has best rendered justice to his authors, and made his work 
 more agreeable to the English reader; while it may b* 
 
X\\l INTRODUCTION. 
 
 placed in the hands of the young student without so much 
 danger of spoiling his composition. For, however en- 
 gaging the French style may be, if transfused into the 
 English, it becomes mere bombast. But yet there is great 
 danger lest it should too much captivate the young and 
 ardent mind, and induce the juvenile preacher to graft an 
 English scion upon a French stock, which produces a kind 
 of fruit by no means agreeable to the palate of a man of 
 correct and refined tasfe. 
 
 To the liberties taken with the authors, reference has 
 before been made. The passages of scripture, in the 
 Catholic sermons, have sometimes been translated from the 
 Latin, and sometimes omitted, as the connection required. 
 The English translation has been used instead of that 
 employed by the Catholics. Here and there a theological 
 term is substituted for one which would convey the idea 
 much better to a Protestant reader. Where a phrase was 
 obscure, a paraphrase has in a very few cases been em- 
 ployed as the best remedy. Some entire passages are 
 omitted, in the Protestant sermons, because, from their 
 polemical nature, they would only tend to fan a flame which 
 it was hoped had begun to die; and a few only which re- 
 lated to Catholic customs have been left out in the sermons 
 of those preachers. Thus, in some cases, the translator has 
 added, and in some retrenched, but in all he trusts that 
 he has retained the spirit of the original, and exhibited not 
 himself but his author. 
 
 It will be seen that the original styles vary. The trans- 
 lator did not aim to give the sermons as though they 
 were his own composition, but as nearly as the idioms 
 of the two languages would allow, to exhibit them 
 as they came from their authors. It was not very easy 
 
INTRODUCTION, 
 
 XlVil 
 
 to make them uniform, neither was it desirable. The 
 attempt was therefore rather to be avoided, that some better 
 idea might be formed of the preachers now introduced to 
 notice. This method, however, has its disadvantages ; for 
 some of the sermons, in consequence, must appear in 
 composition, as well as in matter, more inferior to others 
 than they would have been, had this rule been violated. 
 
 Before the conclusion of this article, it may be useful to 
 those who are in search of French divinity, to communicate 
 a few observations which the experience acquired in the 
 course of this work has suggested. Till very lately, French 
 divinity was to be purchased at a very low rate, but it is now 
 risingconsiderably in value. The works of Bossuct, Massillon, 
 La Poulle, and other distinguished Catholics, are in great 
 esteem, and fetch a very high price ; Bourdaloue and some 
 others are more common, and therefore less expensive. The 
 valuable old divines, Faucheur, Mestrezat, and those of 
 a similar cast, are excessively rare, and are marked in the 
 catalogues at a very exorbitant rate, with other scarce 
 books, but they may sometimes be obtained for a mere 
 trifle at stalls, or in the shops of booksellers not in the 
 theological line of business. Modern works, of which 
 some are very excellent as specimens of eloquence, as 
 Jacques Renaud Boullier, Mouchon, and Formey, are 
 rarely to be obtained but through the medium of a book- 
 seller who holds correspondence on the Continent. If, 
 however, they can be procured by private means from 
 that quarter, something considerable may be saved in 
 the purchase. The bookseller who imports must pay 
 a heavy duty for books to sell again, he runs the risks 
 of the sea, and purchases a stock which may for a long 
 time sink a large sum of money. He must therefore. 
 
XlVUl INTRODUCTION. 
 
 in justice to himself, receive some considerable profit. 
 If, however, a speedy purchase is to be made, if time 
 and opportunity will not admit of obtaining certain 
 authors by any other means, the two best depositaries m 
 London for a large choice of French theology are, Dulau's 
 in Soho-Square, and Ogle's in Holborn. The former has 
 the preference for Catholic Sermons, and the latter has a 
 most extensive collection of the works of French Protestant 
 divines. These works may sometimes be obtained at 
 auctions, but as they are rising in repute, they are not to be 
 purchased there at any advantageous rate. These observa- 
 tions may probably be acceptable to the theological student 
 who may wish for a guide to procure some of the works 
 which have been here distinguished as worthy of a place 
 in the theologian's library. Perhaps it may also be an 
 useful hint to preachers of different tastes, to observe that 
 those who approve of discourses similar to Tillotson, Atfer- 
 bury, or Blair, will find them in the sermons printed at 
 Amsterdam or the Hague; and that the names of Saumur 
 or Charenton on a title-page, invariably designate the more 
 doctrinal divines : as the church of Charenton, in particular, 
 usually retained four pastors, which were generally men 
 of the first-rate talents, the sermons of its ministers will 
 always prove a mental feast for those who relish the writers 
 of our puritanical age. 
 
 It now r remains to apologize to the public for the long 
 delay of this volume. A great variety of official engage- 
 ments might be assigned as one reason, but the chief cause 
 has been to render the work as complete as possible. After 
 more than half the volume was prepared, by diligent search, 
 the number of valuable authors accumulated to such a 
 degree, that it was deemed better to delay the publication, 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 xlix 
 
 than to lose the opportunity of enriching the selection, 
 and communicating the additional information which had 
 been obtained. The plan has also been several times 
 varied. At first it was only designed to print the 
 Sermons alone ; then to accompany them with Biographical 
 Notices ; then to prefix the Historical View of the Reformed 
 Church ; and lastly, to add the concise Account of French 
 Authors. Each addition greatly increased the labour and 
 delay, but it is hoped that all have tended to improve the 
 work. 
 
 These changes have produced some alteration in the 
 discourses at first intended for the volume. Some authors 
 have been omitted, whose sermons were promised, and 
 others inserted, whose names have not been before announced. 
 It is most reluctantly that Mestrezat and the Super villes are 
 excluded for want of room. The same reasons have 
 induced the alteration of the type, that more matter might 
 be condensed within the limited number of pages. 
 
 If, however, this volume should meet the approbation of 
 the public, it is intended, when leisure can be procured 
 for the purpose, to prepare a continuation of the work. 
 Much valuable matter is still hidden in partial obscurity, 
 of which it is desirable to furnish specimens. In this are 
 included additional discourses from the Protestant divines, 
 for several of the most excellent are yet unnoticed, except 
 in the Catalogue affixed to these pages ; also a selection 
 from the second-rate Catholic preachers, many of whose 
 productions are too good to be lost to the English public ; 
 and some of the most popular funeral orations, in which 
 the preachers of the French Catholic Church have pe- 
 culiarly excelled, and displayed the finest powers of 
 eloquence. At the same time, more articles might be 
 
 d 
 
1 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 prepared for the Biographical Catalogue, to render it 
 complete for all purposes of reference. 
 
 The translator now throws himself upon the candour of 
 the public, while he earnestly implores the Spirit of 
 Truth to render his labours beneficial to the immortal 
 interests of the reader ; which, however he may value 
 public opinion, will afford him a gratification, far ex- 
 ceeding any that he can possibly derive from mere 
 Jiuman praise. 
 
AN 
 
 HISTORICAL VIEW 
 
 REFORMED CHURCH 
 
 FRANCE, 
 
 FROM ITS ORIGIN TO THE PRESENT TIME. 
 
HISTORICAL VIEW 
 
 OF THE 
 
 REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE 
 
 The history of the Reformed Church of France 
 is a history of persecution. The bush has 
 always been burning with fire, but yet it is not 
 consumed. Sacred be the memory of that 
 church ! for there, when the rest of Europe ex- 
 hibited the appearance of a wilderness, a por- 
 tion of that precious seed was deposited, which 
 has happily germinated in England in such per- 
 fection, and promises to fructify the whole earth. 
 The period of the Reformation produced the 
 general revival of pure and undefiled religion; 
 but it existed in the immediate vicinity of 
 France many centuries before, where its origin 
 is lost in the records of time. The Vaudois, 
 inhabitants of the vallies formed by the Alps 
 between Piedmont and Dauphine, had long 
 been devoted Christians, when the light of the 
 Reformation first dawned upon Europe, In 
 those remote countries they quietly professed 
 the faith and worship of the gospel in their 
 
 B 
 
 Account of 
 the Vau- 
 dois. 
 
HISTORICAL VIEW 6? THE 
 
 primitive purity, unknown by the world, and un- 
 noticed by the great; when the courageous pro- 
 testations of Claude, Archbishop of Turin, against 
 the errors and abuses which Rome was intro- 
 ducing into the church, directed the attention 
 of that court to the diocese of that virtuous pre- 
 late, and drew upon this peaceable community a 
 series of persecutions which have continued 
 down to the present age. Claude lived in the 
 eighth century; the Vaudois were, therefore, 
 more or less exposed to persecution during a 
 thousand years. 
 
 But in spite of the power of their persecutors, 
 they endured their sufferings with unwearied 
 constancy, nor would they ever submit to any 
 other rule of faith than the gospel. This pro- 
 cured for them the appellation of the Evan- 
 gelical. Epitomes of their doctrines are extant 
 in various manuscripts in the Vaudois dialect; 
 and among others, in a small work of the year 
 1100, entitled, La Nobla Leison, which many 
 historians have transcribed, and of which a copy 
 has been deposited at the University of Cam- 
 bridge ; and it is supposed that there is another 
 also in the library of Geneva. With manners 
 simple as those of the primitive Christians, like 
 them the Vaudois obtained numerous followers, 
 and even colonized various countries with de- 
 voted characters, to whom their ministers 
 preached the gospel of Christ. Calabria, 
 
1 
 
 REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 3 
 
 Bohemia, and Hungary, derived advantages from 
 these labours of love. ZuingTtus, OEcolampadius, 
 Calvin, and other distinguished reformers, held 
 various conferences with these people in the 
 sixteenth century, by writing, by deputies, and 
 viva voce ; and it is a remarkable fact, that they 
 perfectly agreed on all the principal points of 
 doctrine, and differed only on subjects of minor 
 importance. 
 
 How far the influence of the Vaudois extended 
 on the side of France, cannot now be determined; 
 but it is certain that they had some connection 
 with that country at an early period, and the 
 valley of Pragela, peopled by this community, had 
 long formed a part of France at the time of the 
 revocation of the edict of Nantz, and suffered 
 bitterly in that barbarous persecution. 
 
 In the twelfth century Peter Waldo arose, The w a i- 
 and was the founder of the Waldenses, a name 
 which deserves to be immortalized in the history 
 of the church. Some waiters, indeed, consider 
 the Waldenses and Vaudois but as one, and 
 suppose that Waldo even derived his name from 
 his connection Avith them, instead of their 
 being called after him, as their distinguished 
 leader. This zealous man was a merchant 
 and citizen of Lyons, and was much esteemed 
 for his learning, piety, and benevolence. To 
 him Europe was first indebted for the appearance 
 of the scriptures in a modern language, and 
 
* HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 through his benevolent exertions the four gos- 
 pels were translated from the Latin into French; 
 the first fruits of those labours which have 
 since extended to every quarter of the globe, 
 and distributed the bread of life to nearly all kin- 
 dreds, tongues, and people. He collected a num- 
 ber of followers in Dauphine, Picardy, and other 
 provinces of France, to whom he preached, with 
 associates whom he engaged in his work ; but 
 though their lives were inoffensive, as they were 
 opposed in sentiment to the church of Rome, they 
 were cruelly persecuted and scattered over almost 
 every part of the continent of Europe. The cir- 
 cumstance of their dispersion, however, served to 
 augment their numbers; and in the year 1315, 
 round about Bohemia onty, there were no less 
 than eight thousand persons who made profes- 
 sion of their faith. Waldo died in Bohemia in 
 1179, after a laborious ministry of 20 years. 
 Louis xn. From 1498 to 1514 the French nation were 
 blessed with a king deservedly styled the 
 father of his people. Whatever real religion 
 existed in France probably remained unmolested; 
 
 character L ou } s XII. always respected the rights of COn- 
 ^f Louis. j • L ° 
 
 science, and never listened to the exclusive claims 
 of bigotry and priestcraft. When he was impor- 
 tuned by many ecclesiastics to put to death 
 some of the Albigenses under his authority, who 
 had at various periods been condemned as here- 
 tics, — at the Council of Lateran in 1 179, under 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 
 
 Pope Alexander III. in the time of Philip 
 Augustus; by the Emperor Frederic II.; by the 
 Pope Honorius III. in 1217; and by Gregory IX. 
 who was elected Pope in the year 1227, — this 
 good king made that generous and royal answer ; 
 " I am king over my people to do them justice, 
 which I cannot do without hearing those who 
 accuse them of being sorcerers and incestuous; 
 for the same reason I wish to hear them before 
 I condemn them, though they should be Turks 
 or devils." And notwithstanding all the remon- 
 strances which were made to him, that they 
 had been several times condemned, he perse- 
 vered ; saying, that he would not so strain his 
 conscience as to allow it to be prejudiced by any 
 former condemnations, and that he would hear 
 the accused before he condemned them ; and 
 after having heard them, he chose M. Fumee, 
 master of requests, and M. Parvi, his confessor, 
 to inquire for him about their life and doctrine; 
 who having faithfully reported what they had 
 observed, the king, far from condemning them 
 as heretics, solemnly declared, that he believed 
 these poor accused were better men and better 
 Christians than himself, or all his other subjects 
 put together. In several cases of appeal from 
 the oppressions of the clergy, Louis instituted 
 immediate inquiry, acted with promptitude and 
 spirit, would admit of no justification of ghostly 
 violence, nor evasion on the part of the offenders, 
 
6 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 and ordered immediate restitution of all sei- 
 zures, or in default of his mandate, that the 
 offenders should answer for their conduct in his 
 royal presence. 
 Francis i. At length the bright star of the Reformation 
 
 Rise of , 
 
 Lutherand hlessed the world, and about the year 1520, the 
 
 Calvin. . -xi i • -r. 
 
 doctrine of Luther began to spread in France. 
 A few years after, Calvin made his appearance, 
 who was a native of Noyon in Picardy, and a 
 student at the Sorbonne in Paris. Now per- 
 secution reared its demon head, and the Re- 
 formed Church of France had the honour of 
 wearing the crown of martyrdom. Leclerc, the 
 1st French first leader of the church of Meaux, was the first 
 martyr ; he was a carder, and had not enjoyed 
 any peculiar advantages of education, but he 
 became well-instructed, and was afterwards an 
 excellent preacher. He was arrested at Meaux 
 in 1523, whipped in a most cruel manner for 
 several days, branded on the forehead with a 
 red-hot iron, and banished from that town. He 
 then went to reside at Rozai, and finally re- 
 moved to Metz in Lorraine, where he followed 
 his business, and was executed in 1524. 
 1525. Two other ministers were burnt alive at Paris 
 formed mi- the following year, and the great bell of the 
 burnt at- church of Notice Dame was rung on the occa- 
 sion ; a Lutheran preacher at Metz also perished 
 in the flames. 
 1528. The Reformation continued to advance 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 7 
 
 notwithstanding, and many Monks now began i5?s. 
 to preach the doctrine of Luther at Besancon, 
 but they were imprisoned by order of the 
 Archbishop Antoine de Verge ; they were after- 
 wards tried, and all those who were convicted 
 of having preached the nerq doctrine were 
 punished with death. Although this city did 
 not then belong to France, yet as it has long 
 been incorporated with that kingdom, and has 
 continued to remain as a part of its dominions, 
 the transactions of the Reformation there are too 
 intimately connected with this historical sketch 
 to be passed over without notice. The Calvinists 
 and Lutherans still used great exertions to spread 
 the doctrines of the Reformation in Besancon, and Progress 
 
 , rit °f tne ^ e " 
 
 it appears that some years afterwards they assem- formation 
 bled together a number of ministers in that city, con. 
 among whom were Theodore Beza, and Fare], a 
 Parisian, who acquired so much influence, that 
 the archbishop did not think himself capable of 
 resisting their authority without superior aid ; 
 particularly as liberty of conscience had been 
 introduced into the empire by the diet of Augs- 
 burgh : he therefore applied to Maximilian II. 
 who sent some commissioners to see whether 
 the statements of the archbishop were founded 
 on truth ; and these commissaries published an 
 edict against the heretics, dated June 9, 1573. 
 The emperor also in the preceding year sent the 
 Count de Montfort-Rotenfeld and the Baron de 
 
HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 B28. Pollevillers with an order to the governors to assist 
 them in discovering those persons suspected of 
 heresy who were at Besancon, and to punish or 
 drive them from the city. After the publication 
 of the edict of 1573, many families retired to 
 Neufchatel, to Montbelliard, to Geneva, and 
 other places of the neighbouring provinces. 
 These exiles attempted a coup de main to re-enter 
 their country, but they failed in their en terprize, 
 and many were taken and cruelly punished. A 
 fete and solemn procession was established in 
 commemoration of the deliverance of the town, 
 threatened to be invaded by heretics, to reduce 
 it to embrace the zvretched, damnable, and repro- 
 bate new heresy, or Hugonot opinion. This f&te 
 and procession were only a few years since still 
 celebrated. 
 
 The reformed religion obtained numerous 
 converts in various parts of France, and the. 
 punishments inflicted upon the heretics only 
 excited an increased desire to hear the nexv 
 doctrine. Many persons were put to death, but 
 the progress of truth still continued. Calvin 
 was now diligently labouring, and preached at 
 Bourges and at Ligneres, in villages and castles, 
 with much success. The Reformation made 
 rapid progress in those countries, and many stu- 
 dents proceeding from the University of Bourges, 
 spread themselves in all its environs, and 
 preached the gospel. 
 
 1532 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 
 
 » 
 
 Francis I. who was the declared protector of 1535. 
 the sciences, and of those who cultivated them, fir ™ n fa_ sat 
 appeared for a short time to relish the doctrines to there- 
 of the Reformation, of which the Queen of formatioiK 
 Navarre, his sister, and the Duchess D'E tarn pes, 
 his mistress, had given him some information; he 
 even wrote to Melancthon to invite him to Paris. 
 In the instructions which he gave to Cardinal 
 Dubelloi when he sent him to Rome, he proposed 
 an expedient to the Pope, by which, in procuring 
 from the Protestants the acknowledgment of his 
 Holiness as head of the universal church, they 
 should take away from them as much as could be 
 desired, and as speedily as possible: but this 
 attempt to conciliate was soon destroyed by the 
 Cardinal de Tournon, who had more ascendancy 
 over his mind than his sister or his mistress; and 
 a very few months after, this king, with his 
 children and all his court, was seen in a solemn „ . 
 
 Burning of 
 
 procession, which ended in the burning of some here '« cs - 
 heretics. 
 
 The spirit of persecution kept pace with the 1536. 
 progress of the Reformation ; and this year we 
 find the inquisitors in pursuit of Philibert Sarra- 
 sin, tutor to the family of the famous Julius 
 Scaliger, who was obliged to save his life by 
 flight. Scaliger himself was in great danger, juiiusSca- 
 because he had asserted, " that Lent was not dfngeTof 
 established by Jesus Christ; that transubstan- t P ion. ecu ~ 
 tiation was not an article of faith before the 
 
10 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1536. council of Lateran ; and that he had eaten meat 
 in Lent." He only escaped death through the 
 protection of some powerful friends in the par- 
 liament of Bourdeaux : his protection was also 
 important to the king's treasurer, Godailh, 
 whose children were fugitives with Sarrasin. 
 Many other citizens were not so fortunate, 
 having heen condemned to make the amende 
 honorable^ la torche au poi?zg, and to sign their 
 abjuration. 
 
 J54i. Persecution still increasing, and various per- 
 sons having suffered death for their adherence to 
 the reformed religion, many Frenchmen quitted 
 There- their country and fled to Geneva, to which place 
 
 formed es- J m l 
 
 cape to they were attracted by its beino- the asylum of 
 
 Geneva. .... . - 
 
 their distinguished countryman, Calvin. 
 1544. The reformed in Provence suffered greatly 
 from the oppressions of Jean Meineer, le Sieur 
 oppres- D'Oppede, who was president of the parliament 
 s\e» S r° ie of that province. They applied to the King of 
 ppcde * France to inform him of the burdens under 
 which they groaned, and the dangers to which 
 they were exposed. The king at first heard 
 them kindly, and abrogated all the proceedings 
 of the parliament. The two villages of Cabrieres 
 and Mirandol suffered more than other places, 
 and the inhabitants of the latter were repre- 
 sented to the king as rebellious subjects; while 
 it was falsely stated by their enemies, that they 
 and their neighbours, to the number of more 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 11 
 
 than fifteen thousand, had armed themselves, and 1544. 
 revolted against the royal authority, with the 
 design of seizing upon the town of Marseilles. 
 Troops were in consequence armed against the 
 reformed, many towns were burnt in their route, 
 and Lourmarin and Villaure were entirely de- i54§. 
 voted to pillage and destruction. Merindol and 
 Cabrieres were besieged ; all who were captured 
 were put to death. The barbarous president 
 inclosed a large number of them in a barn, and 
 to complete their sufferings, set fire to it, while 
 many pregnant women perished in the flames. 
 However, the court seemed to relent at these 
 barbarities; they sent commissaries to settle the 
 business, and it was said that Francis I. when 
 he was dying, recommended to his son to repair 
 the injustice committed against the unhappy 
 people of Provence, who had been sacrificed to 
 the avarice, hatred, and cruelty of the Sieur 
 D'Oppede. 
 
 About this time a violent persecution also 1546. 
 broke out at Meaux, afterwards famous as the tio'nTt"" 
 bishopric of Bossuet, and it extended so far that MeauA * 
 fourteen persons were burnt alive in the great 
 market-place of that town; many were hung, 
 others were whipped, and the rest imprisoned. 
 
 Henry II. this year, agreeably to the example 1549. m 
 of his father Francis, was seen in a ghostly pro- HEXRY "' 
 cession at the burning of some of his innocent Burning of 
 subjects under the name of heretics. 
 
 i$ffi 
 
12 
 
 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1351. Bas-Languedoc was one of those countries 
 where the Reformation made the greatest pro- 
 gress, and several courageous men were now 
 honoured. with the crown of martyrdom in that 
 Two re- country ; especially Maurice Secenat, of Cevennes, 
 niters P Tt~ wno was burnt alive at Nimes, and whose con- 
 * stancy and courage gave dignity to his cause ; 
 and Elias Dubosquet, minister of the church of 
 Aiguemortes, who was hung there in presence of 
 his wife and children, at the age T>f sixty years, 
 by order of the Count de Villars, who seized 
 that town by surprize. The reformed were in 
 consequence scattered, and fled into various 
 parts; but in spite of persecutions, punishments, 
 banishments, emigrations, and forced conver- 
 sions, the numbers still increased, and many 
 courageous and faithful ministers dared to visit 
 the churches at the hazard of their lives, and to 
 confirm them in their most holy faith. 
 1551-8. The more these people were persecuted, like 
 the Israelites in Egypt, the more they increased, 
 and a great number of churches were now 
 formed in various parts of France; while those 
 that had assembled in secret, or during the 
 night, ventured to worship publicly at noon- 
 ciiurch day. Among the new churches' was that 
 ilocheue? of Rochellc, which was founded by Charles de 
 Clermont, who preached there. This church 
 afterwards became very numerous and important, 
 and was for a long time considered as one of 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 
 
 1:; 
 
 the principal reformed churches of the kingdom. 1557-8-. 
 The archives and depdts of all the privileges and 
 important documents of the reformed were 
 established at Rochelle ; and when Henry IV. 
 granted the famous 'edict of Nantes, it was sent 
 to be carefully preserved in the archives of 
 that church. Here Antoine de Bourbon, father of 
 that excellent king, the pattern of good princes, 
 halted on his journey through the town with his 
 wife Jeanne D'Albret, to deliver himself up at 
 Paris; and a minister, for the first time, preached 
 publicly in his presence. 
 
 Notwithstanding the sanguinary edicts which ]5 5 9> 
 menaced them, the Calvinists did not cease to lift f uwJJ!!. 
 up their heads with renewed courage ; and men p^f at 
 of rank and power were now numbered amongst 
 their warmest adherents. They used all their 
 influence to obtain the marriage of the Dauphin, 
 which drew to court the King and Queen of 
 Navarre, the Prince and the Princess of Cond£, 
 with many other persons of dignity, who did 
 not usually appear there, and who were all imbued 
 with the principles of the reformed religion, 
 which had reached their hearts in the retirement 
 of their chateaux. After the marriage ceremo- 
 nies were finished, the princes, princesses, and 
 nobles of their opinion, remained at Paris, fre- 
 quented the secret assemblies of the reformed 
 church which were held there, paid extraordi- 
 nary attention to the ministers, and exhorted 
 
H HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1559. them to redouble their zeal and activity for the 
 propagation of their religion. Protected by so 
 powerful a shield, the reformed even convoked 
 two or three consecutive meetings at the Pre 
 aux Clercs, a promenade frequented by the 
 Parisians. There they sung aloud the Psalms 
 of Marot,* set to music. When they re-entered 
 the city, they traversed the streets, singing the 
 airs tenderly, preceded and followed by armed 
 gentlemen, whose fierce countenances, their 
 enemies say, seemed to defy both the Catholics 
 and the police. No doubt they looked more 
 frightful in the eyes of the domineering eccle- 
 siastics than a regiment of devils just emerged 
 from the bottomless pit. 
 inquiries The king ordered inquiries to be made about 
 into the these meetings by the commissioners of parlia- 
 meetings. nient. They could find no fault in them. 
 Every enquiry tended more to justify than to 
 criminate the accused. The President Seguier, 
 in his report, attributed the increase of the 
 reformed to the comparison which the people 
 made between the regularity of their manners 
 
 * Clement Marot was the valet de cliambre of Francis I. and 
 at the request of his majesty versified some of David's Psalms. 
 These the monarch took great delight in singing. " Marot/' says 
 Robinson, " translated fifty, Beza the other hundred ; Calvin got 
 them set to music by the best musicians, and every body sang 
 them as ballads. When the reformed churches made them a 
 part of their worship, the Papists were forbidden to sing them, 
 any more; and to sing a Psalm was a sign of a Lutheran." 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. J 5 
 
 and the disorders of the clergy, and loudly 1559. 
 declaimed against the non-residence of the 
 bishops, forty of whom were at Paris. These 
 remonstrances did not please the king : he 
 knew that there was not an uniformity of con- 
 duct in the parliament on the execution of the 
 laws against heretics ; that one chamber softened 
 down what the other rigorously decreed ; and 
 that among the counsellors and presidents there 
 were even some, who, not content with adhering 
 secretly to the reformed religion, did not hesi- 
 tate to make an open profession of it. 
 
 The merciiriales were then assembled, which Assem- 
 was a sort of domestic tribunal, composed of the mcM-cu- 
 presidents of the chambers, and the most 
 esteemed members, authorized by the choice of 
 their fellow-members to exercise a kind of cen- 
 sure over them. Charles VIII. had established 
 their meetings every Wednesday ; Louis XII. 
 fixed them for once a fortnight; and under 
 Francis I. and after him, they were held every 
 three months. The monarch gave notice that 
 he would hold one of these meetings, and 
 appeared there at the time of assembling, accom- 
 panied by the cardinals, the princes of the 
 blood, the constable, the Duke of Guise, many 
 other dignified persons, and a strong escort. He 
 took his place with a tranquil air, without 
 appearing to have any sinister intention. He 
 said, that he understood there were in the par- 
 
16 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1550. lament various opinions on the subject of relr- 
 gion; that he was come himself that he might 
 investigate the matter; and that every one 
 might state his opinion with the most perfect 
 freedom, 
 opinions Some thought it advisable to allow six months 
 members, to the offenders, that they might receive instruc- 
 tion, and return from their errors. Others said 
 they were improperly called heretics, since they 
 had neither been judged nor condemned ; and 
 that it would have been proper to have con- 
 voked a general council on the subject. Du 
 Faur and Du Bourg maintained this opinion 
 very warmly, and inveighed against the Catholic 
 church, its rites, and its ministers. The presi- 
 dents Seguier and De Harlai endeavoured to 
 prove that the decrees of the court, which 
 sometimes saved the accused, were not contrary 
 to its edicts, of which they were the interpre- 
 ters. The president De Thou asserted, that 
 those who censured the decrees of the court 
 ought to be punished, because nothing there 
 was to be examined : the president Baillet, on 
 the contrary, argued that it was very proper to 
 revise and reform controversial decrees, where 
 they admitted of a reason for so doing : one 
 Minart was for executing the laws against here- 
 tics with the utmost rigour; and in support of 
 this opinion he cited Philip as an example 
 worthy of imitation, who in one single day had 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 
 
 17 
 
 six hundred heretics burnt in his presence, and 
 he greatly extolled the barbarous executions 
 which had been renewed against them at dif- 
 ferent times. 
 
 The king heard all these speeches with per- 
 fect composure. He afterwards retired with 
 his principal counsellors into an adjoining 
 chamber, and left the rest to continue their 
 sitting; he then ordered the keeper of the 
 register to bring him the list of the members, 
 examined the opinions which they had already 
 written, re-entered the hall, and said, that it 
 was indeed too true, and what he had not ven- 
 tured till then to believe, that there were in 
 the parliament a great number of heretics; that 
 he should be justified in punishing the whole 
 body for having cherished them in its bosom, 
 but that he would not confound the innocent with 
 the guilty. The constable then ascended the 
 throne to receive the king's orders, descended, 
 and seized Du Faur and Du Bourg, while they 
 were sitting, and committed them to the cus- 
 tody of Montgommeri, the captain of the guards. 
 Chavigni, another captain, received orders to go 
 and arrest six counsellors in their houses: four 
 were taken, and the other two escaped. The next 
 day the parliament prosecuted Jacques Spifame, 
 Bishop of Nevers, who had married and retired 
 to Geneva. He was degraded, and the trial of 
 the prisoners commenced. 
 
 1559, 
 
18 . HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1559. While these proceedings were transacting, the 
 tkmai Na " ministers an d deputies of the churches of the 
 synod. j s j e Q £ France, f Normandy, of Orleans, of 
 1'Aunis, and of Poitou, held their first national 
 synod in the fauxbourg St. Germain ; and though 
 it lasted four days, the secret was kept inviolate. 
 Having reduced the constitutions for maintaining 
 union and discipline in their dispersed societies 
 to forty articles, they occupied themselves with 
 the fate of the prisoners, and had recourse to 
 the intercession of the Elector Palatine and the 
 Duke of Wirtemberg, who had interested them- 
 selves two years before, in behalf of some of their 
 number, who had been arrested in consequence 
 of a scuffle with some Catholics in the Rue St. 
 Jacques : but the king having now no interest 
 to serve, firmly resisted their intercessions. He 
 The king's was even greatly incensed at his subjects daring 
 ra ^- to hold settled assemblies in his capital with- 
 out his orders, and especially at their having 
 recourse to the protection of foreign princes, to 
 force him, if possible, to pardon his refractory 
 subjects. He ordered that the prosecution 
 should be rigorously followed up ; and swore in 
 his rage, that he himself would see them expire 
 in the flames. But it pleased God to frustrate 
 his malignant expectations by an extraordinary 
 occurrence which took place at this critical mo- 
 ment. Madame Claude, the kings sister, had 
 just married the Duke of Savoy, and there were 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. \9 
 
 great rejoicings for the union. Henry was very 1559. 
 
 adroit, and one of the finest men in the king- "f, ismor * 
 
 dom under arms, in consequence of which his wounded 
 
 1 at a tour- 
 
 favourite amusement was tilting. For two namellt - 
 
 days he had entered the lists, and proved victo- 
 rious against all his opponents ; but on the third 
 and last day, full of confidence and flushed with 
 success, he rushed hastily upon Montgommeri, 
 the captain of his guard, who was waiting his 
 attack, and only gave himself time to let down 
 his visor, without properly fastening it. Mont- 
 gommeri broke his lance against a part of the 
 king's armour. The shock raised the visor, and 
 the captain, unable to arrest the progress of his 
 arm, struck the king so violently in the right 
 eye, that at one thrust the lance penetrated to 
 the back of his head. The monarch staggered His death, 
 and fell; the wound was mortal. He lived only 
 fifteen days afterwards, and continued in a per- 
 petual lethargy. 
 
 As for the" oppressed reformed, they were Fraxchh. 
 still exposed to great danger. France was fj£*5wf 
 just at the beginning of those civil wars which wars - 
 continued for forty years, and which were nearly 
 connected with the cause of religion; not that 
 religion had any immediate concern in them, but 
 the conflicting parties found it political to 
 enlist it in their service. Three families strug- 
 gled for the right of succession to the crown. 
 The family of the Capets were divided into two 
 
20 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1559. branches ; that of Valois, then in possession of 
 the throne, and that of Bourbon, to whom be- 
 longed the reversion of it. The family of the 
 Guises, Dukes of Lorraine, also laid a claim 
 by right of marriage. As the reformed had 
 now obtained many friends among persons of 
 influence, their weight thrown into the scale 
 was deemed of great importance, and each party 
 The re- aimed to procure it; but the Bourbons prevailed, 
 
 formed * * 
 
 join the as they had Ions; proved that they were deci- 
 
 Bourbons. J © r J 
 
 dedly attached to the persecuted cause. 
 Execution The trials of the accused counsellors were 
 Bo^rg. continued after the decease of the king, but 
 Du Bourg only suffered death ; he was con- 
 demned to be hung and burnt, and met his 
 punishment with the greatest fortitude. The 
 others were ^subjected to some trifling penalties, 
 and then set at liberty. 
 Mutual re- Religion was now mixed with all public 
 
 crimina- ' 
 
 tionsofthe affairs. The Calvinists complained loudly of the 
 
 Guises and . . . * . 
 
 thecal- intolerance of the Guises, and the Guises com- 
 plained of the innovations of the Calvinists. 
 The politicians who espoused the cause of the 
 Bourbon party, never failed to dwell upon the 
 oppressions of the reformed, to draw forth their 
 energies ; and the friends of the Guises added to 
 their apologies many eulogiums upon their zeal, 
 to inflame the Catholics in their favour. Thus 
 the cause was confounded with the persons. 
 When the Catholics saw the Guises attacked, 
 

 REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 21 
 
 they thought that it originated only in a hatred 1559. 
 to their religion ; and for the same reason the 
 Calvinists saw in the opponents of the Bourbons, 
 men who would risk all to maintain persecution. 
 
 Every thing tended to exasperate the parties 
 against each other. The Catholics circulated 
 some of the most atrocious calumnies against the 
 Calvinists : they accused them of designing to 
 set fire to Paris, to force the prisons, and to 
 excite a revolt, with the aid of the criminals who 
 were confined there. The Calvinists bitterly com- 
 plained of these reports, as their sole object was to 
 render them odious in the eyes of the nation, and 
 started with horror from such gross charges. 
 Guise pursued his point, and used every means in 
 his power to encourage the people to fanaticism : 
 he permitted the Catholics to assemble in the 
 streets, and to sing anthems before little images 
 of the Virgin. The passengers were invited to 
 join in these devotions, and if they refused, they 
 were maltreated, and could obtain no redress. 
 
 Francis II. the young king, was in his mino- i560. 
 rity, and had wholly submitted his judgment to 
 his uncles, the Guises; the Cardinal Lorraine was 
 minister of the finances, and the Duke of Guise 
 assumed the command of the troops. Admiral Coli g ni ' s 
 
 1 conspiracy 
 
 Colio-ni who had fallen out with the Guises, gainst the 
 
 ; Guises. 
 
 resolved to exert his influence to destroy their 
 authority, and with his two brothers, the one 
 a colonel and the other a cardinal, secured the 
 
 I 
 
22 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1560. Prince of Conde in his interest, and obtained 
 oneRenaudie, a courageous man, of a respectable 
 family, as the principal agent in the plan. Re- 
 naudie was well known among the Calvinists, 
 and undertook to secure their aid. The purposed 
 plan was to seize the persons of the king's 
 ministers, and to obtain by violence that access 
 to the young king which they were not allowed 
 to enjoy by legal measures. A consultation of 
 theologians and German civilians was held upon 
 the subject, and the measure was deemed lawful. 
 There were then reckoned to be two millions of the 
 reformed in France, and they all cordially united in 
 the enterprize. But one false brother divulged the 
 its failure, whole of the plan : Renaudie was slain, and his 
 body hung on a gibbet ; the armies of the re- 
 volters were beaten in detail, and all that were 
 taken were treated with the greatest cruelty. At 
 Massacre Amboise, the scene of action, the blood ran 
 bobe. down the streets from the number that were 
 beheaded, and there were not executioners 
 enough to perform the murderous office. With- 
 out trial, without previous judgment, multitudes 
 were cast into the river Loire, bound hand and 
 foot, and it was for several days covered with 
 dead bodies. Some of the chiefs in this busi- 
 ness were afterwards tried and executed, and 
 this calamitous affair ended. All historians, 
 however, agree that it was more of a political 
 *han of a religious nature; but it was convenient 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 
 
 23 
 
 to engage the reformed in the contest, who 1560. 
 were justly indignant at the insolence of the 
 Guises, and discontented with the oppressions 
 under which they laboured. Indeed, in the 
 writings which they circulated at the beginning 
 of the unhappy conflict, they avowed that they 
 had not taken up arms on account of religion, 
 but simply to repress the tyranny of the Guises, 
 and to procure the assemblies of the states, 
 where they hoped that the edicts against them- 
 selves would be moderated. Guise pretended 
 that this was a conspiracy against the king, and 
 in consequence of his success in effecting its 
 destruction, he obtained the office of lieutenant- 
 general of the forces, and the title of preserver 
 of the country. 
 
 Under the Guises the reformed were severely The re- 
 persecuted in various places ; and where their persecuted 
 churches flourished, they were subjected to the Guises, 
 most vexatious inquiries : their loyalty and obe- 
 dience were called in question ; and though they 
 were willing to give the most positive assurances 
 of their fidelity, a state of prosperity was a signal 
 for dispersion. 
 
 In spite of these vexations, numbers of church 
 churches continued to be formed ; and at this Montau- 
 time was founded the since celebrated church 
 of Montauban. 
 
 The Duke of Guise used all his influence at^™.^ 
 this juncture to establish an inquisition in France; ^ nqulsi " 
 
24 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1560. but notwithstanding his deep intrigues, he failed 
 
 in his efforts. 
 
 Charles Charles IX. brother of the late king, now 
 
 The queen- ascended the throne in his eleventh year. The 
 
 v<farsthe Guises lost their influence, and Catharine de 
 
 Medicis, the king's mother, having obtained 
 
 the regency, that she might increase her 
 
 strength against the party of the late ministers, 
 
 evinced a great partiality to the cause of the 
 
 Protestants. An edict was published, that no 
 
 person should molest the Protestants, that the 
 
 imprisoned should be released, and the exiled 
 
 called home. 
 
 i56i. A conference between the two parties was 
 
 held at Poissy, in which the celebrated Beza 
 
 took a part, and employed his wit and learning 
 
 with great effect in favour of the Reformation. 
 
 The conclusion of the former reign threatened 
 the extinction of the Protestant cause ; for such 
 was the spirit of the Guises, that nothing less 
 would have satisfied them; but now it flourished 
 with renewed vigour, and even threatened in re- 
 intrigues turn the total ruin of Popery in France. But the 
 
 of the l J 
 
 Guises. intrigues of the Guises produced another serious 
 injury. They caballed with the Pope and the 
 King of Spain, and procured, through their means, 
 
 Defection ^e defection of the King of Navarre. Hitherto 
 
 of the king ° 
 
 of Na- be had been a sturdy champion in the Protestant 
 
 varre. * x 
 
 cause, but for an enlargement of his territories 
 he renounced his faith, and left the Protestants 
 
M 
 
 REFORMED CHURCH OF FRAXCE. 
 
 to struggle by themselves. The queen, however, 
 who had before been very indifferent to religion, 
 warmly espoused their cause. "Had I the king- 
 doms in my hands" said she, " / would thron 
 them into the sea, rather than defile my conscience 
 by going to mass" 
 
 At this time the queen-regent even ven- 
 tured to write to the Pope in vindication of the 
 moral character of the reformed, and suowsted 
 some alterations in worship to meet their views. 
 " What danger could there be," said she, " in 
 removing the images from the churches, and in 
 abolishing some useless forms in the administra- 
 tion of the Sacraments? It would also be a 
 great advantage to grant the communion in 
 both ways to the faithful, to abolish low mass, 
 and to permit divine service to be performed in 
 the vulgar tongue." 
 
 The Protestants now began to acquire cou- 
 rage. Some distinguished men had preaching at 
 their houses in Paris, and a marriage in a noble 
 family was publicly solemnized by the cele- 
 brated Beza at the residence of the Queen of 
 Navarre. The nobility openly patronized the 
 reformed clergy, and sanctioned their meetings 
 without the walls of Paris, where they preached in 
 the open air. On these occasions there were some- 
 times forty thousand people assembled, divided 
 into three companies; the women in the middle, 
 surrounded by men on foot, and the latter bv 
 
 25 
 
 1561,- 
 
 Thequeen= 
 regent in- 
 tercedes 
 with the 
 Pope. 
 
 The Pro- 
 testants ac- 
 quire cou- 
 rage. 
 
 Large 
 meetings 
 held for 
 worship at 
 Paris. 
 
£t> HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 i56i. men on horseback; and, during the sermon, th^ 
 Governor of Paris placed soldiers to guard the 
 avenues, and to prevent disturbances. A spirit 
 of tolerance also began to prevail in other parts, 
 and in many places the Reformed and the 
 Catholics lived in such friendship together that 
 they alternately worshipped under the same 
 roof. 
 Tumult at If we may believe the writer of " The Memoirs 
 of the League," this harmony was disturbed at 
 Paris in the course of this year; for he asserts, 
 that a violent tumult occurred on St. Stephen's 
 day, of which he accuses the Calvinists. He 
 says, that as parties ran high, the Calvinists flew 
 to arms to insult the Catholics, who were at 
 vespers in the church dedicated to that saint, on 
 account of the noise of the bells, which had 
 interrupted their preaching in a neighbouring- 
 house called the Patriarch ; that they committed 
 extreme disorders in the church, and profaned 
 and broke to pieces its altars and holy images; 
 but that they were punished for their insolence 
 and temerity ; for the citizens, after the attempt, 
 killed many of them whom they found with 
 arms in their hands, and great disorders and 
 even murders were the result of these proceed- 
 ings. This was probably the fact, but it is dini* 
 cult at so distant a period to ascertain the cause. 
 1562. The Guises soon retired in disgust, and the 
 
 Heine- & » 
 
 ^"4" fthe queen-regent granted a new edict in favour of 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 27 
 
 the Protestants; but to make it valid, it was i*62. 
 necessary to obtain the sanction of parliament. 
 The Chancellor de FHopital found this a diffi- 
 cult matter, and was obliged to use all his 
 influence to procure it. In demanding the 
 deliberations of parliament upon the subject, he 
 argued : " The object of your deliberations must 
 depend upon this one point ; — is it advantageous 
 to the kingdom in the present circumstances, to 
 permit or to forbid the assembling of the CaU 
 vinists? It is not necessary to make profound 
 researches in religion, in order to come to a deci- 
 sion. Even supposing the religion of the Calvinists 
 to be bad, is that a reason for proscribing all 
 those who profess it ? Can we not be good sub- 
 jects of the king without being Catholics, or 
 even Christians? Do not then go and weary 
 yourselves by inquiring which of the tzvo is the 
 better religion. JVe come here not to establish a 
 faith, but to rule the state? 
 
 The edict was at length passed, but with very Edirtin 
 great reluctance, and with a provisional clause, the cat- 
 till the decision of a general council. 
 
 The enemies of the Protestants had no reason 
 to complain, for their privileges were still ex- 
 ceedingly limited. They were allowed to assem- 
 ble for the exercise of their religion in all parts 
 of the kingdom, except in Paris and in the 
 walled cities; to enjoy the protection of the 
 magistrates, if they were menaced with injury 
 
2S 
 
 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1562. or interruption; and to receive voluntary sub- 
 til' " scr iptions. But it was also enacted, that they 
 should restore the churches which they had 
 usurped, and the images and relics which in 
 some instances they had taken away ; and should 
 quietly submit to the ecclesiastical dues, and 
 other church revenues; — that they should keep 
 the fast days, the degrees of consanguinity in 
 marriage, and the exterior discipline of the 
 Catholic church ; — that they should not, in ser- 
 mons, books, or conversation, use any invective 
 against the mass, or against any ceremonies of 
 the Catholic church; — that they should hold no 
 synods nor consistories without permission of the 
 court; — that they should not preach as itinerants, 
 nor move from their fixed stations: and it was 
 enjoined, that they should receive the magistrates 
 with respect who might visit their places of 
 worship, to see if every thing was orderly; and 
 not suffer any strangers to join with them, lest 
 they should receive any malefactors. 
 Dissaiis- Yet such was the intolerant spirit of the times, 
 the Catho- that the grant of these restricted privileges gave 
 great dissatisfaction, and produced only a deceit- 
 ful calm, the presage of the most awful tempests. 
 The Protestants rejoiced that they had obtained 
 the public exercise of their religion, and the 
 chiefs of the party sent circular letters every 
 where, entreating the strictest conformity to the 
 terms on which they were allowed this privilege. 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. ~9 
 
 The Catholics, on the contrary, maintained a ifcfc*. 
 mournful silence, while their sombre looks spoke 
 daggers. 
 
 The Pope's legate, always the foremost in Remon- 
 
 r . ■, i strances of 
 
 intolerance, was of course highly indignant that the Pope's 
 any set of men should be allowed to worship 
 God according to the dictates of their own con- 
 sciences. In a spirit worthy of his master, he 
 therefore loudly remonstrated against these indul- 
 gences ; but the queen-regent received his re- 
 monstrances with perfect indifference. He was 
 not, however, discouraged by these affronts; 
 but, seconded by a suitable coadjutor, the 
 ambassador of Spain, he declaimed on all occa- 
 sions against the edict, blamed the education 
 of the king, distributed money, and lavished 
 caresses ; and even, though sure of a refusal, 
 demanded the disgrace of those men in power 
 who were friendly to the Protestant cause. 
 When the queen excused herself, by represent- 
 ing the strength of the Calvinists, the ambas- 
 sador offered troops to make war against them. 
 He also washed that a formulary of faith should 
 be drawn up for signatures, that the heretics 
 might be distinguished, and a separation wall 
 erected between them and the Catholics. 
 
 During this time the intolerant Catholics 
 were watching the opportunity to take ven- 
 geance. Many companies of soldiers, composed 
 of the dregs of the people, were sent from Paris 
 
30 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1562. to Meaux, at which place the Protestants were nu- 
 merous; and were allowed to indulge themselves 
 in every kind of excess ; on account of which, 
 the greater part of the reformed abandoned the 
 town, and retired to other places. Nothing was 
 respected by this unbridled horde. Guillien 
 Rose, a rich labourer of Vincelles,.. near Meaux, 
 was seized by some soldiers and thrown into the 
 river Marne, where he was drowned, after he had 
 paid one hundred and sixty crowns for his ran- 
 som, which was the sum they had demanded of 
 him. The reformed of Montauban likewise suf- 
 fered severely from a riotous mob; and at the same 
 time there was an insurrection at Toulouse. Jean 
 Cabrol, one of the consuls, having endeavoured 
 to appease the tumult at the former place, fell a 
 victim to his zeal ; he was pierced through and 
 through, and left dead upon the spot As to the 
 ministers, one of them escaped; the other, 
 Pierre du Pierrier, was killed, and afterwards 
 thrown into a well. 
 
 The Duke of Guise was also invited by his 
 party to Paris. He speedily obeyed the invita- 
 tion, and with a numerous suite set out on his 
 march. As he passed by Vassy, a small town 
 
 Massacre r _ 
 
 at vassy. on the frontier or Champagne, some of his 
 retinue fell in with some Protestants who were 
 worshipping in a barn, and picked a quarrel 
 with them; the Duke joined in the affair, and 
 after proceeding from words to blows, he left 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 31 
 
 two hundred of his unhappy victims wounded, vm. 
 and sixty more dead upon the spot. 
 
 This horrible affair resounded through all 
 France; but Guise represented the Protestants as 
 the first agressors. These made loud complaints, 
 and the queen-regent treated them with atten- 
 tion; but the King of Navarre, on being ap- 
 plied to, called them factious heretics; for the 
 Catholics had kindly enlarged his kingdom, and 
 altered his opinions. It was then that Beza 
 made him that spirited answer: I plead for #Bc-za'sspi- 
 religion that knows better how to bear injuries to the king 
 than to repel them ; but remember. Sire, it is an *arre.~ 
 anvil which has already xvorn out many hammers. 
 
 Guise shortly after entered Paris in triumph, GuteeVen- 
 and the Queen, alarmed, fled with her son, and p^ r |"/° 
 sent to the Prince of Cond6 to implore him to 
 come to her aid with all the Protestants he 
 could procure to join his standard ; but before 
 he could render her any service, she was forced night -ana 
 to give up herself and son to the furious Guise, theqnm 
 who had a large body in his favour, and particu- son, 
 larly among the Parisians, who were deeply pre- 
 judiced against the reformed religion. The 
 Guises now triumphed, and Montmorenci, the 
 constable of France, at the head of his troops, 
 ranged in order of battle, as if for a dangerous 
 
 ° . . . ° Hestrac- 
 
 expedition, went into the suburbs of Paris, tion of 
 
 Protestaat 
 
 attacked the places of worship, forced open the piar.es of 
 doors, broke in pieces the pulpits and the ©ear Park. 
 
32 
 
 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1562. benches, and burnt them, and re-entered the 
 city amidst the acclamations of the people, who 
 were delighted at this exploit. This display of 
 heroism was, however, a subject of ridicule 
 among the wits, who, in consequence, nick-named 
 the constable Captain Burn-bench. 
 
 In the mean time Cond6 issued a proclama- 
 tion, in which he complained strongly against 
 the Guises; especially for trying to kindle the 
 flame of discord, by depriving the Protestants of 
 the free exercise of their religion, which had 
 been granted to them by the edict of January. 
 Guise made various excuses in reply, and in- 
 sisted that the edict exempted Paris and the 
 court, where the preachers could not be per- 
 mitted to officiate. The ostensible reason, how- 
 ever, assigned by Conde" for taking up arms, was 
 the deliverance orthe king, who, he said, was a 
 prisoner by his own subjects, which Guise as 
 flatly contradicted. 
 
 After several useless negociations, in which 
 Conde' demanded the liberation of the king's 
 person, the removal of the Guises from power, 
 and the fulfilment of the last edict in favour of 
 the Protestants, which the other party as obsti- 
 nately refused, there was no alternative but 
 vigorous war. The royalists, as they termed 
 themselves, obtained auxiliary troops from Ger- 
 many and Switzerland, which were at the dis- 
 posal of the best bidder, and a considerable force 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. S3 
 
 from Spain. The reformed party had recourse to 1562. 
 England, and Queen Elizabeth sent a large body 
 of troops to take possession of Havre de Grace. 
 
 Historians speak differently of the character character 
 of the Protestant army. Beza, and the writers te^anr" 1 
 of that denomination, boast of its fine discipline. armf " 
 They assert that neither gaming, nor immodest 
 women, nor depredators, could be found there; 
 that oaths were severely prohibited ; that instead 
 of songs, the soldiers chaunted psalms; that 
 prayer was offered up every morning and evening 
 at regular hours; and that, during the course of 
 the day, the ministers divided the army into 
 separate congregations, and delivered to them 
 pious discourses and exhortations. These facts 
 are, indeed, admitted by writers on the opposite 
 side, who assert, notwithstanding, that by such 
 means the army was converted into a set of 
 furious enthusiasts, and inspired with a reli- 
 gious frenzy, which induced it to practise every 
 kind of cruelty in support of its religion. But 
 they allow, at the same time, that the atrocities 
 of war were equally committed on the other 
 side. The statements of each party may be 
 easily reconciled. In such an army there were 
 doubtless men of all descriptions, who had en- 
 listed from various motives; some from the purest 
 principles of self-defence, and others merely as 
 marauders, encouraged by the hopes of plunder. 
 
 It would be tedious, and foreign to the 
 
 
34 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1562. writer's design, to enter into all the details of 
 this conflict. For a whole year the country 
 suffered all the barbarities of civil war; during 
 
 Deaths of which time the Kins: of Navarre was killed 
 
 of Navarre at the siege of Rouen, the Duke of Guise was 
 
 Duke of shot by a gentleman at the siege of Orleans, 
 
 Conde was made prisoner by the royalists, and 
 
 Montmorenci, the constable of France, by the 
 
 Peace con- Protestants. A peace was at length concluded, 
 
 by the terms of which the privileges of the 
 
 Protestants were more limited than before, 
 
 although it was purchased with the lives of 
 
 fifty thousand men. 
 
 1563. The reformed had been permitted by a former 
 edict to assemble for the exercise of their religion 
 throughout the kingdom, on condition that they 
 did not enter into the cities. By an edict which 
 
 Edict of was now published, called the edict of Amboise, 
 they were allowed to worship only in those 
 towns Of which they had kept possession. It 
 limited also the former general permission to 
 preach throughout the country, to the terri- 
 tories of Protestant gentlemen, and to those 
 houses of the nobles, which were not in towns 
 or boroughs subject to the controul of some 
 Catholic lord. To compensate for these restric- 
 tions, they were allowed a town in each baili- 
 wick, immediately under the jurisdiction of the 
 parliament, where they might freely practise 
 their religion. 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 
 
 35 
 
 Even these terms displeased the higotted 1563. 
 Catholics, and remonstrances were obliged to be 
 made to the government to obtain their ful- 
 filment. Montmorenci, who had been set at Montmo- 
 
 ti i i r r renci'splot 
 
 Jiberty by the peace, went so tar as to form a against the 
 plot against the Protestants in the capital, and tants. 
 the period was fixed by the conspirators for 
 falling upon their victims, and demolishing their 
 habitations. Three hundred were proscribed, 
 and their death-warrant was signed by the hand 
 of the constable. The queen had timely notice of 
 the nefarious plan, and hastened to Paris with 
 the king, whose presence prevented the horrors 
 which must have resulted from its execution. 
 Montmorenci retired from the city, some of the 
 principal agents in the conspiracy were hung up 
 at their own windows without trial, and the 
 rest saved themselves by flight. But this fire 
 was not extinguished; it continued to burn 
 under the ashes, and in the end produced a 
 most tremendous conflagration. 
 
 Charles now began to discover an inclination 1564. 
 to join in persecuting the Protestants; and the permutes 
 decree of Roussillon was announced, in which testants." 
 the king declared, that the liberty given to 
 Protestant gentlemen to have public preaching 
 on their estates, should not extend beyond their 
 domestics and vassals, and that no collections 
 should be made, even for the support of the 
 ministers. Conde" remonstrated with the king ? 
 
36* HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 15«4. who replied by asking him what authority he 
 possessed, that a sovereign should be subject to 
 his pleasure. 
 Death of o n the 27th of May in this year Calvin, the 
 renowned reformer, died. He was born in 1509. 
 The immense and continual labour to which he 
 had been exposed, had greatly enfeebled his con- 
 stitution, and wasted his strength ; and he was 
 attacked by severe head-aches, the asthma, the 
 gout, and other violent complaints. He scarcely 
 ever slept. Affairs public and private, ecclesias- 
 tical and political, all occupied his attention in 
 perpetual succession, and often at the same time. 
 He also held a very extensive correspondence, 
 and was consulted by all the reformed churches 
 of Europe, as well as by princes and persons of 
 the highest distinction, who had embraced the 
 Protestant faith. He died at Geneva. His whole 
 treasure was 120 crowns of gold, which he 
 bequeathed to his brother, Antoine Calvin. 
 Some accounts augment the sum to 300 crowns, 
 but their authority rests on no solid foundation. 
 i5§5. Among many distinguished personages now in 
 the court of Charles, who was at this time in com- 
 pany with the queen, making the tour of the king- 
 dom, was the Prince of Beam, son of the Queen 
 of Navarre, who was afterwards the celebrated 
 First years Henry IV. His mother had used every means 
 iv. en,y to bias his mind in favour of the Protestants, and 
 not without success. He was now young, but 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 37 
 
 very acute ; and began to make his remarks on 1565. 
 what was passing in the court on the subject of 
 religion. The king remained some time at 
 Bayonne, and it was observed that the queen 
 had frequent interviews with the Duke of Alva, 
 whose bloody deeds afterwards made him the 
 terror of the Protestants in the Low Countries. 
 One of these interviews took place in the presence 
 of Henry, and he understood that the substance 
 of the conversation turned upon the best means 
 of destroying the Protestants. The queen 
 wished to spare the leaders : " Ten thousand 
 frogs" answered Alva, " are not worth the head 
 of one salmon." Catharine understood his meaning. 
 
 On his route, Charles went to Nerac. in Charles's 
 Gascony, the usual residence of the Queen of Navarre. 
 Navarre; where, partly by her consent, and 
 partly by force, he re-established the Catholic 
 religion in the country, from which that princess 
 had withheld her support. The queen accom- 
 panied him to the centre of the kingdom ; and 
 during their journey, Charles loaded her and her 
 son with marks of friendship ; but he pointed her 
 with indignation to the dilapidated monasteries, 
 the ruined churches, the broken crosses, the 
 mutilated statues of the saints, the dismantled 
 towns, and the recently extinguished remains 
 of the fires which had been kindled during the 
 last war. The queen, attached as much to the 
 cause of the reformed as to life itself* felt these 
 
 
38 
 
 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1565. 
 
 1566-7. 
 
 Spirit of 
 the Pro- 
 testant.. 
 
 Roziere' 
 Book. 
 
 remarks, but answered nothing ; and ever after 
 mistrusted the king and his mother. 
 
 The disposition of Charles gradually unfolded 
 itself, and his antipathy to the Protestants became 
 every day more apparent. Confident in their 
 means of defence, of which indeed they were 
 not neglectful, they conducted themselves per- 
 haps with more spirit than prudence. Charles 
 therefore had some pretext for considering 
 them as assuming too much the character 
 of dictators, and did not scruple on several 
 occasions to intimate the necessity of extir- 
 pating them, or driving them from the kingdom; 
 nor could all the care of the queen his mother, 
 prevent him from frequently breaking out in 
 the most violent sallies against them. 
 
 At the commencement of the year 1567, a 
 publication made its appearance, which was 
 ascribed to a minister named Roziere, in which 
 the infamous sentiment was propagated, that it 
 was allowable to kill a king and a queen zvho resisted 
 the Reformation. As there are always rash 
 enthusiasts in every cause of public dispute, the 
 author of this work might have been one of the 
 reformed ; but from the subtilty of Catharine's 
 character, and the part which she afterwards 
 acted, it is not improbable that this and similar 
 expedients were employed by herself and her 
 partizans, to make the Protestants odious, and 
 to justify the cruelties which the court were 
 
^REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 39 
 
 then devising against them. About this time 156T. 
 also the queen, going from her chamber to 
 mass, trod upon a letter, in which there was 
 found an intimation, that if she did not grant 
 the free exercise of the reformed religion, she 
 would be served like the Duke of Guise. The 
 queen, in consequence, always went to mass 
 by some secret passages; but this too might 
 be deemed requisite to carry on her designs. 
 
 The court had long been contriving the com- Charles 
 
 raises an 
 
 plete ruin of the Protestants, and every day army, 
 their rights were infringed upon by new edicts; 
 so that the Hugonots lost more by these edicts 
 in a time of peace, than they had lost by force 
 during the war. To effect their extermination, 
 it was found necessary to raise an army; but this 
 could not be done without exciting the attention 
 and alarm of the Protestant party. An event, 
 however, at length occurred, favourable to the 
 design. The King of Spain was about to march 
 a large army into the Low Countries, com- 
 manded by the Duke of Alva; and under 
 pretence of guarding the kingdom against any 
 surprisal from these troops, both Catholic and 
 Protestant counsellors were convened, who re- 
 solved unanimously to protect it, The Catholic 
 troops were raised, and foreign auxiliaries pro- 
 cured, but Charles refused the assistance of 
 the Protestants. It was now resolved to seize 
 the Prince of Conde, and imprison him for life, 
 
46 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1567. to put to death the Admiral Coligni, his faithful 
 colleague, to revoke the edict of peace, and 
 to forbid the exercise of the reformed religion 
 throughout the whole kingdom. These plans, 
 before they were quite ripe, were discovered by 
 Conde, and with the most astonishing promp- 
 titude he raised a large army, which threw the 
 court into alarm, while they were contriving 
 their schemes as they thought in perfect se- 
 curity. 
 
 Negociations were again set on foot, and once 
 more the Prince demanded for the reformed the 
 free exercise of their religion ; but Charles re- 
 plied, that he never intended that his decrees in 
 favour of the Protestants should be more than 
 temporary, and that he was resolved to have but 
 one religion in the country. 
 
 Both parties now prepared for the awful con- 
 flict with determined resolution ; and as the re- 
 formed had nothing to hope from the court, they 
 flocked in immense numbers to the standard of 
 Conde\ 
 1568. A battle was at last fought in the plain of 
 Battle of St. Denys, before Paris, in which, though the 
 ' constable Montmorenci fell, the royalists claimed 
 the victory. But the reformed were by no means 
 vanquished. They retreated upon their rein- 
 forcements, and having been joined by some 
 hireling troops of Casimer, the Prince Palatine, 
 they found themselves in sufficient force to ne- 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 
 
 41 
 
 gociate for a second peace, in which they once 1568. 
 more obtained the promise of full toleration. peace. 
 The calm that succeeded was soon followed Furious 
 
 psrseeu- 
 
 by the presages of another tempest. The Ca- tiou. 
 tholics were more enraged than ever. The 
 chancellor, and all the moderate men, were dis- 
 missed from the court. The pulpits resounded with 
 invectives against the sectaries, with seditious 
 reflections on the peace, and with exhortations 
 to break it. The ministers boldly advanced these 
 abominable maxims— that faith must, not be 
 kept with heretics ; and that the massacre of 
 them is a just, pious, and necessary act. The 
 fruits of these discourses were insurrections 
 against the Protestants, and assassinations of 
 them, for which no redress could be obtained. 
 Woe to those in Paris or in the provinces, who 
 had ever been connected with the Protestant 
 chiefs ! The poignard, the poison, the slow pu- 
 nishment of the prison, destroyed both them 
 and the fear of the resistance they might 
 otherwise have made. In three months, as 
 some writers assert, more than ten thousand per- 
 sons perished by these execrable means; others 
 lessen the number. The reformed, who had 
 made every sacrifice for peace, lamented their 
 pliancy, and said, with sighs : u We have done 
 foolishly ; let us not then think it strange if zve 
 drink the dregs of our Jolly : but zve doubt that 
 they will prove very bitter," They remonstrated 
 
 " 
 
42 
 
 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1568. 
 
 War re- 
 newed. 
 
 Edicts 
 against the 
 Protes- 
 tants. 
 
 Reprisals 
 
 on both 
 
 sides. 
 
 against these proceedings; and manifestoes, 
 complaints, and apologies, succeeded each other 
 with prodigious rapidity. In these the Cardinal 
 Lorraine was marked out as their principal 
 enemy, but the king and the queen were not 
 treated with much respect. 
 
 War was renewed once more. It began by 
 the endeavour of the court to surprize all the 
 Protestant leaders, yet notwithstanding they 
 almost miraculously escaped, and Conde" and 
 the queen of Navarre, with ber son, shut them- 
 selves up in Rochelle, while men were raising 
 on both sides with all possible expedition. 
 
 Exasperated to the last degree, Charles issued 
 edict upon edict against the Protestants: he 
 prohibited them, under very severe penalties, 
 from assembling together ; he entirely revoked 
 the edict of 1562, which at different times had 
 caused so much dispute ; he forbad the exercise 
 of an}' other religion than the Catholic, on 
 pain of death; he ordered all those to be dis- 
 missed from public employments who professed 
 the Protestant faith; and the parliament resolved 
 that no person should in future be raised to the 
 authority of a magistrate, unless he were a 
 Catholic. To enforce these decrees, a powerful 
 army was levied, and entrusted to the command 
 of the Duke d"Anjou, the king's brother. 
 
 No exhortations were requisite to bring the 
 Protestants into the field. The cruelties com- 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE, 
 
 43 
 
 mitted against them were sufficient incitements ; ims. 
 >and as they marched in large bodies to join the 
 grand army, they made severe reprisals on 
 their enemies, and especially on the cardinals, 
 bishops, priests, and monks, whom they put to 
 the sword without mercy. The Catholics were 
 not sparing of the sword on their side, and 
 executed numbers of prisoners. 
 
 Cond6, with a fine army, and fresh succours, 1569. 
 found himself capable of facing his opponents; 
 but, after various manoeuvres, he fell heroically Death of 
 fighting at the battle of Jarnac, and terminated 
 his career, in the thirty-ninth year of his age. 
 
 The king's party now rejoiced in the prospect 
 of the complete overthrow of the Protestants; 
 but the Queen of Navarre hastened to the army, Heroic 
 supporting on one arm her son Henry the Duke of cheQoeea 
 Beam, and on the other the son of the deceased Jarre. 
 prince, both about sixteen years of age; and, 
 approaching the soldiers, she addressed them in 
 the most impressive manner. u Friends," said 
 she, " we weep for a prince who, with equal 
 fidelity and courage, has supported till death that 
 cause which he had resolved to espouse; but our 
 tears would be a disgrace to his memory, were we 
 not to follow his example, and firmly to resolve 
 to die for our faith. The good cause has not 
 perished with Cond£; and his misfortune ought 
 not to cast men attached to their religion into 
 despair. God watches over his own. He gave 
 
44 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 rs69. companions in arms to support the Prince during 
 his life, and he has left brave captains to us, who 
 are capable of repairing the loss which we have 
 sustained by his death. I offer you the young 
 Prince of Beam, my son ; I trust to you Henry, 
 the son of the prince who excites our regrets. 
 May heaven grant that they may prove them- 
 selves worthy heirs of the valour of their ances- 
 tors, and that the sight of these tender pledges 
 may be the means of firmly uniting you in sup- 
 port of the cause which you defend !" 
 
 The army answered with shouts of joy, which 
 were only interrupted by the Prince of Beam, 
 Henry's who, advancing with a warlike air, said : " / 
 oath ' sxvear to defend religion, and to persevere in the 
 common cause till death or victory shall have 
 granted us all the liberty which we desire" The 
 young Conde gave his assent, and the Prince of 
 Beam was declared generalissimo, though Coligni 
 had the ostensible command. 
 1570. After a number of sieges, victories, and de- 
 feats on both sides, the armies were equally 
 Third weary of the contest, and again a peace was 
 concluded, on terms very favourable to the 
 Protestants. Besides a general amnesty, and 
 the free exercise of their religion, excepting at 
 court, their confiscated property was to be 
 restored: they were to be admitted into all uni- 
 versities, schools, hospitals, and public offices, 
 royal, seignioral, and corporate : they were to 
 
 peace. 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 45 
 
 challenge six of the judges in the parliaments, 1570. 
 and to retain four walled towns for two years, 
 as garrisons for their protection ; and finally, 
 to make the peace lasting, a match was proposed 
 between Henry of Navarre and Manguerite de 
 Valois, the king's sister. 
 
 All this was treacherous. Charles, though isn. 
 but twenty-two years of age. was well versed Charles's 
 
 J J ° treachery. 
 
 in the art of dissimulation. He changed his 
 deportment towards the Protestants, shewed 
 them every degree of kindness, made them his 
 counsellors, proposed to them advantageous 
 marriages, and so completely gained their 
 confidence as to obtain the restitution of the 
 places of security before the time arrived which 
 had been agreed on for their surrender. These 
 conciliatory measures were but a feint employed 
 to put the reformed off their guard, to lead 
 them to expose their real strength, and to render 
 them unsuspicious of the dagger which was 
 shortly to be plunged into their bosoms. Thus 
 for two years the mind of the barbarous Charles 
 was calmly meditating the massacre of seventy 
 thousand of his subjects. 
 
 Subsequent events justify these conclusions 
 respecting the odious monarch, though some 
 historians endeavour to apologize for the atro- 
 cities which he afterwards committed, or at least 
 to extenuate them. They suggest that accidental 
 circumstances led to their completion, or that if 
 
46 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 i5Ti. he had formed the design of murdering any of 
 the Protestants, it was only a few of the leaders, 
 and that the bloodshed extended much farther 
 than he wished. Some Italian writers, however, 
 who are deemed worthy of equal credit, contra- 
 dict all these apologies, by stating a remarkable 
 conversation which they assert to have taken 
 place between Charles and the Pope's legate, 
 who was sent to remonstrate against the union 
 of his sister with a Hugonot Prince. — "Monsieur 
 Cardinal" said the monarch, somewhat embar- 
 rassed, " would to God that I could tell you 
 every thing ! You will knoxv soon, as well as the 
 Sovereign Pontiff, that there is nothing more 
 convenient than this marriage, to confirm religion 
 in France, and to exterminate its enemies. 
 Yes" added he, affectionately squeezing his 
 hand, " believe me on my word: yet a little 
 zvhile, and the Holy Father himself will be obliged 
 to praise my designs, my piety, and my ardour for 
 religion" In confirmation of his good- will, he 
 would have slipped a gold ring upon the cardi- 
 nal's finger; but the prelate thanked him, and 
 expressed his reliance on the word of the king. 
 
 Those historians who attempt to vindicate 
 Charles, say that the Italian writers have en- 
 deavoured to throw all the blame upon his 
 shoulders, to clear the other authors of this 
 transaction. Be that as it may, it is evident 
 that the king was implicated in it — that he took 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE, 
 
 47 
 
 tio small share in the plot which we are about isti. 
 to develope — that it could not have been exe- 
 cuted without his will — and that he stained his 
 hands as deeply in innocent blood as the vilest 
 assassin engaged in that affair. His name is a 
 disgrace in the list of kings, and will probably 
 stand at the head of royal barbarians to the end 
 of time. 
 
 It must, however, be acknowledged, that the Guilt of 
 
 ' ° ' the king's 
 
 intrigues of the Queen Catharine finally effected mother, 
 this horrible business, which remorse of con- 
 science would perhaps have prevented Charles 
 from fully executing, and that she had likewise 
 involved the Duke d'Anjou in the same guilt, 
 who was rather unwilling to share in it, at least 
 to so great an extent. Indeed, the two youths 
 trembled with horror at the moment fixed for 
 the sanguinary transaction, and it is said that 
 they sent a message to stop the mischief at the 
 first signal of destruction, but it was too late. 
 
 The Queen of Navarre was the first victim 1572. 
 of those base schemes which were now pro- 
 jected. She arrived at the court in the month 
 of May, and on the 9th of June following she was Death of 
 a corpse. It was strongly suspected, and not ofNa-" 1 
 without reason, that her death was effected varre " 
 by poison, though no direct proofs of the fact 
 were discoverable. 
 
 The loss of this queen could not but be sen- Hercha- 
 sibly felt by the Protestants, for she had been racte 
 
4S 
 
 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1572 ' the life of their cause. In the midst of her 
 pleasures, to which she was passionately devoted, 
 and though in the prime of life, she became a 
 reformed character, and maintained a religious 
 deportment which rendered her the idol of her 
 party. She was strict in her discipline, orderly 
 in her domestic regulations, firm in misfortunes, 
 zealous, and liberal; and under her roof the 
 persecuted ministers of religion ever found an 
 asylum. She abhorred inconsistency of cha- 
 racter in those who professed the- reformed 
 religion, devoted all her property to its support, 
 even her rings and jewels, and remained in- 
 flexibly attached to it till death. It was her 
 favourite maxim, that liberty of conscience ought 
 to be preferred before honours, dignities, or life 
 itself The New Testament, the catechism, 
 and the liturgy of Geneva, were printed at 
 Rochelle by her orders ; and she abolished 
 Popery, and established the Protestant faith in 
 her dominions. But, if she allowed liberty of 
 conscience, it must be presumed that Papists 
 were at liberty to worship God as they pleased 
 under her government, though Popery was no 
 longer the religion of the state ; for that sove- 
 reign can be no friend to real liberty of con- 
 science, whose mind is made the infallible 
 standard for the opinions of the whole nation. 
 If'Stht Tne first victim of black Bartholomew-day 
 !ia7 w " was ^ ie consta bie, Coligni: he had been fired 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE, 49 
 
 upon by an assassin, whom Catharine afterwards 1572. 
 told the king she had procured for the purpose, 
 and he was now suffering under his wounds. 
 Fearing a repetition of the deed, he had en- 
 trusted his safety to Charles, who had pledged 
 his word for his security, and sent some guards 
 to his residence, under the pretence of affording 
 him protection, but in reality with a design to 
 prevent his escape. On the awful night in which 
 the slaughter commenced, the commissioned 
 murderers entered his chamber, and all at once 
 vociferated, with a hellish fury, " Death." The 
 admiral, who had been alarmed at their noise as 
 they approached, was prepared for the conse- 
 quence, and was found in the act of committing 
 his soul to God. A young man rushed upon 
 him with his sword; " ixspect my grey hairs," 
 said Coligni; the assassin answered by burying 
 the sword in his body. He fell weltering in his 
 blood, and after these wretches had mangled 
 his features by repeated strokes, he was thrown 
 out of the window, where his body suffered 
 every kind of indignity from the populace; 
 even the Duke d'Angouleme, natural son of the 
 queen, joined in trampling upon it, till, at the 
 command of that wicked woman, the disfigured 
 head was cut off, and sent as a present to the 
 Roman Pontiff; a present doubtless not less 
 grateful to the humane vicar of Christ upon 
 
 E 
 
SO historical view or the 
 
 BT2. earth, than the head of John the Baptist to the 
 incestuous Herodias. 
 
 At a given hour hy the palace clock, the 
 universal havoc begun. The Protestants, assailed 
 on every side, and alarmed by the affecting 
 shrieks of their unhappy friends, endeavoured to 
 escape through the streets, half awake and half 
 naked, but soldiers were planted to meet them 
 in all directions, and those who hastened to the 
 palace for redress met with certain death. All 
 were massacred without any distinction of age or 
 sex; and the most horrible sounds rent the air, 
 partly from the imprecations of the assassins, and 
 partly from the groans of those that were expir- 
 ing. The approach of the morning discovered 
 the frightful scene; headless bodies were thrown 
 from the windows, the coach-ways were blocked 
 up with the dead and dying, and the streets 
 were covered with corpses, which the murderers 
 were dragging as fast as possible to the river. 
 Most of the wretched sufferers, astonished and 
 confused, had submitted like lambs to the 
 slaughter; but some having protested with 
 their dying breath against the violated faith of 
 the king, expired exclaiming, Great God, deliver 
 Ike oppressed ! just Judge, avenge this perfidy ! 
 
 The havoc proceeded with great fury, and 
 most of the distinguished families of France 
 were anion «v the unfortunate multitudes of brave 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 51 
 
 chieftains who perished by the poignard. In- 1572. 
 stances of individual cruelty unparalleled in the 
 annals of barbarism occurred on this gloomy 
 occasion. Children that could scarcely use the 
 dagger were taught to butcher the babe in the 
 cradle. Tavannes, one of the court conspirators 
 in this business, employed himself in encourag- 
 ing the murderers : — " Bleed away" said he, 
 " doctors say that bleeding is as good in the month 
 of August as in May" The Duke of Guise, 
 brother of the last of that name ; the Duke 
 d'Angouleme, and other dignified barbarians, 
 walked the streets, and commanded, in the 
 king's name, that all the race of serpents should 
 be exterminated. At the palace windows ap- 
 peared the king, amusing himself with shooting 
 at the fugitives, and calling out to their pursuers, 
 " kill them, kill them;" One wretch, named 
 Cruce, a goldsmith, shewing his arm naked and 
 bloody, boasted aloud, u this arm has cut the 
 throats of more than four hundred in a day /" — 
 Even the ladies of the court pleased themselves 
 with surveying the dead bodies, and treating 
 them with a ridicule and an indecency, the des- 
 cription of which would defile the narrative. 
 How long exactly the massacre continued, it is 
 difficult to say. Some historians mention three 
 days, while others augment the number to seven; 
 but this discrepance may be easily accounted 
 
52 HISTORICAL vrEW OP THE 
 
 157S. for, by supposing the former to refer to the 
 slaughter of Paris only, while the latter in- 
 cludes that of the Provinces. 
 
 To complete his treachery, and to extend the 
 horrors of this transaction, Charles pretended 
 that it was merely the consequence of an old 
 quarrel between the family of the Guise's and 
 that of the Admiral; and sent into the distant 
 provinces to assure the reformed of his protec- 
 tion, while at the same time he was dispatching 
 couriers to urge the governors of the different 
 towns to a repetition of the same tragical scenes 
 throughout the kingdom. Some would not exe- 
 cute these sanguinary orders, and by this means 
 many precious lives were saved. The answer 
 of the Viscount d'Orthe, commandant of Ba- 
 yonne, deserves to be recorded. — " Sire" said 
 he, " / have communicated the command of your 
 majesty to your faithful subjects, and to the gar- 
 rison ; I can find among them only good citizens 
 and brave soldiers, but no executioners ; for this 
 reason we humbly supplicate your majesty to em- 
 ploy our hands and our lives in effecting those 
 things xchich we can accomplish ; and though they 
 may be the most hazardous, we will spill the last 
 drop of our blood in the service" What was the 
 reward which d'Orthe obtained from the court 
 for this noble conduct? He was soon afterwards 
 poisoned !! 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 53 
 
 The most horrible carnage now took place in 1572. 
 the provinces, under the express sanction of the 
 royal persecutor. The places in which it raged 
 most furiously were Meaux, Angers, Bourges, 
 Orleans, Lyons, Toulouse, and Rouen; besides 
 these several small towns, as well as private 
 castles, were involved in the calamity, in which 
 many of the opulent Protestants fell by the fury 
 of an unrestrained populace. The dead bodies 
 covered the country, and remained putrified and 
 unburied; and many rivers were so infected with 
 those that were cast into them, that it was con- 
 sidered dangerous for a long time to taste their 
 fish, or drink their water. 
 
 Accounts differ respecting the amount of 
 those who fell in this infamous transaction. 
 Some say that five thousand perished at Paris 
 only, while others reckon the victims in that 
 city at double the number. But the lowest 
 computation rated it throughout the kingdom 
 at thirty thousand, while some Catholic histo- 
 rians acknowledge it to rise to as many more; 
 and there are Protestant writers who do not 
 scruple to state it at one hundred thousand. 
 
 This news was received at Rome with the 
 most lively demonstrations of joy; the cannon 
 roared, bon-fires blazed, solemn mass was per- 
 formed, at which the Pope assisted, and the 
 courier who communicated the welcome intelli- 
 gence was handsomely rewarded. The name 
 
o4 
 
 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 15T2. f this most holy father ought never to be 
 forgotten, — it was Gregory XIII. 
 
 To crown his cruel exploit, Charles next sent 
 for the King of Navarre, and the Prince of 
 Conde, to whom he proposed either death, mass, 
 or the bastile. They both hesitated and delayed 
 to answer for several days, but the alternative 
 becoming unavoidable they at last yielded, and 
 the young King of Navarre agreed to confirm 
 the re-establishment of the Catholic religion in 
 his states, and to prohibit the exercise of that 
 of the reformed. 
 
 Many of the Protestants who escaped this 
 dreadful persecution took refuge in England, 
 Switzerland, Germany, and the Low Countries; 
 but the greater number remained in France in 
 those places of security which were nearest to 
 their dwellings, particularly Montauban, Nlmes, 
 and Sancerre. In the midst of their agitation, 
 and while they scarcely knew what measures 
 to adopt for their safety, the king once more 
 passed an edict in their favour, on the S8th of 
 October, in which all persons were forbidden to 
 disturb them, their property was ordered to be 
 restored, and they were allowed to enjoy pro- 
 tection. But who could place confidence in a 
 monarch capable of such foul treachery as to 
 pass an edict one day to lull the Protestants into 
 security, and revoke it the next, that he might 
 take them off their guard, and satiate his malignant 
 
HEF0RMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 55 
 
 "Spirit? A few more such manoeuvres must have 1572. 
 utterly extirpated the reformed church in France. 
 
 A fourth civil war broke out, but it was Fourth 
 confined to some solitary sieges. That of 
 Rochelle was the principal. This town opposed 
 nearly the whole force of France for seven 
 months. Out of twenty-two thousand inhabi- 
 tants, eighteen thousand died chiefly of famine. 
 The besiegers also lost an immense number of 
 men, by disease and battle: one hundred and 
 thirty-two captains perished, and a correspondent 
 proportion of regiments. But the Duke d'Anjou 
 being chosen King of Poland at thi-s time, and 
 it being: desirable that the fetes on the occasion 
 should not be disturbed by civil commotions, the p ™^' 
 besieged obtained a peace on honourable terms. 
 
 Shortly after the Duke d'Anjou had obtained wretched 
 the crown of Poland, Charles died, in the Charles 
 twenty-fifth year of his age. As his death was 
 rather sudden in its appearance, some unfavour- 
 able suspicions have in consequence been thrown 
 out against the queen -mother, who eagerly de- 
 sired the crown for her beloved son Henry. _ But 
 it is evident that his life was worn out with 
 anxiety. Smitten with a mortal malady, he 
 found himself wasting away in the flower of his 
 age, and debarred those consolations which the 
 most wretched enjoy, he was treated with in- 
 difference by his friends, agitated with plots in 
 his court, alarmed by rebellions among his 
 
56 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1573. people, and tormented with every kind of per- 
 plexity. 
 
 " Dieu, deployant sur lui sa vengeance severe, 
 Ci Marqua ce roi mourant du sceau de sa colere." 
 
 His guilty conscience perpetually disturbed 
 his rest; he thought he saw spectres, he started 
 continually in his sleep from frightful dreams ; 
 his disordered imagination presented to him 
 rivulets of blood, and heaps of dead bodies, and 
 made him fancy that he heard doleful sounds 
 and plaintive accents rending the air. 
 
 This marked alteration in his character closely 
 followed the scenes of Bartholomew-day. No 
 more gracious and benign, he became gloomy and 
 wild ; the impetuosity by u Inch he was alwa}'S 
 distinguished was greatly augmented; he sighed 
 continually, raised his eyes to heaven, and ap- 
 peared to carry in his heart a leaven of melan- 
 choly, which mixed itself with every thing, and 
 rendered life insupportable. Of all the actors 
 in that deep and dreadful tragedy, in which his 
 mother had taken the principal part, he alone 
 evinced any symptoms of compunction, and 
 notwithstanding his treachery and cruelty, we 
 cannot avoid pitying the last end of a wretched 
 youth, who, by the wiles of her that should have 
 taught him the tender sentiments of humanity, 
 became exposed to the execration of all the 
 world, and was made a burthen to himself. 
 1574-6. Henry, who ascended the vacant throne, 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 51 
 
 found the country soon afterwards involved in 15T4-6. 
 a fifth civil war. The young Prince of Condi ggf*** 
 had escaped into Germany, and formed a league 
 with some of the princes against the govern- 
 ment of France. After a severe conflict, though 
 less sanguinary than before, the reformed grew 
 high in their demands, and required a share of 
 the churches and dues of the Catholic clergy, 
 with a perpetual guard for their protection of 
 six hundred cavalry and three thousand infan- 
 try, to be maintained at the expence of the 
 king. They were, however, soon silenced by 
 the efforts of the queen-mother, who terminated 
 the war, and allowed them to obtain but few Peace, 
 additional privileges. 
 
 About this time was formed the famous league, 157c 
 
 The 
 
 in which the Catholics of France took the cause league. 
 of the church into their own hands, and elected 
 the Duke of Guise to be their leader, investing 
 him with powers equal to those of a sovereign. 
 This plan alarmed the court, and Henry, to save 
 his authority, disconcerted the leader, and ap- 
 pointed himself the head of the league. 
 
 The leaguers demanded a new war against 1577. 
 
 & Sixth War. 
 
 the Protestants; and Henry of Navarre, who had 
 
 escaped from court, and had openly declared for t 
 
 them, once more became their champion, and a 
 
 counter-league was formed for their defence, in 
 
 which Sweden, Denmark, England, and the 
 
 German Protestant states took part; but both 
 
58 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 157T. parties being very unfit for the contest, peace 
 Peace, and wa s concluded by the famous edict of Poitiers, 
 
 Edict of . m J ' 
 
 Poitieri. in which the king granted to the reformed the 
 full exercise of the Protestant religion, all the 
 privileges of citizens, including a right to every 
 office and dignity, and nine strong places for 
 their troops, on condition that they would pay 
 the dues, restore the usurped churches, keep 
 the holy days, and never insult the Catholics in 
 their worship. 
 1580. Not lono; after a fresh war broke out with the 
 
 Seventh , ° 
 
 war; and King of Navarre, which shortly ended with a 
 
 Peace. 
 
 new treaty, in which a few additional privileges 
 were granted to the reformed. 
 1585. Still restless at the success of the Protestant 
 
 wtr. th P art y tne leaguers employed another effort to 
 carry their measures against them. With money 
 obtained from Spain they procured foreign aux- 
 iliaries, and under the pretence of securing the 
 right of succession for the Cardinal Bourbon, 
 instead of the King of Navarre, they secured 
 some of the principal towns in the kingdom, 
 and by the boldness of their enterprizes spread 
 terror in the court itself. The king at first pre- 
 pared to resist them, but he found himself too 
 
 Treaty of weak, and by the treat} 7 ' of Nemours he agreed 
 
 Nemours. . . , , . . i -n. 
 
 to unite his arms with theirs against the Pro- 
 testants To provoke the latter, Henry very 
 reluctantly consented to prohibit the exercise of 
 the reformed religion in his dominions, on pain 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 59 
 
 of death, to deprive all Protestants of the offices isss. 
 which they held under government, to banish 
 their ministers, and in short to annihilate all their 
 privileges. Thus he was reduced to the alterna- 
 tive of making peace with one party only for the 
 purpose of commencing war with the other. 
 
 A ninth war was consequently declared be- Ninth 
 
 War. 
 
 tween Navarre and France. Sextus the Fifth 
 was then Pope ; and as the armies of the Pro- 
 testants were every where victorious, his Holi- 
 ness was solicited to join in the conflict, who very 
 graciously issued a bull against the King of Na- 
 varre, and absolved all his subjects from alle- 
 giance to him as an heretic. The Protestants 
 warmly resented this bull, and caused a pro- 
 testation against it to be placarded on the doors 
 of the Vatican. They said that Sextus was a 
 liar in calling them heretics; that he himself 
 ought rather to be regarded as one ; that they 
 could prove in council that he was one ; that 
 they viewed him as being out of the pale of 
 the church, and antichrist ; and that as such 
 they declared a deadly and irreconcilable war 
 against him, claiming for themselves the right 
 of punishing both him and his successors for 
 the insult offered to his royal majesty. They 
 also invited all Christian kings, princes, and 
 republics, to join with them in chastising the 
 insolence of the Pope. 
 
 It has been before intimated that the Duke 1537. 
 
60 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 158T. of Guise and his party endeavoured to gain the 
 hearts of the French people, that he might 
 obtain the succession to the throne, as the King 
 of Navarre, to whom it would by right descend, 
 was not a Catholic. The duke now therefore 
 used every means to incense the people against 
 the Protestants. The execution of Mary Queen 
 of Scots, which happened at this time in Eng- 
 land, was magnified into a martyrdom for the 
 sake of religion, and it was asserted that the 
 Catholics in general were great sufferers in Eng- 
 land, Germany, and the Low Countries. At this 
 period was fought the battle of Courtras, in which 
 the French commander, Joyeuse, was slain, and 
 the Catholic army completely destroyed. 
 1588. At (he same time a civil war broke out at 
 
 ommo- 
 
 t 
 
 tionsat Paris, between Guise and the kins*, in which 
 
 Paris. ' t P? 
 
 Deaths of many lives were lost, and Guise himself was 
 
 Guise and ^ m . 
 
 Conde. assassinated. Conde was also poisoned in his 
 own family, and died universally regretted, both 
 by friends and enemies, at the age of thirty five 
 years. His death was severely felt by the King 
 of Navarre, who said, that in him he had lost 
 his right arm. All these commotions were sus- 
 Henryin. pended by the death of Henry III. in his thirty- 
 assass mt- ^gj^ y ear> wno wa s killed by a friar; and 
 having time to recommend his successor, ear- 
 nestly entreated an union between the King of 
 Navarre and his people, that it might terminate 
 the awful conflicts to which the nation had so 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 61 
 
 long been a prey. The queen-mother died only i5S9. 
 a few months before her son. He was a weak 
 man, and she was a wicked woman. 
 
 Henry IV. King of France and Navarre, hen-ry i>. 
 ascended the throne amidst the greatest diffi- 
 culties. The leaguers, as they were still called, 
 opposed him, and raised the Cardinal de Bour- 
 bon, his uncle, to the regal dignity, under the 
 name of Charles X. The Pope and the King of 
 Spain joined in this cabal, and levied consider- 
 able armies against him. Henry was wise and 
 brave, and these qualities in the end secured to 
 him the crown. The decision in his favour was 
 chieflv effected by the battle of Ivri, in which Battle of 
 
 , Ivri. 
 
 he discovered the most surprizing address and 
 courage. Before the battle, Henry publicly 
 offered up this prayer : " O Lord, thou knowest 
 my thoughts, and thou discernest the bottom of 
 my heart. If my possession of the crown should 
 prove beneficial to my people, favour my cause and 
 protect my arms ; if thy holy will should dispose 
 of it in another way, O my God, take from me 
 my life xvith my kingdom, and let me at least die 
 in the sight of these brave warriors who expose 
 themselves for my servicer When he was asked 
 at the close of the battle by what name it should 
 be called, he replied, " It is the day of the Al- 
 mighty, and to him alone belongs the glory." 
 After this event there were many rebellious 
 attempts made to favour the designs of the 
 
62 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 3589. leaguers, but all in vain ; yet his majesty «could 
 not gain his capital. During four years per- 
 petual plots were formed against him, but they 
 were as perpetually defeated. The king, 
 troubled by foreign and domestic enemies, from 
 prudential motives, as well as from principles of 
 
 1591. g Ta titude, was careful to secure the liberties of 
 the Protestants, and advanced by slow steps 
 several measures in their favour. 
 
 1593. g u t w hat could a Protestant king do with 
 
 Catholic subjects? He must renounce either his 
 
 Henry conscience or his crown. Henry, alas, chose to 
 
 turns J 7 
 
 catholic. (Jo the former, and went through the degrading 
 rites of a relapsed heretic to be admitted into 
 the Catholic communion. Robinson observes 
 upon this event, " Every man may rejoice, that 
 his virtue is not put to the trial of refusing a 
 crown." But, to the honour of Christianity, be 
 it recorded, that many have forfeited even their 
 lives, rather than do violence to their consciences. 
 The Pope was not very willing to admit this 
 unworthy son into the church, but at length he 
 consented, and Henry was received at Paris 
 with every demonstration of joy. The leaguers 
 w T ere disappointed by this measure, and resolved, 
 
 His life if possible, to take his life. One Pierre Barriere 
 
 ' undertook to be his assassin, whose design being 
 
 discovered was punished with death, and Henry 
 
 would not allow any more blood to be spilt on 
 
 the occasion by a search after his accomplices* 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 6* 
 
 Shortly after Jean Chatel, a Jesuit, wounded 1593, 
 him in the mouth, in another attempt upon his 
 life. 
 
 The complete reduction of the leaguers, and Jf 9 ^; 
 the establishment of peace with foreign powers, v <j n( i">*b- 
 did not happen for some time ; but, through the 
 wisdom and fortitude of Henry, every difficulty 
 was surmounted ; the chiefs of the leaguers re- 
 tired in disgrace to Rome and Brussels; and the 
 king of Spain was glad to treat with the French 
 king on his own terms. 
 
 Henry now turned his attention to the situa- The edict 
 
 J . of Nantes. 
 
 tion of the Protestants, and being at Nantes on 
 some state affairs, he published the famous edict 
 which was named after that town. 
 
 This edict having continued for a number of 
 years as the safeguard of the reformed church, 
 until it was basely violated by Louis the XlVth, 
 deserves to be particularly noticed in this place. 
 It was the work of four of the most able and 
 judicious men in the kingdom, — Schomberg, 
 Jeannin, De Thou, and Colignon; and had en- 
 gaged their attention jointly and separately for 
 two years. It contained ninety-two articles, 
 fifty-six of which were never registered. In 
 these the king granted to the Protestants the t 
 
 free exercise of their religion, and all the rights 
 of citizens,—- a chamber which should sit in 
 every parliament, composed of an equal number 
 of GatholiG and Protestant judges, and which 
 
 M 
 
 1 
 
64 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1598-9. should be called the Chamber of the Edict, — the 
 privilege of holding general assemblies, subject 
 to his pleasure, — the right of levying every 
 year certain sums among themselves to support 
 their cause, — the liberty of keeping some places 
 of security for eight years, of which they should 
 name the governors, — and the yearly sum of 
 eighty thousand crowns for the maintenance of 
 the garrisons. The edict also permitted the 
 Protestants to print their own books on religion, 
 without interruption or restraint. 
 
 These privileges, however, were restricted to 
 certain places, in which the Catholics were 
 to enjoy equal liberty of worship. The Protes- 
 tants were still to subject themselves to the 
 police of the Roman church ; they were not to 
 work publicly on holy days; were to pay the 
 dues, and to serve in the parish offices; and 
 grievous penalties were to follow if they trou- 
 bled the ceremonies of the ecclesiastics by any 
 irreverence, either of words or actions. The 
 king had to encounter many obstacles to esta- 
 blish this edict, and it was not ratified by the 
 parliament till the following year, when it was 
 sent to be carefully preserved in the archives 
 of the church at Rochelle. 
 
 Thus the Protestants acquired a confirmation 
 of those privileges for which they had so long 
 been fighting; and it was evident that Henry, 
 being firmly fixed upon the throne, granted them 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 65 
 
 even more from inclination than from duty. 1598-9. 
 To shew his regard still further, he raised two 
 Protestant gentlemen to the dignity of the 
 peerage. 
 
 Besides the chamber of the edict at Paris, 
 which took cognizance of the vexations to which 
 the Protestants were liable in that neighbour- 
 hood, and extended to Normandy and Britany, 
 they had a kind of inferior parliament at Castres, 
 independent of that at Toulouse, and some 
 chambers also at Grenoble and Bourdeaux, 
 which were half Catholics and half Protestants. 
 Their churches at the same time assembled in 
 synods, like the Galilean church. These, with 
 many other privileges, incorporated the reformed 
 with the rest of the nation. It was indeed 
 tying enemies together \ but, says Voltaire, 
 " the goodness, the address, and the authority 
 of this great king, kept them united during his 
 life." The churches enjoyed peace, and multi- 
 plied and prospered. 
 
 A deluded wretch, of the name of Ravaillac, The king 
 terminated the reign of this excellent prince, by nattd!" 
 stabbing him to the heart in his coach, while 
 passing through the streets of Paris. The rea- 
 son he assigned for this act was, that he be- 
 lieved the kino; to be in his heart a Protestant, 
 and to be detested by the people. He had no 
 accomplices in this act; for no sooner was Henry . ; 
 
 1 ^ Grief of 
 
 dead, than his loss was felt by the whole nation : the nation, 
 
 F 
 
66 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1598-9. even the Catholics refused the assassin their 
 prayers, and never was royal worth more ho- 
 noured than in the universal sorrow which per- 
 vaded the, land at this moment. The family of 
 the Bourbons have used the memory of their 
 ancestor, Henry the Fourth, as a passport to 
 recover their throne; and while the pages of 
 history continue to trace the wisdom of his 
 measures, the mildness of his government, the 
 condescension of his character, and the benevo- 
 lence of his heart, this lamented prince must 
 be handed down to posterity as Henry the 
 Great. 
 i6io. Louis XIII. succeeded his father at the age 
 
 Louis xiii. m ° 
 
 of nine years. The queen-mother was made 
 regent, and immediately confirmed the edict of 
 Nantes, which Louis afterwards confirmed again 
 when he ascended the throne. But Louis was a 
 Hischa- W eak prince, the tool of his flatterers, and a 
 superstitious bigot. Voltaire charges the Pro- 
 testants with a turbulent disposition, because 
 they troubled the minority of this sovereign; but 
 surely they had sufficient reason to be dissatis- 
 fied when they saw the whole system of the 
 government changed, and Spain and Rome 
 paramount in the cabinet; and were they to 
 blame, after what they had suffered, in taking- 
 precautions against the probable consequences 
 of such a change? The Jesuits, who had been 
 banished for attempting the life of Henry IV. 
 
 racter. 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 67 
 
 in 1594, were restored by this fanatic, and ac- i6io. 
 quired complete influence over his mind. The 
 queen-mother was sent into exile, intrigue fol- 
 lowed intrigue in the court, one distinguished 
 sonao-e after another was assassinated or 
 
 l o 
 
 per 
 
 sent to the scaffold, the civil wars were again 
 renewed, though on a smaller scale and of 
 shorter duration, and the nation was continually 
 in alarm. 
 
 Cardinal Richelieu attained to the rank of 1624. 
 
 Character 
 
 prime minister, bv publishing; a scandalous libel of 
 
 • t -r^ 1 • i 1 r Richelieu, 
 
 against the Protestants, and continued the favou- 
 rite of Louis during; the remainder of his leig-ri. 
 He was a man of consummate talents, and all 
 his schemes were crowned with complete success. 
 He could wield the sword of steel better than 
 the sword of the Spirit, and acquired no small 
 influence over his master by the reduction 
 of Rochelle, which he besieged during a 
 whole year, and which was the strong hold 1625. 
 of the Protestants, and by the general success 
 of his military enterprizes against that unhappy 
 people. 
 
 The Cardinal now domineered over the re-Histyran- 
 formed church, for its most distinguished leaders 
 were no more, and it was deprived of all the 
 power of resistance which it once possessed. 
 All the edicts which had been previously granted 
 in favour of the Protestants were considered in 
 the light of treaties with their sovereigns; but 
 
68 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1625. Richelieu resolved that the instrument, for the 
 security of the privileges which they should 
 enjoy in future, should be termed the edict of 
 grace. The king thus assumed the right of a 
 lord to controul in place of a party to agree; 
 he took away the liberty of worship from some 
 of the most distinguished Protestant towns, and 
 allowed them only the name of the edict of 
 Nantes, as the basis of their remaining free- 
 dom. 
 
 " It seems strange," says Voltaire, " that the 
 Cardinal de Richelieu, so absolute and so auda- 
 cious, had not abolished this famous edict; but 
 he had then another design, perhaps yet more 
 difficult to accomplish, though not less adapted 
 to the extent of his ambition and the pride of 
 his heart. He was panting for the glory of sub- 
 jugating minds ; and he thought himself capable 
 of achieving it by his talents, his power, and his 
 policy. His project was to gain over some 
 preachers, to induce them in the first place to 
 admit that the Catholic worship was not criminal 
 in the sight of God ; and then, to concede to 
 them, by degrees, some points of minor import- 
 ance, which, in the eyes of the court of Rome, 
 he hoped would appear to be granting them 
 nothing. He thought he could delude some of 
 the reformed, and influence others so far by 
 presents and favours, that at least it would seem 
 he had united them to the church, and that 
 

 REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 69 
 
 time would finish what he had begun : for him- 1625. 
 self he regarded only the glory of having either 
 accomplished or prepared this great work. The 
 famous Capuchin Joseph on the one side, and 
 two ministers on the other, entered upon this 
 negociation; but it appeared that the Cardinal 
 de Richelieu had presumed too much upon his 
 abilities, and that it is more difficult to recon- 
 cile theologians, than to make dikes upon the 
 ocean." 
 
 Foiled in his attempts, the Cardinal now 
 resolutely opposed himself to the Protestants. 
 The edicts in their favour were violated every 
 day, and innumerable remonstrances were made 
 to the government, but in vain. 
 
 The Protestants sent the celebrated Amvraut , ,631 - , 
 
 " Arayrauts 
 
 to court, to complain of these infractions of the mission to 
 
 . Court. 
 
 edicts. Richelieu would not allow him for a 
 whole fortnight to approach the king, requiring 
 him to yield the privilege of delivering his 
 speech standing, as the other ecclesiastics were 
 accustomed to do, and to supplicate on his 
 knees; to which Amyraut refused compliance, 
 with as much address and inflexibility as the 
 proud Cardinal, and gained his point respecting 
 the etiquette : but though he was very gra- 
 ciously received, he was unable to obtain the 
 redress for which he was sent. 
 
 The Protestants saw the storm approaching, Ai l™' of 
 and many, of them immediately fled, among the Pro ~ 
 
 
70 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1634. whom were Amyraut, Mestrezat, and other 
 ministers of distinguished piety and learning. 
 Some took refuge in England ; but Laud being 
 then in power, they only escaped from the 
 hands of one papistical tyrant to fall into those 
 of another, who speedily obliged them to quit 
 their expected asylum, and to seek safety else- 
 where. 
 Riche- Richelieu adopted the most inveterate mea- 
 
 cuities. 1 " sures against the Protestants, and determined 
 completely to crush them, but he was prevented 
 from executing his designs by the distractions 
 of the court. His ambition made him many 
 enemies. The great men of the kingdom, part 
 of the royal family, and some members of the 
 house of Austria, were among their number; and 
 sometimes even Louis himself was provoked 
 against him. 
 T1 . 16 i 2 - L After having reduced the reformed church of 
 
 His death. ° 
 
 France to a state of im potency, from which it 
 has never been able to recover, this ambitious 
 man, overwhelmed with cares, was stopped in 
 his career by the irresistible hand of death, which 
 removed him unexpectedly from the public scene 
 of action in the fifty- eighth year of his age. He 
 left all his plans of aggrandizement incomplete, 
 and died unpitied by the world ; even his prince 
 smiled when he saw him in the agonies of 
 death, and seemed to rejoice in his approaching 
 deliverance from the fascinations of hi s favourite; 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 71 
 
 for when he was told that he had expired, 1642. 
 he coolly replied, " It is a great political death." 
 — Sic transit gloria mundi ! 
 
 The year following; Louis died, as little la- 1643. 
 
 . . Death of 
 
 men ted as the Cardinal. He was in the forty- Louis xm. 
 third year of his age. He had not one amiable 
 quality. Nothing but flattery could gain his 
 favour; and it was truly said, "he loved without 
 esteeming, and he esteemed without loving." — 
 But, notwithstanding the persecutions of this 
 reign, the Protestants had greatly increased, and 
 their numbers now amounted to not less than 
 two millions, — thus resembling the palm tree, 
 which beneath the pressure revives and flou- 
 rishes. 
 
 Louis XIV. succeeded his father in the fifth Louis xiv. 
 year of his age. During his minority the queen- 
 mother was entrusted with the affairs of the 
 kingdom, and Cardinal Mazarine, a creature of m cceldT 
 Richelieu's, was made prime minister. The edict Rlcheheu - 
 of Nantes was again confirmed, and the con- 
 firmation was repeated when the king was of 
 age. But Mazarine intended to complete the 
 plan begun by his predecessor, and the revoca- 
 tion of that edict was the darling scheme which 
 he never failed to impress upon the mind of the 
 young king. 
 
 Colbert, the minister of finance, being a firm 
 friend to peace and a promoter of the arts, 
 employed numbers of the Protestants to assist 
 
72 HISTORICAL VIEW OP THE 
 
 1664. in the public improvements which were made 
 during this reign, in the manufactures as well 
 as in the marine. The Chancellor Le Tellier, 
 and Louvois his son, were his enemies, and 
 wished to destroy the Protestants because Col- 
 bert protected them. The Clergy, the Jesuits, 
 and the court of Rome, were not behind in for- 
 warding this godly work. Louis never took the 
 trouble of inquiring into their creed, but as they 
 and the government had always been at war, he 
 
 The king's thought the better way was to extirpate them. 
 
 ?o n th P e a pro- When he was therefore relieved from the burden 
 
 testants. Q £ t [ 10se pivil wars which long endangered his 
 throne after his accession, he began to make 
 war upon his best subjects, and turned even the 
 loyalty of the Protestants against them ; for as 
 their exertions against his enemies had mate- 
 rially served the cause of the king, he very 
 sagaciously reasoned, that those who could so 
 signally aid in the preservation of the state had 
 power to overthrow it ! 
 i6to. Now began a series of cruelties at which 
 
 ties. nature revolts, and Christianity shudders, though 
 
 committed under her professed sanction. These 
 had occasionally appeared in the early parts of 
 the reign, but the succeeding fifteen or twenty 
 years witnessed their severe and complete inflic- 
 tion. Rochelle was burdened with proscriptions. 
 Montauban and Millau were sacked by the sol- 
 diers. Popish commissioners were placed over 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 73 
 
 all the affairs of the Protestants. Orders were 1670. 
 issued to examine all their transactions for the 
 past twenty years, and on the testimonies of 
 false witnesses many innocent victims were 
 thrown into prisons and dungeons, and con- 
 signed to the whipping post, the galleys, or 
 banishment. Persons were forbidden to em- 
 brace the Protestant faith. Soldiers were quar- 
 tered in the houses of the Protestants, to con- 
 tinue there till they would change their religion. 
 Their churches were shut up on the most frivo- 
 lous pretences; and if the order was not obeyed, 
 they were razed to the ground. Many, through 
 extreme punishment, had embraced the Catholic 
 religion, and when their consciences smote them, 
 they were subjected to the most severe decrees 
 as relapsed heretics. Their pastors were prohi- 
 bited from exercising any discipline over their 
 flocks. Intermarriages with the Catholics were 
 not allowed. Children of tender years were 
 separated from their parents, and obliged to 
 embrace the Catholic religion. Their colleges 
 were suppressed. The printing of books was 
 prohibited to them, and those which were 
 printed were seized by the government. Their 
 ministers were not allowed to officiate in one 
 place more than three years. They were fre- 
 quently punished for preaching on the ruins of 
 their demolished churches; and, at length, were 
 forbidden to preach at all. All offices, trades, 
 
74 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1670. privileges, and employments, were taken away 
 from the reformed. Their meetings were not 
 permitted to be held in private houses. Their 
 sick and dying were not allowed any but Catholic 
 REvnifi- P r ' csts to attend them. The edict of Nantes, 
 edict 1 of w ^^ cn Henry IV. had declared irrevocable, was 
 nantes. abolished. A decree was passed to banish the 
 Protestants from the country, and when they 
 w r ould willingly have obeyed it a severe penalty 
 was announced against all who attempted to 
 escape. The rack, the dungeon, and the scaffold, 
 were alternately used as instruments of punish- 
 ment, and every cruelty inflicted which satanic 
 malignity could device. The dragoons, who 
 were quartered upon the people to convert them, 
 exercised all kinds of cruelty, with the clergy at 
 their head. They half-roasted the unhappy suf- 
 ferers, stuck them with pins from head to foot, 
 cut and slashed them with pen-knives, and led 
 them up and down the rooms by the nose with 
 red-hot pincers, to make them turn Catholics. 
 These form a small part only of the atrocities 
 committed; but, for the honour of human 
 nature, let a veil be drawn over the rest. 
 
 The effect of the measures now resorted to 
 mav be, in some degree, conceived from the 
 
 Fatal ' . , . 
 
 effects »f following narrative of the church at Metz. 
 
 the new 
 
 edict. M. Ancillon, one of the four pastors of this 
 church, received information on Saturday, the 
 23d of October, 1685, in the evening, from 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 
 
 75 
 
 M. de Corbcron, procureiir general, that a decree 
 had been received from the king to prevent the 
 exercise of the reformed religion both at Metz 
 and throughout the country, and that on the 
 Monday the pleasure of his majesty would be 
 more fully known. This news threw both pastor 
 and people into the utmost consternation ; and, 
 on the morrow, a very considerable number of 
 the reformed left the town. Nothing was to be 
 seen on the roads which lead to Germany but 
 carriages of all kinds, laden with women and 
 children, and men greatly fatigued accompanying 
 them on foot. The sabbath, which proved a 
 day of mourning and desolation, was followed 
 by a day yet more alarming: that edict, which 
 agreeably to the language and determination of 
 the Great Henry, was to he Jinn and stable for 
 ever, was revoked by a decree of Louis XIV. at 
 the solicitation of the widow Scarron, and the 
 Jesuits, who were the counsellors of this woman. 
 It was registered on the 25th of October in the 
 parliament of Metz, and the same day the temple 
 was demolished ; so eager was the spirit of 
 persecution ! The four pastors, accompanied to 
 the frontiers by an immense population, set off 
 by the Moselle, and gained Frankfort upon the 
 Maine. Ancillon retired to Berlin, where he was 
 favourably received, and appointed preacher to 
 the Grand Elector. The worship of the reformed 
 thus terminated at Metz ; but what were the 
 
 1685. 
 
76 
 
 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1685. consequences? This town lost a third of its 
 population ; the reformed, so far from being 
 induced to change their religion by the dragoons 
 which the Count De Bissy had quartered upon 
 them, were only strengthened in their reso- 
 lution to persevere in the faith and to fly from 
 punishment ; by which emigration Metz lost its 
 commerce and its splendour. This assertion, 
 however bold and exaggerated it may appear, 
 is a truth supported by the testimony of 
 all who are well informed on the subject. 
 M. Turgot, intendant at Metz from 1696 to 
 1700, does not conceal the fact, that the de- 
 cline of Metz sprung from this fatal emigration. 
 "The principal and richest inhabitants," says he, 
 " are withdrawn, and commerce has suffered 
 from their departure, because the Catholics, who 
 succeed them, supply their places but very im- 
 perfectly; for," continues he, " it is not easy to 
 replace their credit in the foreign cities where 
 this town has all its commerce, and this will 
 always be an evil which must happen from their 
 past emigration." This was written in ]699, in 
 an historical memoir sent to the king. 
 
 More than forty tanners, toymen, jewellers, 
 and goldsmiths of this place, all the grocers, and 
 all the factors, were of the reformed religion, and 
 almost all of them quitted their ungrateful and 
 cruel country; they went with regret to carry 
 their riches and their industry into Germany 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 77 
 
 and Prussia. To Berlin, as being the residence 1685 
 of Ancillon and bis sons, they felt powerful 
 attractions; and that city, which was the capital 
 of a rising state, owed much of its subsequent 
 prosperity to the French reformed. 
 
 Thus by this impolitic measure no less than 
 eight hundred thousand persons were driven 
 from France, and these the richest manufacturers 
 and the most ingenious and industrious people 
 of the kingdom ; for, as the Protestants could 
 never depend upon acquiring the honours of the 
 state, they had always had recourse to com- 
 merce to maintain their influence and procure 
 support. Twenty millions of property were car- 
 ried away by these fugitives; and in addition to 
 the states already mentioned, Denmark, Holland, 
 and England, opened their arms most cordially 
 to receive them. The Prince of Orange offered 
 to build a thousand houses for them at Amster- 
 dam, and the English government made yearly 
 grants for their support, which continue to some 
 of their descendants to this day, with whom 
 they are to expire. The silk manufactory at 
 Spitalfields owes its origin to this emigration. 
 
 Some distinguished Protestants lost their lives 
 in this fatal persecution, among whom was the 
 pastor Chamier, who had drawn up the edict of 
 Nantes. The name of Chamier has long been 
 venerated by the Protestants, and he ranks 
 among the number of illustrious martyrs. 
 
78 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1685. Several ministers distinguished themselves 
 during the progress of these proceedings, by re- 
 monstrating with the government, and vindi- 
 cating the cause of the oppressed. Among 
 these were Du Bose and Claude : the former 
 pleaded most powerfully before the king, so as 
 to charm him with his eloquence, and the latter 
 was the undaunted opponent of Bossuet, and all 
 the Popish ecclesiastical writers. These divines, 
 with Basnage and others, took refuge in Hol- 
 land. Abbadie joined those at Berlin ; and Dr. 
 Allix, with some of his brethren, came to Eng- 
 land. Many families went to Geneva, among 
 whom was the celebrated Sauriu, who after- 
 wards settled at the Hague. 
 
 Four hundred thousand Protestants yet re- 
 mained in France, and it was deemed an easy 
 thing to bring these to subjection. They were 
 compelled to go to mass and to receive the com- 
 munion, but some would not swallow the wafer 
 after having taken it from the priests, for which 
 crime they were condemned to be burnt alive. 
 The bodies of those who would not receive the 
 sacrament at the hour of death, were dragged 
 upon hurdles, and thrown into the common 
 sewers, 
 courage of Notwithstanding these persecutions the Pro- 
 tan(s. r ° S testants assembled every where to sing psalms, 
 in spite of the punishment of death decreed 
 against those who should hold assemblies. This 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 7.9 
 
 punishment was decreed against those ministers 1685. 
 also who should re-enter the kingdom, and 
 a lar^e reward was offered to such as would 
 denounce them. 
 
 About this time Pierre Jurieu, a minister of jurieu's 
 
 n ... euthu- 
 
 great talents, but or a warm imagination, wrote siasm. 
 a commentary on the Revelations, in which he 
 attempted to enforce an opinion upon the world, 
 that William the Third, who now reigned in 
 England, was raised up by Providence to deliver 
 it from Antichrist. He made himself a number 
 of enemies among the judicious part of the Pro- 
 testants; but the more zealous fled to arms, and Rebellion 
 relied for success upon the truth of his prophe- testants. 
 
 . . . 1701. 
 
 cies. This rebellion became rather extensive in 
 Languedoc and the neighbouring countries, in 
 the war which broke out a few years after- 
 wards. 
 
 Among those who perished at this period was Execution 
 the celebrated pastor Claude Brousson, who was Brousson. 
 broken alive upon the wheel, under the foul 
 charge of exciting a spirit of revolt. He died 
 with the heroism of a primitive martyr. 
 
 In a few years the rebellious dispersed, after Dispersion 
 r t. of the re- 
 
 three marshals of France had in vain been sent beiiiou?. 
 
 to subdue them, and after many lives had been 
 
 lost in attacking them in their strong holds, 
 
 in dens, woods, rocks, and caves, where they 
 
 baffled all the efforts of the military to effect 
 
 their destruction. Those who escaped joined 
 
80 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 noi. their persecuted brethren in the Protestant 
 
 countries. 
 
 There- The revocation of the edict of Nantes long 
 
 iigian re " checked the progress of the reformed church in 
 
 "rushed in France \ and by the loss of a million and a half 
 
 France, of subjects, and the sacrifice of the manufacturing 
 
 interests of the kingdom, that wise monarch, 
 
 Louis XIV. who is still absurdly called the 
 
 Great, effected this triumph over the religious 
 
 liberties of his people ! 
 
 state of the From this time the Protestants who remained 
 
 were obliged to assemble together for devotional 
 
 purposes by stealth. They had no more pastors, 
 
 but they came to their religious assemblies 
 
 from great distances, and, like the primitive 
 
 Christians when under Pagan persecution, they 
 
 worshipped God in dens and caves of the earth. 
 
 Some worthy men, with truly apostolic zeal, 
 
 visited the churches which were found in this 
 
 condition, and in the exercise of their functions 
 
 passed through the greatest dangers and the 
 
 most violent persecutions, from which they 
 
 could have escaped only by the miraculous 
 
 interposition of Providence. 
 
 I7J5. Louis XIV. died at the age of seventy-seven, 
 
 ISsxiv. after having reigned seventy-two years, during 
 
 which time he had seen four Kings iu Sweden, 
 
 four in Denmark, five in Poland, five in Portugal, 
 
 three in Spain, four in England, three Emperors, 
 
 and nine Popes. The French idolize the memory 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 81 
 
 of this prince, and distinguish him, as before ob- 1715. 
 served, by the name of Louis the Great. He was 
 certainly the patron of literature and the arts, but 
 it was then the Augustine age of Europe, andHischa- 
 other countries during his reign could boast of 
 men equally renowned with the literati of France, 
 and princes equally disposed to protect them. 
 He was also great in arms, for he had a nume- 
 rous population fond of military glory ; but his 
 overweening ambition, like a scorching sun, 
 withered his laurels in his declining days. In 
 his domestic character he was a voluptuary and 
 a sensualist; in his religious character he was 
 superstitious, and the tool of the Jesuits; and in 
 his political character he was cruel and san- 
 guinary. His career was marked by blood ; — 
 blood shed in perpetual foreign wars at the 
 commencement of his reign, and drawn from 
 the veins of thousands of his Protestant sub- 
 jects towards its conclusion. In short, we 
 may sum up his character by saying, in one 
 word, he was a Tyrant, and indelible infamy 
 must stain his memory as long as the faith- 
 ful pen of history shall record the cruelties 
 inflicted by the revocation of the edict of 
 Nantes ! 
 
 Louis XV. succeeded his great-grandfather Loms xr. 
 as King of France. This prince was too much 
 occupied with his gallantries to trouble himself 
 about the consciences of his subjects. He 
 
 G 
 
82 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1728-62. found the Protestants under oppression, and lie 
 left them so. Notorious cruelties were not in- 
 deed exercised during his reign, as in the reigns 
 of Charles IX. and Louis the XlVth, but some 
 blood was spilt in the cause of religion. A 
 Several minister was executed at Montpellier in 1728, 
 routed. anotner at tne same place in 1752, and some 
 great severities were inflicted at Toulouse in 
 1762, where M. Rochette, a minister, suffered 
 the punishment of death. The reformed always 
 worshipped by stealth, for their meetings were 
 held illegal; and till the war of 1752, even 
 the smallest villages had garrisons, the sole 
 object of which was to prevent religious assem- 
 blies, and to pursue the ministers. Notwith- 
 standing these interdictions, they often congre- 
 gated in vast numbers, and enjoyed their worship 
 in the open air. Sometimes they chose a sloping 
 hill, formed like an amphitheatre, on the de- 
 clivity of which the people sat, with heaps of 
 stones for their benches, the pulpit being placed 
 at the bottom : here in some parts five or six 
 Large as- thousand souls would assemble on ordinary oc- 
 meet for casions, and at their solemn feasts eight or ten 
 worsnp. thousand Sometimes in summer they wor- 
 shipped in large caves, where they were shel- 
 tered from the rays of the sun, and where the 
 echo assisted the voice of the minister. At other 
 times these meetings were held at night in some 
 secluded spot; a preacher would perhaps arrive 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OP FRANCE. 83 
 
 in the evening, convoke a religious meeting, 1728-62. 
 preach, and depart.* 
 
 Punishments and cruel treatment on account 1T63. 
 of religion began now to cease in the greater 
 part of the provinces, and religious assemblies 
 were a little tolerated ; but this depended very 
 much upon the dispositions of the governors, 
 commandants, and intendants of the provinces. 
 Acts of severity were still occasionally exercised. 
 The parliament of Grenoble condemned to death it64. 
 one of the ministers who had preached in the 
 desert; and as his person could not be obtained, 
 he was burnt in effigy at Mens. 
 
 At Orange, in the department of Vaucluse, Protes- 
 
 , . , -p. , {ant* dis- 
 
 about eighty Protestants, men, women, and turned at 
 children, without a pastor, were assembled to- range * 
 gether on a sabbath-day, to read the holy scrip- 
 tures, with one of Saurin's sermons, and to sing 
 psalms; when suddenly they were surprised by 
 an armed force, but they continued the service. 
 Many orders were vociferated for them to dis- 
 perse, which they fearlessly disregarded. The 
 
 * M. Rosan Dunoyer preached for forty years at Dieulefit, in 
 Dauphin^, and the Ce venues, whither he repaired at different 
 times. In 1744, by a decree of the parliament of Grenoble, a 
 price was set upon his head; but although continually pursued, 
 his zeal carried him to every place where pastors were needed. 
 He married forty couple in one single night, and baptized ninety 
 children. His arduous work terminated only with his life. 
 During the Revolution he entered into his rest, deeply bewailing- 
 the fate of the churches then suffering under oppression. 
 
 I 
 
84 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1764. soldiers threatened to fire, and yet they re- 
 mained perfectly composed, nor did either 
 women or children discover the smallest symp- 
 toms of trepidation. At length the bayo?iettes 
 were fixed, and the worship ceased, when some 
 of the principal gentlemen of the assembly 
 stepped forward, delivered themselves up as 
 hostages for the rest, and obtained their liberty. 
 These were thrown into prison, and after two 
 months' confinement were liberated, 
 civil ais- The civil disabilities to which these oppressed 
 of the people were subjected were yet very great; they 
 tants. were excluded from all public employments, and 
 their children were continually in danger of 
 losing their patrimonial rights. Their marriages 
 and baptisms were performed in the metropolis by 
 the chaplains of the foreign ambassadors, and in 
 the country they waited the occasional visits of 
 those devoted men, who ventured to break to 
 them the bread of life. But the law did not 
 recognize these ceremonies, and their domestic 
 felicity was greatly impaired by the fear of not 
 being able to transmit their property to their 
 children, which some distant kindred would 
 claim before the tribunals, by nullifying the 
 legitimacy of the Protestant heirs, 
 mo. Cruel persecutions were sometimes the con- 
 sequence of not baptizing their children in the 
 Catholic church, and several persons were im- 
 prisoned and exiled by lettres-de-cachet for this 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 85 
 
 crime. One reformed minister was thrown into mo. 
 prison for being guilty of performing the rite of 
 baptism, and treated with so much severity that 
 he died in nine days. Liberty of worship had how- 
 ever been once more enjoyed in various provinces 
 for several years, and the reformed no longer met 
 together in secret places, hut held their religious 
 assemblies in peace in some edifices set apart for 
 ihe purpose in the midst of the towns where 
 they resided. 
 
 Louis XV. died of the small pox, after having 1774. 
 reigned fifty-nine years. 
 
 Louis XVI. succeeded his grandfather; he lock xn. 
 was a mild and tolerant prince, but he never 
 thought of giving his Protestant subjects liberty 
 till the embarrassed state of public affairs; 
 rendered it advisable to conciliate all parties. 
 The year that he ascended the throne, a minister 
 was thrown into prison three months, for per- 
 forming divine service, and in 1776 arrests were 
 issued against several, for publicly engaging in 
 worship. 
 
 Yet instances of toleration sometimes oc- 1779. 
 
 i i • i . , Improved 
 
 curred, and promised some improvement in the condition 
 circumstances of the reformed church. Some formed?" 
 pious persons were engaged in devotional exer- 
 cises on the banks of the Gironne, when their 
 bigotted Catholic neighbours assembled the 
 guards, and a few peasants, who, to the number 
 of thirty, all armed, invested the spot, with a 
 
86 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1779. view to seize the minister, but he was suffered 
 to escape. The reformed, to whom the ground 
 belonged, complained of the insult offered to 
 them by persons not having legal authority: 
 this complaint was addressed to the commandant 
 of the place, who, being an upright man, sent 
 the complaint and the process verbal to the 
 minister. A few days after the intendant or- 
 dered that no persons should be guilty of any 
 arbitrary conduct towards the reformed. This 
 letter, from so respectable an authority, gave 
 them new energy : one offered his garden, 
 situated near some fortifications, to serve as a 
 place for assembling ; this was soon after meta- 
 
 i:so. morphosed into a temple, a church was organized 
 here, and a consistory appointed. 
 
 1782. Other societies were less fortunate. In Nor- 
 
 Their im- 
 proved mandy they were treated with great rigour: 
 
 condition _ . . . 
 
 only par- the religious society ot Dieppe was served with 
 a kttre-de~cachet, and the houses for worship in 
 various communes were shut up during three 
 months. Thus the toleration which was en- 
 joyed in some provinces was always precarious, 
 being founded upon the individual opinion of 
 the superior authorities, and the reformed were 
 wholly deprived of their civil and political rights. 
 A large proportion of the natives of Fiance were 
 not recognized as citizens, though they were 
 obliged to assist in bearing the burthens of the 
 state j they were married, and yet they were not 
 
 tial 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 87 
 
 considered as standing in a conjugal relation; its?. 
 they had children, and yet were destitute of 
 heirs; they were obliged to live honestly, and 
 yet were denied the advantage of any civil pro- 
 fession ; they had a religion, but were allowed no 
 worship; and they would fain have taken refuge 
 in the bosom of some country where thev might 
 have enjoyed the privileges which the rights 
 of nature allow them, but they dared not 
 emigrate ! 
 
 " We groan," says an enlightened French Hardships 
 writer, " over the state of the Catholics in whicJithrj 
 England ; they are uncomfortable, but their race fered" " 
 is not blasted : English hatred against Popery 
 has never extended so far as to inflict upon their 
 families the desolating marks of concubinage, 
 and to bastardize their children : their heirs in- 
 herit their property ; their noble families are not 
 reduced to the impossibility of proving their 
 nobility, except by clandestine acts, inadmissible 
 at their tribunals; and if the disgusts to which 
 they are exposed in their country seem insup- 
 portable to them, they are allowed to emigrate, 
 the gates of the three kingdoms are open to 
 them/ 1 This is a just picture of the freedom 
 enjoyed by Catholics in the united kingdom ; and 
 it were to be wished that the writer could have 
 described it in fewer words, " they have all the 
 rights of citizens." But the world is now has- 
 tening to that state of perfection in knowledge 
 
8S HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1782. and legislature, that it is to be expected the 
 period will soon arrive when in every country 
 in the four quarters of the globe, but especially 
 in polished Europe, civil disabilities for opinions 
 in religion will be eternally forgotten. 
 1787. The oppressions under which the reformed 
 church still groaned were the causes of per- 
 petual litigations, and the most distinguished 
 counsellors were often called upon to plead the 
 rights of their children, against the unprincipled 
 claims of the avaricious Catholics, who, seizing on 
 the advantage afforded by the laws, continually 
 added to the bitterness of their orphan state, by 
 attempting to deprive them of their last support, 
 in which, alas, they were often but too successful. 
 Edict in The celebrated Malesherbes, M. Rulhieres, 
 the°Pro!es- and the Baron de Breteuil, nobly stood forward 
 to plead the cause of the sufferers, and the 
 writings of Rabaut Saint Etienne, pastor of the 
 church at Nimes, considerably influenced the 
 enlightened men of the nation, and the govern- 
 ment, in their favour. At length the famous 
 edict of Louis XVI. was announced, which re- 
 stored the Protestants to their civil rights, but 
 it was not sanctioned by the parliament without 
 some opposition; and one enthusiast started up 
 in the assembly when it was discussed, and, 
 presenting a crucifix, peremptorily inquired, If 
 they were going to crucijy the Son of God 
 afresh ? 
 
 tants. 
 
! 
 
 REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 89 
 
 This edict was of course received with great n8T. 
 joy hy the reformed, and their religious assem- 
 blies resounded with praise to God, and blessings 
 upon the king, and those who had promoted 
 the beneficent work; yet it lost a portion of 
 that credit which it would otherwise have ob- 
 tained, by its being coupled with another for 
 procuring a very considerable loan in aid of the 
 exhausted finances of the kingdom. It was 
 therefore considered more politic than liberal, 
 as it was a concession made with a kind of price 
 attached to it, and which perhaps iu a short 
 time would have been demanded by a people 
 who were then all turning their views towards 
 the rights of subjects. 
 
 As soon as this edict was published, the re- 
 formed hastened in crowds to the houses of the 
 royal judges, to register their marriages, and the 
 births of their children. In many districts the 
 judges were obliged to transport themselves into 
 the different communes of their jurisdiction, to 
 avoid the crowd, and to spare the great ex pence 
 which these applications would have occasioned 
 to numerous families; and many instances oc- 
 curred in which old men were seen registering 
 their own marriage, with that of their children, 
 and grandchildren. 
 
 Thus these unhappy people, who had suffered 
 for two centuries and a half under a yoke, into- 
 lerable as that of the Israelites in Egypt, the 
 
90 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1T8T. subjects of perpetual persecutions and 'punish- 
 ments, could at length enjoy their property in 
 peace, and transmit their inheritance to their 
 children. This was a great advance towards 
 liberty, and was the more appreciated as they 
 had been so long deprived of every civil advan- 
 tage; but yet they were much behind other 
 French citizens, and by no means enjoyed an 
 equality of rights ; the penal laws against them 
 were not abolished, and neither in a political nor 
 religious view were they free. After all the 
 losses to which they had been exposed from 
 wars, emigrations, and punishments, the number 
 of the reformed was still reckoned at four mil- 
 lions, which was more than one sixth of the 
 population of the whole kingdom. 
 
 n88. Though the decree of 1787 had passed in 
 tion stiii favour of the Protestants, they were still ill- 
 treated in the exercise of their civil and reli- 
 gious rights; and even in the month of March, 
 of the following year, a warrant was issued 
 against M. Mordaunt, the pastor of the churches 
 at Dieppe and Lunerai, because he had married 
 a couple at Rouen, where one of the parties 
 was a Catholic, notwithstanding that he had 
 attended to the formalities prescribed by the 
 decree of the last year. 
 
 Another circumstance will shew the restric- 
 tions to which their worship was subjected. The 
 reformed of Strasburg obtained liberty from the 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 91 
 
 king to build a place for worship in that town, nss. 
 but permission was only granted on condition 
 that the exterior of the edifice should not in 
 any way announce that it was a church ! 
 
 The perplexed state of the finances obliged n89. 
 M. Neckar, the king's minister, to assemble the national 
 
 , , , , . n -. Assembly. 
 
 states-general, that the deputies from the va- 
 rious provinces might vote the necessary supplies, 
 and the taxes be raised by the consent of the 
 nation. Immediately on their assembling they 
 discussed the question, whether it would not be 
 advisable at such a crisis to vote together as 
 one body, instead of dividing the clergy and 
 peers from the commoners. This resolution 
 was carried in the affirmative, and produced 
 the Nattonal Assembly. 
 
 This famous assembly proceeded rapidly to Decree fa- 
 
 - . . , . . , .. vou ruble 
 
 abridge the royal prerogative, and to discuss to reiigi- 
 the rights of the people; and on the 21st of° l 
 August it decreed an Article of the Declaration 
 of Rights in these words : " The law is the ex- 
 pression of the general will; all the citizens 
 have a right to concur personally or by their 
 representatives at its formation; it must be the 
 same for all, whether it protects or whether it 
 punishes; all the citizens are equal in its eyes, 
 and are equally admissible to all dignities, places, 
 and public employments, zvithout any distinction 
 but that of their virtues and talentsr 
 
 On the 23d of the same month, in dis- 
 
9% HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1789. cussing another Article, it was proposed, that 
 710 man should be disturbed for his religious 
 opinions, nor troubled in ihe exercise of his religion. 
 Rabaut Saint Etienne, who was a member of the 
 national assembly, delivered his thoughts upon 
 this subject, in which he laid open the grand 
 principles upon which religious liberty is founded, 
 which were afterwards acknowledged by the as- 
 sembly, and which have since served as a basis 
 for the laws respecting liberty of worship. 
 
 The confined limits of an historical sketch will 
 not allow of the insertion of all this admirable 
 speech, in which the rights of conscience are 
 defined with the greatest nicety, and defended 
 with invincible courage, 
 Rabaut's " This liberty," said the orator, " is the most 
 {height" sacred of all; it escapes the empire of men; it 
 takes refuge in the depths of the conscience as 
 in an inviolable sanctuary, where no mortal has 
 a right to penetrate ; it is this alone which men 
 have not submitted to the common laws of 
 society : to constrain it is injustice; to attack it 
 is sacrilege. 
 
 " Sirs, such is the difference which exists 
 between Frenchmen and Frenchmen, that the 
 Prottstants are deprived of many advantages in 
 society : that cross, the honourable reward of 
 the courage and services rendered to the country, 
 they are forbidden to receive; for it is to de- 
 prive men of honour, and Frenchmen of the 
 
 of con 
 science. 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 93 
 
 reward of honour, to buy it with hypocrisy. In 1789. 
 fine, sirs, to fill up the measure of their humiliation 
 and sufferings, proscribed in their thoughts, guilty 
 in their opinions, they are deprived of the liberty 
 of professing their worship. The penal laws, — - 
 and what else can those laws be denominated 
 which are founded on the principle, that error 
 is a crime! — the penal laws against their worship 
 have not been abolished; in many provinces 
 they are reduced to celebrate it in the deserts, 
 exposed to all the intemperance of the seasons, 
 to conceal themselves like criminals from the 
 eye of the law, or rather to render the law 
 ridiculous by its injustice, in eluding and vio- 
 lating it every day. 
 
 " But, sirs, it is not even tolerance that I 
 demand — it is liberty. Tolerance! protection! 
 pardon ! clemency ! — ideas sovereignly unjust 
 towards the dissentients, as long as it shall 
 remain a truth, that difference of religion, that 
 difference of opinion is not a crime. Tolerance ! 
 I demand that it should be proscribed in its 
 turn; for this unjust word will only represent to 
 us as citizens worthy of pity, as criminals who 
 are pardoned, those whom accidental circum- 
 stances and education have often led to think 
 differently from us. Error, sirs, is not a crime : 
 lie who professes it receives it as truth, and it is 
 truth to him ; he is obliged to profess it, and no 
 man, no society, has a right to forbid him. 
 
<H HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1789. " I demand for all the Non-Catholics what 
 you demand for yourselves; — equality of rights, 
 liberty, the liberty of their religion, the liberty 
 of their worship, the liberty of celebrating it in 
 houses consecrated for that purpose, the assur- 
 ance of not being troubled in the exercise of 
 their religion any more than you are in your's, 
 and the perfect assurance of being protected 
 like you, as much as you, and in the same 
 manner as you, by the common law. 
 
 " You are too wise, sirs, to convert religion 
 into an object of self-love, and to substitute an 
 intolerance of vanity for an intolerance of pride 
 and domination, which, during almost fifteen 
 centuries, has shed torrents of blood. You will 
 not be surprised that there are men who think 
 differently from you, who worship God in 
 another manner than you; and you will not 
 regard the diversity of thoughts as a wrong 
 which is done to you. Instructed by the long 
 and sanguinary experience of ages, — instructed 
 by the faults of your fathers, and by their 
 merited misfortunes, — you will doubtless say it is 
 time to lay aside this ferocious sword, which yet 
 disgusts us with the blood of our fellow-citizens; 
 it is time to render to them those rights which 
 have been too long unknown ; it is time to break 
 the unjust barriers which separated them from 
 us, and to make them love a country which has 
 proscribed them and chased them from its bosom. 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 
 
 " You are too wise, sirs, to imagine that it has 
 been reserved for you to accomplish what man- 
 kind have not been able to effect during six 
 thousand years, — to reduce all men to one and 
 the same worship. You do not suppose that it 
 has been reserved for the national assembly to 
 destroy a variety which has always existed, nor 
 that you possess a right which God himself 
 has not exercised. 
 
 " I suppress, sirs, a crowd of motives which 
 should render two millions* of unfortunates inte- 
 resting and dear to you; they could present 
 themselves to you yet stained with the blood of 
 their fathers, and they could shew you the 
 marks of their own fetters. My country is free, 
 and I wish, like it, to forget the evils which we 
 have shared with it, and the greater evils of 
 which we have been the sole victims. What I 
 ask is, that it shew itself worthy of liberty in 
 distributing it equally to all the citizens, without 
 distinction of rank, birth, or religion, and that 
 you give to the dissentients what you take for 
 yourselves." 
 
 95 
 
 1789, 
 
 * The statements respecting the number of the French Protes- 
 tants are so much at variance, that the inquiries of the translator 
 on this subject have been perpetually baffled. The reader must 
 have observed, that in 1787 they were computed to amount to 
 four millions ; and as the first breaking- out of the revolution could 
 not have so much reduced their numbers, one or other of these 
 statements must have been incorrect. Perhaps the better way is 
 to take the medium between the two. 
 
96 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 H89. At this sitting it was decreed, that " no one 
 
 be troubled for his opinions, even of' a religious 
 
 kind, provided that their publication do not disturb 
 
 the public order established by law." 
 
 Another By a decree of the 24th of December, the 
 
 tolerant ^. i • 1 i • *i r 
 
 decree, Protestants were admitted to the privilege ot 
 electors, and to a share in all the degrees of 
 administration, as well as to every employment, 
 civil and military, like other citizens. 
 H90. On the 15th of March Rabaut was himself 
 chosen as the successor of the Abbe Montesquieu 
 in the presidency of the national assembly, and 
 it was esteemed a singular triumph over the an- 
 cient religious prejudices, to see a minister of 
 the reformed religion presiding over such a 
 body. 
 
 An into- But the old prejudices were not extinct; for 
 
 Jon" ' 3 " on the 12th of April a member proposed the 
 following motion : that the Catholic, Apostolic, 
 and Roman religion is, and always shall continue 
 to be, the religion of the nation, and its worship 
 shall be the only public and authorized worship. 
 
 speech of Q n this occasion, the Baron Menou strongly 
 
 the Baron _ ' , & J 
 
 Menou. vindicated the rights of conscience. " It is," 
 said he, " with extreme regret that I have to- 
 day witnessed the proposal of the question 
 which is now submitted to your deliberation. 
 I begin by unequivocally declaring my pro- 
 fession of faith. I profoundly respect the 
 Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman religion, which 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 97 
 
 I believe to be the only true religion, and I 1790. 
 submit to it with all my heart and soul ; but 
 ean my conviction in favour of this religion, and 
 the form of worship by which I pay my homage 
 to the Supreme Being, be the effect or result of 
 any decree or law whatever ? No, without doubt, 
 my conscience and my opinion belong only to 
 myself, and I ought to render an account only 
 to that God whom I adore; neither laws, nor 
 governments, nor men, have any control over 
 me upon this subject: I ought not lo trouble 
 the religious opinions of any one, and no one 
 ought to trouble mine; and these principles are 
 solemnly consecrated in your declaration of 
 rights, which establishes among all men civil, 
 political, and religious equality. 
 i " Ministers of a God of peace, who wishes 
 his empire to be established only by gentle- 
 ness and persuasion, who has given you such 
 great examples of tolerance and charity, will 
 you, can you, wish to light up the torch of 
 discord? Is it your desire that the national 
 assembly should become the instrument of the 
 misfortunes and perhaps of the destruction of the 
 people? Oh ! no ; a zeal not moderated by judg- 
 ment has caused you for a moment to fall into a 
 mistake: return to yourselves, return to your 
 holy ministry, you will find means by your 
 examples and your virtues to extend the reli- 
 gion that you profess ; it is not by any iaw that 
 
 H 
 
98 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 i79o. you will fix its superiority. Has not God 
 himself said, that in spite of all the efforts of 
 men, his holy religion shall extend, shall in- 
 crease, and shall finally embrace the whole earth? 
 Has he not said, that the gates of hell shall 
 never prevail against it? And would you, by 
 a decree, attempt to confirm those sublime 
 words of the Creator of the world? If, as I 
 doubt not, you are persuaded of the truth of 
 that religion of which you are the ministers, can 
 you fear that it shall be annihilated ? Can you 
 suppose that the will and the laws of Provi- 
 dence need our decrees? Would not this, on the 
 contrary, be to strike at the respect which we 
 owe him ? Would it not indicate a desire to 
 usurp the place of God himself? And is not 
 religion independent of all the efforts of the 
 human mind ?" 
 
 In conclusion, the Baron, as a representative 
 of the people, protested against the proposed 
 measure, and warned those who should support 
 it, that they would be responsible for all the 
 evils which he foresaw it must produce, and 
 all the blood which would in consequence be 
 shed. 
 
 The proposal was lost. 
 
 r>rcree in By a decree of the 10th of July, the confls- 
 
 the Pro- cated property of the reformed which remained 
 
 in the hands of the government was restored, 
 
 the heirs and claimants having been invited to 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 99 
 
 make good their claims* and the fugitives, or mo. 
 their heirs, solicited to return. 
 
 These were great advances towards the rights 
 of conscience, but nothing was yet effectually 
 done to guarantee full liberty of worship; the 
 moment was not arrived when it could be exer- 
 cised in complete security. 
 
 During the reign of the sanguinary Robespierre, 1793-4. 
 with great propriety denominated the reign o/' Repcblig - 
 terror, every form of religion was equally sup- terror. 
 pressed, and the Catholics now knew, in common 
 with the Protestants, what it was to be deprived 
 of freedom of worship. Infidel philosophy had a 
 fair opportunity of shewing its character to the 
 world. In the profundity of its wisdom it 
 blended all religions together, and melted them 
 down into the mass of superstition ; the simple 
 and rational worship of God was confounded 
 with irrational homage to the Virgin and to 
 canonized saints. In the extent of its liberality 
 it granted all kinds of liberty, except that which 
 is of the first importance, liberty of con- 
 science; and while it claimed the right at one 
 time to assert that there was no God, and at 
 another to decree that there was a Supreme 
 Being, it denied to all besides the right of paying 
 their homage to that Being in the way which 
 .their consciences deemed best. The rulers of 
 France at this period were the first avowed 
 iniidels who ever held the reins of government 
 
100 HISTORICAL VIEW OF TtfE 
 
 1T93-4. in a civilized state; and they gave the world 
 full proof, that with all their boasted freedom 
 of thought in the Christian countries over which 
 they had influence, were they to obtain universal 
 empire, such freedom would be for ever anni- 
 hilated. Under their authority the altars were 
 ah wor- insulted, the churches- thrown down, and public 
 Lhed. ■ worship was abolished. Exclusive rights were 
 granted to the disciples of reason. Lucien 
 speech of Buonaparte, in a public discourse, delivered 
 Buona- shortly afterwards, forcibly described the deso- 
 lations which they had committed. " For the 
 first time in the history of the world y " said he, 
 " we saw the law encouraging the citizens to 
 declare themselves infamous, the public au- 
 thorities receiving with delight the declaration 
 of the priests who abjured their sacerdotal cha- 
 racter; the monuments of religion, like those of 
 the arts, converted into ruins ; silence and deso- 
 lation reigning in the temples; the bloody hands 
 of the atheist despoiling that sanctuary which 
 the homage of so many successive generations 
 ought to have rendered sacred ; the sepulchral 
 stones of our families dishonoured, and infamous 
 courtesans, led in triumph, seating themselves 
 upon the marble of the altars" 
 1795. I 11 the third year of the Republic, a change of 
 Liberty of the constitution established liberty of worship; 
 restoVed. hut the poverty of the reformed churches pre- 
 vented many of them from erecting buildings 
 
SHIP OF 
 ONA- 
 
 PARTE, 
 
 REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 101 
 
 for the purpose, and their devotions were ex- 1795. 
 ercised in the open air. 
 
 In the tenth year of the Republic, the coun- 1802. 
 sellor of state, Portalis, afterwards minister of Coasul- 
 worship, drew up a report upon the subject, Be 
 which did more than any production that had 
 ever before appeared, to place it in the clearest 
 light, and to serve the cause of religious liberty. 
 
 " At this interesting epoch," says M. Rabaut, concor 
 the younger, " peace was restored to the Roman 
 Catholic church, by the famous concordat con- 
 cluded between the French government and 
 the Sovereign Roman Pontiff. The reformed 
 churches, on their part, obtained some important 
 advantages which they had never yet com- 
 pletely enjoyed, 
 
 " Organized in virtue of a law, their pastors are 
 become public functionaries paid by govern- 
 ment, and confirmed in their office bv his im- 
 perial majesty. 
 
 " The consistories have been recognized as 
 administrators of the goods and revenues of the 
 church and the poor, as well as of the pious 
 donations, foundations, and legacies. 
 
 " The synods have been authorized and regu- 
 lated in a manner more advantageous for the 
 churches. 
 
 " Ecclesiastical discipline has been maintained, 
 and no change can be made without the autho- 
 rity of the government. Academies and semi- 
 
102 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1802. naries have been granted for the instruction of 
 the young men who are designed for the gospel 
 ministry. 
 
 " All church disputes of a religious nature arc 
 carried to the council of state. 
 
 " The imperial decrees which intervened 
 before the execution of the law have brought it 
 to perfection, and have signally manifested the 
 constant will of his majesty to maintain the most 
 perfect equality in all Christian worship. 
 
 " The costume of the pastors has been regu- 
 lated, and those that are of the church of Paris 
 have obtained the decoration of honour. 
 
 " The place of the presidents of the con- 
 sistories has been, appointed in the public 
 ceremonies. 
 
 " The treatment of the pastors has been regu- 
 lated. 
 
 " The communes must also contribute to the 
 building, repairing, and support of the temples 
 and the worship. 
 
 " To prevent the interruption of divine ser- 
 vice, pastors about to remove must give six 
 months' notice. 
 
 " No one can become a pastor till he is twenty- 
 five years of age. 
 
 " The smaller churches are united to the con- 
 sistorial, the number of members of which is 
 too small to support a pastor. 
 
 " Many public edifices have been granted for 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 103 
 
 religious purposes; some of these were deserted iso2. 
 Catholic churches, and others public warehouses, 
 barracks, and buildings, before used for secular 
 purposes. Lands at the disposal of the govern- 
 ment have been given either for the purpose 
 of restoring them their dilapidated buildings, or 
 of erecting new ones." 
 
 The Catholics were much displeased at the Dissatis- 
 terms of the concordat, and at the advantages the catho- 
 
 lies. 
 
 «5 
 
 gained by the Protestants. It was soon per- 
 ceived that Buonaparte had covertly done more 
 for the Reformed than the Catholic church. 
 No Catholic seminaries were provided to keep 
 up a due supply of ministers, while the Protest- 
 ants were allowed to draw their resources from 
 the Swiss universities, formed after the model 
 of Geneva; and the Lutherans, who adhered to 
 the confession of Augsburgh, had an educational 
 establishment appointed for them at Keyserslau- 
 tern on the Rhine. The Catholics were re- 
 stricted from writing against the Protestants, 
 but no restriction was put upon the Protestants 
 to prevent them from writing against the Catho- 
 lics. This article was peculiarly obnoxious to 
 the prohibited party; and it must be confessed 
 that it was justly so, though they would have 
 been well pleased with it, had the balance pre- 
 ponderated in their favour. A deputation in 
 consequence waited upon Buonaparte, to obtain 
 some alteration of the obnoxious clause; but 
 
104 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1802. the First Consul craftily replied, " I hear that 
 the Protestants are dissatisfied with some of 
 their articles, and wish an alteration. If I 
 grant your request, I must their's, and there will 
 be no end of alterations. You had better be con- 
 tent with it as it is." 
 
 After the death of Portalis, the minister of 
 worship, Buonaparte appointed Prevenu, a Pro- 
 testant, to execute that office; and to give addi- 
 tional influence to the Protestants, General 
 Savary, a senator of that persuasion, was made 
 minister of police ; a master-piece of policy, by 
 which an effectual check was given to the 
 intrigues of the emigrants and refractory priests. 
 M. Marron, the president of the three consisto- 
 rial churches of Paris, was also decorated with 
 the cordon bleu and gold cross, as a commandant 
 of the legion of honour, by which he became 
 entitled to a pension of 100/. per annum, in 
 addition to 300/. the yearly salary allowed to 
 every Protestant president. 
 
 This is an outline of the improved condition 
 of the Protestants under the authority of Buona- 
 parte, and may account for that attachment 
 which they always so strongly evinced towards 
 him till the restoration of the Bourbons. The 
 words of the Protestant writer before quoted 
 will prove the state of their feelings in conser 
 quence of these privileges, and shew how much 
 a sovereign may secure his own interests by 
 
reformed chuuch of France. 105 
 
 attending to the religious liberties of his people; 1802. 
 for it was not till France groaned under the 
 exhaustion of its youthful population, by the 
 constant opening of that terrible drain the con- 
 scription, that they manifested the slightest 
 indifference to his authority. 
 
 " These splendid acts of justice," says Rabaut, 
 " this signal protection granted to the reformed 
 and Protestant churches by the great Napoleon, 
 have penetrated with gratitude, love, and respect 
 for his sacred person, that interesting portion of 
 his subjects, who, after two centuries and a half 
 of unparalleled persecutions, are indebted to him 
 for the peaceable enjoyment of the most precious 
 blessings ; they had the sweet satisfaction of ex- 
 pressing to him the sentiments with which they 
 were penetrated, when at the epoch of his coro- 1804. 
 
 , . , r , . . ill Imperial 
 
 nation, the presidents of the consistories, who had govern- 
 been specially comprized in the appeal made to* 
 the public functionaries to assist at the coronation, 
 having been admitted to the foot of his throne, 
 addressed to him the following discourse by the 
 organ of the most aged among them, M. Martin, 
 president of the consistory of Geneva. 
 
 " ' Sire — your majesty will now gratify the wish speech of 
 which the reformed churches of France have ofVnev^ 
 long cherished, of laying their homage and the pe ror. 
 expression of their sentiments at the foot of the 
 throne. It is with the most lively satisfaction 
 fcjiat we come to express to your majesty, for 
 
106 
 
 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1804. ourselves and our churches, our respectful grati- 
 tude for the protection which has been granted 
 to us to the present moment, and our full con- 
 fidence for futurity in the oath which your 
 majesty has taken with so much solemnity, of 
 which you have willed that we should be the 
 3 r witnesses, and by which, in engaging to maintain 
 liberty of worship, you tranquillize our con- 
 sciences and confirm the peace of the church. 
 We wish that Frenchmen of all communions, 
 whom we regard as brethren, may appreciate the 
 value of this blessing as highly as ourselves : we 
 deserve it from our fidelity, our gratitude, and 
 our submission to the laws, of which we have 
 constantly set an example. May our fervent 
 prayers draw down upon your Majesty, upon the 
 Empress, and upon the Princes of the imperial 
 family, all the benedictions of the Monarch of 
 the world ! May your majesty, after having 
 done so much for your glory, add to it the title 
 of pacificator of all Europe, and have no other 
 employment than to display those virtues, which, 
 while they insure the happiness of the people, 
 are the true glory of sovereigns, and the best 
 support of their authority.' 
 Napoleon's " ^ s ma j es ty deigned to answer in the follow- 
 rci)1 y* ing manner : — * With pleasure I see the pastors 
 of the reformed church of France assembled 
 here. I seize with ardour this occasion to tes- 
 tify to them how much I have been always 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. lOf 
 
 satisfied with every thing that has been re- 1B04-5. 
 ported to me respecting the fidelity and the 
 good conduct of the pastors and the citizens of 
 the different Protestant communions. I wish it ■ 
 to be understood that my intention and my 
 firm determination are to maintain liberty of 
 worship: the empire of the law ends where 
 the empire of the conscience begins; neither 
 the law nor the prince must infringe upon 
 this empire. Such are my principles and those 
 of the nation ; and if any one of my race, prior 
 to his succeeding me, forgets the oath which I 
 have taken, and, deceived by the inspiration of 
 a false conscience, attempts to violate it, I 
 devote him to public animadversion, and I 
 authorize you to give him the name of Nero.' 
 
 "It is very easy to conceive what a deep im- 
 pression such a discourse, proceeding from the 
 throne, must make upon auditors little accus- 
 tomed to hear the like from the mouths of 
 kings; upon auditors, nearly all of whom had lived 
 under the intolerant and persecuting despotism 
 of a dominant religion: these consoling words 
 were collected with avidity, and have been 
 gratefully transmitted to all the churches in the 
 empire." 
 
 In fact, Buonaparte seized every occasion to 
 evince his friendship for the Protestants. He 
 published decree after decree in their favour, 
 and he had not long* been raised to the imperial 
 
108 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1805-9, dignity before he restored to them the college 
 of Montauban, which had been suppressed from 
 the time of the revocation of the edict of Nantes. 
 By the extent of his conquests, his Protestant 
 subjects were very considerable. It consequently 
 entered into his policy not to treat these new 
 subjects with indifference, as it was of great 
 importance that he should secure their affections, 
 and give them a preponderating influence against 
 some of his old ones of the opposite tenets. 
 The vast increase of the French empire, through- 
 out the whole of which liberty of worship was 
 allowed, and the rights of conscience respected, 
 opened a field of labour for the Protestants, 
 which, could they have embraced the favour- 
 able moment to cultivate, might have been 
 productive of some of the happiest consequences. 
 That unwieldy empire, composed, like the image 
 of Nebuchadnezzar, of heterogeneous materials, 
 has fallen to pieces at the first shock. It w r as in- 
 deed a tremendous scourge to Europe ; but amidst 
 the traces of desolation which it has left behind, 
 the scene is enlivened by many monuments 
 sacred to civil and religious liberty, the bases 
 of which are so deeply fixed in the earth, that 
 they may boldly bid defiance to all the ravages 
 of time. 
 , 814 . Louis XVIII. having been placed on the 
 LotIsxvm 'throne by the allies, upon the abdication of 
 Buonaparte, was received . with much respect 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 109 
 
 and even joy by the Protestant ministers, who isi*. 
 hoped that the tide of public opinion was now 
 turned in their favour, and that the change 
 of affairs would release them from that horrible 
 expenditure of blood to which they had so long 
 been exposed, on account of the conflict with 
 the other powers of Europe ; yet some sturdily 
 refused to take the oaths to the new sovereign, 
 till they were fully satisfied that they were law- 
 fully released from those which they had taken 
 to their late emperor; while others made their 
 pulpits resound with the praises of Louis, and 
 the crimes of Buonaparte — mere Vicars of Bray. 
 But there is some excuse to be made for this 
 conduct, as a circular letter was sent to the 
 pastors by order of government, desiring them 
 on a certain day to celebrate the return of peace, 
 to pay a tribute of respect in their discourses 
 to the memory of Louis, and not to forget to 
 panegyrize the reigning family. Inattention to 
 these orders would perhaps have been construed 
 into disloyalty. 
 
 The first acts of Louis were of a very favour- At first fe- 
 eble kind, and he endeavoured to conciliate the Protest- 
 esteem of the Protestant ministers by presenting 
 to one of them an order of St. Louis, and by 
 profusely distributing that of the lily, an order 
 of fidelity, among a number of others, both 
 ministers and students. 
 
 But in a little time, when every thing seemed 
 
 ants, 
 
i 10 ' HISTORICAL VIEW Of TH£ 
 
 ism. tranquil, Louis suffered himself to be surrounded 
 with interested priests, who were imploring him 
 to restore the churches which they had lost, 
 and the church* lands, which had become the 
 property of the public and of the state. 
 
 These subjects were constantly under discus- 
 After- sion, while the Protestants were neglected ; and 
 
 "wards neg- . m ... 
 
 Je»tsthem. while the Catholics received their usual stipends, 
 it is said the salaries of the Protestant pastors 
 were, in some instances, never paid. The 
 respect which they had long- shared with the 
 Catholics in society began now to be claimed 
 exclusively by the latter, who no longer treated 
 them as brethren and fellow-countrymen of 
 equal rights, but in many places discovered 
 that domineering spirit which could not fail 
 to excite their fears, and to fill their minds 
 with disgust. Louis was busily engaged with 
 the Pope in adjusting some disputes about 
 the rights of the Gallic church, and his am- 
 bassador to the Court of Rome was on his way 
 with some fresh propositions, when he was 
 stopped in his progress by the re-appearance of 
 Buonaparte, who had broken from his retreat in 
 the Isle of Elba, and once more ascended the 
 throne. 
 1815. The return of Buonaparte was welcomed 
 'siu>by the Protestant ministers, who had endured, 
 
 I^APO- 
 
 i,Eosr' 
 
 storation. c j ur j n o. t ] ie s h 01 t reio-n of Louis, some degree of 
 
 '&' 
 
 anxiety on account of the loud clamours of the 
 

 REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 11 i 
 
 Catholic clergy for the restoration of the church isi*. 
 
 property, the known partiality of the Bourbons 
 
 to the Papal religion, and the very bigoted 
 
 sentiments of some members of the family to 
 
 whom belonged the right of succession ; the 
 
 consequences of which they apprehended they 
 
 had some reason to dread. Once more they 
 
 felt themselves placed on a level with all other 
 
 Frenchmen; not that Louis had abridged their 
 
 rights, but the Catholic clergy had begun to 
 
 assume their ancient superiority, and in many 
 
 places had taught them to be no longer their 
 
 familiars, but to keep at a respectful distance. 
 
 A new constitution was now prepared on the 
 
 plan of a limited monarchy, certainly the wisest 
 
 mode of government in the world ; but it had 
 
 scarcely begun to operate, when Buonaparte, after 
 
 his defeat at the famous battle of Waterloo, was 
 
 again forced to abdicate by his own senate, and 
 
 the restoration of Louis XVIII. was once more Restora- 
 tion of 
 effected bv the allies. The last government Louis 
 
 XVIII 
 
 over which Buonaparte presided shewed itself 
 highly favourable to the Protestants, by estab- 
 lishing schools at Paris on the British system, 
 to receive the children* of all denominations, and 
 placing the Rev. Francis Martin, of Bourdeaux, 
 a Protestant Minister, at their head, with a very 
 handsome salary for his services. 
 
 The fate of Buonaparte excited in the Pro- Fears of 
 
 . . the Pro- 
 
 testants the most fearful apprehensions for their testants. 
 
llg HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 i«i*. safety, especially in the south of France, as 
 the Catholics had not scrupled to threaten some 
 time before, to satiate their revenge upon the 
 Protestants in that neighbourhood, if Louis 
 should return to the throne; on pretence of their 
 being Buonapartists. 
 
 At length the fatal moment of revenge ar- 
 atNfmes. rived$ ^nd in the month of July about four hun- 
 dred Protestants were inhumanly murdered, at 
 Nimes. Some who might have checked 
 these barbarities remained too long incredulous, 
 and mistook the groans of the victims for the 
 clamours of rebellion; but they should have 
 recollected that superstitious rage, when long 
 confined, like the fires shut up in the volcano, 
 becomes the more furious in its eruption, 
 and the more destructive in its effects. The 
 cruelties of the Catholics were continued from 
 day to day. Numbers of the houses in which 
 the Protestants resided were pillaged and burnt, 
 and many of their country seats were also de- 
 stroyed. One Gerisseur, the steward of the 
 estate of Guiraudin, was stretched over a fire, 
 till he expired, when he was taken down and 
 his body was exhibited to passengers. The 
 murderers went about seizing their victims in 
 their habitations, and then cut their throats 
 before their own doors. Many w r ere also mas- 
 sacred in the fields. Those who quietly surren- 
 dered prisoners were equally murdered. A wretch 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 113 
 
 named Toilajon, a sweeper of the streets, with isis. 
 his own hands killed fourteen Protestants ! Even 
 the asylums of the dead were violated, and the 
 grave of a young Protestant girl was broken 
 open for the purpose of throwing her body into 
 a common receptacle of filth. Infuriated with 
 superstitious frenzy, the mad barbarians ran about 
 the town, and expressed their hopes that they 
 should see a second Bartholomew - day . Many 
 of the women disgraced their sex by joining in 
 these atrocities. 
 
 Above ten thousand Protestants quitted their 
 habitations, and took shelter in the mountains 
 of the Cevenncs; but the prefect published a 
 proclamation, recalling the principal persons who 
 had left the town ; they obeyed this order, and 
 great numbers were assassinated. 
 
 In consequence of this last act multitudes 
 again fled, but many of them were slaughtered 
 on the roads, while others were thrown into pri- 
 sons, where they were left to groan under their 
 oppressions. 
 
 Some peaceable citizens, men between forty 
 and sixty years of age, who had formed them- 
 selves into a volunteer corps, under the name of 
 the Urban Guard, were also forced to flee. Ano- 
 ther prefect w T as then placed in office, who sent • 
 an order for them to return, threatening them, in 
 case of disobedience, with the penalty of having 
 the laws respecting emigration put in force 
 
 i 
 
114 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1815. against them ; but those who attended to the 
 summons experienced either death or captivity. 
 
 At this time the system of proscription was 
 adopted, and the attornies and advocates resolved 
 not to retain any in their service, nor to receive 
 any into their bodies, but Roman Catholics, 
 
 These horrible transactions were not confined 
 to Nimes ; they extended to many of^he prin- 
 cipal towns in the vicinity of that place, and filled 
 all the Protestants with the greatest dread. 
 
 The mountaineers of the Cevennes, being 
 chiefly Protestants, had long before answered 
 the threats of the Catholics, by declaring, that 
 if they attempted to touch an hair of the head 
 of any Protestant brother, they would come and 
 knock their houses about their ears. They had 
 now verified their assertions, and a terrible reac- 
 tion would have taken place, but for the entrance 
 of the Austrian troops into the town, who put an 
 end to the unnatural contest. Louis at the same 
 time published a proclamation, expressing his 
 displeasure at the violence which had been com- 
 mitted. But it will undoubtedly be said, why 
 was not this proclamation issued sooner, for a 
 whole month had been suffered to pass away 
 while these disgusting tragedies were acting? 
 Those prefects, too, why were they allowed to 
 escape, and the murderers who took the lead in 
 these barbarities not brought to condign punish- 
 ment ? Why was the whole matter glossed over 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 115 
 
 as a political affair, in which the guilty were isi5. 
 partly exculpated by the pretended character of 
 the unhappy sufferers ? 
 
 Attempts have been made to throw a veil over 
 these proceedings, that they may not disgrace 
 the accession of Louis XVIII. ; but the truth 
 cannot be concealed, and testimonials furnished 
 from France by respectable witnesses, too pain- 
 fully corroborate the facts which have been 
 stated. 
 
 The assertion which has been made by way of 
 excuse, that these transactions were of a politi- 
 cal nature, and that the conflict was not between 
 Catholics and Protestants, but between Royalists 
 and Buonapartists, is evidently false; since the 
 murderers assumed a colour which belonged to 
 neither. By this colour they distinguished them- 
 selves as the partizans of the Due d'Angouleme, 
 whom, it is said, they had the audacity to pro- 
 claim as Charles X. ; and with this as their ensign, 
 they murdered alike all Protestants, whether 
 buonapartists or Royalists. It is also singular, 
 that the Protestants only should have been 
 marked out as the victims on this occasion, when 
 it is well known, that a very large number of 
 Catholics were also the decided friends of Buo- 
 naparte, yet they are not reported to have been 
 among the sufferers. This clearly proves, that 
 if the contest was at all political, there was at 
 the same time no small portion of religious frenzy 
 
116 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1815. mixed with it; and that the Catholics, after 
 having heen so long restrained from acts of per- 
 secution, embraced the first favourable moment 
 to imbrue their hands once more in the blood of 
 their Protestant fellow-countrymen. 
 
 Further facts have also more than justified the 
 suspicion that some of the higher authorities 
 have been concerned in this business, though in- 
 terested partizans have employed every effort to 
 screen the greatest culprits. A pamphlet was 
 drawn up at Paris by a Protestant minister, which 
 was presented to the King as soon as published, 
 but though it contained nothing but a statement 
 of simple facts, it was immediately suppressed 
 by order of the Police. A petition presented 
 to the King was received sub silent io. A coun- 
 ter-statement was published in answer to the 
 suppressed pamphlet, and allowed to have free 
 circulation. Letters, denying the facts, were 
 extorted from M. Maron, the President of the 
 Consistory at Paris, and other ministers, with a 
 view to their circulation in England ; and M. 
 Maron having visited England at the time, w T as, 
 on his return to France, called before the Police, 
 and closely examined as to the motives of his 
 journey, which were supposed to be connected 
 with the interests of the Protestants. The fears 
 of the Protestants now extended even to the 
 metropolis, and the writer has seen private let- 
 ters from the most credible witnesses, which 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 117 
 
 ventured to communicate part of the sorrowful isi5. 
 tidings ; the blank left by their broken hints, the 
 unbiassed mind cannot avoid filling up with 
 deeds of horror, as too likely to attend and follow 
 these tyrannical proceedings. When the slavery 
 of the French press is taken into the question, 
 together with the state of dread which univer- 
 sally pervades the minds of the Protestants in 
 every part of the kingdom, and the severe mea- 
 sures of police which are employed against the 
 Protestant ministers, it is but reasonable to con- 
 jecture, that much yet remains to be developed, 
 and that time will bring some of the darkest 
 deeds to light which have been committed in 
 France, in the nineteenth century, and under the 
 reign of Louis the Desired. 
 
 In the mean time, the body of the Dissenters 
 in England interested themselves in the matter 
 with a most noble spirit of commiseration, dis- 
 daining to enjoy their own advantages in silence, 
 while their Protestant Brethren in France were 
 groaning under such oppressions. One result of 
 these exertions was the movement of other great 
 bodies in the same cause, among which the Cor- 
 poration of the enlightened City of London 
 stood foremost. Contributions were solicited 
 from the Dissenting congregations both in Eng- 
 land and Scotland, and large sums were collected 
 for the relief of those who had suffered the loss 
 of all things for conscience' sake. The Minis- 
 
118 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1815. ters of the British Government were also in- 
 treated to use their good offices in behalf of 
 the persecuted, and very readily consented to 
 be their advocates at the Court of France. 
 
 These measures are supposed to have had some 
 effect in restoring the Protestants in the South 
 to the enjoyment of their privileges in public 
 worship. The temples were re-opened ; and it 
 was agreed that the Protestant places of worship 
 at Nimes, which had been purchased from the 
 Government by the Protestants after the Revo- 
 lution, should be restored to their original use, 
 and two places be built in their stead, at the 
 two extremities of the city. 
 
 It was indeed a trying season to the Protest- 
 ants in France ; many families were massacred, 
 many others driven into exile, many pillaged of 
 all their wealth, and horror still sits brooding 
 over the desolate city of Nimes. To save the 
 last wrecks of their property, some embraced 
 the cruel faith which produced these evils ; and 
 upwards of a hundred persons have been men- 
 tioned as publicly returning to the bosom of the 
 most Holy Church. It is evident that these 
 people cannot have been attracted by any pecu- 
 liar charms which they have lately seen in the 
 Catholic religion. This is nothing less than a 
 revival of the old system of making converts 
 at the point of the sword. 
 
 To shew the disposition manifested by some 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 119 
 
 of the higher authorities towards the unhappy isi5. 
 French Protestants, other facts may also be ad- 
 duced. Of nine hundred and forty thousand 
 francs, the contingent of the Gard towards an 
 impost of one hundred millions, six hundred 
 thousand were levied on the Protestants, two 
 hundred thousand on the Jews, and one hundred 
 and forty thousand only on the Catholics, though 
 the last formed nearly two-thirds of the popula 
 tion of the whole department. 
 
 But the fact which speaks loudest of all, and 
 to which a slight reference has before been made, 
 is, that the criminals concerned in these atrocities 
 have never been brought to justice; whether 
 they ever will be is another question, which futu- 
 rity must answer ; but such tardiness too plainly 
 proves that the French Protestants are not un- 
 der that protection which a liberal government 
 ought to grant alike to all its subjects in the 
 exercise of their religion, and which by the new 
 constitution of France the government is bound 
 to afford. Trestaillon,* whose hands were deeply 
 stained with blood, was at first rewarded with 
 promotion; and though afterwards thrown into 
 prison, when his crimes became too notorious to 
 be sanctioned, he has never obtained, as a mur- 
 derer, the due reward of his crimes. An assassin, 
 who fired upon General La Garde, the Com- 
 mandant of Nimes, when protecting the Pro- 
 
 * The real name of this murderer is said to be Lafont. 
 
120 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 1815. testants in an attempt to re-open their temples, 
 yet remains unnoticed, though surely not un- 
 known in a country where the Police is almost 
 omniscient. * 
 
 It is with much regret that the writer is under 
 the necessity of concluding this history with 
 these gloomy facts. Happy will he be to find 
 that they are not the forerunners of future per- 
 secution, and that the spirit of the Catholic 
 church is in progression with the enlightened 
 state of the times. This is what he has often 
 argued to be the case, and would yet fain per- 
 suade himself to believe, but on beholding such 
 transactions, his faith staggers, 
 schools on While these scenes were exhibiting; in the 
 
 the British *=> 
 
 System in south of France, more pleasing prospects ap- 
 peared in the capital. Amidst the din of 
 arms and hosts of war-like troops, the British 
 system of education was making considerable 
 progress, and its agents were training up the 
 youth of Paris in principles of industry and 
 peace. The embarrassed state of the public 
 finances would not allow the king to render any 
 pecuniary aid in support of the schools which had 
 received the countenance of the last govern- 
 ment, but he signified his approbation of the 
 
 * The opinions above stated are since advanced in the spirited 
 speech of Sir Samuel Romilly, in the House of Commons, Feb. 
 27, 1816, as reported in the Morning Chronicle of the following 
 day. This speech is a full reply to the bold denial of the perse- 
 cution by Lord Castlereagh. 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 121 
 
 object. Several members of the royal family isis. 
 also expressed their benevolent wishes for its 
 success; and in the city of Paris five schools 
 have risen up, at the head of which are five 
 French Protestants, four of whom have been 
 trained up in England in the knowledge of the 
 British system. These improvements, so auspi- 
 ciously commenced in the capital, are expected 
 to be speedily adopted in other parts of France ; 
 and the hope may be indulged, either that edu- 
 cation will finally break the chains of supersti- 
 tion, or, that if different denominations shall 
 continue to exist, the shackles of bigotry will at 
 length fall off, and Frenchmen live together as 
 Brethren ! 
 
 The number of Protestant ministers in France state of 
 is estimated at two hundred and fifty ; among among'uie 
 whom are to be found devoted men, who mourn 3^"' 
 over the decay of piety in their church ; and who 
 are trying to adopt measures which they trust will, 
 under the divine blessing, produce a revival of 
 vital religion. One circumstance is particu- 
 larly unfavourable to any combined efforts for 
 this purpose; the Protestants cannot yet hold 
 any grand synod without the permission of 
 government, and the disturbed state of affairs has 
 for many years prevented them from requesting 
 that privilege: the only intercourse which they 
 can therefore enjoy, as a body, is at the ordination 
 
i2S HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 of any of the young ministers, when as many 
 assemble together as circumstances will allow. 
 Favour- Professor Encontre has had it in contempla- 
 prospects. tion for some time to publish a periodical work 
 that shall be an echo of those published in Eng- 
 land, in which are reported all the works of be- 
 nevolence and piety that are transacting in the 
 united kingdom and throughout the world. From 
 such a work we may anticipate the most bene- 
 cial effects, and the renewal of the friendly inter- 
 course between France and England will, it is 
 hoped, be the means of establishing a good un- 
 derstanding between Protestant Christians on 
 each side of the water.* It is a pleasing circum- 
 stance, that the most friendly disposition exists 
 among the French Protestants towards their 
 brethren in England of every denomination; it 
 is not therefore too much to hope for many 
 mutual advantages as the result of a better 
 acquaintance with each other. 
 Protestant Montauban is now the only university which 
 
 T Xnivcr- 
 
 sity. supplies the reformed church of France.f Since 
 the first abdication of Buonaparte all connection 
 with the university of Geneva has been broken 
 off, the separation of which from France is not to 
 be deplored, as it is no longer the nursery of the 
 
 * This work is suspended for the present, owing to the recent 
 persecutions. 
 
 f Montauban, though called an university, is properly a college 
 belonging to a Catholic university, but set apart by the govern- 
 ment solely for the instruction of Protestants. 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 123 
 
 great Reformers; it holds in low estimation the 
 deity of the Saviour, and " Ichabod" is written 
 upon its walls. 
 
 The university of Montauban has six profes- 
 sors : M. Frossard, president of the consistory, 
 and dean of the faculty, teaches Christian morals, 
 and the eloquence of the pulpit; Professor En- 
 contre, dean of the faculty of sciences, only lec- 
 tures on theology ; and it is a happy circumstance 
 that it devolves upon a man imbued with the spi- 
 rit of Calvin, to explain the doctrines of Revela- 
 tion ; Professor Borrard instructs the students in 
 the SHcred languages ; on Professor Pradel de- 
 volves the task of biblical criticism and ecclesias- 
 tical history ; to Professor M. Benedict Prevost 
 belongs the department of rational philosophy; 
 and M. Marche assists the classes in the Greek. 
 
 The course of studies at Montauban does not, 
 however, prepare many distinguished theologians; 
 and the same defect which appears in our British 
 universities, prevails there to a considerable degree. 
 
 The constitution of the reformed church is constuu- 
 Presbyterian. It is divided into consistories, Reformed* 
 containing a certain number of ministers. Of Cliurch - 
 these consistories there are eighty-nine. The 
 consistorial church is always in some place, the 
 population of which contains a large proportion 
 of the reformed worshippers; a number of smaller 
 towns are attached to it, which form what is 
 called the arrondissemcnt, and which are served 
 
 n 
 
 IL 
 
224 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 by the ministers of the consistory, in the same 
 manner as some of our smaller villages in Eng- 
 land are, by the curates of large parishes in the 
 vicinity, just as circumstances ma}' allow. In 
 some of the principal places there are several 
 congregations of three or four thousand persons 
 each. The total number of churches at the pre- 
 sent time is two hundred and thirty. 
 
 The Protestants are now mostly to be found 
 »dd\>ccu. hi the south of France ; but before the treaty of 
 fheRe! Paris there were large numbers of Lutherans, of 
 formed, the Confession of Augsburgh, who inhabited the 
 northern boundaries of the empire. The num- 
 ber of the reformed at that period have been 
 reckoned by some at seven millions, but by 
 others reduced to five; they do not now amount 
 to one million and a half. So great a deduction 
 from the first estimate, leads us to doubt the 
 accuracy of that statement, though they have 
 been common sufferers in the war, and much 
 diminished by intestine conflicts. They have long 
 held their property, as well as their lives, by a pre- 
 carious tenure, and as they have been excluded 
 from the dignified professions and the honours 
 of the state, the greater part now are merchants, 
 bankers, agriculturists, manufacturers, and arti- 
 zans, and have by their industry accumulated 
 Manner in considerable wealth. 
 
 which the 
 
 churches All religions are equally supported by the 
 ported, government of France ; so that the Protestants, 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 125 
 
 as well as the Catholics, are paid by the state, 
 and a certain number of persons, forming a con- 
 venient arrondissement, can claim a church and 
 the usual support; but it is customary for the 
 churches to augment the salaries of the minis- 
 ters by voluntary contributions. 
 
 In conducting the worship of the reformed Mode of 
 
 ■t , n . . Worship. 
 
 church, the following order is observed. The 
 service commences with the reading of the scrip- 
 tures by a person employed for the purpose, not 
 necessarily in orders. The commandments are 
 then distinctly pronounced; after which the pas- 
 tor reads a short prayer from the liturgy which is 
 commonly used. The congregation having sung 
 a psalm, he utters a brief extempore prayer, and 
 proceeds with the sermon. This is closed by 
 another prayer from the liturgy, and a hymn of 
 praise, when he dismisses the assembly with the 
 benediction. 
 
 When we view the vast population of France, Conchid- 
 and look at the state of religion in that country, flections. 
 we cannot but be deeply affected at its condition. 
 Twenty-five millions of souls are there sitting, 
 for the most part, in the darkness of infidelity 
 and superstition ; and where the light of the 
 Reformation has not been totally extinguished, it 
 has long been only as the glimmering of a dying 
 flame, emitting at best but a dim ray athwart 
 the universal gloom. Would to God that " pure 
 
126' HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 and undefiled religion" might prevail throughout 
 that extensive country! Were the energies of 
 the French once directed to the propagation 
 of the gospel, it is probable they would never 
 stop in their career till they had been the 
 means of evangelizing the whole world. 
 
 Yet there is cause for devout admiration and 
 thankfulness, when we behold how the provi- 
 dence of God has overruled all the late commo- 
 tions in France for the promotion of his own cause. 
 He has made the wrath of man to praise him by 
 preserving the liberties of the reformed church, 
 amidst the general desolation with which it has 
 been surrounded, and at a moment when infidelity 
 threatened to crush it for ever, and to extir- 
 pate whatever of real religion superstition and 
 bigotry had suffered to remain. A precious seed 
 yet vegetates there; and though it be but small, 
 let us cherish the hope that it may shortly in- 
 crease a thousand fold. 
 
 When we reflect upon the sufferings of the 
 reformed church of France, they call to our re- 
 collection those sufferings which were formerly 
 endured in this country from the same cause> 
 and should place us upon our guard against the 
 ascendancy of Popery. Not that the writer 
 would advocate the withholding from the 
 Catholics those rights which they have always 
 withheld from others ; — this looks too much like 
 a system of retaliation, so contrary to the spirit 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 127 
 
 prescribed in that command, " render not evil for 
 evil, but contrariwise blessing." It furnishes the 
 Papists with an apology for their past crimes, 
 who would point to us, in this case, as treading 
 in their steps ; it justifies the same arbitrary prac- 
 tices in other states which are Catholic, who will 
 not fail to exclaim, that the same proscriptions 
 exist respecting the Catholics in Protestant 
 states : in short, it is, in its most favourable 
 construction, only doing evil that good may 
 come. What have a man's religious sentiments 
 to do with his political rights ? For these he 
 is responsible only to God and his own con- 
 science ; and every kind of proscription on ac- 
 count of religious opinions is nothing less than 
 persecution ! But the best guard which British 
 Christians can employ against Popery is active 
 zeal. Let diligence oppose diligence — let the 
 genuine spirit of liberty, and the universal rights 
 of conscience, be diffused far and wide — let the 
 holy scriptures continue to be extensively cir- 
 culated among all classes of the people — let the 
 poor be taught to read them ; and let knowledge 
 be advanced in all its branches, and by every 
 possible means. God forbid that the tree of 
 liberty which is planted in Britain, should ever 
 be scorched and burnt up by the rekindled 
 fires of persecution; but let no measures be 
 countenanced for its preservation but those 
 which agree with the rights of all as men and as 
 
128 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 citizens, and with the mild spirit of the Chris- 
 tian faith. It is better to be the persecuted, 
 than to bear the guilt of the persecutor. 
 
 The persecutions to which the French reformed 
 church has always been exposed, excepting for a 
 very short interval, call upon us to exercise un- 
 feigned gratitude to God for the religious liberty 
 with which Great Britain has for many years 
 been so signally favoured. We owe this, partly, 
 to the admirable constitution of our country; 
 a constitution which was formed by consum- 
 mate wisdom, and is founded upon the broad- 
 est basis of genuine liberty : and partly to the 
 mild spirit of the house of Brunswick, in sup- 
 porting a fabric so nobly reared by the hands of 
 our William III. of immortal memory. Nor 
 would it be just to omit here the name of 
 George III. who, whatever opinions may be 
 formed respecting his political measures in the 
 eventful period of his reign, has obtained to 
 himself a name ever to be revered in the 
 churches, as the enlightened friend of re- 
 ligious toleration.* May his last days yet 
 brighten, and his end be peace ! ! 
 
 * The writer cannot here suppress a pleasing circumstance 
 which lately transpired : — he was visiting a spot near one of the 
 royal palaces, where the Dissenters now worship God without 
 interruption, but where they were formerly exposed to very 
 violent persecution. On asking the cause of this change, he was 
 answered, " We owe it to our revered Sovereign. He was 
 •ne day passing through this place in his carriage, when the rabbit 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 129 
 
 The noble struggles of the reformed church 
 of France for the preservation and restoration of 
 religious liberty, will shame us, as Britons, if we 
 ever tamely submit to the abridgment of our 
 privileges, and should urge us, by every consti- 
 tutional means in our power, to rally round those 
 laws which are the bulwark of our rights, both 
 as men and as Christians. The first inundation 
 of civil and ecclesiastical tyranny upon the re- 
 formed churches of France, was but the earnest 
 of that future destruction which laid waste the 
 temples dedicated to the worship of the true 
 God, and banished myriads from their native 
 soil, to seek that asylum in foreign lands which 
 was denied them by their own countrymen. 
 
 And here we cannot but adore and tremble, 
 when we behold the retributive justice of the 
 Almighty, in the recent revolutions in France, 
 and especially in the cruelties inflicted upon the 
 Catholic clergy, who were called to endure those 
 sufferings from the vengeance of infidelity, which 
 
 were gathered together to interrupt the worship of the Dissenters ; 
 his Majesty stopped to know the cause of the hubbub, and being 
 answered it was only some affair between the towns-people and the 
 metlwdists, he replied, loud enough to be heard by many, " The 
 methodists are a quiet, good kind of people, and will disturb 
 nobody; and if I can learn^that any persons in my employ dis- 
 turb them, they shall be immediately dismissed." — The King's most 
 gracious speech was speedily recapitulated through the whole 
 town ; and persecution has not dared to lift its hand there since 
 that period." 
 
 K 
 
 
130 HISTORICAL VIEW OF THE 
 
 they, in their superstitious zeal, had inflicted 
 upon the unhappy Protestants. Besides several 
 millions of French who have fallen in a war of 
 twenty-five years, which has more or leas scourged 
 every nation in Europe, two millions felt the 
 avenging hand of God in the horrible massacres 
 of the Revolution, which extended, like the per- 
 secutions inflicted upon the Protestants, even to 
 the unborn babe that perished with its butchered 
 mother; and the blood of no less than twenty- 
 four thousand priests, which was shed by the 
 merciless hands of infidelity, seemed to silence 
 the voice of that blood which had so long cried 
 for vengeance from under the altar of heaven, 
 Their churches were razed to the ground, or left 
 in ruins, like those of the oppressed reformed; 
 the rights of conscience were denied to them, 
 as they had denied them to others ; they were 
 banished as the innocent Protestaiits were ba- 
 nished by them ; their estates were confiscated as 
 they had confiscated the estates of others; and 
 they obtained their chief asylums in the same 
 countries whither they had driven the scattered 
 churches of the reformed for refuge. The fo- 
 reign Protestants returned good for evil to these 
 persecutors, who, imbued with the spirit of their 
 fathers, were obliged to seek shelter in the hated 
 bosoms of heretics. Can we call these facts to 
 recollection, together with the devastations of the 
 Papal territories, without exclaiming, "Verily, 
 
REFORMED CHURCH OF FRANCE. 13 L 
 
 there is a God that judgeth in the earth!" 
 " Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God 
 Almighty ; just and true are thy ways, thou 
 King of Saints !" 
 
 Simpson, in his Plea for Religion, has con- 
 templated the subject m the same light : — " The 
 serious Christian will remember these are the 
 days of vengeance for the innocent blood that 
 was shed in that wide-extended kingdom, under 
 the predecessors of the late unfortunate king, 
 (Louis XVI.) The doctrine of retaliation, though. 
 little attended to in general, is an undoubted 
 law of God's kingdom, in the government of 
 the world. A moral governor must be morally 
 just. ' He that sheddeth mans blood, by man 
 shall his blood be shed' Barruel's History of the 
 French Clergy, during the Revolution, and Peter 
 Porcupine's Bloody Buoy, contain an awful coun- 
 terpart to Claude's Complaints of the Protestants 
 of France. The French philosophers have scarcely 
 been more cruel to the clergy of France, during 
 the Revolution, than the clergy of France, at 
 different periods, have been to the Protestants 
 of France. We are all crying out against the 
 wickedness and cruelty of the present governors 
 of that great kingdom, but we forget that the 
 kings, bishops, clergy, nobles, and gentry of the 
 land, played the same game and acted the same 
 tragedy not very many years ago. — It is the 
 Lord's controversy for the blood of his servants.' 8 
 
J3S HISTORICAL VIEW, &C. 
 
 But let us turn from scenes, where, if persecu- 
 tion inspires the soul with horror, retribution 
 fills it with awe, and anticipate with delight that 
 happy period when the Catholic church shall be 
 purged from its impurities, and when the Re- 
 formed church shall no longer sit in sackcloth, 
 nor yet tremble for her safety; when the in- 
 fluence of " the man of sin," shall no more ex- 
 tend over France, nor any other country; when 
 he " who opposeth and exalteth himself above 
 all that is called God, or that is worshipped,'' 
 shall be consumed " with the spirit of his 
 mouth," and destroyed " with the brightness of 
 his coming ;" " to whom be glory in the church 
 throughout all ages, world without end. Amen/' 
 
 P. S. Au interesting Pamphlet has just appeared from the pes 
 of Helen Maria Williams, in which that lady, Mho has the best 
 means of information, has fully confirmed all the principal facts 
 of the late persecution in Fiance. If doubt yet remains on the 
 minds of any, relative to this persecution, they would do well to 
 peruse the Edinburgh Christian Instructor for February, 1816, ill 
 which all the evidences are impartially weighed ; and a masterly 
 reply is given to the Christian Observer, which has wantonly as- 
 sailed the characters of the French Protestants, and of all those 
 who, from feelings of honest conviction, have stood forward is 
 iheir defence. 
 
SERMONS. 
 
 PART I 
 
 CATHOLIC DIVINES 
 
 ! ' 
 
I 
 
 BOSSUET. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE 
 
 James Bossuet was born at Dijon, A. D. 1627, and died at Paris in 
 1704. His great talents discovered themselves at a very early 
 period. When he had only attained his sixteenth year, he deli- 
 vered his opinion on a given subject at the Hotel de Rambouillet 
 without any premeditation ; and his talents and eloquence delighted 
 and astonished an intelligent auditory, who were assembled on the 
 occasion. 
 
 In the years 1661 and 1662 he was called to preach a course of 
 Sermons before the court, when his eloquence so charmed the 
 King, Louis XlVtb, that he ordered a letter to be written to his 
 father in bis name, to congratulate him on having a son who 
 would immortalize his family. Some years afterwards he was 
 nominated to the bishopric of Condom, and lastly to that ofMeaux: 
 the former he resigned, that he might wholly devote himself 
 to the education of the Dauphin, to which he was appointed. It 
 was for his illustrious pupil that he composed his celebrated Dis- 
 courses on Universal History, and they are still used as a text-book 
 on the subject in some of the most distinguished Universities of 
 Europe. 
 
 Ecssnet formed the celebrated plan of uniting the Catholics and 
 Protestants together, and employed all his efforts to effect it; but it 
 seems that he wanted the Protestants to give up all, and the Catholic* 
 nothing. This was certainly one way of effecting an union. The- 
 famous John -Claude was Bossuet's opponent, and they not only 
 wrote upon the business, but argued it viva voce, Bossuet claimed the 
 victory, though he owned that Claude had said " the most and the 
 best that could be said for a bad cause." But this conflict at length 
 terminated in irresistible arguments against his opponent, for Claude 
 was driven from the kingdom with the rest of his heretical brethren. 
 Who could resist such logic, seconded by the decree of no arept * 
 
 U 
 
136 BOSSUET. 
 
 prince as the enlightened Louis XlVth ! Bossuet might have been 
 contented with this doughty victory without supporting it by false- 
 hood ; but he had the audacity to assert, that the government had 
 used no force towards the Protestants, and that the bishops had 
 converted them by reason and argument, and gentle measures! 
 Claude published his Complaints of the Protestants f France, and 
 refuted these impudent statements. They still remain on record, to 
 the eternal disgrace of the persecutors, though the Pope and our 
 Popish James II. caused many of them to be burnt by the hands of 
 the common hangman. 
 
 The character of Bossuct is differently estimated by different 
 parties. The Catholics called him the Father of the Chureh. He 
 opposed the overbearing pretensions of the court of Rome, in behalf 
 of the Gallican church, and was the author of the celebrated Decla- 
 ration of 1682. They say that his manners were not less pure than 
 his faith. He was opposed to Fen el on, on his writing a work " On 
 the Maxims of the Saints, concerning the interior Life," in which 
 he supported the claims of Madame Guyon to exalted devotion, and 
 her mystical interpretation of Solomon's Song, lenelon was in the 
 end, by order of the Pope, obliged to read his recantation in his own 
 diocese. Louis XlVth, on this occasion, said to Bossuet, " What 
 would you have done if I had protected Monsieur de Cambrai?" 
 il Sire" replied Bossuet, " I should have cried out twe>;ty times 
 louder : when we defend the truth we are assured of triumph sooner or 
 later." It had been more to Bossuet's honour if he had persuaded 
 his master to act agreeably to this maxim ; he would not then have 
 used the unlawful weapons of persecution. 
 
 Robinson has drawn the character of Bossuet in a very unfavour- 
 able light, f* James Benigne Bossuet, first Bishop of Condom, and 
 last Bishop of Meaux, was one of the most formidable adversaries of 
 his time. He was a man of fine natural abilities. His address was 
 insinuating, though his pretended eloquence was vile bombast. He 
 had the souplesse of a courtier, along with as much learning and 
 reading as usually fall to the share of a Popish prelate. He was in 
 the highest reputation and power, privy counsellor, bishop of a 
 diocese, tutor to the dauphin, and almoner to the queen. He was 
 master of all sorts of dissimulation, duplicity, and treachery. He had 
 a heart cased with inhumanity, and a front covered with brass. 
 Archbishop Wake in England, Claude in France, and numbers 
 more, detected and exposed his falsehoods: but nothing stopped his 
 career, he rolled on a mighty torrent of mischief, driving all before 
 him; away went the reputable Fenelon along with the contemptible 
 Claude." 
 
 The French academy reckoned Bossuet among its most illustrious; 
 
JBOSSUET. J 37 
 
 members. His writings gained universal admiration. After his 
 death, which happened in 1704, the learned evinced their respect for 
 his memory by the encomiums delivered to crowded audiences as 
 tributes of gratitude, at Meaux, Paris, and Rome. His History of 
 the Protestant Churches, his History of France, &c. are well known, 
 but his Funeral Orations, in honour of the memory of princes 
 and great men, possess peculiar sublimity. His works haVe been 
 printed at Paris in twelve quarto volumes. There is a complete 
 collection of his Sermons in seventeen volumes 12mo. ; and from 
 these a selection has recently been made of one 12mo. volume, 
 entitled, Sermons Chosis de Bossuet, which contains fourteen Dis* 
 courses, on Providence, on Ambition, on Honour, against the Love of 
 Pleasure, on Human Judgments, on Death and the Immortality of 
 the Soul, on the Divinity of Religion, for the Exaltation of the Holy 
 Cross, on the Exalted Dignity of the Poor in the Church, on the 
 Importance of Salvation, on Final Impenitence, on the True Spirit of 
 Christianity, on the Assumption of the Holy Virgin, and on the 
 Festival of All-Saints. These discourses are admirably selected. They 
 are charming pieces of eloquence. The sermon on the Divinity of 
 Religion is very good, and has several interesting passages; in particu- 
 lar, it closes with some striking appeals to those who would presume 
 on divine mercy. That on the Exaltation of the Holy Cross has also 
 some beautiful and feeling parts; but the cross of wood is too often 
 confounded with the doctrine of the cross of Jesus Christ. Bossuet's 
 Funeral Orations are very common in one small 12mo. volume. 
 
 The French critics are exceedingly proud of Bossuet, and not with- 
 out reason. Robinson has certainly undervalued him, when he calls 
 his Discourses " vile bombast." He often reasons very forcibly, 
 and appeals powerfully to the understanding and to the conscience. 
 Many of his allusions are truly fine; but he sometimes com- 
 mits a fault, very common among the French Catholic preachers 
 by exhausting a figure which he has seized upon as well adapted 
 to his subject. The beautiful allusion to the picture in the 
 opening of the discourse here translated, is perhaps an illustration of 
 this fault. Robinson was a first-rate wit and a fine genius, but he 
 wrote under the influence of prejudice ; he could see very little that 
 was excellent beneath a mitre, and much less under that of an 
 intolerant popish Bishop. His love for liberty ennobles his character 
 but his antipathies are too strongly expressed. A man of his taste 
 could not have read Bossuet without discerning his beauties, had he 
 not known that Bossuet was an ecclesiastical tyrant. This, how- 
 ever, does not detract from the Bishop's talents as a preacher. 
 Blair styles his Fuueial Orations " the nutate* -pieces of modern elo- 
 quence;" his Sermons cannot therefore fall very much beneath them. 
 
 ill 
 
138 BOSSUET. 
 
 But Robinson had seen only the Orations, perhaps the Sermons 
 would have pleased him better. These have not been brought to light 
 till very lately. They were recovered from the wrecks of his papers 
 in the hands of the last surviving member of his family. He always 
 asserted, that he never wrote his discourses, and assigned this 
 as a reason for not publishing them ; and as they arc not long, it is 
 probable that they were only skeletons of what he preached. They 
 were, however, corrected and interlined, so as to render them fit for 
 the public eye, in the state in which they now appear. 
 
 Bossuet never preached after he had attained the age of fifty-two, 
 though he lived to be seventy ; and notwithstanding he was intro- 
 duced to public notice and to royal favour by his abilities as an 
 orator, he devoted the last twenty-five years of his life to private 
 occupations. Bourdaloue and he ran the race of fame at the same 
 time, and some think that Bossuet did not like to continue in the 
 same course with a successful rival, though he had a due share 
 of popular favour, and that he preferred rather to be the first 
 theological disputant than not to be reckoned the first preacher. 
 It is sad that so sacred a place as the pulpit should be the theatre 
 of ambition ; but this spirit existed among the earliest disciples of our 
 Lord, and it is not likely to lie dormant when tempted into exercise 
 by the plaudits of a court. 
 
 Bossuet has attracted the notice of many eminent critics. An 
 abridgment of the opinions of Maury, and those of Neuville, La 
 Harpe, and Chateaubriand, respecting this great preacher, will give 
 a just view of his talents. 
 
 Immediately after his exordium, and even immediately after his 
 d-c+vX++%*~ first ph y ps rfl, you see his genius in action, you meet with no trivial 
 formality, no commentaries on the thoughts of others, no dulness r 
 no dry discussions, no redundancies ; he does not even move at a 
 moderate pace, he runs in a new career which his imagination 
 opens to him ; he precipitates himself towards his end, and hurries 
 you along with him. When a rapid vehemence carries away this 
 great man, we feel ourselves transported into an unknown region ; 
 we are astonished at his thoughts and expressions ; his style raises 
 and inflames our passions; his enthusiasm every where produces 
 conviction and terror ; and then we can no more read him ; we are 
 forced to exclaim, this is the triumph of written eloquence. 
 
 Bossuet has several peculiarities. Whenever he quotes the 
 Fathers, he contrives to make them new and interesting; by a 
 singular method, he brings forth their sentiments, but he clothes 
 them with his own style, and communicates to them his own 
 energy. 
 
 His discourses never lose their point. He grasps his criminal 
 

 feOSStJET. 1$9 
 
 hearer, and holds him fast till the last moment. " M. Bossuet," 
 said Madame Savigne, " combats his hearers to the last extremity : 
 all his sermons are deadly conflicts." 
 
 He quotes scripture more than any other Catholic preacher. 
 * His proofs, his comparisons, his examples, and his images," are 
 all drawn from this inexhaustible source. Scripture characters in 
 particular are finely touched under his hand. 
 
 Bossuet sometimes falls, but he always maintains his dignity; 
 this is common to great preachers, and the heights which Ihey 
 ascend make their falls the more visible. Maury has well observed, 
 that " the crawling insect never falls." Hence that which does not 
 exceed mediocrity is always noticed as a fault in minds accustomed 
 to soar like that of Bossuet. 
 
 Besides the Abbe Maury, who has written at some length upon 
 the beauties of Bossuet, several other celebrated pens have done 
 justice to his genius. " I believe," says Father Neuville, who was 
 himself a preacher of no ordinary talents, " that with spirit, study, 
 and diligence, it is possible to march in the track of the immortal 
 Bourdaloue, and to aspire to resemble him, without however being 
 able to flatter ourselves with having attained the perfection of our 
 model. But a Bossuet, pardon my expressions, springs up in one 
 moment, he is not formed by degrees, by successive improvements; 
 and it would be as absurd to endeavour to imitate him, as it would 
 be insane to promise to equal him." 
 
 La Harpe is in high esteem in the literary world for " his genius, 
 his taste, and his erudition." " Four Discourses," says this writer, 
 " which are four chefs d'eeuvre of eloquence, that have no models in 
 antiquity, and that no one has since equalled, — the Funeral Orations 
 of the Queen of England, of Madame, of the great Conde, and oF 
 the Princess Palatine, — above all, the three first, have placed Bossuet 
 at the head of all the French orators, not by tire number, but by the 
 superiority of his compositions. In Bossuet there is not the least 
 appearance of labour or preparation, nothing which makes you 
 think of the author; he keeps himself entirely out of sight, you 
 only think on what he is saying. AY hat a powerful oral or is this 
 man! Indeed it is not enough for him to use the language of other 
 men; he creates his own, he makes it what he Mants to suit the 
 thoughts and feelings which are peculiar to himself: expressions, | 
 
 turns, movements, constructions, harmony, all o\\ e their origin to 
 him." 
 
 Kett considers Chateaubriand as nearly approaching the writers 
 of the Augustan era of French literature. " What shall we 
 say of Bossuet as an orator?" exclaims Chateaubriand, " and 
 to whom shall we compare him? What discourse* are there 
 
140 BOSSUET. 
 
 of Cicero aiid Demosthenes which would not be eclipsed before 
 his Funeral Orations?" " These things are continually succeeding 
 one another in Bossuet's discourses; — the stroke of genius or of 
 eloquence ; the quotation so admirably blended with the text as to 
 form but one piece with it ; lastly, the reflection, or the survey taken, 
 with eagle eye of the causes of the event under discussion. Often 
 too does this star of the church throw a light on discussions in the 
 most abstruse metaphysics, or the most sublime theology : to him 
 nothing is obscure. He has created a language employed by himself 
 alone, in which frequently the most simple term and the most 
 dignified thought, the most common expression and the most tre- 
 mendous image, serve, as in scripture, to give one another enormous 
 magnitude, and to produce the most striking contrast." 
 
 These testimonials are indeed those of Bossuet's countrymen, 
 and may not be deemed the most impartial, especially as the 
 French are very extravagant in praising their celebrated men ; but 
 when our own critics make mention of him in the highest terms that 
 language can express, — when Kett, in speaking of his style, describes 
 it as " the majesty of Bossuet," and Blair gives him the palm 
 in preference to any other preacher, he must surely deserve the 
 meed of praise. 
 
 There is one remarkable anecdote which Yoltaire records 
 respecting Bossuet, and which shall conclude this notice. He says, 
 that while he was a youth he had contracted marriage with a young 
 lady of a considerable family; but that when she found his marriage 
 would be an hindrance to his future fame, by excluding him from the 
 exercise of his talents in that line which his genius had marked out, 
 she sacrificed her love and her domestic comforts to the fortune of 
 her lover, and promised never to demand the celebiation of the 
 contract. This lady kept the dangerous secret with the strictest 
 fidelity; she always lived on terms of intimacy and respectful 
 friendship with the Bishop, under the assumed name of Mauleon, 
 and died in the neighbourhood of Paris, in the hundredth year of 
 her age. 
 
SERMON I 
 
 ON PROVIDENCE. 
 
 PREACHED AT COURT. 
 
 BOSSUET. 
 
 ■ 
 
 ■ 
 
 Luke xvi. 25. — Son, remember that thou in thy life-time receivedst 
 thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things : but now he is 
 comforted, and thou art tormented. 
 
 We read in sacred history, that the King of Samaria hav- 
 ing built a strong hold which kept all the places of the 
 King of Judah in continual fear and alarm, this prince 
 assembled his people, and made such an effort against the 
 enemy, that he not only ruined his fortress, but used the 
 materials to construct two great castles, by which he fortified 
 his own frontier. 
 
 I purpose to-day, Sirs, to do the same thing ; and in this 
 pacific undertaking I propose to myself the example of 
 this military enterprize. Libertines declare war against 
 divine Providence, and they find nothing more powerful 
 from which they can assail it, than the distribution of good 
 and evil; which seems unjust, disorderly, and without any 
 distinction between the righteous and the wicked. Here 
 it is that infidels intrench themselves as in their impreg- 
 nable fortress; from hence they boldly direct their arrows 
 against the wisdom that governs the world, falsely persuad- 
 ing themselves that the apparent disorder of human affairs 
 bears witness against it. Let us assemble, Christians, to 
 combat the enemies of the living God; let us overthrow 
 the proud ramparts of these new Samaritans. Not content 
 
 *'! 
 
142! on providence. 
 
 with merely shewing them that this unequal distribution of 
 the good and evil of this world is no injury to the character 
 of Providence, let us shew, on the contrary, that it estab- 
 lishes it. Let us prove even from the seeming disorder 
 which prevails, that there is a superior order which by an 
 immutable law calls back every thing to itself; and let us 
 build the fortresses of Judah of the remains and ruins of 
 that of Samaria. This is the design of the present dis» 
 course. 
 
 St. Gregory of Nazianzen, the theologian of the East, 
 contemplating the beauty of the world, in the structure of 
 which God has shewn himself so wise and so great, ele- 
 gantly calls it in his language, the pleasure and delights of 
 its creator. He had learnt from Moses that this divine 
 architect, as he gradually constructed this grand edifice, 
 pleased himself with admiring all its parts — " God saw 
 the light that it was good;" that having completed the 
 whole it had yet become more estimable, and he found it 
 <c very good." In fine, that he appeared overwhelmed 
 with joy at the sight of his own work; though we must not 
 imagine that God resembles mortal workmen, who as tbey 
 labour much in their enterprizes, and fear always for the 
 event, are enraptured because the execution releases them 
 from the labour, and confirms their success. But Moses, 
 regarding things in a more sublime manner, and foreseeing 
 that one day ungrateful men would deny the Providence 
 who governs the world, shews us how much God was 
 satisfied from the beginning with this finished work of his 
 bands; so that the pleasure which he took in forming it 
 being a certain pledge of the care which he will exercise 
 in governing it, we ought never to doubt that he does not 
 delight to govern what he so much delighted to make, and 
 what he himself has judged so worthy of his wisdom. 
 
 Thus we must understand that this world, and particu- 
 larly the human race, is the kingdom of God, — that he him- 
 self rules and governs it by immutable laws; and we will 
 apply ourselves to-day to meditate on the secrets of that 
 
ON PROVIDENCE. 145 
 
 celestial policy which governs all nature, and which, in- 
 cluding in its order the instability of human things, with 
 equal regard disposes of the crooked accidents which 
 mingle with private life, and those great and memorable 
 events that decide the fate of empires. 
 
 Great an r l wonderful subject, worthy of the attention of 
 the most august court in the world ! Listen, O mortals ! and 
 learn even from your God the secrets by which he governs 
 you ; for it is he who will teach you from this pulpit, and 
 I do not attempt this day to explain his profound designs, 
 but only as 1 may be enlightened by his infallible oracles. 
 
 But it is of little importance, Christians, for us to know 
 by what wisdom we are governed, if we do not learn at the 
 same time to submit to the order of his counsels. If there 
 is the art of governing well, there is also the art of obeying 
 well. God gives his spirit of wisdom to princes, to know 
 how to guide the people ; and he gives wisdom to the p< ople, 
 that they may be capable of being directed by order ; that 
 is to say, besides the master-science by which the prince 
 commands, there is also a subaltern-science which teaches 
 subjects to render themselves worthy instruments of superior 
 guidance; and it is the connection between these two sciences 
 which unites the body of a state by the correspondence 
 between the head and the members. 
 
 To establish this relation in the empire of our God, let 
 us now r try to accomplish two things. First, Christians, 
 whatever strange confusion, whatever disorder, or whatever 
 injustice appears in human affairs, although every thing 
 may seem to be carried away by the blind rapidity of for- 
 tune, let us fix this principle in our minds, — that every 
 thing is regulated by order, that every thing is governed 
 by maxims, and that an eternal and immutable counsel is ) 
 
 concealed among all those events which apparently dis- 
 cover such astonishing uncertainty. Secondly, let us enter 
 into ourselves ; and, after having properly understood 
 what power influences us, and what wisdom governs us, 
 1st us inquire into the sentiments which will fit us for so 
 
 
l4t ON" PROVIDENCE, 
 
 exalted a guidance. Thus, as far as the mediocrity of tng 
 human mind will allow, we shall in the first place discover 
 the springs and the movements, and then the use and 
 application of that sublime policy which governs the 
 world ; and this is the entire subject of this discourse. 
 
 When I seriously consider the state of human things, — - 
 confused, unequal, irregular, — I often compare it to certain 
 pictures that we commonly see in the libraries of the 
 curious, which appear like a game of perspective. The 
 first view only shews us rude strokes and a confused mix- 
 ture of colours, that seem to be either the attempt of some 
 novice, or the pastime of some infant, raiher than the work 
 of a skilful hand. But as soon as he who knows the secret, 
 places it in a certain light, immediately all the unequal 
 lines meet together in a singular manner before your eyes, 
 all confusion disappears, and you behold a face with its 
 lineaments and its proportions, where before there was not 
 the least semblance of the human form; and this appears to 
 me, Sirs, a natural image of the world, of its apparent 
 confusion, and of its secret regularity, which we can never 
 perceive unless we observe it from a certain point, which 
 faith in Jesus Christ discovers to us. 
 
 I saw, says the preacher, a strange thing under the sun : 
 tc I returned, and saw that the race is not to the swift, nor 
 the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor 
 yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men 
 of skill, but time and chance happeneth to them all." I 
 saw, says the same preacher, that u all things come alike, 
 to the righteous and to the wicked ; to him that sacrificeth 
 and to him that sacrificeth not." Almost all ages have 
 abounded with complaints of iniquity being triumphant, 
 and innocence afflicted ; but, lest confidence should entirely 
 fail, sometimes we see, on the contrary, innocence on the 
 throne, and iniquity punished. What confusion appears in 
 this picture ; and, if I may be allowed the expression, does 
 it not seem as if these colours had been cast upon it by 
 chance, only to waste the canvas or paper. 
 
OK PROVIDENCE. 
 
 U5 
 
 The inconsiderate libertine immediately cries, there is no 
 order. Fie says in his heart, " there is no God," or this 
 God abandons human life to the caprices of fortune. But 
 stop, unhappy man, do not judge too hastily on so im- 
 portant a subject. Perhaps you will find, that vv( at ap- 
 pears confusion is a concealed act ; and if you can discover 
 the point from which we should regard these things, all 
 these inequalities will be rectified, and you will see nothing 
 but wisdom where you only imagined there was disorder. 
 
 Yes, yes, doubt not but that this picture has its point; 
 and the same preacher who discovers to us its confusion, will 
 also direct us to the way by which we may contemplate 
 the order of the w r orld. " I saw," says he, " under the sun 
 the place of judgment, that wickedness was there ; and the 
 place of righteousness, that iniquity was there:" that is to 
 say, if we understand it, iniquity upon the tribunal, or even 
 iniquity upon the throne, where righteousness alone ought 
 to be placed. It could not mount higher, nor sfebuld it 
 occupy a place which was less its desert. What could 
 Solomon think while he contemplated such great disorder? 
 What? that God abandoned human affairs without guid- 
 ance and justice! On the contrary, says this wise prince, 
 on beholding this confusion, immediately " I said in mine 
 heart, God shall judge the righteous, and the wicked, for 
 there is a time for every purpose, and for every work." 
 
 Behold, Sirs, a mode of reasoning which is worthy the 
 wisest of men : he discovers an extreme confusion in the 
 human race, he sees in the other parts of the world an order 
 which charms him; he clearly perceives that it is not pos- 
 sible that our nature, which God has made only after his 
 likeness, should be the only nature which he abandons to 
 chance. Thus convinced by reason that there must be order 
 among men, and knowing by experience that it is not yet 
 established, he necessarily concludes that man has some- 
 thing to expect ; and here, Christians, is the w hole mystery 
 of the counsel of 'God ; this is the great state maxim of the 
 policy of heaven. God wills that we should live in time 
 
 i 
 
 
 ■. 
 
14(5 ON PROVIDENCE. 
 
 in a perpetual expectation of eternity ; he introduces us 
 into the world, where he discovers to us an admirable 
 order, to shew us that his work is conduced with wisdom ; 
 and where he purposely leaves some apparent disorder, to 
 shew that he has not yet put the finishing stroke to his 
 work. Why ? to keep us always in expectation of the 
 great day of eternity, in which all things shall be disco- 
 vered by a final and irrevocable decision, in which God, 
 once more separating the light from the darkness, will, by 
 the last judgment, fix righteousness and impiety in the 
 places which are their due ; and then, as Solomon says, it 
 will be seen that " to every thing there is a season." 
 
 Open then your eyes, O mortals! it is Jesus Christ who 
 exhorts yo\i so to do, in that admirable discourse in the 
 sixth chapter of St. Matthew, and in the twelfth chapter of 
 St. Luke, of which I am going to give you a paraphrase. 
 Contemplate the heaven and the earth, and the wise 
 economy of this world ! Is there any thing more skilfully 
 constructed than this edifice ? Is there any thing better 
 provided for than this family ? Is there any thing better 
 governed than this empire ? The supreme power, who 
 has constructed the world, and who has made nothing 
 which is not goo I, has nevertheless formed creatures, some 
 of which are more excellent than others. He has created 
 celestial bodies which are immortal ; terrestrial, which are 
 perishable : he has formed animals which are astonishing 
 from their size ; insects and birds which appear despicable 
 from their insignificancy; he has made great trees of the 
 forest which last for ages; he has made flowers of 
 the field which disappear between morning and evening. 
 The creatures of his formation are not equally the objects 
 of his goodness, because they differ in their faculties and 
 capacities of receiving enjoyments ; but they are equally 
 the objects of his care, because his providence extends and 
 watches over them all. He nourishes the little birds who 
 invt ke him in the morning by the melody of their songs ; 
 and those flowers, the beauty of which is so soon withered. 
 
r 
 
 ON PROVIDENCE. 147 » 
 
 are dressed so superbly by him during the little moment of 
 their being, that Solomon in all his glory could not be com- 
 pared to one of them. And you, O men, whom he has 
 made after his image, whom he has enlightened by his 
 knowledge, whom he has called to his kingdom, can you 
 believe that he forgets you, and that among all his creatures 
 the vigilant eyes of his paternal providence are closed only 
 against you ? " Are ye not much better than they ?" But 
 if in your view there appears to be any disorder, if it 
 seems to you that virtue is too tardily rewarded, and that 
 punishment does not follow sufficiently fast on the steps of 
 vice, think on the eternity of that first Being : his designs, 
 formed and conceived in the immense bosom of that im- 
 mutable eternity, depend neither on years nor ages, which 
 he beholds passing before him like moments ; the entire 
 duration of the world is necessary completely to developc 
 the plans of wisdom so profound ; and we, miserable mor- 
 tals, we in our days, which pass away so quickly, would 
 see the accomplishment of all the works of God ! Because 
 we and our plans are limited to so short a time, we would 
 restrict infinity to the same limits, that he might display in 
 this little space all the mercy which he has prepared for 
 the righteous, and all the justice destined for the wicked. 
 But this is not reasonable; let us leave the Eternal to act 
 according to the laws of his eternity; and, far from re- 
 ducing him to our measure, let us rather endeavour to reach 
 his standard. 
 
 If we enter, Christians, into this blessed liberty of spirit, — - 
 if we measure the plans of God by the rule of eternity, we 
 shall regard this confused mixture of things without impa- 
 tience. It is true God does not yet make any discrimina- 
 tion between the righteous and the wicked; but it is ) 
 because he has chosen his fixed day, in which he will 
 make it appear at once in the face of the whole world, 
 when the number of both shall be complete. This drew 
 those excellent words from Tertullian : — "God," says he, 
 " having put off the judgment to the consummation of th* 
 
 
148 ON PROVIDENCE. 
 
 ages, does not precipitate the discrimination which is a 
 necessary condition of it. He conducts himself almost in 
 the same manner towards all the human race, and the good 
 and the evil which in the mean time he sends upon the 
 earth are common to his enemies and to his children." — 
 Yes, truth itself dictated to him this thought ; for have you 
 not remarked that admirable expression, — " God does not 
 precipitate the discrimination." To precipitate affairs is 
 the property of weakness, which is constrained to hurry 
 in the execution of its designs, because it depends upon 
 opportunities, and because those opportunities are certain 
 moments, the sudden flight of which causes a necessary 
 haste to those who are obliged to observe them. But 
 God does not precipitate his plans. He is the arbiter of all 
 times, who, from the centre of his eternity, developes all 
 the order of ages ; who knows his own omnipotence ; and 
 who is assured that nothing can escape from his sovereign 
 hands. He knows that wisdom does not always consist in. 
 doing tilings promptly, but in doing them in their proper 
 time. He suffers the rash and foolish to censure his de- 
 signs, but he does not think fit to hasten their execution on 
 account of the murmurs of men. He is satisfied, Chris- 
 tians, that his friends and servants regard his appointed day 
 at a distance with humility and trembling : as to others, he 
 knows their destiny, and the time is fixed to punish them : 
 he is not affected by their reproaches, " for he seeth that 
 -his day is coming." 
 
 But yet, you will say, God often does good to the 
 wicked, and allows great evils to befal the righteous ; and 
 though this disorder may only continue for a moment, it is 
 always contrary to justice. Let us undeceive ourselves. 
 Christians, and let us to-day learn to distinguish between 
 this good and these evils ; there are two sorts : there is a 
 mixture of good and evil, which in the result depends upon 
 (he use that we make of them. For example, sickness is an 
 evil ; but how great a good will it prove, if you endure it 
 with resignation! Health is a good; but how dangerous an 
 
ON PROVIDENCE. 
 
 149 
 
 evil will it become by favouring debauchery ! Behold the 
 mixture of good and evil which partakes of the mture of 
 both, and which terminates in the one or the other, according 
 to the use to which they are applied. 
 
 But understand, Christians, that a God almighty has in the 
 treasures of his goodness a sovereign good which ca >. never 
 terminate in evil, that is, eternal felicity ; and that there are 
 in the treasures of his justice certain extr me evils which can 
 never turn to the good of those who suffer them ; — such are 
 the punishments of the reprobate. The rule of his justice 
 does not permit that the wicked should ever t aste this 
 sovereign wood, nor that the jjood should be tormented by 
 these extreme evils : hence he will one day make the grand 
 distinction between them ; but as it respects the mingled 
 good and evil, this he gives indiscriminately to both. 
 
 This distinction being supposed, it is very easy to con- 
 ceive that this supreme good and evil belongs to the time 
 of general scrutiny, in which the righteous will be for ever 
 separated from the society of the ungodly; and this mingled 
 good and evil are distributed with equity in the mixed 
 state in which we now 7 are. " For it was certainly neces- 
 sary," says St. Augustin, " (hat the divine justice should 
 predestinate certain good things to the righteous, in which 
 the wicked should have no part: and in like manner, that 
 it should prepare punishments for the wicked, with which 
 the righteous could never be tormented :" hence in the last 
 day there will be made an eternal distinction. Bnt in waiting 
 this limited time, in this age of confusion, in which the 
 righteous and the wicked are confounded togeth( r, the 
 good and the evil must be common to boih, that even this 
 disorder may keep men always in suspense from the ex- 
 pectation of the final and irrevocable decsion. 
 
 How admirably has the holy and divine Psalmist c le- 
 brated this fine distinction between good and evil:* — 
 " I have seen," says he, " in the hand of God, a cup filled 
 with three liquors : there is first the pure wine, secondly 
 
 * Psalm lxxv. 8. 
 
 M 
 
 
 I 
 
150 ON PROVIDENCE. 
 
 the mixed wine, and lastly (he dregs." What does thf» 
 pure wine signify ? — the joy of eternity, a joy which is not 
 adulterated with any evil, nor mixed with any bitterness. 
 What do these dregs mean but the punishment of the re* 
 probate, a punishment which is not tempered by any alter- 
 ation ; and what does this mixed wine represent but the 
 good and evil, the nature of which may be changed ac- 
 cording to the use we make of them in the present life.— 
 O what a fine distinction has the prophet put betweeu 
 good and cvili but mark the wise distribution which Pro- 
 vidence has made of them. Here is the time of mixture^, 
 here is the time of probation, in which it is necessary ta 
 afflict the righteous to try them, and to bear with sinners 
 to reform them ; now the good and evil are united in this 
 mixture, by which the wise know how to profit, while th* 
 foolish abuse it ; but these times of mixture will come ta 
 an end. Come, pure spirits, innocent spirits, come and 
 drink the pure wine of God — his felicity without mixture ! 
 And you, O hardened reprobates^ reprobates eternally sepa- 
 rated from the righteous, there is no more felicity for you, 
 no more dancing, no more banquets, no more games ; come 
 and drink all the bitterness of divine vengeance ! Behold,. 
 Sirs, that scrutiny which shall separate all things by a last 
 and irrevocable sentence. 
 
 " Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Al- 
 mighty : just and true are thy ways, thou King of Saints !" 
 Who would not admire thy Providence, " who shall not 
 fear thee, O Lord, and glorify thy name?" Ah, truly, 
 " the stupid man understandeth not these things, and 
 the fool doth not know them." Ci He only regardeth 
 what he seeth, and he deceiveth himself." For it has 
 pleased thee, O great architect, that the beauty of thy 
 work shall only be seen after thou shalt have given to it 
 the finishing stroke ; and ihy prophet has predicted that it 
 shall be only in the latter days men shall understand th? 
 mystery of thy counsel.* 
 
 * Jer. xxiK. 20; 
 
ON PROVIDENCE. 
 
 151 
 
 But then it will be too late to profit by so important a 
 knowledge: let us guard. Sirs, against the destined hour; 
 let us be present in spirit at the last day, and from the 
 footstool of that tribunal, before which we must appear, 
 let us contemplate human things. Amidst that fear, amidst 
 that terror, amidst that universal silence of all nature, with 
 what derision the reasoning of the ungodly will be heard, 
 who, from seeing the crimes of others unpunished, strengthen 
 themselves in crime ! They themselves, on the contrary, 
 will be astonished they did not perceive that this public 
 impunity loudly warned them of the extreme rigour 
 of that last day. Yes, I call the living God to witness, 
 who in all ages discovers some marks of his vengeance, 
 that the exemplary chastisements which he exercis s upon 
 some do not appear to me so terrible as the impunity of all 
 the rest. Were he to punish all criminals here, I should 
 think that all his justice was exhausted, and I should not 
 live in expectation of a more dreadful judgment. Now 
 even his lenity and his patience do not permit me to doubt 
 that we must expect a great change. No, things are not 
 yet in their fixed place, they have not yet arrived at their 
 appointed time. Lazarus still suffers, although innocent; 
 the wicked rich man, although guilty, still enjoys some 
 repose. Thus neither punishment nor reward are yet in 
 their proper places; — this condition is third, and cannot 
 last always. Let not your confidence be emboldened on 
 this account, O men of the world! things must change; 
 and, indeed, here behold the result : — ;i Son, remember that 
 thou in thy life-time receivedst thy good things, and likewise 
 Lazarus evil things." This disorder might be permitted 
 during the time of mixture, in which God was preparing 
 for a great work ; but under a good and righteous God 
 such a confusion could not be eternal. Wherefore, con- 
 tinues Abraham, now that you are both arrived at your 
 eternal destiny, another dispensation is about to commence; 
 every thing will be in its place, punishment will no more 
 be withheld from the guilty to whom it is due, nor con- 
 
 ' ■'! 
 
 ■I 
 
 1 
 
 #'| 
 
152 ON PROVIDENCE. 
 
 solation refused to the righteous who has hoped for it. — 
 Behold, Sirs, the design, of God faithfully revealed in his 
 word : let us see now in a few words what use we ought to 
 make of it ; — with this I shall conclude.. 
 
 SECOND PART. 
 
 Nothing appears great or terrible to him who is per- 
 suaded that he is governed by a divine wisdom, and con* 
 ducted by an immutable counsel to an eternal end, except 
 that which relates to eternity : hence the two sentiments 
 with which faith in Providence inspires him — first to admire 
 nothing, and then to fear nothing which terminates with 
 the present life. 
 
 He ought to admire nothing ; and behold the reason.— 
 That wise and eternal Providence who has made, as we 
 have said, two sorts of good, who dispenses mixed good in 
 the present life, and who reserves pure good for the future 
 life, has established this law : that none shall have a part 
 in supreme good who have been too much captivated by 
 inferior good ; for God wills, says St. Augustin, that we 
 should know how to distinguish between the good which 
 he bestows in the present state, to serve as a consolation to 
 captives, and that which he reserves for an hereafter, to 
 constitute the felicity of his children. In his wise and true 
 bounty he is pleased that wc should distinguish between his 
 gifts; or, to use a stronger expression, God requires that 
 we should mark the difference between those truly con- 
 temptible enjoyments, which he so often grants to his ene- 
 mies, and those which he choicely keeps only to bestow 
 them upon his servants. Thus speaks St. Augustin. 
 
 And truly, Christians, when I bring to my mind the 
 recollection of past ages, and so often see the grandeur of 
 the world in the hands of the ungodly; — when I see the 
 children of Abraham, and the only people who worship 
 God, confined to Palestine, shut up in a little corner of 
 
ON PROVIDENGE. 
 
 153 
 
 Asia, surrounded with the proud monarchies of the infidel 
 orientals ; — and, to bring the subject still nearer, when I see 
 that declared enemy of the Christian name, with such 
 mighty armies supporting the blasphemies of Mahomet 
 against the Gospel, casting down the cross of Jesus Christ 
 our Saviour beneath his crescent, and lessening Christi- 
 anity every day by the fortune of his arms;— and when I 
 consider besides, that, avowed enemy as he is against Jesus 
 Christ, this wise distributor of crowns beholds him from the 
 highest heavens seated upon the throne of the great Con- 
 stantine, and fears not to abandon to him so great an em- 
 pire, as a present of little importance; — ah, how easily can 
 I comprehend that such favours are of little consequence, 
 as well as all the good things of the present life! And 
 thou, O vanity and human greatness, triumph of a day ! 
 splendid nothing! how contemptible dost thou appear in 
 my eyes, when I regard thee in this light! 
 
 But perhaps I forget myself, peihaps I do not recollect 
 where I am speaking, when I call empires and monarchies a 
 present of little importance. No, Sirs, I <io not forget 
 myself; no, Sirs, I am not a stranger to the dignity and 
 splendour of the monarch who honours us with his audi- 
 ence: and I know enough to observe the benevolence of 
 God with respect to him, that he has entrusted so great 
 and so noble a part of the human race to his care, that he 
 may protect it by his power. But I know also, Christians, 
 that pious sovereigns, although in the order of human 
 things they may see nothing greater than their sceptres, 
 
 nothing more sac re 
 
 than their persons, nothing more in- 
 
 vioinble than their majesty, must nevertheless despise the 
 kingdoms which they possess, considered in themselves, 
 when compared with the kingdom in which they shall not 
 
 fear to have equals, 
 
 and whi 
 
 ch, if they are Christians, 
 
 they even desire one day to share with their subjects, whom 
 the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the beatific vision, 
 shall have made their companions. Thus faith in Provi- 
 dence, by ahvays presenting the last decision to the minds 
 
154 ON PROVIDENCE. 
 
 of the children of God, takes from them the admiration of 
 all other things ; but it produces yet a greater effect ; that is, 
 it delivers them from fear. What should they fear, Chris- 
 tians ? nothing shocks them, nothing offends them, nothing 
 repulses them. 
 
 There is this remarkable difference between particular 
 causes, and the universal cause of the world, — that the par- 
 ticular causes clash one against another ; the cold opposes 
 the heat, and the heat attacks the cold, But the great 
 first cause, who includes in the same order both the parts 
 and the whole, finds nothing which opposes him ; because, 
 if the parts are at variance among themselves, it is without 
 injury to the whole; they agree with the whole, of which they 
 effect the harmony by their d iscordance and their contrariety. 
 It would occupy too much time, Christians, to unfold this 
 reasoning. But to apply it; — whoever has particular designs, 
 whoever attaches himself to particular causes, Jet us saj 
 yet more explicitly, whoever wishes to obtain a certain 
 benefit from the prince, or whoever wishes to make his 
 fortune by an indirect way, finds other pretenders who 
 oppose him, obstinate accidents which cross him : one 
 spring ceases to act at the appointed time, and the machine 
 stops ; intrigue fails, and his hopes vanish in smoke. But 
 he who unshakenly attaches himself to the whole and not 
 to the parts, — not to immediate causes, to influence, to far 
 vour, to intrigue, but to the first and fundamental cause, 
 to God, to his will, to his providence, — he finds nothing 
 which opposes him, nor which troubles his designs : on the 
 contrary, all things aid and all things co-operate in the 
 execution of his designs, because all things aid and all 
 things work together, says the Apostle, in the accomplish? 
 merit of his salvation ; and his salvation is his grand con? 
 cern; in this centre all his thoughts. 
 
 Appropriating to himself in this manner the Providence 
 so vast, so extendi d, who includes in his designs all 
 causes and effects, he remains perfectly tranquil, and learns 
 to find his good in all things. If God sends him prosper ity 3 
 
ON PROVIDENCE. 1-55 
 
 he receives the present from heaven with submission, and 
 he honours the mercy which blesses him, in shewing- mercy 
 himself to the miserable. If he is in adversity, he remem- 
 bers that tribulation worketh experience, that war leads to 
 peace, and that if his virtue combats it will one clay be 
 crowned. He never despairs, because he is never without a 
 resource. He thinks he always hears the voice of the Saviour 
 Jesus, who has graven those fine words on the bottom of his 
 heart: " Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father's good 
 pleasure to give you the kingdom." Thus, to whatever 
 extremity he may be reduced, we never hear those infidel 
 words escape from his lips, that he has lost his all ; for can 
 he despair of his fortune, he to whom there yet remains a 
 whole kingdom, and a kingdom which is no other than 
 that of God ? What force can cast him down, when he is 
 always supported by so lively a hope ? 
 
 Behold what he is in himself. Nor does he less under- 
 stand how to profit by what passes among others. Every 
 thing puzzles him, andevery thing edifies him ; everything 
 astonishes him, and every thing encourages him. Every 
 thing makes him enter again into himself, both the chastise- 
 ments of mercy and the strokes of rigour and justice, both 
 the fall of some and the perseverance of others, both the 
 examples of weakness and the examples of strength, both 
 thepitience of God and his exemplary justice; for if he 
 hurls his thunder upon criminals, " the righteous," says 
 St. August ia, u comes to wash his lrands in their blood, 
 that is to say, he purifies himself by the fear of a like 
 punishment." If they visibly prosper, and their success 
 appears to make the hope of a good man blush on the 
 earth, he regards the reverse as coming from the hand of 
 God, and he understands it by faith, as a celestial voice, > 
 
 which says to the flourishing wicked, who despise the op- 
 pressed just, — O terrestrial herb! O crawling herb! danst 
 thou presume to compare thyself to a fruitful tree during 
 the rigour of winter, under pretext that it has lost its ver- 
 dure, and that thou preserved thine in that cold season ? 
 
156 ON PROVIDENCE. 
 
 The summer will come, the heat of the great judgment 
 approaches, which will even wither the root, and produce 
 immortal fruits from the trees which patience shall have 
 cultivated. Such are the holy thoughts which faith in- 
 spires in Providence. 
 
 Christians, meditate on these things, for truly they de- 
 serve your meditation. Let us not stop at fortune, nor at 
 its deceitful pomps. That state which we now see will soon 
 suffer its reverse ; all that rank which captivates us will 
 be overthrown. Of what avail will it be, Christians, that 
 we have lived in authority, in pleasures, in abundance, if 
 nevertheless Abraham bays to us, — Son, remember that thou 
 in thy life-time receivedst thy good things, now circum- 
 stances are about to be changed. No more marks of that 
 grandeur, no more remains of that power. I deceive myself, 
 I see great remains of them, and sensible marks ; and what are 
 they? — u The mighty," says the divine oracle, "shall be 
 mightily tormented •" that is to sny, if they do not take care, 
 they shall treasure up an unhappy pre-eminence of punish- 
 ment, into which they shall be precipitated by the pre-emi- 
 nence of their glory." Ah, although I speak thus, " I hope 
 better things of you." There are some holy rich men. Abra- 
 imm, who condemns the wicked rich man, has himself been 
 ric\and powerful ; but he has made a good use of his power, 
 by rendering it humble, moderate, submissive to God, 
 helpful to the poor : if you profit by this example, you will 
 avoid the punishment of the cruel rich man, of whom the 
 Gospel speaks to us ; and you will go with poor Lazarus to 
 repose in the bosom of the rich Abraham, and to possess 
 with him eternal riches. 
 
PLECHIER. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 llfSPRir Flechier was born in 1632, at Pernes, a small town in the 
 diocese of Carpentras, near Avignon, and died at Montpellier in 
 1710. He was brought up under the care of an uncle, who diligently 
 cultivated his mind; and at an early period he attracted public 
 attention at Paris, both as a distinguished scholar and a popular 
 preacher. When he delivered his sermons he was frequently inter- 
 rupted by murmurs of applause from his auditory, which he received 
 with the most admirable diffidence and with the greatest solemnit} 7 . 
 His funeral orations especially increased his reputation as an orator. 
 The most distinguished are those on Turenne and Montausier ; the 
 former, which is reckoned his chef-d'auvre, raised him to the zenith 
 of his popularity, and brought him into high favour with the court. 
 
 In 1685 he was promoted to the see of Lavaur, on which occasion 
 the king said, — " Jle not surprised that I have so long delayed to reward 
 your me it ; I was afraid of losi.g the pleasure of hearing you." In 
 1687, he was translated to Nimes. When he arrived in that diocese 
 his first care was to reconcile the Protestants and Catholics, who 
 were at that time much incensed against each other. His deportment 
 was very amiable ; and Robinson justly remarks of him, in his 
 facetious style of speaking, that " he was a very good man when he 
 was not ordered to be wicked;" he means, when he was not obliged, 
 by superior orders, to use severe language, or adopt severe measures. 
 It is said that the conciliatory conduct of the bishop drew many of 
 the Protestants to the Catholic faith : their principles could not have 
 been very deeply implanted, or, however they might have respected 
 Flechier as an amiable man, they would not have sacrificed truth to 
 error because it appeared in a pious garb. This is, however, a striking 
 proof that coercion is the wrong way to gain hearts, and that mild 
 and gentle measures are likely to be much more successful than 
 proscriptions and persecutions; these may make hypocrites, but will 
 never gain sincere converts. During twenty-three years Flechier 
 was uniform in the exercise of benevolence, and the Protestants 
 shared his favours equally with the Catholics. In a time of famine, 
 
 , 
 
158 FLECHIER. 
 
 when the misery of the inhabitants of his diocese was extreme, bis 
 charity was unbounded; he gave to all alike, not asking them, in a 
 sectarian spirit, what they believed, but what they wanted. When 
 such a man preaches up works, we must at least admire his 
 consistency. His sermons have, however, many fine passages, which 
 must appear unexceptionable to the most rigid Calvinist. His 
 distinction between notional and saving faith, m the second part 
 of the discourse which is here presented to the public, contains soin« 
 very admirable sentiments; and his comment on Christ being made 
 wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption to his people, is 
 expressive, and much to the purpose; but amidst the excellencies 
 there is a very large mixture of exceptionable matter; and the 
 translator has thought that he should better please his readers in 
 general by the omission of several passages, than by their insertion. 
 Notwithstanding the fine mind of Flechier, his understanding was 
 much darkened by the veil of superstition, and confused sentiments 
 pervade all his discourses in a very considerable degree. 
 
 Flechier was the author of many celebrated works: besides his 
 Funeral Orations and other discourses, he wrote the Lives of the 
 Emperor Theodosins the Great, of Cardinal Ximenes,and of Cardinal 
 Commendon; Panegyrics of the Saints, and Gratiani de Casibus 
 illustr. vir. There are also his (Euvres Meltes, two volumes of his 
 letters, and some posthumous works. 
 
 Frechier has been called the French Isocrates. He is considered as 
 Raving given neatness, regularity, softness, and harmony to the lan- 
 guage of the French pulpit. His character as a writer is thus summed 
 np by La Harpe : — " Spii it, elegance, purity, justness, and delicacy of 
 ideas ; an ornamented, flowery, harmonious diction, such are his most 
 striking qualities. He is an elegant writer, and an able orator, who 
 well understands his art, but he is not sufficiently skilful to avoid the 
 abuse of that art. He too often treads over the same ground with 
 the means which he employs; he too frequently repeals the same 
 figures, and especially the antithesis, which he uses to profusion, to 
 excess, and even to disgust. Flechier and Bossuet stand in compe- 
 tition twice on the same subjects, the Funeral Oration of Maria 
 Theresa, and that of the Chancellor Le Tellier ; but although they are 
 the least of Bossuet's productions, that orator discovers that great? 
 Bess of mind in them which Flechier never reaches. He is quite 
 behind him in his Orations on Madame de Montausier, on Madame 
 d*'Aiguillon,on the Prince of Bavaria, and the President Lamoignon. 
 Two discourses in which he has exceeded himself, are his eulogies 
 on Turenne and Montausier; these have beauty enough to place him 
 in the first rank among orators of the second order, but must leave 
 him always at a great distance from the chefs-d'oeuvre of Bossuet." 
 
SERMON II. 
 
 CHRISTMAS-DAY. 
 
 PREACHED BEFORE THE KING IN HIS CHAPEL OF 
 ST. GERMAIN. 
 
 FLECHIER. 
 
 Luke ii. 10. — Behold, I bring jou good tidings of great joy, 
 which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the 
 city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. 
 
 As after a long series of dark days and gloomy nights, the 
 sun, approaching us, dissipates that mnss of clouds which 
 has concealed (he heavens from our eyes, and awakened all 
 nature, beore languishing and buried in itself, — so, after 
 many ages of infidelity and ignorance, Jesus Christ the 
 Son of God, God himself, says the prophet, appears from 
 the highest heavens, and comes to illuminate the blind un- 
 derstandings of men with the light of faith, and to warm their 
 insensible hearts with the fire of his love. He comes to us not 
 only by compassionating our miseries, but also by partici- 
 pating of our nature, and concealing his eternal grandeur 
 under the veil of a morlal body : although he might have 
 continued in his glory, and abandoned us to our sins and 
 to his justice, his goodness made him undertake what our 
 necessity would scarcely have allowed us to desire. He 
 includes in our evils the remedies of the evils themselves, 
 and by a scheme, worthy of his wisdom and his love, he so 
 admirably unites in himself his riches and our necessities, 
 his strength and our weakness, that in loading himself with 
 pur miseries, by this ineffable union of our nature with the 
 
 
 1 
 
1 60 CHRISTMAS-DAY. 
 
 divine, he renders us capable of enjoying both his graces 
 and bis glory. 
 
 But let us not attempt to penetrate into this mystery 
 which holy Paul calls impenetrable; — and as geographers, 
 after having traced out seas and lands, which are only 
 known to them by the discoveries of navigators, mark in 
 the extremity of (heir maps, here are countries unexplored, 
 lands unknown, deserts vast and uninhabited, seas without 
 bottom or shore, and preserve their judgment without 
 acknowledging their ignorance; — so, after having drawn 
 from the mystery of the incarnation and birth of Jesus 
 Christ whatever can contribute to our instruction and 
 example, let us confess that our understanding is arrived at 
 the last extent of its knowledge. I shall then confine 
 myself to the words of my text, and without any further 
 introduction, I intend to shew you that Jesus Christ, being 
 born to be the Saviour of men, has exercised all his functions, 
 and without any defect, inequality, or interruption, has 
 fulfilled the duties of his ministry ; and in my second part, 
 that -,men destined to be saved by Jesus Christ, through 
 ignorance, weakness, obstinacy, perhaps all three united, 
 are not in general concerned to receive the benefits of this 
 salvation. Let us implore from the holy Spirit of God 
 those lights which we need, and entreat him to make known 
 to us whatever is essential in the birth of Jesus Christ. 
 
 Never was there an undertaking more glorious, nor more 
 worthy of the grandeur and power of the Son of God, if you 
 regard the end he proposed in it, and the principle by which 
 he was actuated to save guilty men. His end was to sub* 
 due all people scattered throughout the earth to the unity of 
 his law, to cast down all the idols of the world at the feet 
 of true divinity, to vanquish all the forces of hell, to recon- 
 cile earth with heaven, and to become the mediator between 
 God and men; — what could be greater? its principle was 
 his infinite love. Man could wound himself, but he could 
 not heal himself; he could forge his own chains, but he had 
 uo strength to break them; he could plunge himself into 
 
CHRISTMAS-DAT, 
 
 161 
 
 darkness, from whence be was incapable of emerging without 
 the aid of a supernatural light. Jesus Christ comes to cure 
 this infirmity, to deliver this slave, to enlighten this blind 
 man, and to repair all the evils which sin had effected, and 
 which must have lasted for eternity, if a divine goodie, ss 
 and energy had not caused them to cease. What more 
 noble ! But if you consider the means which he uses, and the 
 duties which he imposes upon himself, nothing could appear 
 so little adapted to the dignity of his person. Whoever 
 speaks of a Saviour, speaks of a God clothed widi our 
 weaknesses, speaks of a man of sorrows, consecrated by 
 affliction to b. the public victim of the human race ; a man. 
 who comes to combat rebellion by obedience, pride by 
 humility, and pleasure by suffering, and who employs all 
 the moments of his life to satisfy the justice of God, and 
 sacrifice himself, from his birth to his death. Behold the 
 employ of Jesus Christ — he makes himself nothing, taking 
 the form of a man, and the resemblance of a sinner. He is 
 ready to suffer every thing for sinners, he only thinks and 
 labours for the salvation of sinners. 
 
 To convince you of the depth of the humiliation of Jesus 
 Christ, I have but to call to your recollection that it is a 
 God who makes himself man : that is to say, it is one of 
 the three persons of the Trinity, divine, infinite, and 
 immense, who submits to take upon himself a frail body, 
 who forms himself anew under a little visible figure, who 
 renders himself subject to the order of time, places, events, 
 and the will of man ; who descends into a state inferior to 
 all spiritual substances, and precipitates himself, so to speak, 
 from the height of his grandeur, through infinite space, to 
 the rank of a mortal creature. We read sometimes in the 
 scriptures, that God exalts or humbles himself, that he 
 descends or that he ascends ; but it is neither by rude 
 movements, nor imperfect changes, such as those of bodies 
 and matter. He rises, when he is pleased, to give some 
 dazzling idea of his greatness and majesty, or when he wishes 
 to describe how much he is above the capacity of our 
 
 
162 CHRISTMAS-DAV. 
 
 minds, and the weakness of our natures. He humbles 
 himself when he designs to accommodate himself to our 
 infirmity, and to suit himself to our weakness. It was 
 formerly necessary to explain the language of scripture in 
 this manner, answerably to its spirit ; but now we must 
 reduce it to the letter^ and the proper sense without any 
 figure^ is, that he humbled himself in taking the form of man. 
 
 For when I consider an infant God who weeps and 
 who trembles in a manger, exposed to all the rigours of 
 time and to all the infirmities of age, I confess that it is a 
 most profound humiliation ; because, in fact, there is nothing 
 more feeble than an infant. Naturally considered, he 
 knows only how to suffer and complain, and he is marked 
 only with the impressions of that nothingness from which 
 he has just sprung forth. In a moral view, all the princi- 
 ples of reason which elevate us above the rest of the 
 creatures, are as lifeless dregs, and there is nothing to 
 encourage us respecting his rationality, but the hope that 
 it will one day discover itself. Even in the order of grace 
 he enters into this world as a wretch, who comes to pay the 
 penalty of the first transgression, and who is a debtor to the 
 justice of God. Yet this is the state in which Jesus Christ 
 is born, and the first condition of the Saviour, that is to say, 
 of the word made flesh. Divinity alone could not expiate 
 the sins of men, because its dignity was incompatible with 
 this expiation ; humanity alone could not do it, on account 
 of its weakness and meanness. Divinity and humanity must 
 then be blended together in this unity of person, by which, 
 being intimately united, they might communicate their 
 properties and qualities the one to the other; so that the Son 
 of God, equal to his Father by his divine nature, and like 
 to men by his humanity, might become mediator, inter- 
 cessor, and Saviour, by his human nature, by communi- 
 cating to it a grandeur, a divine perfection, and an infinite 
 merit ; and by his divine nature, by making it enter into 
 the condition of sinners in his incarnation. 
 
 This is what he visibly effects to* day in his manger, not 
 
CHRISTMAS-DAT.. 
 
 1 63 
 
 only suppressing all his greatness and glory as to their 
 functions and exercise, but also the treasures of wisdom 
 and knowledge which he possesses, that lie may appear 
 merely as a common infant. Tertullian remarks upon this 
 subject, that there is this difference between the birtli of 
 Jesus Christ and our's, — that our's is a state of acquisition 
 and improvement, but that of Jesus Christ is a state of humi- 
 liation and diminution. I explain this thought. We by 
 our birth enter into a condition more perfect and more 
 exalted; but Jesus Christ enters into a condition more 
 humiliating : to be born, with us, is to come out of 
 nothing; to be born, with him, is to enter into nothing: 
 while we increase in liberty, in reason, in abundance, in 
 proportion to our growth, in the natural course of life, 
 Jesus Christ, on the contrary, lessens himself in the eyes of 
 men by a voluntary renunciation of every thing which can 
 serve to advance his glory. We are bom to live, he is 
 born to die ; we receive a will at our own disposal to guida 
 us, Jesus Christ only receives it to resign it into the hands 
 of his Father; we receive an heart which is in us as a 
 principle of life, Jesus Christ receives it as a principle of 
 death ; because, being destined to reconcile sinners by the 
 mystery of the cross, he immolates himself already for 
 them beforehand, as soon as he is in the world. Who then 
 is this Jesus Christ made man, this Jesus Christ incarnate ? 
 He is a God who descends from his true greatness, to oblige 
 man to descend from his imaginary greatness. We can 
 say nothing more of Jesus Christ's incarnation, than that he 
 humbles himself and abases himself; because, abasement 
 being a descent from a condition more eminent and more 
 exalted, to a condition lower and less perfect, the greater 
 the degrees of elevation, the greater the descent to abase- 
 ment. Then man scarcely can place himself below the 
 condition of his being and his misery. Does he think 
 himself a sinner ? — he is so much more than he has imagined. 
 Does he descend into the earth ?— . this is the matter of 
 which he is composed. Does he descend into hell I — this is 
 
 
164 . CHRISTMAS-DAT. 
 
 the place destined for his punishment. Does he descend 
 into nothing ? — this is to return to his origin. 
 
 If then, Sirs, it is true, that the humiliation of Jesus 
 Christ is a means of our salvation, our pride is an obstacle 
 to it. He seeks only to conceal himself, and to place 
 himself below the rest of mankind ; and we seek nothing 
 but aggrandizement, but distinctions, but pre-eminence. 
 One, because he is raised from the dust by his intrigues, by 
 his artifices, perhaps even by his crimes, regards with pity 
 and contempt whatever is not as great as himself, and esteems 
 himself more on account of his dignities than he esteems 
 others for their virtues. Another only finds himself happy 
 in the midst of a crowd of idle and interested persons, who 
 even praise his defects, and he never dreams that the world 
 is full of flatterers, who speak smoothly in proportion as 
 we benefit them, or have it in our power so to do ; and that 
 praises are never scarce when we have something to pay in 
 return. How many are there who, not being able entirely to 
 persuade themselves but that they are sinners, imagine that 
 they are so only in a small degree, because others are more 
 so than themselves. Self-love, which induces us always to 
 pardon and excuse ourselves at the ex pence of others, 
 flatters them with a kind of imaginary innocency, which is 
 only founded upon the wickedness of others. A gross 
 slander seems to them an uncommon crime ; it is violently 
 assailing the reputation of one's neighbour ; it is tearing him 
 to pieces without pity; it is inhumanly assassinating one's 
 brother : but these, because they begin a sanguinary dis- 
 course by a flattering preface, and because they know 
 skilfully how to poison all the shafts of their slander, deem 
 themselves less guilty, by wounding with a greater degree 
 of delicacy, and killing with a better grace. Hence it 
 happens that they do not seek to be healed, because they 
 are not conscious that they are sick. He who judges 
 ri<rhtlv of himself, will not find so much reason for self- 
 contentment. Alas ! is it not a small thing that we can 
 only discover our virtues by comparing them with vices, 
 
CHRISTMAS-DAY. 
 
 165 
 
 and find ourselves to be good men, because others are 
 worse than we ? This is not the spirit of Christ ; he 
 conceals his grandeur under the veil of our infirmities ; he 
 even hides his holiness under the likeness of sinful flesh, 
 and seeks no distinction between himself and sinful men, 
 either in his birth or in the whole course of his life. 
 
 He imposes upon himself a painful duty, to suffer every- 
 thing for the salvation of sinners. Theology teaches me 
 that it was not from absolute necessity that Jesus Christ 
 suffered for men. God could have left those who had 
 abused his favours to perish in their sins. Nature was 
 but a corrupted mass, which he might have given up to its 
 corruption. Though he should have abandoned all the 
 nations of the earth, his judgments might have b en very 
 severe, but they would not have been the less equitable. 
 Man by sinning deserved to lo^e both t lie advantages of 
 nature, and the hopes of glory. But if God chose to save 
 men, it was not necessary that it should cause the death of 
 an innocent person, or of any who were guilty ; he could, 
 by a pure movement of his extraordinary mercy, deliver 
 so many criminals, or satisfy himself with a word, a desire, 
 a drop of blood from his Son. He deposes of the life and 
 death of his creatures as he pleases, and he is the master 
 of his favours. Thus, speaking absolutely, Go ! could 
 have chosen other means than those which he has chosen; 
 Jesus Christ could have died or not, at pleasure; there 
 was no Constraining necessity. But God having determined 
 the end of the incarnation, it was necessary t;> follow the 
 means the most suitable to this end; and the scripture 
 sometimes teaches.us that the Son of maumust be lifted up 
 upon a cross, that those who believe in him may not 
 perish ; sometimes, that as in the law there is no remission 
 without effusion of blood, a God-man must shed his own; 
 and in many places, (hat his glory must be a recompense 
 for his humiliation and labours; that he must accomplish 
 all the oracles of the prophets and all the figures of the 
 law, found an entirely pure religion, leave men examples 
 
 N 
 
 
m 
 
 CHRISTMAS-DAY. 
 
 of Christian virtues, make them know the importance of 
 their salvation by the price which it costs, merit for us in 
 suffering, both justification and glory, and fulfil all the 
 duties of his ministry from his birth to his death. 
 
 This is what he now undertakes as a Saviour, submitting 
 himself as the only viclim to satisfy the justice of his 
 Father, and to reconcile sinners to him. Hence, says 
 St. Chrysostom, the sacrifices of the law were all abolished 
 at his birth, which God instituted, not as true satisfactions, 
 but as shadows and figures of the oblation of Jesus Christ ; 
 and St. Paul, in the tenth chapter of his Epistle to the 
 Hebrews, represents Jesus Christ entering into the world 
 with an absolute disposition to obey the whole law, and ta 
 suffer as an entire satisfaction. Sacrifice and offerings thou 
 wouldest not, but a body hast thou prepared me, God 
 being a Spirit, that is to say, love, charity, holiness, justice ; 
 a victim was necessary, full of obedience, love, holiness, 
 and charity. It was also necessary that it should be taken, 
 from the nature which had sinned, and that it should bear 
 an infinite price, that its sufferings should be proportionate 
 to the eternal sufferings which all men had merited. 
 Jesus Christ alone having these qualifications, enters into 
 the world as into the sanctuary of God, to bleed and to die, 
 and to render to his Father an infinite worship and homage 
 in the accomplishment of our reconciliation. Then he 
 declares, I come ; as if he had said, I destine myself to be 
 the object of the people's infidelity, of the contradiction of 
 the wise of the world, of the persecution and cruelty of 
 tyrants, of the injustice of my enemies, of the treason of my 
 disciples, of the wrath of God himself. Stretched now in 
 my manger, as I must one day be upon my cross, I already 
 in my will bear all the weight of the sins of men. Impatient 
 to grow up, that I may complete the work which I have 
 undertaken, I shall acquire strength only to be the better 
 fitted to endure great punishments ; scarcely eight days 
 will have elapsed, when I shall shed the first drops of my 
 blood, as a specimen of my sacrifice : a victim too feeble 
 
CHRISTMAS-DAY* l£>7 
 
 and tender, but already voluntarily devoted ; I shall 
 alleviate my desires, if I cannot yet accomplish my designs. 
 No interval of repose or pleasure will interrupt the course 
 of my laborious and suffering life. Innocent as I am, I 
 put myself in the place of guilty men, and in my office as 
 a Saviour, I only live and die for them. 
 
 If the profession which Jesus Christ makes, as the 
 Saviour of the world, imposes upon him such rigorous 
 laws, do we suppose that we can derive any benefit from 
 this salvation by leading a voluptuous and worldly life J 
 This is an error: the religion of the Christian is a religion 
 of self-denial and of penitence, because it must incessantly 
 punish sin in the individual, and because he is united to 
 Jesus Christ by the bonds of his redemption and sufferings. 
 Yet every one thinks himself sufficiently innocenl for puri- 
 fication without suffering. Every one fl-.ttcis and justifies 
 himself, and leaves penitence for great sinners or great 
 saints. When we see sanguinary men employ poison and 
 sword, in violation of the rights of humani'y, that they 
 may satiate a brutal vengeance or a sordid avarice, we 
 condemn them to expiate their crimes by their own blood, . 
 or at least by continual tears. Those who, by bad offices 
 secretly and slowly prepared, overthrow innocent fortunes, 
 or who, by concerted calumnies, or decrees surreptitiously 
 obtained or bought, ruin all the family, and perhaps all the 
 posterity of a good man ; let them repair the evils which 
 they have done, and let them weep all their days. Those 
 who have enriched themselves with the spoils of the poor, 
 and who, in the language of scripture, devour the people of 
 God by their violence and oppression, let them restore 
 seven times as much as they have taken, like the publican 
 in the Gospel, and let them voluntarily despoil themselves » 
 
 of their own goods, after having restored those of others. 
 And, in fine, let those who have abused the s cred mysteries, 
 and who have carried profanation into the temple, covering 
 their ambition, their interest, or their hatred with the veil 
 of religion, — let them judge themselves with severity, and 
 
168 CHRISTMAS-DAY. 
 
 let them groan until death, at the foot of those same altars* 
 which they have despised. Every one condemns them to- 
 all the rigours of the law, and justly thinks, that penitence 
 is made for them. 
 
 The third obligation which the Saviour imposes upon 
 himself is to think all his life on the salvation of sinners. 
 Although theology dare not attribute real passions to Jesus 
 Christ, and although it may have even wished to soften 
 this term, because passions in us are irregular movements, 
 which oppose themselves to reason, which trouble the 
 judgment, and which almost always bear away the soul 
 beyond the boundaries of lawful desire ; St. Augustin has 
 not scrupled to say, that Jesus Christ, being truly man, had 
 true passions, but wise and regulated, which were subject 
 to his orders, which were always guided by the laws of 
 reason, and which ennobled all their objects. We may 
 even remark two sorts of them. Some were transient 
 movements which he excited on certain occasions to give 
 us some great examples, or to mark some great mysteries z 
 he trembled, he was sorrowful ; but we may say, that there 
 was a perpetual and permanent passion in Jesus Christ ; I 
 mean his desire for the salvation of men. It was this desire 
 which inspired him with that ardour and that charitable 
 inquietude till he had completed redemption. It was this 
 desire which made him say with so much tenderness, " I 
 hare a baptism to. be baptized with, and how am I strait* 
 ened till it be accomplished" It was this desire which 
 enabled him to surmount all the obstacles that opposed 
 themselves to the accomplishment of his designs, and 
 which, according to the expression of the prophet, caused 
 him to run his race like a giant, whom nothing can arrestj 
 in the way which his Father had marked out for him. 
 
 Can I say more to you, Sirs, respecting a truth of which 
 you are sufficiently persuaded? The anxieties of Jesui 
 Christ for your salvation arc sufficiently known to you; 
 but have you yet discovered your own indifference on the 
 subject? do you feel any of that ardour which inflamed 
 
CHRISTMAS-DAY. \{$ 
 
 him ? where are the marks of your desires ? what efforts do 
 you employ for yourselves ? what difficulties have you 
 surmounted ? I fear lest while Jesus Christ has come to 
 seek mankind, you should be of the number of those who 
 seek not Jesus Christ. This is my second part. 
 
 SECOND PART. 
 
 There are three sorts of persons who do not profit by 
 the redemption of Jesus Christ : some who do not know 
 him., others who do not believe him, and others who do not 
 follow him. The world, according to the gospel, have not 
 known him, because there is a formal opposition between 
 their laws and their maxims. For, Sirs, what is the world ? 
 an enemy of Jesus Christ and of the salvation oi which 
 the scripture so often speaks. 
 
 This is the society which is animated by that corrupt 
 and disordered spirit which is natural to all men, inas- 
 much as they live according to the corrupted nature which 
 ihey have received from Adam ; this is the almost universal 
 sect of deceivers or deceived, who, following the movements 
 of their own hearts, and not submitting to the rules of the 
 gospel, recognize no good but pleasures, honours, riches, 
 knowledge, and independence ; and fear no other evils than 
 poverty, servitude, sorrow, and submission ; and who, some- 
 times transported with a false joy, and sometimes over- 
 whelmed with an imaginary chagrin, pass their days at 
 random in joy or grief, as if they disbelieved all religion,, 
 and as if that which they profess was only a mere fable. 
 
 Although pride, interest, and malice, are the principal 
 parts of which this mass of corruption is composed, the 
 wise man warns us in many places that the spirit of the 
 world is only a spirit of misery, which makes us look 
 upon vain things as important, and important things as 
 vain. It is a crowd of agitated spirits which reciprocate 
 one with the other, the simple as toys for the more refined ; 
 
170 CHRISTMAS-DAY. 
 
 these suffer themselves to be entirely at the controul of 
 fashions and customs; the learned are those who give more 
 authority to their reveries, and who utter them more 
 gravely. The people abandon themselves, and judge of 
 nothing according to its merits. The most polished are 
 those who make amusement their business, who neglect 
 their true duties for vain ceremonies, who know how to 
 disguise their passions and to flatter those of oth< rs, and 
 who, relinquishing solid enjoyments for imaginary good, 
 occupy themselves with nothing, busy themselves with 
 every thing, labour without fruit, live without rule, and die 
 without preparation. 
 
 This mode of life strikes you with astonishment, Sirs; 
 take care lest it be your own. I say, then, that these men 
 know not Jesus Christ. First, because their vicious habits 
 have condensed still more the clouds which cover their 
 understandings, and increased their blindness, according to 
 the language of the gospel : they love darkness rather than 
 light, because their deeds are evil. Secondly, because they 
 hear not the word of life, or if they do hear it, they cannot 
 understand it ; since the animal and carnal man is not 
 capable of receiving the truths which the Spirit of 
 God teaches. Thirdly, because the god of this world, 
 who presides over their passions, interests, and desires, 
 blinds their understandings : in whom the god of this world 
 hath blinded the minds of them that believe not, saith the 
 apostle ; thus making them to reject a doctrine which op- 
 poses their pride, injustice, and voluptuousness, and the 
 profession of which exposes them to the hatred of the 
 world, and troubles their false tranquillity. 
 
 Hence we may infer the misery of this condition. All 
 things have known Jesus Christ, says St. Gregory; the 
 heavens have given birth to the stars, to be a visible and 
 shining testimony to his birth. The sea has stooped its 
 proud waves beneath his feet, and to bear him up it has 
 rendered its waters solid and firm. The earth, that heavy 
 and immoveable mass, submitted to his voice, or, sensible of 
 
CHRISTMAS-DAY. 17 J 
 
 his pains, at one word from bis lips, opened the bosom of 
 the tombs, and shook to the very foundation at the sight of 
 his sufferings. Even the stones have lost their natural 
 hardness, and by a secret impression of the power of J-esus 
 Christ, they have broken themselves to pieces; while the 
 ungodly, incredulous of his doctrine, ungrateful to his 
 bounty, infidels to his grace, rebels to his truth, insensible 
 to his sorrows, know him not. and even will not know 
 him. 
 
 The second know Jesus Christ, but they do not believe 
 in Jesus Christ, at least with a lively and active faith. For, 
 Sirs, there are two sorts of faith ; the one is a faith of assent, 
 the other is a faith of interior persuasion ; the one submits 
 our reason to the mysteries of religion, the other submits 
 our will to the obedience of the gospel. The first is a 
 light which makes us know the truth, the second is a grace 
 shed abroad in our hearts, which constrains us to the exer- 
 cise of obedience. Now the greater part of Christians only 
 possess the first sort of faith. They believe the birth of 
 Jesus Christ; they believe the secrets of the providence of 
 God in all the disposal of that mystery: they secretly 
 adore, if you please, all the virtues which Jesus Christ has 
 practised ; but they make them the subjects of opinion, and 
 not the objects of their imitation. They are better in^ 
 structed than others, but they do not become better; even 
 those virtues which they revered in Jesus Christ seem to 
 them rude and insupportable, as soon as they apply them 
 personally ; the truth shocks them, humility startles them, 
 patience rebuts them, submission seems harsh to them ; 
 they honour Jesus Christ with their lips, but their hearts 
 are far from him. Jesus Christ does not dwell in them, 
 though they appear to dwell in Jesus Christ ; they are like 
 those useless grafts which have not united, which indeed 
 seem joined to the trunk of the tree that supports them, 
 but which are not vivified by it. 
 
 Saint Paul, in his first Epistle to the Corinthians, teaches 
 lis that Jesus Christ lias been made of God unto us wisdom. 
 
172 CHRISTMAS-DAY. 
 
 righteousness, sanctification, and redemption. As our wisdom 
 he instructs us, and he is the object of our knowledge. As 
 our righteousness he makes us conscious of our guilt,- and 
 he is the cause of our justification. As our sanctification 
 he purifies us, and he is the rule of our conduct. As our 
 redemption he delivers us from our miseries, and restores us 
 to the hope of eternal good. Then, Sirs, according to the 
 mark of St. Chrysostom, to be a true disciple of Jesus 
 Christ, it is necessary to believe in him, and to receive 
 him in these four different estates : as wisdom by em- 
 bracing his truth, as righteousness by having recourse to 
 his grace, as redemption by expecting felicity from him, 
 and as sanctification by living after his Spirit and according 
 to his laws. But we divide Jesus Christ, we are very 
 willing that he should be our redeemer, but not our master ; 
 that he should bestow upon us his blood which blots out 
 our sins, but not his Spirit which eradicates our passions. 
 AVe desire that he should take from us the punishment of 
 our sins, and that he should leave us in possession of the 
 sins themselves ; that he should give us the price of his 
 blood, that he should relieve us from the yoke of his law, 
 that he should do for us whatever he may please to effect 
 our salvation, but that he would leave us to do whatever we 
 may please in the pursuit of our pleasures, and in short, 
 that he should make us happy, but dispense with our 
 being righteous. This is not to believe in Jesus Christy 
 this is to reject him. 
 
 Thus many desire to be saints ; they are persuaded that 
 they must strive for it, but they nevertheless would wish to 
 get to heaven more conveniently. The means appear to 
 them a little too difficult, who would indulge themselves 
 with a right of impunity for some of their passions; who 
 Would allow themselves an unlawful pleasure, a forbidden 
 vengeance. Perhaps, in other respects, they would submit 
 to the law, but they regard heaven on one side and earth 
 on the other. They resemble those people whom the king 
 of Assyria sent to people Samaria ? who with one hand 
 
CHRISTMAS-DAY. 173 
 
 offered incense to the true God, and with the other to their 
 idols, and who went to immolate victims before the altars of 
 their false deities, after they had sacrificed on the altars of 
 the Almighty. 
 
 The third, in fine, are those who know Jesus Christ, and 
 apparently believe in him, but do not study to follow and 
 to imitate him. The Saviour, by his incarnation, acquires 
 three sorts of power over men. The first is aright of re- 
 demption ; he regards men as slaves whose chains lie is 
 about to break, and by his humility he even acquires a 
 sovereignty of mercy, and subjects all nature to himself by 
 a new right of protection and succour. The second is a 
 right of religion ; because, being the Son of God, he renders 
 to his Father an infinite homage, filling up the void which 
 is found in the hearts and worship of men, and restoring to 
 him a perfect worship and a religion suited to his divine 
 nmjesty, by an infinite capacity which he possesses of loving 
 him and of infinitely adoring him. The third is a right and 
 power of instruction, by which he not only exercises over 
 men the sovereign ministry of truth, but he also becomes 
 their head and model, in imposing upon them a happy 
 necessity of being conformed to Ins image, and of regu- 
 lating themselves after his example. 
 
 I( is certain that this is a doctrine of St. Augustin, and the 
 scripture teaches us in many places, that the design of the 
 incarnation is to give us the means of coming to God, who 
 is our only and sovereign good. Of what benefit is the 
 mere knowledge of the end to which we aspire ? What 
 would be the utility of those hopes, those interior move- 
 ments, those natural inclinations which we feel, if we had 
 not the means of arriving at it ? All our faith centers in the 
 person of Jesus Christ: admire the divine Providence, 
 Jesus Christ man ; Jesus Christ God : he is God, behold 
 our end • he is man, behold our means ; he is God, and it 
 is to him that we must go ; he is man, and it is by him that 
 we must go. Form to yourselves all the ideas of Christianity 
 that you please. Establish your salvation upon the foun- 
 
174 CHRISTMAS-DAY. 
 
 dations which your reason may suggest: seek within your 
 own minds all the ways of becoming holy; it is an article of 
 faith, that there can neither be holiness, nor hope of salva- 
 tion, but by the imitation of Jesus Christ ; in vain would 
 he have rendered himself visible, in vain would he have 
 founded a religion, in vain would he have led a life so 
 holy before men, if he had not purposed to set us an 
 example. 
 
 Yet where do we find Christians who bear the character 
 of Jesus Christ? — where do we find a conformity to his 
 life ? Jesus Christ, from his manger to his cross, felt and 
 bare the punishment of our sins, and yet our sins never 
 press us down. Sland: r appears to us as an amusement of 
 the min 1, a pleasantry of conversation, an agreeable raillery, 
 which indeed does a little wrong to him of whom we speak; 
 but which in return diverts those whom we seek to entertain. 
 Falsehood is b come an officious commerce of speech 
 which the custom of the world authorizes, without which 
 truth would be too austere, and sincerity too forbidding. 
 Flattery, and the facility of allowing ourselves to be cor* 
 rupted, pass for honest means of union and understanding 
 with our neighbour, for necessary complaisance and indis* 
 pensable civilities. The Son of God only laboured all his 
 life to gain souls to God by his discourses, by his examples, 
 and by his grace; and do we not labour every day to 
 destroy them, either by scandals which wound them, or by 
 condescensions which corrupt them, or obstinacies which 
 drive them to despair. Jesus Christ scarcely found a 
 bare covering in his manger, and we diligently seek after all 
 the means which ingenious vanity and prodigal luxury 
 have invented. We are not contented with the most pre^- 
 cious stuffs, if the mind and the hand of the workman are 
 not allowed to embellish them ; the gold and the silk do not 
 appear sufficiently rich, if art does not improve upon nature, 
 and if f shion does not raise the price of the article. In fine, 
 Jesus Christ enters upon a life, all the movements of which 
 are marked by an entire renunciation of the good things. 
 
CHRISTMAS-DAY. 
 
 175 
 
 the pleasures, the conveniences of the world; and do we 
 find among those who embrace his faith a single moment of 
 life which resembles his ? Scarcely have they entered into 
 existence b'fore they are accustomed to pride and luxury, 
 and are brought up without any principle of religion. 
 Scarcely have they attained the use of reason, when nothing 
 is desired for them but the spirit of the world — they never 
 hear speak of the Spirit of God : this succeeds, and all the 
 rest of their time is divided between passions often different, 
 but all equally criminal, because they are contrary to the 
 Spirit of Jesus Christ. 
 
 This, Sirs, is what I had to present to you on the subject 
 of the mystery which we celebrate. May heaven grant 
 that you may draw the necessary consequences for your 
 conduct from so many principles of religion, and that the 
 precious seed of the word of God, watered by the dews of 
 bis grace, may produce in your hearts abundant fruits 
 through eternity. 
 
 Thou, O Lord, who boldest in thy hands the hearts 
 of kings, and who, according to the expressions of thy 
 scriptures, givest thy salvation unto kings, fill to-day with 
 thy graces him to whom I come to announce thy truths ; 
 he rather loves that I should address desires to thee, than 
 that I should address prais s to him, and he restores to thee 
 all his glory, which coming only from thee, ought only to 
 belong to thee. If he is enlightened in his counsels, it is 
 thy wisdom which enlightens him : if he is happy in his 
 enterprises, it is thy providence which guides him: if he 
 is victorious in his wars, it is thine arm which protects 
 him, it is thine hand which crowns him in the midst of so 
 much prosperity with which thou hast honoured his reign ; 
 nothing more remains for us to implore of thee for him, than 
 what he every day asks of thee himself, — his salvation. 
 Thou hast established his throne against the many com- 
 bined enemies who attack him, establish his soul against 
 the many objects of passion which surround him. He has 
 yictories to gain more glorious than those which he now 
 
375 CHRISTMAS-DAY. 
 
 gains, and thou hast crowns to give him more precious than 
 those which he now wears. It would add little to his 
 immortality, though all worlds were promised him, did he 
 not possess that which thou only canst give him, and which 
 shall survive all worlds. O consecrate his royal virtues by 
 as many Christian virtues, increase that deep piety which 
 thou hast implanted in his soul, and make him as holy as 
 thou hast made him great, that after having long reigned 
 happily through thee, he may reign eternally with thee, 
 
 
 
 
BOURDALOUE. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE, 
 
 Louis Bourdaloue was born at Bourses in 1632, and died at 
 Paris in 1704. He entered at the age of sixteen among the Jesuits 
 of his province. His superiors soon discovered his great talents, and 
 sent him to Paris, where they were rapidly developed, and attracted 
 large auditories whenever he preached. After Louis XIV. had 
 heard him, he was charmed with his eloquence, and appointed him 
 to be one of his preachers every other year. His admiration of him 
 was so great that he said, I like better to hear the repetitions of Bour- 
 daloue than the new discourses of any other preacher. On the revocation 
 of the Edict of Nantes, he sent him to preach the Catholic doctrines 
 to the new converts at Languedoc. The peculiar characteristic of 
 Bourdaloue's sermons is strong reasoning, and his arguments are so 
 closely united together that it is difficult to quote any detached part 
 without giving a very imperfect idea of their excellency. In reading 
 them they are often dull and tedious, but when delivered they were 
 accompanied by those powers of oratory that made them irresistible. 
 A story is repeated in France which shews the force of Bourdaloue's 
 pulpit eloquence in a very striking point of view. He was one day 
 preaching a very searching discourse on the sins of the heart, when 
 an old officer in the centre of the congregation, who had been 
 remarked for his attention, and had fixed his chin on his stick and 
 his eyes on the preacher, no longer able to contain the inward 
 convictions of his mind, cried out, Parbleu c'est vrail* This circum- 
 stance was the more extraordinary, as report states that Bourdaloue 
 deprived himself of one of the principal advantages of the orator by 
 always preaching with his eyes shut. 
 
 Voltaire pronounces Bourdaloue to have been " the first model of 
 
 * It is difficult to give the English reader the ludicrous idea which this 
 expression conveys, when connected with the earnestness of the hearer and 
 tb« seriousness of the subject. It may be translated— egad, it's true ! 
 
 ' 
 
ITS BOURDALOUE. 
 
 good preachers in Europe." Despreaux regarded him as one of 
 those men whose titlents added to the glory of France. Marmontel 
 speaks of " that commanding and progressive firmness which gives 
 to the eloquence of Bourdaloue the impenetrable solidity, the irre- 
 sistible impulse of a military column, which advances by slow steps, 
 but the order and weight of which announces that every thing must 
 give way before it. " Bourdaloue," says La Harpe, " was the first 
 preacher who always carried the eloquence of reason into the 
 pulpit: he knew how to substitute it for the defects of his contem- 
 poraries. He taught them how to maintain the gravity becoming* 
 the holy ministry, and maintained it constantly in his numerous 
 discourses. He laid aside the display of profane quotations, and 
 the trifling researches of the wit. Uniformly penetrated with the 
 spirit of the gospel, and the substance of the holy books, he treated a 
 subject with solidity, arranged it with method, and explored it with 
 vigour. His reasonings are conclusive at the outset, sure in their 
 progress, and clear and instructive in their results." To these com- 
 mendations La Harpe adds his defects. "■ But he has little of what 
 we may call the great parts of the orator, which are the movements, 
 the elocution, the sentiment. He is an excellent theologian and a 
 learned catechist, rather than a powerful preacher. While he 
 always carries with him conviction, he is deficient in that precious 
 unction which renders the conviction efficacious." 
 
 The Cardinal Maury has run a parallel between Bossuet, his 
 favourite, and Bourdaloue. " I have no doubt," says he, " but that 
 Bossuet was born with much more genius than Bourdaloue; yet the 
 sermons of the latter are better written, more finished, and more 
 methodical ; and I am not surprised at it, since they have been the 
 only objects towards which he directed his literary labours. If we 
 compare piece with piece, Bourdaloue will have the advantage ; but 
 if we oppose line to line, he cannot bear this parallel. Bossuet is 
 more luminous, more original, more extraordinary, more over- 
 whelming. He has a great and firm manner, a noble familiarity, 
 sublime raptures, striking pictures, sudden yet always natural 
 transitions, a great number of those intimate truths which can only 
 be discovered by diving profoundly into our hearts, a majesty of 
 ideas, and a vigour of expression peculiar to himself. We eveiy 
 where in his writings recognize the tone and the accent of a prophet; 
 he is the Isaiah of the new law." 
 
 The editor of Bourdaloue's sermons, however, raises his character 
 still higher than the praises of Maury, and gives a reason which 
 strongly apologizes for any defects that the critic's eye may discover ; 
 for he asserts that " the great reputation of Bourdaloue continually 
 subjected him to distractions and engagements foreign to his work, 
 
BOURDALOUE. 
 
 179 
 
 in consequence of which he had little leisure to retouch his sermons, 
 and to give them the finishing stroke." 
 
 It is, notwithstanding, very evident that the discourses of thi* 
 preacher must have cost him much thought and labour; and there is 
 an anecdofe extant respecting him, which, if his sermons were not a 
 sufficient argument strongly tends to confirm this fact. He was once 
 asked, why he wrote with so much care before he preached, and 
 never ventured to speak extempore from the overflowings of his heart; 
 to which he replied, " I do it from reverence far the word of God." 
 It would perhaps be better for the mental as well as spiritual im- 
 provement of our churches, if a few more of our evangelical preachers 
 felt the same reverence, instead of offering that to God in sacrifice 
 which has cost them nothing ; a crime which partakes as much of 
 indolenee as that of preaching the sermons of others, and which is 
 often far less beneficial in its results than retailing those judicious 
 and studied thoughts which we cannot call our own. If Eourdaloue's 
 feelings on this point more generally prevailed, we should have a 
 much less number of enthusiasts carried away by their feelings, and 
 a greater increase of intelligent hearers : thus we may learn an useful 
 lesson even from a despised Catholic preacher. 
 
 The opinion of an eminent critic of our own country shall con- 
 clude this character. " The best sermons I ever read," says Bishop 
 Warburton, referring to Bourdaloue, " were preached by one of the 
 members of the worst church in Christendom — the Romish ; and the 
 worst sect in that worst church — the Jesuits." 
 
 The sermons of this preacher have passed through many editions 
 which are of different sizes; there is one in sixteen volumes 8vo, 
 Those sermons which are most celebrated are the two on the 
 Passion of Jesus Christ, one of which is here presented to the 
 reader. 
 
SERMON III. 
 
 THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 BOURDALOUE. 
 
 Luke xxiii. 27, 28. — And there followed him a great company of 
 people, and of women, which also bewailed and lamented him. — • 
 But Jesus turning unto them said, Daughters of Jerusalem, weep 
 not for me, but weep for yourselves, and for your children. 
 
 Sire, — Is it tben true that the passion of Jesus Christ, of 
 which we celebrate to-day the august but sorrowful mystery, 
 some idea of which faith gives us, is not the most touching 
 object which can occupy our minds and excite our grief? 
 Is it true that our tears can be more holily and more suitably 
 employed than in weeping over the death of the God- 
 man ; and that another duty more pressing and more neces- 
 sary suspends, so to speak, the obligation v^hich so just a 
 gratitude imposes upon us in another place, to sympathize 
 by sentiments of tenderness in the sufferings of our divine 
 Redeemer ? Never could we have supposed it, Christians, 
 and yet it is Jesus Christ who speaks to us; and who, as 
 the last proof of his love, the most generous and the most 
 disinterested that ever existed, in his way to Calvary, where 
 he must die for us, warns us not to weep at his death, and 
 to weep over every other thing rather than his death. Weep 
 not for me, but weep for yourselves. St. Ambrose, delivering 
 the funeral oration of the Emperor Valentine the younger, 
 in the presence of all the people of Milan, thought that 
 lie had sufficiently executed his ministry, and had fully 
 
THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 181 
 
 answered (he expectations of his auditors, when lie exhorted 
 them to confess by the tribute of their tears, how much 
 they were indebted to the memory of that incomparable 
 prince, who had exposed his life, and had, as it were, 
 immolated himself for them. But I, engaged to address 
 you in this discourse on the bloody death of the Saviour 
 of men, I behold myself reduced to the necessity of em- 
 ploying a language widely different: since, instead of 
 borrowing the words of St. Ambrose, which seemed natu- 
 rally to agree with my subject, I must, on tiie contrary, say 
 to you — Give not to this dying Redeemer tears which he 
 demands not from you : the tears which you shed are 
 precious tears ; do not waste them ; they are required for a 
 subject more important than you imagine. Jesus Christ 
 not only refuses to accept of your tears for Ins death, but he 
 even expressly forbids them : because to weep for it might 
 prevent you from weeping for another evil, which much, 
 more nearly affects you, and which indeed is more de- 
 plorable than even the death of the Son of God. I know 
 that all creatures are or seem sensible of it ; that the sun is 
 eclipsed, that the earth trembles, that the veil or the temple 
 is rent, that the rocks are torn asunder, that the tombs are 
 opened, that the ashes of the dead revive, that all nature is 
 moved at it: man only is for once freed from this duty; 
 provided he acquits himself in a manner less tender in 
 appearance, but more solid in reality. Let us then leave to 
 the heavenly bodies and to the elements, or, if you will 
 associate with them, intelligent creatures, let us leave to the 
 blessed angels the care of honouring the funeral of Jesus 
 Christ by the marks of their sorrow: these ambassadors of 
 peace, says Isaiah, have wept bitterly. Bur as for us, upon 
 whom God has other designs, instead of weeping for Jesus 
 Christ, let us weep with Jesus Christ, let us weep like 
 Jesus Christ, let us weep for that which made Jesus Christ 
 weep : thus we shall consecrate our tears, and render them 
 beneficial. 
 
 An evil greater in the idea of God than even the death 
 
 o 
 
182 THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 of Christ; an evil more worthy of being deplored than all 
 that the only Son of God has suffered ; an evil to which our 
 tears are more legitimately due than to the Passion of the 
 God-man; you are too much enlightened, Christians, not 
 to comprehend at one glance, is sin. There has never 
 been among all created beings any thing but sin which 
 could predominate over the sufferings of Jesus Christ, and 
 justify the words of this Saviour God, when he commands 
 us with as much propriety as affection, Weep not for me, 
 but for yourselves. To obey, Christians, this command- 
 ment, which our divine Master gives us, and to profit by 
 such important advice, let us consider to-day the mystery 
 of the holy passion, only that we may weep over the 
 devastation of our sins ; and let us not weep over the de- 
 vastation of our sins but in sight of the mystery of th« 
 holy passion. Indeed, if Jesus Christ had suffered inde- 
 pendently of our sin, his passion, however severe it might 
 "be for him, would have nothing iu it so frightful to us ; and 
 if our sin had no connexion with the sufferings of Jesus 
 Christ, exceedingly sinful as it is, it would be less odious to 
 lis. It is then by sin that we must measure the inestimable 
 benefit of the Passion of the Son of God ; and it is by the 
 inestimable benefit of the Passion of the Son of God that we 
 must measure the enormity of sin : of sin, I say, — observe 
 well these three propositions which I advance, and which 
 will divide this discourse, — of sin, which was the essential 
 cause of the Passion of Jesus Christ ; of sin, which is a 
 continual renewal of the Passion of Jesus Christ ; in a 
 word, of sin, which is the annihilation of all the fruits of 
 the Passion of Jesus Christ. In three sentences, the Passion 
 of Jesus Christ caused by sin; the Passion of Jesus Christ 
 renewed by sin ; the Passion of Jesus Christ rendered 
 useless and even prejudicial by sin. Behold what it is that 
 claims our tears and demands our attention^ 
 
THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 183 
 
 FIRST PART. 
 
 Consider the Passion of Jesus Christ which was caused 
 by sin. Behold the two circumstances, and, as it were, 
 the two scenes,, in which I am going to introduce this 
 Mediator by excellence between God and man. The 
 garden where he agonized, and Calvary where he expired. 
 The garden where he agonized ; it is there that I will shew 
 him to you feeling all the bitterness of sin. Calvary where 
 he expired ; it is there that I will cause you to contemplate 
 his person immolated for the satisfaction of sin. Is any 
 thing more requisite to constrain you and me to s'»ed tears, 
 not of a vain and sterile compassion, but of an efficacious 
 and holy compunction ? Weep not for me, but for y> ur- 
 selves. Apply yourselves, my dear hearers, and begin by 
 the interior sorrows of Jesus Christ, to learn what should 
 ever be the subject of our sorrow. 
 
 Scarcely has he entered into the garden where he went to 
 pray, than he falls into a profound gru f. He herein to be 
 sorrowful. The feeling is so keen that he cannot conceal 
 it: he declares it to his disciples: my soul is txcieding 
 sorrowful, even unto death. Fear seizes him, lie began to be 
 sore amazed ; troubles overwhelm him, he began io be very 
 heavy : by the force of the conflict in himself he already 
 suffers a kind of agony beforehand, he was in an agony ; 
 and by the violence of this combat he even sweats blood: 
 and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood facing down 
 to the ground. What does all this signify, says St. Chry- 
 sosfom, in him who was strength itself, and the appa ent 
 weaknesses of whom could be nothing but so many miracles 
 of his almighty love? What does he fear? What troubles 
 him ? Why that depression in a soul which, besides en- 
 joying the clearest vision of God, was always laden w.th the 
 pure joys of blessedness ? Why that internal war and that 
 commotion of the passions in a mind incapable of being 
 moved by any other springs than those of sovereign reason ? 
 
184 THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 Ah ! Christians, behold what we have well weighed in our 
 minds, and what we cannot too well understand for our 
 edification. For to say that the Saviour of the world is in 
 an agony only because he is about to die; that the sole 
 ignominy of the cross, or the rigour of the punishment 
 prepared for him, caused hrni these agitations, these dis- 
 gusts, these mortal fears, would not be to have a sufficiently 
 high idea of the passions of his nature. JNo, no, my brethren, 
 resumes St. Chrysostom, these are not the things about 
 which his great soul was troubled. The cross which Jesus 
 Christ had chosen as the instrument of our redemption did 
 not appear to him so terrible an object; that cross, which 
 must be the foundation of his glory, became not to linn an 
 object of shame; the cup which his Father had given him, 
 and which even on this account was so precious to him, was 
 not that bitter cup of which he testified so much horror, 
 and which produced a sweat of blood from all the pores of 
 his body; these were not precisely the symptoms of the 
 mysterious baptism of his death. For, however bloody this 
 baptism might be, he himself had ardently desired it, he 
 had sought it with holy eagerness, he had said to his disci- 
 pies, / have a baptism to be baptized with, and how am I 
 straitened till it be accomplished ? It was then some other 
 thing than the presence of death which troubled him, which 
 affrighted him. And what ! I have already told you, my 
 dear hearers; but, Lord, to impress it deeply on the minds 
 and hearts of those who hear me, I want all the zeal with 
 which thou wast consumed : what do I say ! Sin is the 
 solitary being opposed to God, the only evil capable of 
 afflicting the God-man, and making this God of glory 
 sorrow itself. Rise then, Christians, above all human ideas, 
 and conceive yet once this grand truth. Behold the faithful 
 . exposition of it drawn from the fathers of the church, but 
 above all from St. Augustin. 
 
 For while the chief priests and Pharisees took counsel 
 together against Jesus Christ, at the palace of Caiaphas, and 
 while they prepared themselves to oppress him by false 
 
THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 185 
 
 accusations and suppositious crimes, Jesus Christ himself in 
 the garden, humbled and prostrate before his Father, con- 
 sidered himself at the same time, without the loss of his 
 innocence, laden with real crimes; and according to the 
 oracle of Isaiah, which was verified to the letter, the Lord 
 laid upon him the iniquities of us alL Then in consequence 
 of the transfer which the Lord made of our iniquities to his 
 adorable Son, that just one who had never known sin, 
 found himself covered with the sins of ail nations, with the 
 sins of all ages, with the sins of all states and conditions. 
 Yes, all the sacrileges which should ever be committed, and 
 which Ms infinite prescience made him distinctly foresee, 
 all the blasphemies which should be uttered against heaven, 
 all the abominations which should excite blushes from 
 earth, all the scandals winch should break out in the world, 
 all those monsters which hell shoidd produce, and of which 
 men should more especially be the authors, came to torture 
 him in a crowd, and to serve already as his executioners. 
 Where do we learn this ? from himself, the alone witness 
 and judge of whatever he suffers in this cruel agitation. 
 For, according to the interpretation of St. Augustin, it is 
 personally of Jesus Christ that these words of the Psalmist 
 must be understood : the sorrows of death compassed me y 
 and the floods of ungodly men made me afraid. It was then 
 in the anticipation of this blessed, yet altogether sorrowful 
 moment, that Jeremiah, as a prophet, had a right to say to 
 Jesus Christ, fr thy breach is great like the sea. Ah ! 
 Lord, thy sorrow is as a vast sea of which we cannot sound 
 the bottom, nor measure the immensity. It was to increase 
 and sw'll this sea that all the sins of men, as the scripture 
 expresses it, rushed I ke so many waves into the soul of the 
 Son of God ; lor it is also of his passion, and of the excess of 
 his sorrow, that we must explam this passage: Save ?ne, O 
 GW, for the waters are come in unto my soul. With this 
 difference, that while the waves entering into the sea are 
 there confounded and lost, so that it is not possible to dis- 
 tinguish them one from the other; here, on the contrary, that 
 
186 THE PASSION" OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 is to say, in this abyss of sins and sea of sorrows, with which 
 the Saviour of the world was overwhelmed, he discerned 
 without mixture or confusion all the various sins for which 
 lie was about to suffer : the sins of kings and people ; the sins 
 of (he rich and the poor; the sins of fathers and children; 
 the sins of the priests and the laity. In these torrents of 
 iniquity he distinguishes slanders and calumnies, obscenities 
 and adulteries, simony and usury, treasons and vengeance. 
 With all the keenness of his divine penetration, he per- 
 ceives hims: If called to answer for the ravings of the proud 
 and ambitious, the excesses of the sensual and voluptuous, 
 the impieties of atheists and libertines, the impostures and 
 malice of hypocrites. Should we be astonished if all this, 
 according to the metaphor of the Holy Spirit, having 
 formed a deluge of waters in his blessed soul, it should be 
 swallowed up by them ; and if also, in the grief of his 
 heart, and in the sorrow caused by his zeal for God and 
 his love for us, this deluge of waters should have been fol- 
 lowed by a sweat of blood ? And his sweat was as it were 
 great drops of blood. 
 
 Behold, Christians, what I call the Passion of Christ, 
 and what formed the first scene of his suffering. Is it thus 
 that we consider sin ? And does the sorrow that we feel on 
 account of it produce in us proportionably like effects? 
 Let us now enter into the secrets of our consciences; and, 
 profiting by the model which God proposes to us, let us 
 see if our dispositions, in the exercise of Christian penitence, 
 have at least that just measure which must give it validity. 
 Is it thus, I say, that we consider sin ? do we conceive the 
 same horror of it? do we lose tranquillity of soul in it? 
 are we agitated and grieved at it ? Is this sin, by the idea 
 which we form of it, a punishment to us as it was to Jesus 
 Christ? Do we, like Jesus Christ, fear it more than all the 
 evils in the world ? does it bring us by remorse for it into a 
 kind of agony ? Ah ! my brethren, cries St. Chrysostom, 
 touched with this comparison, behold the great disorder 
 with which we have to reproach ourselves, and on account 
 
THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 187 
 
 •©f "winch we must eternally weep over ourselves. A 
 God-man is troubled at the sight of our sin, aR<l we are 
 tranquil; he is afflicted by it, and we are unmoved; he 
 is humbled for it, and we are bold; he sweats even 
 streams of blood, and we shed not one tear ; this is what 
 should terrify us. We sin, and far from being sorrowful 
 even unto death, perhaps after the sin do we not still insult 
 •the justice and providence of our God, and do we not say 
 within ourselves, like the ungodly, / have sinned, and what 
 4toii has happened to me ? Am I less at my ease on account 
 of it ? Am I of less consideration in the world ? Does k. 
 diminish my credit and authority ? Hence that false peace 
 <so directly opposed to the agony of the Son ,of God ; that 
 peace which we enjoy in the most frightful condition, 
 which is a state of sin. Although .the enemies of God, we 
 do not aliow ourselves merely to appear satisfied. Not 
 only do we affect to be so, but we are capable of being so in 
 reality, even so as to be able to dissipate ourselves and run 
 into the frivolous joys of the age. Reprobate peace, which 
 can only proceed from the hardness of our hearts ; peace a 
 thousand times more sad than all the other punishments of 
 sin, and in some respects worse than sin itself. Hence that 
 vain confidence so contrary to the holy fears of Jesus Christ, 
 ;that presumptuous confidence which encourages us where this 
 God-man has trembled ; which inspires us with hope where 
 he believed that we ought to fear; which flatters us with a 
 hope of mercy, and which promises to us the exercise of a 
 divine patience, upon which he never reckoned. A mercy 
 &adly understood, a patience weak and chimerical, which 
 would but serve, and which, in fact, by the abuse which we 
 make of it, does but serve to cherish our sin. Hence that 
 hardness of heart, and if I may be allowed to use the term, 
 that effrontery which blushes at nothing, and which appears 
 •so monstrous when compared with the confusion of Jesus 
 Christ. While we sin against God, we are not less lofty 
 before men ; we support sin with assurance, and far from 
 being confounded at it, we glory in it, we applaud ourselves 
 
188 THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 for it, we are puffed up by it, we triumph on account of it. 
 This is what obliges the divine word to humble himself: 
 the scandalous insolence of certain sinners could not be 
 repaired by any other humiliation than that of Jesus Christ ; 
 the blind rashness of so many libertines could not be ex- 
 pialed by any other fears than those of Jesus Christ ; the 
 indifference of so many insensible souls required no less 
 remedy than the sensibility of Jesus Christ. That God 
 might be duly satisfied, that sin might at once be as detested 
 as it was detestable, it was needful that a sorrow for it 
 should at once be conceived proportionate to its malice. 
 Only the God-man was capable of this, because he only 
 could know the wickedness of sin perfectly and in all its 
 extent, and consequently he. only was able to hate sin. 
 For this purpose he is come, and in the days of his mortal 
 life, as says St. Paul, having offered up prayers and sup- 
 plications with strong crying and tears unto him that was 
 able to save him from death, he has given us the most 
 excellent idea of Christian sorrow. If then we still bring 
 to his sacrament lukewarm hearts, cold hearts, barren 
 and hard hearts, doubt not, my brethren, concludes St. 
 Bernard, that it is to us that the Saviour to-day addresses 
 these words, weep not for me, but for yourselves. 
 
 Indeed, do you know what will condemn us most in the 
 judgment of God ? our sins will not even be so criminal as 
 our pretended contritions ; those languishing contritions, so 
 little conformed to the fervour of Jesus Christ; those 
 superficial contritions with which we know so well how 
 to preserve all the ease of our minds, all the cheerfulness 
 of our hearts, all the relish for pleasures, all the delights 
 and allurements of society; those imaginary contritions 
 which never afflict us, and which, by an infallible conse- 
 quence, produce no change. If we are influenced by the 
 spirit of faith, one sin is enough to disconcert all the powers 
 of our souls, to throw us into the same consternation as Cain, 
 to produce cries strong as those of Esau, when he saw 
 himself excluded from his birthright and deprived of his 
 
THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 1 &9 
 
 father's blessing, to make us groan as that king of Babylon 
 when he perceived the hand that wrote his sentence: we 
 will say more, even, in a word, to make us feel at the 
 botioni of our hearts, agreeably to the language of the 
 apostle, what Jesus Christ felt in himself. Let this mind be in 
 ?/o u which was also in Christ Jesus. But because the habit 
 of sin has by degrees hardened our hearts, that which ter- 
 rified Jesus Christ alarms us no more, that which excited 
 all his passions touches us no more. O Lord, said David, 
 and we ought to say with him, heal my soul. But entirely 
 to heal my soul, heal it from its feeble and imperfect con- 
 tritions, which render its wounds yet more incurable instead 
 of closing them ; heal it because at least it is in commotion; 
 heal the breaches thereof., for it shaketk. But it is not enough 
 that it is shaken, it must be converted by the invincible 
 force of the example of Jesus Christ. Having this 
 model before our eyes, the penitence which we have so 
 often abused will become salutary to us, it will be no more 
 what it lias been for us so many times, a pure ceremony ; 
 it will be a genuine return, a real change, a true coav. rslon. 
 We have said, and it is true, that sorrow for sin, to be 
 acceptable, must have qualities as rare as they are r qirsite ; 
 that it must be supernatural, absolute, sincere, efficacious, 
 universal ; that God must be the principal object of it, and 
 the end ; that it must exceed all other sorrow, and that sin 
 being the sovereign evil, we ought to abhor it above 
 every other evil : that there is no possible sin but it must 
 exclude, no temptation but it must have the power to over- 
 come, no occasion but it must induce us to avoid ; and that 
 if we fail in one of these qualities, it-is only a vain and 
 apparent contrition. But I tell you to-day, that all these 
 qualities together are comprised in the sorrow of Jesus 
 Christ: I tell you that to confirm yourselves in a solid 
 contrition, in a perfect contrition, you have only to form 
 yourselves after the model of Jesus Christ, by applying to 
 yourselves what God said to Moses, look that thou do 
 according to the pattern. If this is not our rule, let us weep 
 
190 THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 on tli is account, my dear hearers ; and let us weep the more 
 bitterly, that we cannot apply it to ourselves. Insensible to 
 our sins, let us at hast weep over our insensibility ; let us 
 weep because we do not weep, and let us afflict ourselves 
 because we are not afflicted. Thus shall we arrive at true 
 contrition, and thus we shall begin to imitate the suffering 
 of the Saviour. 
 
 But besides this interior passion, if I may so speak, 
 which sin at first caused him, behold another with which 
 the senses are more struck, and of which sin was not 
 less the unhappy and principal cause. For from the 
 garden where Jesus Christ prayed, without stopping at 
 pres< lit to contemplate the rest, I am going to Calvary 
 where he expired ; and contemplate in spirit this author 
 and finisher of our faith, according to the expression of 
 the great apostle, who, instead of a life tranquil and happy, 
 of which he was capable, dies the most cruel and the most 
 ignominious death. Surprised at so singular an event, I 
 dare venture to inquire of God the reason ; I appeal to his 
 wisdom, his justice, and his goodness ; and Christian as I 
 am, I am almost ready, after the example of the infidel 
 Jew, to make a stumbling-block of this mystery of my 
 redemption. And what indeed is it that I see, the most 
 innocent of men treated as the most criminal, and delivered 
 to merciless executioners ? But God, jealous of the glory 
 of his attributes, and interested in destroying a scandal so 
 specious in appearance, but at bottom so injurious as this, 
 knows well how to repress this first movement of my zeal : 
 and how? by making me know that this death is the 
 punishment of my sins ; by making me confess that all that 
 is transacted at Calvary, whatever horror I may conceive of 
 it, is justly ordained, wisely managed, and holily and 
 divinely executed : why ? because by nothing less could 
 sin be punished, and because it is true, as St. Jerome has 
 remarked, that if in the treasures of the wrath of God there 
 were no other chastisements for sin than those which our 
 reason could approve, our reason being bounded, and sin, 
 
THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 191 
 
 in its nature, partaking of something infinite, God would 
 never have been fully satisfied. 
 
 Our error, Christians, (apply yourselves, if you please, to 
 these two thoughts well worthy of your reflections) — our error 
 is in now considering the Saviour of the world, by what he 
 is in himself, and not by what he became for us : that which 
 d<c ives us is regarding his passion with respect to the Jews, 
 who were only the instruments of it, and never with respect 
 to Go.!, who h s been the principal agent, and the sovereign 
 arbiter of it. 1 will explain myself. Jesus Christ in himself 
 is the holy of holies, the well-beloved of the Father, the 
 object of God's delights, the head of the elect, the source of 
 a-1 blessings, substantial and incarnate hoiine-s. This is 
 the cause on account of which our reason revolts in seeing 
 him suffer: but Ave do not observe, that at Calvary he 
 cens'S, so to speak, to be ail this: and instead of these 
 qualities which were for a time obscured and eclipsed, he 
 was reduced to be, according to scripture, a curse for men, 
 and to be the victim of sin ; and since St. Paul has said it. 
 I will repeat it after him, and in the same sense as he, to b,i 
 the member of sin, and even sin itself: for he was made sin 
 for us zcho hnezc no sin. Then in this condition, remarks 
 St. Chrysostom, there was no punishment which was not 
 due to Jesus Christ: humiliations, insults, scourg.- s, nails, 
 thorns, cross ; all this, in tbe style of the apostle, was the 
 wages and desert of sin ; and since the Son of God then 
 represented sin, and had engaged to be treated by his 
 Farher as though he were sin itself, it was perfectly in 
 order that he. should undergo all that he had to endure. 
 In this sense has he suffered too much ? no: his love, says 
 St. Bernard, has been full and abundant, but it has not 
 been prodigal : he calls himself a man of sorrows ; but, 
 replies Tertullian, it is the name which becomes him, since 
 he is a man of sin : we see him torn and bruised by blows, 
 but among the number of the blows which he received, and 
 the multitude of the crimes which he expiated, there is but 
 |too much proportion: he is abandoned to wicked, bar- 
 
192 THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 barous and cruel men, who add to the decree of his death 
 whatever their r:;ge suggests ; but although they add to 
 the decree of Pilate, they add nothing to that of God : he is 
 maltreated and insulted ; but thus did sin, in substance, 
 merit to be insulted and maltreated: he expires upon the 
 cross; and here sin must be placed. Then, Christians, 
 rectify your sentiments ; and while this divine Lamb is im- 
 molated, instead of pre-occupying yourselves with the merit 
 of his holiness and virtues, remember that it is for your secret 
 and public disorders that he is sacrificed, that it is for your 
 excesses, for your intemperance, for your shameful attainments 
 and infamous pleasures. If you figure him to yourselves, 
 such as he is, laden with all our debts, this flagellation to 
 which he is condemned will have nothing more to shock you; 
 those thorns which tear him will no more wound the deli- 
 cacy of your piety ; those nails with which his hands and 
 feet are pierced will no more excite your indignation. My 
 sin, you will say in yourselves, accusing yourselves, my 
 sin merited all these punishments ; and since Jesus Christ is 
 clothed with my sin, he must bear them all. Also, it is 
 in this view that the eternal Father, by a conduct as 
 adorable as rigorous, forgetting that he is his Son, and 
 considering him as his enemy, (pardon me all these expres- 
 sions,) declares himself his persecutor, or rather the chief 
 of persecutors. The Jews convert their hatred into a zeal 
 for religion, to practise whatever cruelty can devise upon 
 his sacred body ; but the cruelty of the Jews was not 
 sufficient to punish such a man as this, a man covered 
 with the crimes of all the bumaurace; it was necessary, 
 says St. Ambrose, that God should interfere, and this is 
 what faith sensibly discovers to us. 
 
 Yes, Christians, it is God himself, and not the counsel of 
 the Jews, that delivers Jesus Christ; this just one, my 
 brethren, said St. Peter to them, has not been delivered up 
 as guilty, but by an express order of God and by a decree 
 of his wisdom ; by the determinate counsel and foreknow- 
 ledge of God, a declaration which he made in their syna- 
 
THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 195 
 
 gogue, without fearing- that they would value themselves 
 upon or take any advantage of it, to stiile the remorse of the 
 deicide which they had committed. It is true, that the 
 Pharisees and the doctors of the law persecuted Jesus 
 Christ io kill him; but they did not persecute him, O Lor:!, 
 said David, by the spirit of prophecy, but because thou 
 hidst smitten him first. Until then they r< spected him ; 
 until then, however exasperated they might be, they dared 
 not attempt his person; but from the moment that thou art 
 turned against him, and discharging thy wrath upon him, 
 hast given them permission, they have thrown themselves 
 upon this innocent prey, reserved for their fury ; but 
 by whom reserved, unless by thee, O my God, who, in 
 their sacrilegious vengeance, found the accomplishment of 
 thine holy anger ? For it was thyself, O Lord, who, justly 
 .changed into an incensed God, madest not mer !y thy 
 servant Job, but also thine only Son to feel the weight of 
 thine arm. Long didst thou look for this victim, he was 
 needful to repair thy glory and satisfy. thy justice; thou 
 didst think upon him, but seeing none but vile subjects 
 in the world, but guilty offenders, but feeble men, whose 
 actions and sufferings could not merit any thing in thy 
 sight, thou didst find thyself reduced to a kind of impo- 
 tency to avenge thyself. Now thou hast wherewith to do 
 it fully; for behold a victim worthy of thyself, a victim 
 capable of expiating the sins of a thousand worlds, a victim 
 such as thou requirest and dost justly deserve. Strike now, 
 Lord, strike, this victim is disposed to receive thy blows; 
 and without considering that he is thy Christ, behold no 
 more but to remember that he is our's, that is to say, that 
 he is our substitute, and that in immolating him thou wilt 
 satisfy that divine hatred with which thou view est sin. 
 
 God does not content himself with striking him, he seems 
 to wish to reject him by forsaking and abandoning him in 
 the midst of his punishment. This desertion and abandon- 
 ment of God are in some respect the punishment of the 
 damned, which Jesus Christ suffered for us all, agreeably 
 
194 THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 to the language of St. Paul. The reprobation of man 
 would have been too trifling a thing to punish sin in all the 
 extent of its malice; it was necessary, if I may be allowed 
 to use the language, but you will discern its meaning, and 
 1 do not fear that you will suspect me of understand- 
 ing it in an improper sense, — it was necessary that the 
 sensible reprobation of the God-man should fill up the 
 measure of the malediction and punishment due to sim 
 O prophet, thou hast said, that thou hast never seen the 
 right ous forsaken, but behold a memorable example which 
 thou canst not deny ; Jesus Christ forsaken of his heavenly 
 Father, and on this account scarcely daring to reclaim him 
 under the name of Father, and only calling him his God i 
 My God, why hast thou forsaken me ? Nevertheless, be not 
 offended at this, since after all there is nothing in this pro- 
 cedure of God which is not according to the rules of equity. 
 No, concludes St. A ugustin, there never was a death more just 
 nor more unjust, at the same time, than that of the Redeemer; 
 more unjust with respect to the men who were the executors 
 of it, more just with respect to him who has endured the 
 sentence of it. Imagine, my dear hearers, (this is the re- 
 flection of the Abbe Rupert, with which you will perhaps 
 be surprised, but which is a certain truth in theology ;)— 
 Imagine that this day is singularly and sovereignly the day 
 predicted by the oracles of all the scriptures, I would say, 
 the day of the Lord's vengeance. For it is not in the last 
 judgment that our offended and indignant God will satisfy 
 himself as a God ; it is not in hell that he will declare 
 himself more formally the God of vengeance, it is at 
 Calvary. It is there that his vindictive justice acts freely 
 and without restraint, not being checked as it is elsewhere, 
 by the littleness of the subject against which it is exercised. 
 All that the damned shall suffer is only a half vengeance to 
 him ; those gnashings of teeth, those groans and those tears, 
 those fires which shall never be extinguished, all this is 
 nothing or almost nothing when compared with the sacri- 
 fice of Jesus Christ in dying. 
 
THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 19$ 
 
 Behold, my dear bearers, what sin costs a God ; but 
 what has it cost us up to the present moment? and in the 
 monstrous opposition which we find between him and us, 
 between him, all holy as he is, and ourselves, ail guilty as 
 we are, has he not a right to say to us, Weep not for me, but 
 for yourselves? For is it not the most deplorable subversion 
 to see the guilty spared, while the righteous endures pu- 
 nishment, and so severe a punishment; sinners preserved 
 and indulged, while the innocent is sacrificed ; sin even in 
 honour and ease, while, if I may thus speak, the resemblance 
 of sin is in ignominy and torments ? Yet, men of the 
 world, men of ease and sensuality, this is the sorrowful 
 parallel which here presents itself to your eyes, and which, 
 must cover you with confusion. This Lamb without spot 
 dies, this Lamb who is made the victim of sin for us ; and 
 how does he die ? mangled and bloody, crowned with 
 thorns and fastened to a cross. And you, worthy of all the 
 plagues and chastisements of heaven, how do you live ? 
 tranquil and seeking all the conveniences, enjoying all the 
 ease, tasting all the sweets of your condition. Ah ! Lord, 
 since sin, that monster which hell has created against thee, 
 has caused thee death, and the death of the cross, it would 
 be enough for grateful hearts to conceive against it all the 
 hatred of which they are capable ; but thou hast commanded 
 us not to weep for thee, and only to shed tears over our- 
 selves ; and since sin causes death to us, not a natural and 
 temporal death like thine, but a spiritual, an eternal death, 
 should we not employ ourselves in its destruction ? Never- 
 theless, instead of labouring to destroy it in ourselves, we 
 entertain it, we cherish it, we suffer it to domineer. Is 
 there then any penitence in Christianity, or if there is, 
 what is the penitence of Christians, and in what does it 
 consist? Is it a penitence which chastises the body, a 
 penitence which mortifies the senses, a penitence which 
 crucifies the flesh ? You know it is, my dear hearers, 
 and what must more sensibly touch you is, to see the 
 Passion of Jesus Christ, no more merely caused by sin, 
 
196 THE PASSIOX OF J£SUS CHRIST. 
 
 but renewed by sin, as I am going to shew you in the 
 second part. 
 
 SECOND PART. 
 
 The Passion of Jesus Christ, however sorrowful and 
 ignominious it may appear to us, must nevertheless have 
 been to Jesus Christ himself an object of delight, since this 
 God-man, by a wonderful secret of his wisdom and love, 
 has willed that the mystery of it shall be continued and so- 
 lemnly renewed in his church until the final consummation 
 of the ages. For what is the Eucharist but a perpetual 
 repetition of the Saviour's Passion, and what has the 
 Saviour supposed in instituting it, but that whatever passed 
 at Calvary, is not only represented but consummated on 
 our altars ? That is to say, that he is still performing the 
 functions of the victim anew, and is every moment virtually 
 sacrificed, as though it were not sufficient that he should 
 have suffered once; at least that his love, as powerful as it 
 is free, has given to his adorable sufferings that character 
 of perpetuity which they have in this sacrament, and 
 which renders them so salutary to us. Behold what the 
 love of a God has devised ; but behold, Christians, what has 
 happened through the malice of men : at the same time that 
 Jesus Christ in the sacrament of his body repeats his holy 
 passion in a manner altogether miraculous, men, the false 
 imitators, or rather base corrupters of the works of God, 
 have found means to renew this same passion, not only in a 
 profane, but criminal, sacrilegious, and horrible manner. 
 Do not imagine that I speak figuratively. Would to God, 
 Christians, that what I am going to say to you were only a 
 figure, and that you were justified in vindicating your- 
 selves, to-day, against the horrible expressions which I am 
 obliged to employ ! I speak in the literal sense, and you 
 ought to be more affected with this discourse, if what I 
 advance appears to you to be overcharged; for it is by 
 your excesses that it is so, and not by my words. Yes, my 
 
THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 197 
 
 dear hearers, the sinners of the age, by the disorders of 
 their lives, renew the bloody and tragic Passion of the Son 
 of God in the world ; I will venture to say that the sinners 
 of the acre cause to the Son of God, even in the state of 
 glory, as many new passions as they have committed out- 
 rages against him by their actions : apply yourselves to 
 form an idea of ihem, and in this picture, which will sur- 
 prise you, recognize what you are, that you may weep 
 bitterly over yourselves. What do we see in the Passion 
 of Jesus Christ ? a Divine Saviour betrayed and aban- 
 doned by cowardly disciples, persecuted by pontiffs 
 and hypocritical priests, ridiculed and mocked in the 
 palace of Herod by impious courtiers, placed upon a level 
 with Barabbas, and to whom Barabbas is preferred by a 
 blind and inconstant people, exposed to the insults of 
 libertinism, and treated as a mock king by a troop of 
 soldiers equally barbirous and insolent ; in fine, crucified 
 by merciless executioners : behold, in a few words, what 
 is most humiliating and most cruel in the death of the 
 Saviour of the world. Then tell me, if this is not in effect 
 and exactly what we now see, and that to which we are 
 every day called to be witnesses. Let us resume, and 
 follow me. 
 
 Betrayed and abandoned by cowardly disciples : such, 
 O divine Saviour, has b en thy destiny. But it was not 
 enough that the apo.-tles, the first men whom thou didst 
 choose for thine own, in violation of the most holy engage- 
 ment, should have forsaken thee in the last scene or' thy life, 
 that one of them should have sold thre, another renounced 
 thee, and all disgraced themselves by a flight which was 
 perhaps the most sensible of all the wounds that thou didst 
 feel in dying; this wound must be again opened by a 
 thousand acts of infidelity yet more scandalous ; even in 
 the Christian ages we must see men bearing the character of 
 thy disciples, and not having the resolution to sustain it; 
 Christians, prevaricators and deserters from their faith; 
 Christians ashamed of declaring themselves for thee, no; 
 
 p 
 
198 THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 daring to appear what they are, renouncing at least in th* 
 exterior what they have professed, flying when they ought 
 to fight ; in a word, Christians in form, ready to follow thee 
 even to the Supper when in prosperity, and whilst it required 
 no sacrifice, but resolved to abandon thee in the moment of 
 temptation. It is on your account, and my own, my dear 
 hearers, that I speak, and behold what ought to be tht 
 subject of our sorrow. 
 
 A Saviour mortally persecuted by pontiffs and hypocritical 
 priests. Let us not enter, Christians, into the discussion of 
 ihls article at which your piety would perhaps be offended^ 
 and which would weaken or prejudice the respect which 
 you owe to the ministers of the Lord. It belongs to us, my 
 brethren, to meditate to-day on this fact in the spirit of holy 
 compunction ; to us consecrated to the ministry of the 
 altars, to us priests of Jesus Christ, whom God has chosen 
 in his church to be the dispensers of his sacraments. It 
 does not become me to remonstrate in this place. God 
 forbid that I should undertake to judge those who sustain 
 the sacred office. This is not the duty of humility to which 
 my condition calls me ; above all, speaking as I do, before 
 many ministers, tlie irreprehensible life of wlrom contributes 
 so much to the edification of the people, L am not yet so 
 infatuated as to make myself the judge, much less the censor 
 of their conduct. But though it should induce you only 
 to acknowledge the favours with which God prevents you, 
 as a contrast, from the frightful blindness into which he 
 permits others to fall ; remember that the priests, and 
 the princes of the priests, are those whom the Evangelist 
 describes as the authors of the conspiracy formed against 
 the Saviour of the world, and of the wickedness committed 
 against him; remember that this scandal is notoriously 
 public, and renewed still every day in Christianity ; re- 
 member, but with fear and horror, that the greatest per- 
 secutors of Jesus Christ are not lay libertines, but wicked 
 priests; and that among the wicked priests, those whose 
 corruption and iniquity are covered with the veil of hypo^ 
 
THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 199 
 
 crisy, are bis most dangerous and most cruel enemies. An 
 hatred, disguised under the name of zeal, and covered with 
 the specious pretext of observance of the law, was the first 
 movement of the persecution which the Pharisees and the 
 priests raised against the Son of God ; let us fear lest the 
 same passion should blind us. Wretched passion, exclaims 
 St. Bernard, which spreads the venom of its malignity even 
 over the most lovely of the children of men, and which 
 could not see a God upon earth without hating him. An 
 hatred not only of the prosperity and happiness, but what 
 is yet more strange, of the merit and perfection of others. 
 A cowardly and shameful passion, which, not content with 
 having caused the death of Jesus Christ, continues to 
 persecute him by rending his mystical body, which is the 
 church, dividing his members, which are believers, and 
 stifling in their hearts that charity which is the spirit of 
 Christianity. Behold, my brethren, the subtle temptation 
 against which we have to defend ourselves, and under which 
 it is but too common for us to fall. 
 
 A Redeemer railed and mocked at in the palace of Herod 
 by the impious creatures of his court. This wns, without 
 doubt, one of the most sensible insults which Jesus Christ 
 received ; but do not suppose, Christians, that this act of 
 impiety ended there : it has passed from the court of Herod, 
 from that prince destitute of religion, into those even of 
 Christian princes ; and is not the Saviour still a subject of 
 ridicule to the libertine spirits which compose them ? They 
 Worship him externally, but internally how do they regard 
 his maxims ? What idea have they of his humilily, of his 
 poverty, of his sufferings ? Is not virtue either unknown. 
 or despised ? It is not a rash zeal which induces me to 
 speak in this manner, it is what you too often witness, 
 Christians ; it is what you perhaps feel in yourselves; and 
 a little reflection upon the manners of the court will con- 
 vince you that there is nothing that I say which is not 
 confirmed by a thousand examples, and that you your- 
 selves are sometimes unhappy accomplices in these crimes. 
 
200 THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 Herod had often earnestly wished to see Jesus Christ ; the 
 reputation which so many miracles had acquired him 
 excited the curiosity of this prince, and he did not doubt 
 but that a man who commanded all nature, might strike 
 some wonderful blow to escape from the persecution of his 
 enemies : but the Son of God, who had not been sparing 
 of his prodigies for the salvation of others, spared them for 
 himself, and would not say a single word about his own 
 Safety. He considered Herod and his people as profane 
 persons, with whom he thought it improper to hold any 
 intercourse, and he preferred rather to pass for a fool, than 
 to satisfy the false wisdom of the world. As his kingdom 
 was not of this world, as he said to Pilate, it was not at the 
 court that he designed to establish himself: he knew too 
 well that his doctrine could not be relished in a place where 
 the rules of worldly wisdom only were followed, and where 
 all the miracles which he had performed had not been 
 sufficient to gain men full of love for themselves, and 
 intoxicated with their greatness. In this corrupted region 
 they breathe only the air of vanity, they esteem only that 
 which is splendid, they speak only of preferment ; and on 
 whatever side we cast our eyes, we see nothing but what 
 either flatters or inflames the ambitious desires of the heart 
 of man. What probability then was there that Jesus Christ, 
 the most humble of all men, should obtain an hearing where 
 only pageantry and pride prevail ? If he had been sur- 
 rounded with honours and riches, he would have found 
 partizans near Herod, and in every other place; but as he 
 preached a renunciation of the world both to his disciples 
 and to himself, let us not be astonished that they treated 
 him with so much disdain. Such is the prediction of the 
 holy man Job, and which after him must be accomplished 
 in the persons of all the righteous/ the just upright man is 
 laughed to scorn. In fact, my dear hearers, you know it, 
 whatever virtue and merit we may possess, they are not 
 enough to procure us esteem at court. Enter it, and appear 
 only like Jesus Christ clothed with the robe of innocence ; 
 
THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 201 
 
 only walk with Jesus Christ in the way of simplicity; 
 only speak as Jesus Christ to render testimony to the truth, 
 and you will find that you meet with no better treatment 
 there than Jesus Christ. To be well received there you 
 must have pomp and splendour. To keep your station 
 there you must have artifice and intrigue. To be favourably 
 heard there you must have complaisance and flattery. 
 Then all this is opposed to Jesus Christ, and the court 
 being what it is, that is to say, the kingdom of the Prince 
 of this world, it is not surprising that the kingdom of Jesus 
 Christ cannot be established there. But woe to you, princes 
 of the earth, woe to you, men of the world, who despise 
 this incarnate wisdom, for you shall be despised in your 
 turn, and the contempt which shall fall upon you shall be 
 much more terrible than the contempt which you manifest 
 can be prejudicial. 
 
 A Saviour placed upon a level with Barabbas, and to whom 
 Barabbas is preferred by a blind and fickle rabble. How 
 offen have we been guilty of the same outrage against 
 Jesus Christ, as the blind and fickle Jews ! How often, 
 after having received him in triumph in the sacrament of 
 the communion, seduced by cupidity, have we not pre- 
 ferred either a pleasure or interest alter which we sought, 
 in violation of his law, to this God of glory ! How often, 
 divided between conscience which governed us, and passion 
 which corrupted us, have we not renewed this abominable 
 judgment, this unworthy preference of the creature even 
 above our God. Christians, observe this application ; it is 
 that of St. Chrysostom, and if you properly understand it, 
 you must be affected by it. Conscience which, in spite of 
 ourselves, presides in us as judge, said inwardly to us, 
 What art thou going to do ? behold thy pleasure on the one 
 hand, and thy God on the other: for which of the two dost 
 thou declare thyself? for thou canst not save both ; thou 
 must either lose thy pleasure or thy God ; and it is for 
 thee to decide. And the passion which, by a monstrous 
 infidelity, had acquired the influence over our hearts, made 
 
202 THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 us conclude — I will keep my pleasure. But what then 
 ■will become of thy God, replied conscience secretly, and 
 what must I do; I, who cannot prevent myself from 
 maintaining his interests against thee? I care not what 
 will become of my God, answered passion insolently ; I 
 will satisfy myself, and the resolution is taken. But dost 
 thou know, proceeded conscience by its remorse, that in 
 indulging thyself in this pleasure it will at last submit thy 
 Saviour to death and crucifixion for thee ? It is of no conse- 
 quence if he be crucified, provided I can have my enjoy- 
 ments. But what evil has he done, and what reason hast 
 thou to abandon him in this manner ? My pleasure is my 
 reason, and since Christ is the enemy of my pleasure, and 
 my pleasure crucifies him, I say it again, let him be cruci- 
 fied. Behold, my dear hearers, what passes every day in 
 the consciences of men, and what passes in you and in me, 
 every time that we fall into sin, which causes death to Jesus 
 Christ, as well as to our souls ; behold what makes the 
 enormity and wickedness of this sin. I know that we do not 
 always speak, that we do not always explain ourselves in 
 such express terms and in so perceptible a manner; but 
 after all, without explaining ourselves so distinctly and so 
 sensibly, there is a language of the heart which says all 
 this. For, from the moment that I know that this pleasure is 
 criminal and forbidden of God, I know that it is impossible 
 for me to desire it, impossible to seek it, without losing 
 God, and consequently I prefer this pleasure to God in 
 the desire that I form of it, and in the pursuit that I 
 make after it. This then is sufficient to justify the thought 
 of St. Chrysostom, and the doctrine of the theologians upon 
 the nature of deadly sin. 
 
 A Saviour exposed to insults, and treated as a mock king 
 by a troop of feigned worshippers. What a spectacle, 
 Christians ! Jesus Christ, the eternal word, covered with a 
 pitiful purple robe, a reed in his hand, a crown of thorns 
 upon his head, delivered to an insolent soldiery, who, ac- 
 cording to the expression of Clement Alexandrine, made a 
 
THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST, 
 
 203 
 
 theatrical king of him whom the angels adore with trembling. 
 They bowed the knee before him, and, with the most cutting 
 derision, they snatched from him the reed which he held to 
 strike him on the head. An act too much resembling 
 the impieties which are every day committed during the 
 celebration of our most august mysteries. Were he to ap- 
 pear in all his majesty, such as he will display at his second 
 coming, you would be seized with fear; but, says St, 
 Bernard, t»e more he is little, the more worthy is he of our 
 respects, since it is his love and not necessity which reduces 
 him to his state of abasement. But it appears that you take 
 pleasure in destroying his work, by opposing your malice 
 to his goodness ; you insult him even on the throne of his 
 grace, and, to use the words of the apostle, you do not fear 
 to trample under foot the blood of the New Testament. 
 For, indeed, what else do you do by so many ac(s of irre- 
 verence, and so many scandals which equally dishonour 
 the sanctuary which you enter, and the God which it 
 contains ? Ah, my brethren, I might well ask the greater 
 part of the Christians of the present day what St. Bernard 
 asked them in his time, What do you think of your God, 
 and what idea have you conceived of him ? If he occupied 
 the rank which he ou^ht to occupy in your minds, would 
 you proceed to such extremes in his presence ? Would you 
 go to his feet to insult him ? for I call it insulting Jesus 
 Christ, to come before the altars to unbend ourselves, to 
 dissipate ourselves, to speak, to converse, to trouble the 
 sacred mysteries by immodest smiles and laughter ; I call 
 it insulting the majesty of Jesus Christ, to remain in his 
 presence in indecent postures, and with as little decorum as 
 in a public place ; I call it insulting the humility of Jesus 
 Christ, to make an ostentatious display before his eyes of 
 all the luxury and all the vanities of the world ; I call it 
 insulting the holiness of Jesus Christ, to bring near his 
 tabernacle, and into his holy house, a shameful passion 
 which we entertain and kindle afresh there, by bold looks, 
 by sensual desires, by the most dissolute discourses, and 
 
204 THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 sometimes by the most sacrilegious abominations. God 
 formerly complained of the infidelity of his people, ad- 
 dressing them by the mouth of his prophet, — thou hast 
 profaned my holy name. But it is not only his name that 
 we profane, it is his body, it is his blood, it is his infinite 
 merits, it is even his divinity, it is all that he possesses 
 that is venerable and great. Nevertheless, do not deceive 
 yourselves ; for the Lord will have a day of reckoning ; 
 and, justly incensed at so many injuries, he will not allow 
 you to escape with impunity ; but he will know how to 
 avenge himself by covering you with eternal confusion. 
 
 In fine, Christians, a Saviour crucified by merciless 
 executioners, the last efFect of the cruelty of men upon the 
 innocent person of the Son of God. It was at the foot of 
 that cross where we see him suspended that the justice of 
 the Father waited for him during four thousand years. 
 Thus he regarded it, however frightful it might seem, as 
 an object of delight; because he there found the reparation 
 of the divine glory and the punishment of our offences. 
 But in proportion as this first cross had charms for him, in 
 that same proportion does he fe<4 horror at that which our 
 sins prepare for him every day. It is not, said St. Augustin, 
 the rigour of that of which he complains, but the cruelty 
 and the weight of this appear to him insupportable. 
 He knew that his cross, ignominious as it was, would be 
 transferred from Calvary, as speaks St. Augustin, to the 
 heads of the emperors. He foresaw that his death would 
 be the salvation of the world, and that his Father would 
 one day render his ignominy so glorious, that it would 
 become the hope and the happiness of all nations. But in 
 this other cross, where we fasten him ourselves by sin, what 
 is there, and what can he have to console him ? nothing 
 but his love despised, his favours rejected, unworthy crea- 
 tures preferred to the Creator ! If then the sun concealed 
 himself that he might not give his light to the barbarous 
 action of his enemies who crucified him; sinner, what 
 darkness ought not to cover from view thy wanderings and 
 
THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 205 
 
 thy excesses ? For it is by these, — understand it yet once 
 more, if you have not sufficiently understood it, — it is by 
 these, my dear hearers, that you incessantly renew all the 
 Passion of Jesus Christ. It is not I who say it, it is St. 
 Paul in the Epistle to the Hebrews : thejy crucify to them.' 
 selves the Son of God afresh, and put him to an open shame. 
 As if this great apostle would explain himself thus: do 
 not think, my brethren, that they were the Jews only who 
 imbrued their hands in the blood of the Saviour; ye are 
 accomplices in this deicide ; and by what means ? by your 
 impic ties, your sacrileges, your obscenities, your jealousies, 
 your resentments, your antipathies, your revenge, and what- 
 ever corrupts your heart and excites it to revolt against 
 God. Is it not then just, that while you weep over 
 Jesus Christ, you should yet weep more for yourselves, 
 since ye are not only the authors of his death, but your 
 sins destroy all the merit of it as it respects yourselves, 
 and render it useless and even prejudicial to you, as it 
 remains for me to prove in the third part. 
 
 THIRD PART. 
 
 That there are men and Christian men, to whom, by a 
 secret judgment of God, the Passion of Jesus Christ, 
 salutary as it is, may become useless, is a truth too es- 
 sential in our religion to be unknown, and too sorrowful 
 not to be the subject of our grief. When the Saviour 
 from the height of his cross, ready to give up his 
 Spirit, raised this cry towards heaven, My God, my 
 God, why hast thou forsaken me ? there was no one 
 who did not suppose but that the violence of his tor- 
 ments forced from him this complaint, and perhaps we 
 ourselves yet believe it. But the great Bishop Arnauld de 
 Chartres, penetrating deeper into the thoughts and affections 
 of this dying Saviour, says, with much more reason, that 
 the complaint of Jesus Christ to his Father proceeded from 
 the sentiment with which he was affected, in representing to 
 
206 THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 nimself the little fruit which his death would produce, in 
 considering the small number of the elect who would profit 
 by it ; in foreseeing with horror the infinite number of the 
 reprobate for whom it would be useless ; as if he had wished 
 to proclaim that his merits were not fully enough, nor 
 worthily enough remunerated ; and that alter having done so 
 much work, he had a right to promise to himself a different 
 success in behalf of men. The words of this author are 
 admirable : Jesus Christ complains, says this learned pre- 
 late, but of what does he complain ? that the wickedness 
 of sinners makes him lose what ought to be the reward of 
 the conflicts which he has maintained ; that millions of the 
 human race lor whom he suffers, will not be less excluded 
 from the benefit of redemption. And because he regards 
 himself in them as their head, and them, in spite of their 
 worthlessness, as the members of his mystical body; seeing 
 them abandoned by God, he complains of being so himself: 
 my God, my God, why hast thou forsaken mt f He com- 
 plains of what made St. Paul groan, when, transported 
 with an apostolic zeal, he said to the Galations, What, my 
 brethren, is Jesus Christ then dead in vain ? is the mystery 
 of the cross then nothing to you ? will not this blood which 
 he has so abundantly shed have the virtue to sanctify you ? 
 But here, Christians, I feel myself affected with a thought 
 which, contrary as it appears to that of the apostle, only 
 serves to strengthen and confirm it. For it appears that 
 St. Paul is grieved because Jesus Christ has suffered in vain ; 
 but I, I should almost console myself if he had only suffered 
 in vain, and if his passion was only rendered useless to us. 
 That which fills me with consternation is, that at the same 
 time that we render it useless to ourselves, by an inevitable 
 necessity it must become pernicious : for this passion, says 
 St. Gregory of Nazianzen, partakes of the nature of those 
 remedies which kill if they do not heal, and of which the 
 effect is either to give life, or to convert itself into poison : 
 lose nothing of this, I beseech you. Remember then, 
 Christians, what happened during the juJgment, and at the 
 
THE PA53IOX OF JESUS CHRIST. £0? 
 
 moment of (be condemnation of the Son of God : when 
 Pilate washed his hands before the Jews, a;=d declared to 
 them that there was nothing worthy of death in this righteous 
 man, but that the crime from which be disburdened himself 
 rested upon them, and that they would have to answer for 
 it ; they all cried with one voice, that they consented to it, 
 and that they readily agreed that the blood of this just man 
 should fall upon them and upon their children. You know 
 what this cry has cost them; you know the curses which 
 one such imprecation has drawn upon them, the ang^r of 
 heaven which began from that time to burst forth upon this 
 nation, the ruin of Jerusalem which followed soon after ; 
 that is to say, the carnage of their citizens, the profanation 
 of their temple, the destruction of their republic, the visible 
 character of their reprobation which their unhappy pos- 
 terity bear to this^lay, that universal banishment, that exile 
 of sixteen hundred years, that slavery through all the earth ; 
 and all in consequence of the authentic prediction which 
 Jesus Christ made to them of it, when going to Calvary ; 
 and with circumstances which incontestibly prove that a 
 punishment as exemplary as this, cannot be imputed but io 
 the deicide which they had committed in the person of the 
 Saviour ; since it is evident, says St. August in, that the 
 Jews were never farther from idolatry, nor more religious 
 observers of their law than they were then ; and that ex- 
 cepting the crime of the death of Jesus Christ God, very 
 far from punishing them, would, it seems, rather have loaded 
 them with his blessings : you know all this, I say: and all 
 this is a convincing proof that the blood of this God-man is 
 virtually fallen upon these sacrilegious men, and that God, 
 in condemning them by their own mouth, although in spite 
 of himself, employs that to destroy them which was designed 
 for their salvation. 
 
 But, Christians, to speak with the Holy Spirit, this has 
 happened to the Jews only as a figure; it is as yet only the 
 shadow of the frightful curses, of which the abuse of the 
 merits and passion of the Son of God must be to us the 
 
208 THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 source and the measure. I will explain myself : what do 
 we, my dear hearers, when borne away by the immoderate 
 desires of our hearts to a sin against which our consciences 
 protest ? and what do we, when, possessed of the spirit of 
 the world, we resist a grace which solicits us, which presses 
 us to obey God ? Without thinking upon it, and without 
 wishing it, we secretly pronounce the same decree of death 
 which the Jews pronounced against themselves before 
 Pilate, when they said to him, his blood be upon us. For 
 this grace which we despise is the price of the blood of 
 Jesus Christ, and the sin that we commit is an actual pro- 
 fanation of this same blood. It is, then, as if we were to say 
 to God — Lord, I clearly see what engagement I make, and I 
 know what risk I run ; but rather than not satisfy my own 
 desires, I consent that the blood of thy Son shall fall upon 
 me : this will be to bear the chastisement of it ; but I will 
 indulge my passion, thou hast a right to draw a just ven- 
 geance from it, but nevertheless I will complete my under- 
 taking. 
 
 Thus we condemn ourselves ; and here, Christians, is one 
 of the essential foundations of this terrible mystery of the 
 eternity of the punishments with which faith menaces us, 
 and against which our reason revolts. We suppose that we 
 cannot have any knowledge of it in this life, and we are 
 not aware, says St. Chrysostom, that we find it completely 
 in the blood of the Saviour, or rather in our profanation 
 of it every day. For this blood, my brethren, adds this 
 holy doctor, is enough to render this eternity not less 
 frightful, but less incredible ; and behold the reason : this 
 blood is of an infinite dignity ; it can then only be avenged 
 by an infinite punishment. This blood, if we destroy our- 
 selves, will cry eternally against us at the tribunal of God : 
 it will then eternally excite the wrath of God against us. 
 This blood, falling upon the reprobate, will fix a stain upon 
 them which shall never be effaced ; their torments must 
 consequently never end. A reprobate in hell will always 
 appear in the eyes of God stained with that blood which 
 
THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRI3T- £0$ 
 
 he has so basely treated; God will then always abhor 
 him, and as the aversion of God from, his creature is that 
 which makes hell, then it must be inferred that hell will be 
 eternal. And in this, O my God, thou art sovereignly 
 just, sovereignly holy, and worthy of our praise and ado- 
 ration. It is in this way that the beloved disciple declared it 
 even to God himself in the apocalypse : men, said he, 
 have shed the blood of thy servants and of thy prophets ; 
 therefore they deserve to drink it, and to drink it from the 
 cup of thine indignation. For they have shed the blood of 
 saints and prophets, and thou hast green them blood to drink. 
 An expression which the scripture employs to describe the 
 last efforts of divine vengeance. Ah ! if the blood of the 
 prophets has drawn down the scourge of God upon men, 
 what may we not expect from the blood of Jesus Christ ? 
 If the blood of martyrs is heard crying in heaven against the 
 persecutors of the faith, how much more will the blood of 
 the Redeemer be heard ? 
 
 Then once more, Christians, behold the deplorable ne* 
 cessity to which we are reduced. This blood which flows 
 from Calvary either demands grace for us or justice against 
 us. When we apply ourselves to it by a lively faith 
 and a sincere repentance, it demands grace ; but when by 
 our disorders and impieties we check its salutary virtue, it 
 demands justice, and it infallibly obtains it. It is in this 
 blood, says St. Bernard, that all righteous souls are pu- 
 rified ; but by a prodigy exactly opposite, it is also in this* 
 same blood that all the sinners of the land defile themselves 
 and render themselves, if I may use the expression, more 
 hideous in the sight of God. Ah ! my God, shall I eter- 
 nally appear in thine eyes polluted with that blood which 
 washes away the crimes of others ? Yet if I had only <o bear 
 my own sins, I might promise myself a punishment less 
 rigorous, considering my sins as my miseries, as my 
 weaknesses, as my ignorance; perhaps thou wouldest be 
 less offended on account of them. But when these sins with 
 which I shall be covered, shall present themselves before 
 
2lG THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 me as so many sacrileges with respect to the blood of thy 
 Son, when the abuse of this blood shall be mixed and con- 
 founded with all the disorders of my life, when there shall 
 not be one of them against which this blood shall not cry 
 louder than the blood of Abel against Cain ; then, O God 
 of my soul ! what will become of me in thy presence ? No, 
 Lord, cries the same St. Bernard, affectionately, suffer not 
 the blood of my Saviour to fall upon me in this manner: 
 let it fall upon me to sanctify me} but let it not fall upon me to 
 destroy me : let it fall upon me in a right use of the favours 
 which are the divine overflowings of it, and not through 
 the blindness of mind and hardness of heart, which are the 
 most terrible punishments of it: let it fall upon me by the 
 participation of the sacred Eucharist, which is the precious 
 source of it ; and not by the maledictions attached to the 
 despisers of thy sacraments : in fine, let it fall upon me by 
 influencing my conduct, and by inducing the practice of 
 good works ; and let it not fall upon me for my wanderings, 
 my infidelities, my obstinacy, and my impenitence. This, 
 my brethren, is what we ought to ask to-day from Jesus 
 Christ crucified : it is with these views that we ought to go 
 to the foot of his cross and catch the blood as it flows. He 
 was the Saviour of the Jews as well as ours; but this 
 Saviour, says St. Augustin, the Jews have converted into 
 their judge. Avert from us this evil! May he who died 
 to save us be our Saviour ! May he be our Saviour during 
 all the days of our lives ; and may his merits, shed upon us 
 abundantly, lose none of their efficacy in our hands, but be 
 preserved entire by the fruit we produce from them I May 
 he be our Saviour in death, and at the last moment may 
 the cross be our support, and thus may he consummate the 
 work of our salvation which he has begnn ! May he be our 
 Saviour in a blessed eternity, where we shall be as much 
 sharers in his glory as we have been in his sufferings ! — 
 This is what I desire in the name, &c. 
 
MASSILLON. 
 
 ■ 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 Jean Baptiste Massillon was bom at Hieres, in Provence, in the 
 year 1662-3. He has been considered one of the principal luminaries 
 of the French church, and his glory appeared the more conspicuous 
 as he arose like the sun from behind the thick cloud, and poured his 
 ardent beams upon the world in a period unenlightened with the 
 rays of intellectual brightness. His father was a poor attorney of 
 the insignificant place that gave him birth. At the age of seventeen, 
 Massillon entered into the congregation of the oratory, where his 
 talents were not concealed from his superiors, who destined him for 
 the pulpit; but his modesty made him shrink from public notice, 
 and his retired disposition inclined him to shun the public theatre 
 of the world. 
 
 He had already, by order of his superiors, pronounced the funeral 
 orations of two archbishops, in which he discovered so much talent, 
 that they could not but augur his future greatness and success. 
 But Massillon, afraid of the effects of flattery and popular applause, 
 actually sought refuge in the abbey of Septfons, where the strict 
 discipline of the order of La Trappe was practised, and there he took 
 the habit. 
 
 During his noviciate, the Cardinal de Noailles, dedicated a Charge, 
 which he had just published, to the Abbe of Septfons. The Abbl 
 engaged young Massillon to reply to the favour, which he did in so 
 elegant a manner that it attracted the notice of the Cardinal, who 
 soon discovered the writer, and drew him forth once more from his 
 obscurity, observing that such talents were not to be hid under a 
 bushel. He was then placed in the seminary of St. Magloire at 
 Paris, where he cultivated the eloquence of the pulpit. 
 
 On his making his debut, he was asked what he thought of the 
 most popular preachers of his time ; he replied, " they are full of 
 good sense and possess talents ; but, if I preach, 1 will not preach like 
 them." — At that time Bourdaloue was in his glory, and his talents 
 were not lost upon Massillon ; he saw and admired them, but the path 
 #f eloquence had not then been much beaten, scarcely any footsteps 
 
Slfi &ASSltLO#. 
 
 had preceded him except those of that orator; and as our preacher 
 scorned to be a servile copyist, he resolved to strike out for himself a 
 new direction. Instead of selecting detached characters, and en- 
 forcing his subject by dry reasonings, Massillon learnt the happy 
 method of engaging the attention of every auditor, by assailing the 
 infirmities which distinguish all, and striking directly at the master- 
 passions of the soul. The heart was the object at which he aimed, 
 and his eloquence gave him its complete controul, — he convinced—* 
 he touched— lie softeiied— he led his hearer captive — his eloquence 
 was irresistible. Hence he drew crowds to listen to his instructions, 
 and even the most determined infidels were confounded before this 
 mighty orator. The confession which Louis XIV th made might be 
 envied by every preacher: " Father," said he, " when I hear other 
 preachers I am pleased with them, but every time that I hear you / 
 am dissatisfied with myself." It was a matter of astonishment to some 
 how this wonderful man could so admirably depict the world, who 
 had himself been trained in retirement ; " I saw it in the human 
 heart," replied the preacher, " for there a very little^ search will dis- 
 cover to us the germ of every inordinate passion." 
 
 His first attempt before Louis XlVth has been much admired, 
 and ranked among the most consummate pieces of eloquence. Louis 
 was then flushed with conquest and in the zenith of his glory, but the 
 orator chose for his text, " Blessed are they that mourn," and made 
 it the vehicle both of a fine compliment and a striking reproof. 
 " Sire," said he, " if the world were to speak to your majesty from 
 this place, it would not say, Blessed are they that mourn. Blessed, 
 would it say, is that Prince who has never fought but to conquer ; 
 who has filled the world with his fame ; who, in the course of a long 
 and prosperous reign, has enjoyed all that men admire, — the splendour 
 of conquest, the love of his people, the esteem of his enemies, the 
 wisdom of his laws. But, Sire, the gospel does not speak the lan- 
 guage of the world." — Such bold language, conveyed in such delicate 
 terms, was not usually delivered before the courtly audience of 
 Versailles; and the whole assembly, at once overwhelmed with 
 astonishment, and touched with the glowing accents of the orator, 
 involuntarily paid him their tribute of applause. 
 
 It may be supposed from the style of Massillon that he was a noisy 
 preacher. No; real eloquence needs not stentorophonic aid. This 
 may suit the vulgar, but it disgusts the man of taste. The sense, and 
 not the sound, the fine feelings of the heart, and not the clamorous 
 vociferations of the lip, were what gave weight to the addresses of 
 Massillon. He was peculiarly averse to declamation, and began his 
 ministry by opposing the taste which then prevailed in its favour. 
 He was always solemn when he entered the pulpit, his mind seemed 
 
MASSILLON. 
 
 213 
 
 absorbed in his subject; no violent gestures accompanied Lis address, 
 but the emphasis of his voice proved that his soul felt his subject, and 
 the silent attention of his hearers evinced that their souls went along 
 •with the preacher. 
 
 The French are extravagant in their praises when they speak of 
 Massillon; and when they have joined his name to those of Bossuet 
 and Bourdalone, they forget all other orators ; and even Flecbier, La 
 Poulle, and La Rue, receive a shrug from their shoulders. 
 
 But though Massillon contains much to admire, his sermons would 
 not do so well for an English audience as many of the more solid 
 writers whom the French reject. They are not destitute of bombast. 
 His thoughts are also often confused. Nubes in Xubibus. He says 
 much that tends to nothing. This does not always arise from the 
 SSkiength of his reasoning, or from the grandeur of his thoughts, but 
 from the want of a fixed object to which to direct his attention.* Yet 
 there is a je ne scai quoi about them which must engage, and their 
 tout ensemble displays much beauty and sweetness. The sentiments 
 are those of a Catholic, and are not to be indiscriminately received; 
 but as the editor of the Christian Classics remarks, " they contain 
 too many beauties both of sentiment and language to be consigned 
 to oblivion." There is a remarkable fidelity in all his discourses, 
 and especially those which were delivered before kings; and it is im- 
 possible to read some parts without exclaiming, " surely this was a 
 good man!" 
 
 The editor of Massillon's works speaks of the rapidity with which 
 he composed his sermons. " These sermons," he observes, " have 
 been composed with a facility- which is astonishing, not one ever 
 occupied him more than ten or twelve days." Our modern preachers 
 will not call this facility; for if they could not produce something 
 worth hearing in ten or twelve hours, they would fall sadl}" short iu 
 their pulpit duties. This rather diminishes our wonder at the sub- 
 limity of his thoughts, for every fine thought was perhaps the pro- 
 duce of an hour; and, in addition to this, his discourses were 
 amended again and again, so that they ought to be complete 
 models of perfection. Had not the editor stated this fact, we should 
 have suspected that Massillon employed la plume volante in his 
 productions; and it seems strange that such warm thoughts should 
 have been generated by such tedious labour. But it is probable 
 that he sketched rapidly, and filled up by slow degrees, remarking, 
 with the master's eye, all the effects of light and shade, and touching 
 and retouching till the whole appeared complete, and afforded to his 
 luxurious imagination an enchanting coup cVteil. 
 
 * Robinson accuses his sermoDS of being far-fetched and studied. 
 
214 MASSILLON. 
 
 The translator has given one of his sermons, and regrets that 
 want of room prevents the insertion of another from his Petit 
 Careme, a shorter discourse which he prepared to preach before 
 Louis XVtli in his minority, immediately after the Regent of 
 France had presented him with the bishopric of Clermont in 1718. 
 The former is a fair sample of his general discourses, with the 
 exception of that on the Deity of Christ, which Dickson has trans- 
 lated, and which is his chef-d'oeuvre. The latter is in a different 
 style ; and as his editor remarks, discovers a " new kind of elo- 
 quence; the style, the instruction, every thing is proportioned to the 
 age of the young monarch. The style is more lively, alluring, and 
 rhetorical ; and the subject not so much laboured with reasonings : — 
 it contains maxims on the duties of Princes, expressed in a few 
 words, but so as to make a lively impression upon the mind and 
 heart." These ten sermons occupied him six weeks in the compo- 
 sition, and were much admired ; the delivery of them produced an 
 astonishing effect, for they were often interrupted either by the tears 
 or plaudits of his auditory. 
 
 If Massillon preached much about good works, he did not fail to 
 practise them. He left behind him a most exalted character. All 
 his revenues were expended in acts of benevolence, and the blessings 
 of those who were ready to perish were heaped upon his head. 
 This unbounded charity was also the more excellent, as it bore no 
 marks of ostentation ; and though bounties so universally diffused 
 could not escape general observation, yet in countless instances 
 they flowed like the humble and noiseless stream through the modest 
 valley, fertilizing and refreshing, unnoticed and unknown. He died 
 on the 28th of September, 1742, " without wealth, and without debt." 
 
 The translator cannot close this brief memoir without inserting 
 an interesting anecdote related by Dickson, which proves how long 
 the memory of Massillon was cherished in his diocese after his 
 death. " Some years ago a traveller, passing through Clermont, 
 wished to see the country-house in which the prelate used to spend 
 the greater part of the year, and he applied to an old vicar, who, 
 since the death of the bishop, had never ventured to return to 
 that country-house, where he who had inhabited it was no longer to 
 be found. He consented, however, to gratify the desire of the 
 traveller, notwithstanding the profound grief he expected to sutler 
 in revisiting a place so dear to his remembrance. They accordingly 
 set out together, and the vicar pointed out every particular place 
 to the stranger. * There,' said he, ' with tears in his eyes, is the 
 alley in which the excellent prelate used to walk with us — there is 
 the arbour in which he used to sit and read — this is the garden he 
 took pleasure in cultivating with his own hands/ Then they en- 
 
MASSILLON^ 215 
 
 fared the house, and when they came to the room where Massillon 
 died, ' this,' said the vicar, ' is the place where we lost him:' and 
 as he pronounced these words he fainted. The ashes of Titus, 
 or of Marcus Aurclius, might have envied such a tribute of regard 
 and affection." 
 
 There have been several translations of the detached parts of 
 Massillou's works. His " Sermons to the Great" were introduced 
 to the English reader by the unfortunate Dr. Dodd. Massillou's 
 Charges to the Clergy have been translated by the Rev. Theophilus 
 St. John, who is the author of some English serrrons, not destitute 
 of Popish sentiments. It seems almost presumptuous to complain 
 of such respectable writers, but though their translations are no 
 discredit to the original, they are certainly deficient in energy. It is 
 readily admitted that the sermons to the Clergy are less declamatory 
 than Massillou's other discourses ; yet, nevertheless, they often dis- 
 cover that ardour which distinguished the mind of their author. 
 St. John has abridged them, transposed them, and turned them into 
 good English discourses, but he has hardly done justice to his 
 original. The reader shall, however, hear him speak for himself, 
 for he pleads an excuse which is not altogether futile. " Massillon 
 is an author who cannot be read with pleasure, nor even endured in 
 a literal translation : he multiplies words with such abundant pro- 
 fusion, that an English reader, not perceiving — it being impossible to 
 preserve the graces of his style — would be fatigued and even dis- 
 gusted by the same idea so often, with scarcely a change of words, 
 presented to his mind. I was, therefore, reduced to this dilemma — 
 either to abridge and translate the author — and of consequence, 
 sometimes unavoidably, to weaken his sense, and retain to a certain 
 degree the idiom of his language — or to express his sentiments 
 in my own style ; and had I preferred the latter, and had even 
 succeeded, I should have offered to the reader, at best, but an 
 imperfect imitation." 
 
 Dickson has recently translated a select number of sermons 
 from our author, which have been published in 8vo. and in three 
 volumes 12mo. He rests his claims to the public favour on the 
 fidelity of his translation, and his carefulness to render his author's 
 words as literally as possible, which he considers preferable to an 
 error on the other side; and observes that " many of our trans- 
 lations may, with more propriety, be called paraphrases than trans- 
 lations." But here he has certainly injured himself and his 
 author. Is there no midway between Scylla and Charybdis? A 
 bald translation is fit only for a school book. A paraphrase is not 
 a translation. And when we recollect the difference of idioms in 
 various languages, and especially the idiomatical character of the 
 
216 MASSILLON. 
 
 French tongue, surely a literal translation is a mere caricature of 
 an author. Monsieur may be introduced to an English company ;is 
 Monsieur still, without retaining his costume. English translators of 
 the French have indeed often failed, but not so much from paraphrasing 
 as from not trying to imbibe the spirit of the author, and retaining the 
 
 " Thoughts that breathe and words that burn." 
 
 Dickson deserves thanks for what he has done in introducing 
 us to an acquaintance with Massillon, but he would have deserved 
 much more had he suffered himself to be guided by a different rule. 
 In medio tutissimus ibis. 
 
 So distinguished a preacher as Massillon could not of course but 
 attract considerable attention among the critics of all countries. 
 La Harpe speaks of him in the usual style of commendation 
 given to him by his own countrymen. " Massillon rises above all the 
 preachers that ever preceded or that have ever followed him, in the 
 number, variety, and excellence of his productions. A charming 
 flow of uninterrupted elocution, an enchanting harmony, a choice of 
 words, which reach the heart or speak to the imagination ; an union 
 of strength and sweetness, of dignity and grace, of severity and 
 unction ; an inexhaustible variety of methods, — all tend to set off 
 each other; a surprising richness of thought, an art of penetrating 
 into the most secret recesses of the human bosom, so as to astonish 
 and confound it, to detail with singular accuracy its most common 
 weaknesses, so as to give the height of colour to the picture, to 
 frighten aud to console it by turns, to thunder into the conscience, 
 and to minister consolation, to temper what may seem to be austere 
 in the gospel, with whatever is attractive in virtue ; the most happy 
 use of scripture and of the fathers, a pathetic attraction, and above 
 all, the art of never wearying, always leaving every one to desire 
 more, because every one thinks that he has enjoyed too little: it 
 is on account of these combined excellencies, that all enlightened 
 judges have recognized in Massillon one of those men rarely to be 
 found, whom nature has made truly eloquent; it is owing to the 
 justness of his claims that even those who believed not his doctrines 
 have at least acknowledged his talents, and that he has been called 
 the Racine of the pulpit, and the Cicero of France." 
 
 Voltaire, in the French Encyclopaedia, article Eloquence, extols a 
 passage in Massillon's sermon on the Small Number of the Saved, 
 which he considers as his chef-d'oeuvre. " The strain of the whole 
 discourse is extremely serious and animated; but when the orator 
 came to the passage -which follows, Voltaire informs us, that the 
 whole assembly were moved; that, by a sort of involuntary motion, 
 fhey started up from their seats, and that such murmurs of surprise 
 
MASSILLON. 217 
 
 and acclamations arose as disconcerted the speaker, though they 
 increased the effect of his discourse."* 
 
 " But I confine myself to yon, my brethren, who are assembled 
 here to-day. I speak no more of other men ; I regard you as though 
 you alone existed on the face of the earth. Behold the thought 
 which occupies and alarms me. I imagine that this is your last hour, 
 and the end of the world; that the heavens are just ready to open 
 over your heads, that Jesus Christ appears in his glory in the midst 
 of this temple, and that you are assembled here only to wait for him 
 like trembling criminals on whom shall be pronounced the sentence 
 of life, or the decree of eternal death. For it is absurd to flatter 
 yourselves that you will die devoted to the service of God. All 
 those vain desires which amuse you will amuse you tiil the moment 
 of death; this is proved by the experience of all ages. The only 
 difference in your condition will most likely be a more solemn 
 account to render than that which stands against you at present; 
 and from your fate, were you to die at this moment, you may 
 almost decide what it will be at the moment of dissolution. 
 
 " Then I ask of you, and I ask with trembling, not separating my 
 own lot from your's, were Jesus Christ to appear in this temple, in the 
 midst of this splendid assembly, to judge us, to make the dreadful 
 separation between the sheep and the goats, do 3 ou believe that the 
 greater number of us would be placed at his right hand? Do you 
 believe that the number would at least be equal I Do you believe 
 that there would be found ten righteous, when formerly the Lord in 
 vain sought for that amount in five cities? I ask you. You know not, 
 and I know not. O my God ! thou alone know est who belong to thee. 
 
 " But if we know not who belong to him, at least we know that sin- 
 ners do not. Now who are the righteous and believing assembled here 
 to-day? (Titles and dignities avail nothing: you are stripped of all 
 these in the presence of your Saviour.) Who are they ? Here are many 
 sinners who have no desire to be converted ; many more who desire, 
 but always put off the thoughts of it ; many more who are converted 
 in appearance, but again fall back to their former courses ; in a word, 
 a great number who flatter themselves that they have no occasion for 
 conversion: but this is the party of the reprobate. Ah ! my brethren, 
 cut off from this assembly these four classes of sinners, for they wilt 
 be cut off at the great day ; and now let the righteous appear. 
 Where are ye? O God, where are thy chosen, and what a portion 
 remains to thy share ! 
 
 " My brethren, ruin seems inevitable, yet we think not of it. 
 
 But though in that terrible separation which shall one day take 
 
 place, there should be only one sinner of this assembly found among 
 
 the damned, and a voice from heaven should now assure us of it 
 
 * Blair's Lectures. 
 
218 MASSILLON. 
 
 without particularizing him, which of us would not tremble lest 
 he should be the miserable wretch? which of us would not immct 
 diately appeal to his conscience whether his crimes did not merit 
 this punishment? which of us, seized with dread, would not inquire 
 of Jesus Christ, as the apostles formerly did, 'Lord, is it I?' — Are we 
 in our senses, my dear hearers ; perhaps among all those who hear 
 me, ten righteous will not be found; perhaps the number will even 
 be less. What do I know, O my God ! I dare not attempt to pry into 
 the abyss of thy judgments and justice. It is possible that not more 
 than one may be found amongst us all. And this danger docs not 
 alarm you, my dear hearers ! And you think that you alone shall be 
 saved, though all the rest should perish ! You who perhaps have 
 less reason to believe it than any other; you upon whom alone the 
 sentence of death will probably fall, though all besides should 
 escape it !" 
 
 The Cardinal Maury is equally struck with this address, and justly 
 admires the apostrophe as most eloquent and forcible. " O God, 
 where are thy chosen, and what a portion remains to thy share." 
 " These words, which are so simple," says the Cardinal, " spread 
 consternation around : every auditor places himself among the num- 
 ber of the reprobate, who have been previously described ; he dares 
 not answer the orator, who has demanded again and again whether 
 he is ranked among the number of the righteous, whose names alone 
 shall be found written in the book of life ; he enters terrified into 
 his own heart, which expresses itself plainly enough by its remorse, 
 and he thinks that his ears are saluted by the dread sentence of 
 his damnation." 
 
 Dr. Blair has compared the merits of Bourdaloue and Massillon, 
 and gives the latter yery much the preference. The doctor says — 
 " It is a subject of dispute among the French critics, to which of 
 these the preference is due, and each of them have their several 
 partizans. To Bourdaloue they attribute more solidity and close 
 reasoning; to Massillon a more pleasing and engaging manner, 
 Bourdaloue is indeed a great reasoner, and inculcates his doctrines 
 with much zeal, piety, and earnestness ; but his style is verbose, he 
 is disagreeably full of quotations from the Fathers, and he wants 
 imagination. Massillon has more grace, more sentiment, and, in 
 my opinion, every way more genius. He discovers much knowledge 
 both of the world and of the human heart; he is pathetic and per- 
 suasive ; and upon the whole is, perhaps, the most eloquent writer of 
 sermons which modern times have produced." It has been already ob- 
 served, that one of Massillon's best sermons is on the Deity of Christ, 
 Dr. Blair prefers that on Lukewarmness, from Luke iv. 18. Both 
 of these are translated by Dickson. 
 
SERMOX IV. 
 
 FOR THE DAY OF PENTECOST. 
 
 MASSILLON. 
 
 1 Cor. ii. 12. — Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, 
 but the spirit which is of God. 
 
 The spirit of God and the spirit of (lie 'world, says St. 
 Augustin, form two cities, in the present state, Babylon 
 and Jerusalem, which have each their laws, their maxims, 
 their citizens; and which, rising upon the earth from the 
 beginning of time, have always separated invisibly, though 
 visibly to the eyes of God, the children of heaven from the 
 children of the world. 
 
 These two spirits divide all the world, its towns, its 
 villages, its families : they are spread amongst all con- 
 ditions, the high and the low ; in all places, the public 
 and the retired, the court and the cloisters. Whoever you 
 may be, you who hear me, you belong to one of these two 
 spirits: you are a citizen of one of these two cities; that is 
 to say, you belong either to Babylon or Jerusalem : you are 
 animated either by the spirit of Jesus Christ, or the spirit of 
 the world. Jesus Christ tells us that it is impossible to 
 belong to both at the same time : it is still more impossible 
 to belong neither to the one nor the other : we can neither 
 divide ourselves, nor withhold ourselves ; and as one must 
 necessarily reign in our hearts, our hearts must consequently 
 belong to one master; they must love the world or Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
 Behold then the situation of all men ; we have all decided 
 
l 220 FOR THE DAY OF PENTECOST. 
 
 between these two parties. We are yd, indeed, confounded 
 together by some externals which are common to us ; by 
 some outward duties that we all equally discharge; by bodily 
 necessities to which we are all yet subject : but an invisible 
 spirit separates and distinguishes us : we carry about us 
 concealed an inward man widely different; the principle 
 which stimulates and animates us is not the same ; and 
 God, who judges of us only by what we are within, 
 knows well amidst this confusion in which we live, how to 
 separate those who do not belong to him, from those that 
 are his. 
 
 It is then of the highest importance that we should 
 separate ourselves to-day, that we should ask to which 
 we belong ; on what side is our heart ; what is the predomi- 
 nating spirit that appears in our actions, our desires, our 
 thoughts ; in a word, if we live after the spirit of the world, 
 or after the spirit of Jesus Christ. 
 
 It is so easy to delude ourselves, and to tranquillize our 
 minds under some appearances of good, some distance from 
 certain excesses, some participation even of the holy 
 mysteries, whilst the heart is worldly, corrupt, dead in the 
 sight of God, that we cannot too much attend to our 
 fears and distrusts. 
 
 Then, my brethren, to judge ourselves according to the 
 rules of faith, and to avoid self-deception, we have only 
 to examine what is the spirit of Jesus Christ, and what is 
 the spirit of the world; and in remarking the different 
 characters which are attributed to them in the sacred 
 writings, to decide to which of the two we belong, and 
 whether we may be able to assert in the great day, with the 
 same confidence as the apostle, — now we have received, not 
 the spirit of the world, but the spirit which is of God. 
 
 I. The first character of the spirit of Jesus Christ 
 is, that it is a spirit of separation, of meditation, and of 
 prayer. Scarcely were the apostles tilled with it before 
 they renounced all exterior concerns, to give themselves 
 only to prayer, and to the holy ministry of his word. These. 
 
FOR THE DAY OF PENTFXOST. 22 1 
 
 men, who before could not endure one hour of retirement 
 with Jesus Christ; who were ignorant in what manner 
 to pray ; who deserved even that Jesus Christ should 
 reproach them; who till then had asked nothing in bis 
 name ; these men, as soon as the spirit of Jesus Christ is 
 descended upon them, and has taken possession of their 
 hearts, persevere, says St. Luke, in prayer with the 
 believers; they repair constantly to the temple at the 
 different hours of prayer, there to lift up their pure 
 hands to heaven. If the synagogue persecute them, they 
 find in prayer the most solid consolation for their suf- 
 ferings : if they shut them up in prisons, they make these 
 places of horror to resound with cheerful songs and thanks- 
 givings : it' Peter, in bonds and torn away from the flock, 
 makes them fear that when the shepherd is smitten Ihe 
 sheep will be scattered, they have recourse altogether to 
 prayer; and these fervent and continual supplications, as 
 St. Luke informs us, obtain from God the deliverance of 
 that apostle. In fine, these men so carnal, so unsettled, 
 such enemies to retirement and restraint, become all at 
 once men of prayer, retired, spiritual, contemplative men, 
 whose conversation is in heaven ; and who are in the midst 
 of Jerusalem, as occupied about Jesus Christ, as full of his 
 wonders and benefits, as if they were yet upon the mountain 
 of Galilee. 
 
 Behold, my brethren, the first change which the spirit of 
 God works in a soul : how he occupies the place of the 
 spirit of the world in the heart ; how he changes its 
 desires, its views, its inclinations, its thoughts ; how he 
 renders all the objects which surround it, either indifferent 
 or odious, in which before it found so much pleasure ; how 
 he restores to it the God of peace and consolation, who till 
 then had been banished from it ; he makes the soul find all its 
 happiness and all its pleasure in itself: the sweetest occupa- 
 tion of that soul, which the spirit of God inspires and fills, 
 is to retire into itself. As it is within itself that it finds 
 its God j it goes out of itself only with reluctance, so to 
 
£22 FOR THE DAY OF PENTLCOST. 
 
 speak; it returns there incessantly, even in the midst of 
 dissipations and exterior duties, which decency renders un- 
 avoidable, and which, we should imagine, would distract 
 it : even in the midst of the tumult and society of the world 
 it makes a secret solitude within, where it communes with- 
 out ceasing with the Lord who takes up his residence there ; 
 where it complains to him of the sorrowful necessity which 
 yet engages it in worldly decorum and occupations ; where 
 it makes reparation to him by continual returns of love and 
 zeal, for all the outrages which it is forced to witness ; where 
 it calls in the aid of his law and truth against all the false 
 maxims which it hears incessantly uttered among mankind ; 
 where, in fine, it lives and dwells much more than among 
 the outward dissipations in which its condition engages it, 
 but where its affections are not to be found. 
 
 Here then you see why St. Paul calls the Christian man 
 the spiritual and inward man ; and the worldly man and 
 sinner the outward man. It is because a soul has no sooner 
 received the spirit of God, and is truly animated by it, 
 than all its life is almost invisible and interior; all that it 
 does proceeds from this divine and invisible principle which 
 fills its. Actions, even the most common, become holy by 
 the secret faith that purifies them ; whether it rejoices or 
 weeps, whether it may be in elevation or obscurity, abun- 
 dance or want, health or sickness, it finds in all these 
 conditions some sources of devout reflection. It looks upon 
 every object it beholds only with the eye of faith. The 
 events and vicissitudes of the world ; the revolutions of 
 states and empires ; the fall or rise of families ; the good or 
 evil of the world ; the licentiousness or renovation of 
 manners ; the fall of saints or the conversion of sinners ; 
 the weakness or energy of truth among men ; the dissension 
 or peace of pastors and churches; the disgraces or honours 
 of individuals ; in a word, all those eternal revolutions 
 which the world offers continually to our view, and which 
 only awaken earthly passions and carnal thoughts in worldly 
 souls, are secret and continual instructions to a soul filled 
 
FOR THE DAY OF PENTECOST. 
 
 223 
 
 and animated with the spirit of God. Every thing calls it 
 back to the verities of faith ; every thing discovers to it in 
 a new light, the nothingness of human things, and the 
 greatness of eternal realities : the whole world is nothing 
 but an open book, in which it continually beholds the 
 wonders of God, and the prodigious blindness of almost 
 all men. 
 
 Not that the objects of sense may not sometimes surprise 
 and seduce it; that it may not suffer itself in certain 
 moments to be borne away by the torrent; that its faith 
 may not incautiously yield sometimes to the impression of 
 prejudices and worldly maxims ; and that the dissipations of 
 the world may not often draw it out of itself, and cause it to 
 lose sight of the presence of God which it carries about 
 within. But these are only surprises, and the effects of 
 momentary absence, so to speak : warned at first of its 
 wandering by the secret reproaches of the spirit of God 
 who dwells in it, it draws back its roving affections ; it 
 re-enters in itself, from whence the world had drawn it; 
 it returns to that domestic sanctuary, there to make repara- 
 tion to its God for that moment of absence and dissipation, 
 by secret groans, and by vows touching and sincere, that 
 the more it goes out of itself, the more it finds that the world 
 is but one great void ; and that a heart where God dwells is 
 the source of true pleasures. 
 
 Behold here that spirit of faith, of meditation, and of 
 prayer, which testifies to us that we have received the spirit 
 of God, and that he dwells in us : behold here that hidden 
 and spiritual life, which distinguishes the just from the 
 world, and which is the most essential character of christian 
 piety. 
 
 The just also in the sacred books are those who live by- 
 faith; whose conversation is in heaven; who have no relish 
 but for things above; who use this world as though they 
 used it not; who regard it as a shadow which passeth 
 away ; who fix not their eyes upon visible things, but who 
 expect those that are invisible as though they saw them 
 
324 FOR THE DAY OF PENTECOST. 
 
 already; who judge not of what men esteem by what 
 appears, but by the truth which appears not; who are 
 strangers and pilgrims upon the earth; who are citizens of 
 the world to come ; who belong all to that eternal country 
 towards which they march without ceasing; and esteem as 
 nothing all that passes away. In effect, as soon as the 
 spirit of God is become the prevailing spirit which guides 
 and animates us, it must rule our desires, reform our 
 judgments, renew our affections, elevate our views, 
 restore us to ourselves ; we must no longer see but with 
 the eyes of the Spirit, nor act but by the impression of that 
 Spirit; no more desire any thing but spiritual good : indeed, 
 all our life must be spiritual, and like the life of God 
 in us. For a body animated by a strange spirit, has no 
 motion that it does not derive from it; no impressions but 
 from it ; no thoughts but those which the spirit that in- 
 habits it forms in it : it is no more its own ; to use the exr 
 pression, it belongs to the spirit which fills and possesses it. 
 
 It behoves us then, my brethren, to judge ourselves accord- 
 ing to this rule. Do we find in ourselves this first character 
 of the spirit of God ? Let us inquire what prevails in our 
 judgments, our views, our projects, our hopes, our joys, 
 and our sorrows : in fine, in all the detail of our life. I do 
 not ask if the spirit of the world seduces us sometimes. 
 Alas ! where is the faithful soul, who, in the midst of the 
 dangers with which we are surrounded, does not often allow 
 itself to be surprised by its illusions and artifices ? But, I ask, 
 is it the spirit of God which possesses us, and reigns in us? 
 
 And when I say th:it I ask it, it is not because I am ignorant 
 on the subject ; it is only to oblige you to ask yourselves ; 
 for the rules of faith do not permit me to doubt that the 
 life of the most part of those who hear me, of those even 
 who live in the exterior profession of piety, is a life full of 
 the spirit of the world, and consequently devoid of the 
 spirit of God, unworthy of salvation and the everlasting 
 pro nises. 
 
 First, because it is a life all exterior, which passes away 
 
FOlt THE DAY OF PENTECOST. 
 
 Z£o 
 
 out of our own hearts, and consequently far from God. 
 Ceremonies amuse us. duties engage us, pleasures dissipate 
 us, business disquiets us, vanity wearies us, nothing of all 
 recalls us to ourselves and our hearts. Even the works of 
 piety cannot fix our dissipated minds : our hearts are in 
 the world, while we conseciate our bodies to a few religious 
 exercises : our minds wander among a thousand vain 
 objects, while our mouths are opened to sing sacred songs : 
 our imaginations are full of dangerous phantoms, while we 
 wish to retrace there the recollection of the mysteries of 
 salvation : in fact, while our conduct is outwardly well 
 regulated and praise-worthy in the eyes of men, we are 
 nevertheless strangers to ourselves : we flee ourselves ; we 
 seek those amusements that dissipate us ; we fear to find 
 ourselves alone with ourselves; an infallible proof that 
 God does not reside there. For if God dwelt in us we 
 should be pleased to converse with ourselves; we should 
 not fear our hearts where we should find our treasure and 
 the God of all consolation : we should feel it a trouble 
 even to quit ourselves, because we should discover nothing 
 without which we could replace the presence of God from 
 whom we now wander. But as in returning to ourselves, 
 we find nothing there but ourselves: that is to say, a 
 heart void of true pleasures and solid good, full of passions^ 
 desires, and iniquiet tides, w T e cannot endure ourselves; and 
 from thence we justify the vanities and the pleasures which 
 aid us to forget ourselves : we argue that they are innocent, 
 because we banish from them all that is criminal ; but 
 we do not perceive that, we retain all that dissipates the 
 mind, and prevents reflection, and that this constitutes our 
 grand criminality. 
 
 Secondly, I say that our life is a life full of the spirit of 
 the world, and destitute of the spirit of God, not only 
 because it is not internal and contemplative, but because it 
 is the spirit of the world which forms its desires, regulates 
 its affections, governs its opinions, produces its views, and 
 animates all its proceedings. Upon all the things that 
 
t%6 FOR THE DAV OF PEXTFCOST, 
 
 surround us, upon all the events that strike us, upon all <he 
 objects that interest us, we think like the world ; we judge 
 like the world; we feel like the world; we act like the 
 world. Afflictions discourage us, prosperity elevates us, 
 persecutions shock us, honours please us. Those who 
 succeed in the world we call happy ; those who miscarry 
 appear to merit our sympathy. We envy the fortune or 
 favour of our superiors; we suffer impatiently that of our 
 equals ; we regard with disdain the condition of those who 
 are beneath us. We admire the talents which the world 
 admires in others, and wish to possess them ourselves ; we 
 envy them valour, reputation, high birth, beauty of body 
 or mind, if we ourselves are destitute of them ; we commend 
 ourselves on their account if we possess them : in fine, our 
 views, our judgments, our maxims, our desires, our hopes, 
 are all worldly. It is possible to speak of the world with, 
 disdain^ while in the detail of our conduct, our views, our 
 judgments, our affections, may be always worldly. That 
 which reigns in our conduct, that which is as the body of 
 our life, that which we are independent of our reflections 
 and when we act naturally, in a word, the constant and 
 universal principle of all our interior sentiments, and of all 
 our outward deportment, is the spirit of the world ; we 
 Lave only to search our hearts to acknowledge it. Then 
 the spirit of God dwells not in that heart where the spirit 
 of the world reigns: perhaps he strives with us, he stimu- 
 lates us, he inspires us with holy desires, he awakens our 
 little faith : he knocks at the door, but we have not yet 
 received him : he causes some sparks of his celestial fire to 
 fall upon us ; but he is not yet come himself. 
 
 We belong then slid to the world and to its spirit. 
 Under some outside religion our heart is still worldly ; 
 with some appearances of life, we dwell yet among the 
 dead and in sin : and here is the reason why we examine 
 ourselves so little. We judge of ourselves by the exterior 
 conduct which is irreproachable, by certain works of reli- 
 gion to which the world attaches the name and reputation 
 
FOR THE DAY OF PENTECOST. £27 
 
 of piety, but we seldom think of asking ourselves,— am I 
 guided and animated by the spirit of the world or the 
 spirit of Jesus Christ ? Do I still resemble the world in 
 my desires, my views, my opinions, my joys, my sorrow?, 
 my envies, my animosities, my luxury, my pride, in short, 
 in all the dispositions of my heart I I do not then belong 
 to the spirit of Jesus Christ ; the world is then still the 
 invisible spirit whieh animates and possesses me. If my 
 heart is not changed and renewed, I shall then perish with 
 the world ; since it is already determined that for it there 
 is no salvation, and as its condemnation is inseparable 
 from mine while we form but one spirit and are incor- 
 porated with it. This is the first reflection. 
 
 II. The second character of the spirit of God is, that it is 
 a spirit of self-denial and penitence; and this character is a 
 necessary consequence of the contemplative and interior 
 life of which we have just spoken. 
 
 Indeed, my brethren, as soon as the spirit of God calls us 
 back to ourselves, and causes us to dwell in our own 
 hearts, he discovers us to ourselves. He shews us all the 
 enormity of our past lives : he makes us perceive in our- 
 selves a thousand passions and a thousand miseries which 
 the dissipation and blindness of a worldly life had con- 
 cealed from us ; he developcs all the corruption of our 
 inclinations, all the pride of our hearts, all the opposition 
 that we bear about us against truth and righteousness, all 
 the wounds which the world and the passions have made in 
 our souls ; be convinces us that we are in an universal dis- 
 order, as it respects real good ; that our will, our mind, 
 our imagination, our thoughts, our body, every thing 
 belonging to us, is disorganized, and has revolted against 
 order, truth, and justice. 
 
 Then it is impossible but that in discovering to us this 
 secret and universal disorder of all our faculties, he must 
 produce in us two dispositions : the first, to re-establish the 
 order which sin has interrupted in us : the second, to submit 
 to the justice of God, which that disorder has outraged. 
 
228 FOR THE DAY OF PENTECOST* 
 
 I say first to re-establish the order which sin has inter- 
 rupted in us : for the lights with which the spirit of God 
 fills a heart are not useless lights ; they are lively and 
 efficacious; he operates wherever he dwells; he pro- 
 duces love to the truths which he tenches, because he 
 changes the heart which he enlightens. Worldly souls can 
 indeed know the iYregularity of their hearts ; but they 
 only know it because their ease is disturbed by it, and not 
 because it has disturbed the order within them : and as 
 these lights ate only secret reproaches of their self-love, they 
 make them hate their disorders, but they do not make them 
 love the remedy. 
 
 But a soul renewed by the spirit of God, hates the 
 irregularity within that is opposed to truth and justice. The 
 new lights which show it this irregularity almost in every 
 action, animate it with an holy zeal to be restored to disci- 
 pline and order. 
 
 Thus if it feel in the detail of its conduct that the heart, 
 yet corrupted by pride, revolts against the least humiliation, 
 it seeks out occasions of humility, and leads it to the sacri- 
 fice; if it give itself up to antipathies and secret animo- 
 sities, it punishes it by exterior marks of condescension and 
 charity, which it condemns it to perform ; if it have a 
 violent taste for dissipation and pleasure, it chastises it by 
 recollection and retirement; if it yet retain some vile and 
 frivolous attachments for splendour and vanity, it subdues 
 it by simplicity and modesty ; if the desire of pleasing 
 infect almost all our actions, it flies to occasions of temp- 
 tation, or neglects the servile means ; if it be always in- 
 tractable and rebellious, with respect to certain duties, it 
 performs those duties with the greater diligence, that, 
 by obliging it to go to the last extremity, they may in the 
 end become more supportable. 
 
 Indeed all its diligence is employed in continual exer- 
 tion to re-establish that order in the heart which unjust 
 passions had disturbed : it pardons nothing ; what it cannot 
 •correct it detests ; it has recourse to groans, when care and 
 
FOR THE DAY OF PENTECOST. 229 
 
 exertion prove useless ; and it suffers more from the mala- 
 dies llmt it cannot heal, than from its labours to deliver 
 itself from those which grace assists it to overcome. 
 
 Behold the first disposition of this spirit of renunciation 
 and penitence, which the spirit of God produces in us; 
 and from thence it is easy to judge if we have received it, 
 or if we still live in the spirit of the world. 
 
 For the spirit of the world is a spirit of idleness and 
 ease; a spirit of indulgence to all our irregular appetites; 
 of diligence to satisfy them, of skill to justify them, of self- 
 love which directs them, and retains them as among the 
 number of essential infirmities, to spare the pain of remorse, 
 though this above all delivers the soul to it, and leaves 
 it bound in its chains. It is not necessary to imagine 
 that the spirit of the w 7 orld carries us always into gross and 
 open disorders ; it is a subtle spirit, which knows how to 
 assume even the various forms of the spirit of God : it 
 seeks to corrupt the heart and lead it astray : if it can only 
 succeed, it is no matter whether it be by the grosser pas- 
 sions, or by a multitude of worldly inclinations, which 
 although perhaps separately not criminal, never! heless 
 being united and subsisting habitually in the heart, make 
 it a worldly heart, and form there a state of death and sin, 
 which separates us from God, and deprives us of his spirit, 
 as well as the most criminal life. 
 
 Thus, even where the life is otherwise well-governed, I 
 call that a worldly heart and devoid of the spirit of God, 
 which remains unmortified, which is an enemy to sacred 
 violence, and which especially seeks for occasions to satisfy 
 those desires that are less criminal, and can exercise no 
 self-denial : a heart that wishes not even to prohibit that 
 which visibly removes it farther from God, and which, 
 superseding essential duties, cherishes idleness and indul- 
 gence, and pushes them to the very boundaries of crime 
 and transgression in the eyes of God : a heart which gives 
 itself up to its animosities and antipathies, so that they 
 do not amount to bitter and furious hatred ; to its humour 
 
230 FOU THE DAY OF PENTECOST. 
 
 and impetuosity, so that they do not break out in noise and 
 scandal : to dissipations and pleasures, so that they do not 
 partake of excess and crime ; to servile accommodations, so 
 that they are not directly marked and criminal ; to the love 
 of rank and fortune, so that they are not procured by 
 means that arc odious or unjust; to a search after pleasures 
 and enjoyments, so that they are not mixed with culpable 
 Toluptuousness ; to vanity and splendour, so that they may 
 not offend the world, and if it can mingle with them a few 
 displays of pious liberality ; in a word, to all the possible 
 alleviations of duty, so that it may just save the duties 
 themselves. 
 
 This is what I call a worldly heart, in which the spirit of 
 God does not dwell, because all the inclinations of the 
 world reside there; whereas, the apostle tells us, that the 
 spirit of God makes in us divisions, and sorrowful sepa- 
 rations ; cuts even to the quick, reaches the most secret 
 inclinations of the heart, separating flesh and spirit, earthly 
 affections from the motions of faith, the artifice of the 
 passions from the operations of grace. (Heb. iv. 12.) 
 
 Then, have we received this spirit ? Our life is at present 
 exempt from great crimes, but what sacred violence are we 
 doing to our natural inclinations ? What docs it cost us to 
 contend with ourselves every moment, and to conquer our- 
 selves ? What do we refuse to our heart and our desires ?^ 
 What advantage do we gain by the practice of godliness, 
 which we profess, over our worldly and irregular inclina- 
 tions ? In what do we reckon the sacrifices in the detail 
 of our life? The world keeps sowie for us; our fortunes 
 and circumstances give birth to them; the malice of men 
 furnishes occasion for them : where are those that we have 
 reserved for ourselves? where are those that faith renders 
 necess lry for us, and to which the spirit of God impels us ? 
 What do we suffer to be godly ? what does it cost our 
 passions, our ease, our indolence ? The regularity of cur 
 manners is perhaps the consequence of constitution, or a 
 decency which age and custom impose upon us: we have 
 
lOFv THE DAY OP PENTECOST. 231 
 
 taken no pains to acquire it : thus, refusing nothing besides 
 to our inclinations, all our life is a life of gratification and 
 idleness. No resistance, no renuncialion, no sacrifice of 
 our worldly affections; and consequently we still belong to 
 the world, and the spirit of God is not in us. The second 
 disposition of this spirit of self-denial and penitence, which 
 is the character of the spirit of God, is to submit to the jus- 
 tice of God, which the disorder of our passions has insulted : 
 that is to say, this submission is rendered indispensable, not 
 only from the necessity of regulating and reforming our 
 heart by repressing its immoderate affections, but also from 
 the obligation under which we lie to satisfy the justice of 
 God, which we have offended by the licentiousness of our 
 affections. This is also Urn first disposition which the 
 spirit of God produces in a renewed soul. He makes it 
 espouse the interests of divine justice even against itself; 
 he penetrates it with the fear of his judgments ; he animates 
 it with a holy zeal against that flesh which has served the 
 cause of iniquity. The spirit that I promise to you, said 
 Jesus Christ to his disciples, shall convince the world of 
 righteousness and judgment : that is to say, he will teach 
 men how much they are become debtors to the justice of 
 God by their wanderings ; how much they ought to suffer 
 to satisfy it ; what I have suffered myself to reconcile them 
 with it, and what justice demands of the sinner himself to 
 expiate his crimes, and to prevent the severity of the 
 divine judgments, which cannot allow them to go un- 
 punished. 
 
 Thnt we may know whether or not we have received the 
 spirit of God, we need only enter into our own heart. Do 
 we feci that penitential zeal which tears, groans, holy 
 violence, will not satisfy, because it believes that it has 
 never satisfied the justice of God ? Do we make of the 
 duties of our condition, of the inconveniences inseparable 
 from human life, of all the creatures which surround us, 
 so many occasions of sacrifice and suffering? Do we 
 complain before God of the feebleness of our flesh, and that 
 
232 FOIL THE DAY OF PENTECOST. 
 
 even by the most rigorous satisfactions we cannot make it 
 the instrument of our penitence, as it has been of our crimes ? 
 Do we punish it at least according to its strength, if our 
 cowardice and debility will not allow us to do more ? 
 Do we regard ourselves as criminals to whom pleasures are 
 interdicted, and who cannot avoid that eternal death which 
 they have incurred by their crimes, but by condemning 
 themselves to a temporal death, that is to say, in dying 
 every day, by penitence, to the world, to their flesh, to 
 their desires, and to all created comforts ? 
 
 Alas! all our cares are limited to the flattering of that 
 flesh which the justice of God no longer regards but with 
 horror, and with an eye of indignation and wrath : we are 
 only ingenious in justifying to ourselves our self-gratifica- 
 tions and luxuries : we regard the obligation of penitence, 
 which our past crimes render so necessary and so essential, 
 as an indifferent and superfluous obligation. So far from 
 being animated with an holy zeal against our bodies, we 
 look with horror upon whatever humbles and mortifies 
 them ; so far from entering into the interests of God's 
 justice, we plead for ourselves incessantly against it. Wc 
 think it hard that it demands so much from our weakness ; 
 we maintain that it pushes too far the severity of its inten- 
 tions; we soften the rigour of its maxims; we give them 
 some interpretations favourable to our self-love ; we diminish 
 its rights to augment those of our cupidity ; in fine, our 
 body is more dear to us than the justice of God, which 
 demands its punishment ; and the spirit which animates us, 
 is not a spirit of zeal and penitence, inseparable from the 
 spirit of God; it is a spirit of flesh and blood, which will 
 never possess the kingdom promised to the cross and to 
 holy violence. 
 
 III. Finally, the last character of the spirit of God is, 
 that it is a spirit of strength and courage. As it is a spirit 
 which has overcome the world, which has overthrown its 
 idols, annihilated its superstitions, confounded its preju- 
 dice^ condemned its errors and sects, combated its passions • 
 
FOR THE DAY OF PENTECOST. 
 
 233 
 
 in a word, as it is a spirit stronger than the world, it does 
 not fear the world. Thus the apostles, before feeble and 
 cowardly ; those whom the voice of a woman had intimi- 
 dated; those whom the death of Jesus Christ had dispersed, 
 and who, concealed in Jerusalem, dared not expose them- 
 selves to the fnry of the Jews, and render testimony to the 
 innocence of their master, and to the truth of his doctrine ; — 
 as soon as they have received the spirit of God, they no 
 longer know that timid caution by which they were before 
 influenced ; they appear willi an holy fierceness in the midst 
 of Jerusalem ; they announce before the priests and doctors 
 that Jesus, of whom they were before ashamed to declare 
 themselves the disciples. Not only do they fear the public 
 opinion ho more, but they despise its menaces ; they brave 
 its punishments ; they answer boldly that it is better to obey 
 God than men; and, as if Judea did not oiler sufficient 
 perils and persecutions to their courage, they spread them- 
 selves throughout the earth, and even the ferocity of the 
 most barbarous people, even the horror of the torments and 
 cruelty of tyrants, even the expectation of the most frightful 
 death, the whole world armed against them, — only tend 
 to increase their firmness and their constancy. 
 
 Such is a soul full of the spirit of God. He it is 
 who humbles or exalts men at pleasure ; who sports witli 
 the great and powerful ; who overthrows or confirms names 
 and fortunes; who forms or destroys kingdoms and empires; 
 who is the source of all the greatness in heaven and in 
 earth, and before whom it is all as nothing; who raises 
 a soul which he fills far above itself; makes it participate 
 of his own greatness and sovereignty; impresses upon it 
 his divine characters of liberty and independence; and 
 places it even in the bosom of God, from whence, sur- 
 veying the universe, the dignities and powers of the earth 
 appear to it no more than a vain atom, incapable of 
 intimidating it, and unworthy of its regards and attentions. 
 
 Nothing then is to be compared with the dignity, the 
 glory; the courage of a soul which the spirit of God possesses. 
 
834i FOR THE DAY OF PENTECOST*. 
 
 The dignity and courage which the world gives is always 
 mixed with caution and meanness, because it is always 
 subject to the world, and in some respect dependent upon 
 it: as long as Ave continue devoted to the world, we fear 
 the world. But a righteous soul fears it no longer, because 
 it is no more devoted to it : its opinions are of no importance 
 in its esteem ; its deriding conversations shake it no more 
 than the sound of a tinkling cymbal ; it glories in virtue 
 even before those who despise it ; it yields only to the 
 truth ; it cares but for charity ; it has none of those timid 
 compliances from which piety suffers, and which, far from 
 gaining those sinners who exact them from us, strengthen 
 them in their unjust errors. Behold now the disciples ; 
 their zeal is treated as intoxication, yet their zeal con- 
 tinues to inflame them ; they are accounted as fools, 
 but the injustice of the public opinion serves only to 
 confirm them in their holy folly ; they are regarded as 
 seducers, and they do nothing to gain the better opinion 
 of the world, whom they have prejudiced against them : 
 this is to condemn it, to edify it, and to reprove it. 
 
 The spirit of the world is a spirit of pliancy and cow- 
 ardice. As self-love is its governing principle, it seeks 
 the truth no farther than as the truth is agreeable to it ; 
 it declares for piety but where it finds its friends ; it does 
 honour to virtue in those places only where virtue is 
 honoured. Behold the spirit which rules and governs us ; 
 a spirit of timidity and complaisance : we fear to be for 
 God, for on all occasions in which he requires that we 
 should declare for him, we soften down our obligations 
 and spare ourselves ; and as soon as it is necessary for his 
 glory to endure the derision and censure of men, we draw 
 back; we falsely call our cowardice, prudence; and when 
 the performance of our duties is likely to displease, we 
 satisfy ourselves that the transgression is lawful ; and the 
 first thing that we examine in the conduct that God 
 requires from us, is, if the world will sanction it, and that 
 we may not lose the esteem of the world, we still appear 
 
TOR THE DAT OF FEXTECOST. OSS 
 
 "worldly, we speak its language, we applaud i ; s maxims, we 
 practise its customs; and to avoid seeming gloomy, we 
 enter into its pleasures, we pursue its dissipations, we 
 partake, perhaps, even of its crimes. 
 
 We need only examine ourselves with sincerity to agree 
 with this description of our character. AH our life is but a 
 series of reserve and compliances, which the law of God 
 reproves : every where we sacrifice the dictates of our con- 
 sciences to the errors of those with whom we live. We 
 know the truth, but we hold it in unrighteousness : we 
 applaud the maxims that combat it: we dare not resist 
 those that condemn it : we sacrifice our days to flattery, and 
 to the desire of not displeasing, to a thousand things for 
 which our consciences reproach us, and from which even 
 our better judgment would retire : to say no more, we do 
 not live for ourselves and truth ; we live for others and for 
 vanity; we wish to please ; we cannot withdraw ourselves 
 from the world ; Ave hold to it, influenced by views of glory, 
 fortune, ease, credit, reputation, amusement, even friendship 
 and society ; and from thence it happens that as soon as 
 truth is in competition with some one of our passions, and 
 that it is needful to wound them in declaring for it, we 
 abandon it : we take no measures, we dissimulate, we 
 adopt for ourselves some false maxims to justify our unjust 
 modifications ; we persuade ourselves that the worldly life 
 in which we are engaged renders them unavoidable. Thus 
 all our life passes in yielding to others, in accommodating 
 ourselves to their passions, in following their examples, in 
 consenting to their maxims ; no firmness, no resistance, no 
 courage ; every thing shakes us, every thing carries us 
 away ; complaisance is the main spring of all our conduct ; 
 and having perhaps no particular vices of our own, we 
 become guilty of those of others, and we practise no virtue. 
 
 Nevertheless, as we retain in our hearts some remains of 
 love for the truth, as we yield to the world with a kind of 
 regret, as we avoid its grosser follies, as we distinguish 
 ourselves from it by some exterior actions of piety, we think 
 
£36 FOR THE DAY OF PEXTECOST. 
 
 that we do not belong to it like those worldly souls which 
 are intoxicated with it : but we deceive ourselves ; it is at 
 least certain, that we do not belong to the spirit of God : 
 that it is not that spirit which leads us, and which dwells 
 in us. For this divine spirit is a spirit of strength, of 
 firmness, and of courage : it does not fear the world, 
 because it despises the world ; it will not please the world, 
 because it is crucified to the world ; it does not seek the 
 suffrages of the world, because it judges the judgments of 
 the world ; it does not allow itself to be shaken by the 
 examples of the world, because it has overcome the world. 
 The character most opposed to the spirit of God, is that 
 of cowardice and compliancy; and it is the surest mark 
 that God is not in the heart, and that we are yet in the 
 world, when we fear the world more than the truth, when 
 we spare ourselves at the expence of the truth, when we 
 wish to please it in spite of the truth, and when we inces- 
 santly sacrifice the truth to it. 
 
 Great God ! shed upon our hearts this day that three- 
 fold spirit of separation, of self-denial, and of courage, 
 which, shed of old upon thy disciples, made them new men, 
 conquerors of the world, and witnesses to the truth : anni- 
 hilate in us this spirit of the world, this spirit of dissipa- 
 tion, of self-gratification, of compliancy and cowardice, 
 which has so long shut up the entrance of our hearts 
 against thy divine Spirit ; this day renew our desires, our 
 affections, our sentiments, and our thoughts. Come, O 
 thou spirit of truth, come into our hearts, occupy the 
 place of the miserable world which displeases us, and which 
 we have not the courage to venture to displease ; and 
 after having established thy dwelling in us here below, 
 grant that we may become eternal temples of thy glory 
 and truth. Amen. 
 
CHEMINAIS. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 Timoleon Cheminais was of the order of* the Jesuits. He was born 
 in Paris iu 1652. As a preacher he was reckoned little inferior to 
 Massilion and La Roe; and, on his first appearance in his native city, 
 was nominated to deliver a course of sermons on the Advent, in the 
 presence of the court, but his infirm state of health prevented him 
 from entering upon this high appointment. His sermons are short 
 and pathetic ; his style is neat and perspicuous; he evidently studied 
 simplicity. He aims at the heart. Some of his discourses, particu- 
 larly one on the Penitent Magdalen, and another on Christian 
 Patience, are more elegant and lengthened than that which is here 
 translated. One short passage of the latter is omitted, as it refers to 
 a praclice peculiar to the Roman church, and is not essential to 
 its connexion. 
 
 Cheminais approaches nearer to the sentiments of the reformed 
 church than any other Catholic writer. His health would not 
 allow him to consult the cumbrous volumes of the Fathers, to 
 which the Catholic writers are accustomed to refer as to so 
 many infallible oracles: hence he drew his opinions more imme- 
 diately from the pure fountain of inspiration ; and, as he suffered 
 during eight years under the lingering disorder that terminated in his 
 death, there is a spirit of piety transfused throughout his writings 
 which we might expect to find in a religious character in his 
 situation; and he discovers the thoughts and views of a man dying 
 to the world and living* for eternity. 
 
 There are none to be found in the records of the Catholic church 
 whose characters surpass that of Cheminais. When he studied, his 
 sole object was to reduce his discourses to the capacities of his hearers ; 
 and he accustomed himself to retrench whatever was superfluous, if 
 it was merely calculated to please without administering profit. 
 There was found among his papers a project to simplify his sermons 
 still more ; and he thought to increase their usefulness by divesting 
 
£38 CHEMINAIS. 
 
 1hera of divisions and ornaments, and making them only plain and 
 pathetic appeals to the heart. The design was good, but the means 
 for executing it were not altogether judicious : for divisions, if not 
 too numerous, most certainly greatly assist the understanding of the 
 hearer; and ornaments, fitly chosen, render public instruction much 
 more agreeable. When he preached he never courted popularity ; and 
 he proved by his conduct, as well as by his professions, how little he 
 regarded the approbation of the world. Without the use of art he 
 always drew tears from his auditory, and from his lips the most 
 common truths acquired an uncommon unction. " His exterior 
 talent in delivering a discourse agreed perfectly with these qualities: 
 he had a fine voice; a modest and devout air, but lively and ani- 
 mated; and a natural action; nor could better qualities be desired in 
 an orator than were in him ; but during the last days of his life, he 
 suffered from a perpetual pain in his head, which checked his exer- 
 tions, and prevented him from those labours to which he would have 
 devoted himself, had he enjoyed perfect health." His sufferings after 
 preaching were exceedingly great, and his pulpit labours hastened 
 his death. He at length quitted them with reluctance; and, as he 
 had borne his rapid elevation with humility, he retired from public 
 life with resignation. Yet he still aimed at doing good. His general 
 conversation was devout and instructive; he applied himself much 
 to form the characters of the youth that came within his sphere, and 
 over whom his engaging manners had given him great influence; and 
 when his infirmities would no longer admit of his labours, either in 
 the pulpit or the study, he went every Sunday about the country 
 teaching the poor. He died universally regretted on the 15th of 
 September, 1689, aged thirty-nine years. 
 
SERMON V. 
 
 THE DIFFICULTY OF SALVATION. 
 
 CHEMINAIS. 
 
 Matt. \\i. 14. — Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which 
 leadetli unto life. 
 
 \\ e all admit, Sirs, that the way of salvation is difficult; 
 yet we all live as if it were very easy : let us thru shew (he 
 difficulty of it, so as to awaken Christians from their 
 languor: this is the design of the present discourse, to 
 which 1 solicit your particular attention. I will not over- 
 charge the subject, it is sufficiently terrible of itself: I will 
 only employ the most simple and clearest proofs of the 
 gospel : God forbid that I should seek to destroy what 
 Jesus Christ came to save ; but at the same time may 
 heaven preserve me from opening to my brethren a broad 
 way, a way of damnation : for broad is the road that 
 hadeth to destruction. I have an equal interest in the 
 subject with yourselves ; and if what I have to tell you 
 should make you tremble, believe me, I have been first 
 alarmed myself. 
 
 Be assured that there is no other religion by which man 
 can be saved, than that of Jesus Christ; neither is there 
 sal-cation in any other, for there is none other name under 
 heaven, given among men, whereby we must be saved. There 
 is no other way to arrive at heaven than the way which lie 
 himself has marked out. He who would wish to pass by any 
 other way than that of jhe gospel, would not be a Christian : 
 
240 THE DIFFICULTY OF SALVATION. 
 
 this is a truth which you cannot dispute. Then what is the 
 doctrine of Jesus Christ on the affair of salvation ? Jud<?e 
 of it, Sirs, by the exposition that I am going to address to 
 you ; I will express my thoughts in a few words. 
 
 FIRST PART. 
 
 Let us consider the figures which Jesus Christ employs 
 when he wishes to instruct us on this subject : figures 
 which are the more powerful proofs of the difficulty of 
 salvation, as the Son of God has himself explained them, 
 as I am about to explain them. 
 
 Sometimes salvation is a feast to which Jesus Christ 
 invites all the world : but we must leave every thing behind 
 if we would share in it ; neither business nor pleasures must 
 form an excuse. — Sometimes it is a warfare in which we 
 must engage; but we must make preparations, collect 
 troops and ammunition, sustain attacks, and join in battle : 
 or otherwise we shall never obtain the victory. — It is a 
 building which we are to erect, but at a vast expence : we 
 must count the cost before we begin, and spare nothing to 
 complete it. — It is a palace of which the Son of God is the 
 corner and foundation stone; all the stones which must 
 enter into the structure of this edifice, must be hewn, 
 polished, and carved.— -It is a vineyard, the Lord will have 
 no idle workmen. — It is the drachm which a poor woman 
 has lost ; the whole house must be ransacked to find it. — 
 It is a precious stone, enough of itself to enrich a man, but 
 we must sell all to buy it. — It is described by the virgins 
 who attend the bridegroom ; but, we observe that they must 
 be continually watching, that they may have their lamps 
 always burning : without this they will not be admitted to 
 the banquet. — It is seed, a germ of immortality ; but we 
 must cultivate the soil with care where this seed is cast : or 
 otherwise we shall scarcely save a fourth part; the rest 
 will become the prey of birds, or it will wither, and be 
 trodden under foot by passengers. — It is a stewardship, but 
 
THE DIFFICULTY OF SALVATION. £41 
 
 we must be diligent : tbe idle steward is discharged, be is 
 obliged to give an exact and severe account, he is com- 
 mitted to the hands of justice, and condemned to perpetual 
 imprisonment. — It is a heritage which Jesus Christ gives to 
 his elect; but we can only enter there by the same way 
 with himself, that is, by the cross. It is a throne at the 
 right hand of which we are seated ; but before we ascend 
 it, we must drink the same cup as Jesus Christ. 
 
 I see nothing in these figures which does not mark 
 extreme difficulty ; and yet I only simply expound the 
 parables which the Son of God has employed. And it 
 must not be said that I suppress those which are favourable. 
 The parables of the prodigal son, and of the good shepherd, 
 do not give a different appearance to the subject. They 
 rejoice over the salvation of a sinner, but it is one that 
 repents. The prodigal son is kindly received ; but he 
 returns affected and sincerely converted. It is true, O my 
 God, the yoke is light, and those who enter into thy ways 
 sufficiently feel the unction of thy grace ; but it always 
 bears the character of constraint and subjection. 
 
 SECOND PART. 
 
 Perhaps the places where the Son of God speaks 
 without figures will be less severe : let us then see how he 
 explains himself upon a subject which to him is best 
 known, and which is to us of the most importance. 
 
 From the days of John the Baptist until nozo the kingdom 
 of heaven suffereth violence. From this time that John the 
 Baptist, my precursor, is come to announce me, the king- 
 dom of heaven must be taken by violence: then, Sirs, is it 
 easy to obtain it ? judge from this whether or not it is easy v ^ 
 
 to be saved. 
 
 But will the number of the elect be great ? Many are 
 called, replies the Saviour, but few are chosen : decisive 
 word! Does it not here signify those whom God has 
 called to the faith, and who answer to the grace of vocation ? 
 
£42 THE DIFFICULTY OF SALVATION'. 
 
 We ask if it is easy for a Christian to save himself? Behold 
 the answer : Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord f 
 shall enter the kingdom of heaven. He must not persuade 
 himself that it is enough to bear the appellation of Christian, 
 and to invoke my name, to effect his salvation : many 
 even of those who have wrought miracles in my name shall 
 be condemned ; and much more should those not cherish 
 hope who have but a wavering, faith. He alone who 
 doeth the will of my Father shall enter into the kingdom 
 of heaven. 
 
 Will it then be permitted to me, O Lord, to ask some- 
 thing more positive ? I have no other reply to make than 
 the advice which I have given, and on which you cannot 
 loo much reflect : Strive to enter in at the strait gate, for 
 many, I say unto you y shall seek to enter in, and shall not be 
 able. Use the most powerful efforts to enter into the way 
 of salvation ; spare nothing, economize nothing, to effect 
 this ; many who have never taken these measures shall 
 present themselves at the gate, and shall be refused. These, 
 Sirs, are not words which the subtilty of our own minds can 
 favourably explain, but an oracle which speaks without 
 ambiguity ; a thunderbolt for the man who prelends to mark 
 «ut for himself an easy way to heaven. 
 
 THIRD PART. 
 
 You will be yet more convinced, Sirs, of the truth that 
 I preach to you, if you consider the exalted perfection of 
 the law of Jesus Christ, joined to the extreme weakness of 
 man in (lie state of corrupt nature. For truly the religion 
 that we profess, says St. Augustin, is not a sluggish and 
 inactive religion. 
 
 It demands from us a love of God, which includes a pre- 
 ference so absolute, that neither relations, nor friends, nor 
 health, nor honour, can snatch it away, when solicited, I 
 will not say to give up our religion, but even to violate 
 the least of the commandments. A preference so universal 
 
THE DIFFICULTY OF SALVATION. 
 
 245 
 
 that it influences all the habits of the life, and all the 
 articles of the law. 
 
 It requires a love of our neighbour so generous, that it 
 forgets the most atrocious injuries, that it pardons them, 
 not only outwardly in not executing vengeance, but in- 
 wardly, by stifling in the heart all the feelings which 
 give birth to it. 
 
 It claims a faith which makes the Christian ready to lay 
 his head upon the scaffold ; a renunciation, a denial of 
 himself, which influences him to pluck out the eye that 
 offends him, a chastity which not only deprives him of 
 unlawful pleasures, but prevents him even from desiring 
 them, from thinking upon them ; an entire renunciation 
 of the good things of this world. 
 
 It wills that we should be persuaded that those are 
 happy who suffer, who weep, who are poor, persecuted, 
 calumniated ; and that, on the contrary, we should consider 
 the rich, men of pleasure, those who are honoured and 
 blessed with worldly prosperity, as unhappy. It requires 
 that we should rather be reduced to poverty, than do the 
 least injury to our neighbour: and all this. Sirs, is abso- 
 lutely obligatory. 
 
 Then who does not see the difficulty of these high 
 maxims, and the small number of persons that observe 
 them ? I do not here speak of the cautionary advice 
 which we have, because we may say that this is not abso- 
 lutely necessary to salvation : nevertheless, remark as we 
 proceed, Christians, that advice in many cases passes into 
 precept with respect to a great number of persons ; tliat- 
 retirement, for example, patience in injuries, flight from 
 company, from ease, from honour, from friends, may even 
 become an express command by this fundamental rule of 
 the gospel : if thy hand offend thee, cut it off. 
 
 What is the consequence if we compare this holiness 
 with the extreme weakness of man in the condition in 
 which he now is ? Every thing is spoilt and corrupted at 
 
 *> 
 
£4 \ THE DIFFICULTY OF SALVATlOtf. 
 
 the very source ; there is scarcely any natural movement 
 ■which is not contrary to the law ; this it was which made 
 St. Paul formerly groan, and which makes the pious gronn 
 every day in this world. An eternal and ever-present con- 
 tradiction. You will that which is good, the flesh wills it 
 not ; you rise to heaven, the weight of nature drags you 
 down to earth ; you triumph to-day, and to-morrow you are 
 conquered ; you have laboured diligently for twenty years in 
 the use of means, a fatal day, an unguarded moment, destroys 
 all: we must always conquer, and never be conquered. 
 
 What shall I say of outward obstacles ? Relations, 
 friends, enemies, seasons, climate, condition, habitation, 
 business, glory, offices, emoluments, recreations, even re- 
 tirement, good and bad things, there is nothing which 
 contains not poison, and where we do not find an occasion 
 of sin. Also the Son of God said, that he was not come to 
 bring peace, but war, and a continual warfare : conclude 
 from all this whether or not salvation is easy. 
 
 No, no, Christians, we must not deceive ourselves : salva- 
 tion is difficult ; reckon upon it ; the heaven and the earth 
 will pass away, the elements will be annihilated ; but the 
 word of Jesus Christ will remain eternally. During sixteen 
 centuries in which men have reasoned upon this subject, and 
 have thought it their interest to seek correctives to the 
 severity of the gospel, the maxims of Jesus Christ have not 
 allowed any more favourable explication, than that which I 
 give them; this is a rule which we cannot bias; what- 
 ever cannot bend to it, will be broken to pieces. 
 
 FOURTH PART. 
 
 What 1 have said is so true, and so much the spirit of 
 the gospel, that all those who have been influenced by a 
 sincere desire to work out their salvation, have perfectly 
 understood the difficulty of this affair. — But God is good, 
 siv you : Jesus Christ died for us, will lie then damn us ? 
 
THE DIFFICULTY OF SALVATION". 245 
 
 How beautiful is this sentiment, and how beneficial would 
 it be if we only knew how to draw just consequences from 
 it ! but behold, my dear hearer, what I have to reply. 
 
 Since God lias not made you to destroy you, why should 
 you destroy yourself? He has not made you to sin, why 
 then should you violate his law ; why do you then offend 
 him ? Jesus Christ died to save you, why then should you 
 damn yourself? Why do you refuse to labour for your 
 salvation, as he laboured for it ? A fine answer to make to 
 the Son of God, truly ! Lord, hast thou not laboured 
 enough, is it fit that I should labour? It will become you, 
 indeed, to take an advantage of his passion, enemy as you 
 are to bis cross ! You must apply the benefit of it as the 
 apostle : Ifdlup that which is behind of the ajjiictions of Christ. 
 
 Besides, when you disinherit an ungrateful and unnatural 
 son, who has attempted your life, or your property, have 
 you sent him out into the world to destroy him ? 
 
 In fine, even the goodness of God and the passion of 
 Jesus Christ will condemn you. Will he not say to you, 
 what have I spared for your salvation ? I have done every 
 thing for you, what have you done for me, or rather, what 
 have you done for yourself? Who was the most interested 
 in this matter, I or you ? 
 
 But why has God made the way to heaven so difficult ? 
 this exasperates. Behold, in the first place, my dear hearer, 
 the spirit of the inquiry which the devil formerly made to 
 our first parents; from thence Christians ought to suspect 
 him. Does it belong to you to call God to an account? 
 We are labourers, and though at the end of our toil he 
 should give us nothing, what right have we to reply ? He 
 sets that value upon heaven which he pleas s; it is a 
 domain that belongs to him, and upon which we have no. M 
 
 other claim than he may think proper to give us. What 
 would you say to a domestic who should ask, why will you 
 be served in such a manner ? You would know why ! It 
 is enough to know that the Gospel is clear and rigid upon 
 this point. 
 
246 THE DIFFICULTY OF SALVATION. 
 
 In the second place, the difficulty comes from man, to 
 whom God had given all necessary strength to do well. 
 The law is reasonable; all the decalogue is the law of 
 nature, and necessary for the preservation of man upon the 
 earth, though there were no other life. You blame God ; 
 blame yourself: the greater part of the difficulties of which 
 you complain are personal faults ; a bad education, a bad 
 habit voluntarily contracted, a passion which you cherish, 
 which you strengthen, by not applying for the aids of grace, 
 of the word of God, and of the sacraments. O Israel, thou 
 hast destroyed thyself hut in me is thine help. 
 
 In the third place, all good men have had other senti- 
 ments than you on this difficulty which you alledge : the 
 prophet cannot enough express his astonishment that God 
 for so few things should save his people. I reckon, says 
 the apostle, that the sufferings of the present moment are not 
 worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be 
 revealed in us. Who speaks in this manner ? A man who 
 has suffered more than you ever will suffer. 
 
 In the fourth place, when a thing is not absolutely neces- 
 sary, difficulty may dishearten ; but when it is of indispen- 
 sable necessity, there is nothing that we ought not to 
 surmount. Then such is the affair of salvation ; there can 
 be no room to deliberate. Ah! if the law is harsh, it will 
 be much harsher to hear this terrible sentence, Depart from 
 me. There is no mid- way : if penitence, prayer, fasting ; 
 if continence gives you pain, wrote St. Bernard formerly to 
 liis nephew, call to your memory the recollection of that 
 fire which is never extinguished, of that worm which dieth 
 wot. There is nothing that this thought does not make easy. 
 
 But above all, it is to thee, O my God, that we must 
 Jiave recourse, Lord save, or we perish: save us, Lord, 
 upon this stormy sea of the world, where so many winds rise, 
 Where so many shoals are concealed : the tempest threatens 
 us, the waves gain upon us, art becomes useless, and 
 strength without effect ; Lord, save us. Alas, Lord, is that 
 eye closed to us which is always open, which watches over 
 
J rHE DIFFICULTY OF SALVATION. 
 
 247 
 
 the elect ? We perish, the world hurries us along, the 
 torrent carries us away, custom domineers over us, every 
 thing conspires to destroy us, wilt thou abandon us ? Ah ! 
 Lord, if the recollection of the past touches thee, I have 
 sometimes put my hand to the work : there have been 
 certain moments of life in which I have made some efforts : 
 they have been indeed little for a God great as thyself, but 
 yet something for a poor creature so feeble and imperfect 
 as I. What do I say, O my God, and what is my boldness 
 to make a merit of thy gifts ? Rather remember, O Lord, 
 the wonders that thou hast wrought to save me, and com- 
 plete a work that has already cost thee so much. Above 
 all, O my God, hide not from me the dangers to which I 
 am exposed, they will excite my vigilance : let me not 
 sleep in a false security ; thy saints, after having done such 
 great things, have trembled; penetrate me, O Lord, with 
 the same fear, and let this fear never be idie ; but may it 
 make me labour incessantly till I arrive at the happy goal 
 •f eternity ! 
 
 
 I 
 
 M 
 
POULLE. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 Louis Poulle, preacher to the French king, and Abbot of Nogenf, 
 was born at Avignon in 1711, and died in the same town in 1781. 
 Endued with a happy imagination, he cultivated poetry and 
 eloquence at an early period of life. Twice he carried away the 
 poetical prize at the academy des Jeux Floraux\: but he abandoned 
 these pursuits for that of the pulpit, where he was equally suc- 
 cessful. He was master of a lively, noble, and rapid eloquence. 
 His sermons abound in grand and brilliant imagery, and are often 
 touched with some of the finest strokes of sentiment. The sun has 
 its blemishes. Some of his ideas, like most of the Catholic writers, 
 will be found confused ; the rapidity of their imaginations did not 
 always allow them to think correctly. Here and there Poulle's 
 metaphors are forced, and he often dwells too much on little things. 
 He is accused of a want of simplicity, but this defect cannot be found 
 in his exquisite discourse on the Prodigal Son, which has been selected 
 for this volume. There are in it some of the most tender delineations 
 of nature, and particularly in the second part, in which he describes 
 the prodigal's reception on his return. The translator does not 
 indeed agree with the writer when he starts his subject on the 
 principle of inherent grace, which is a distinguishing tenet of the 
 Roman church ; and some part of his discourse would better accord 
 with the return of a backslider than the conversion of a profane 
 sinner. But it does not become a translator to new model his 
 author, and, with the exception of one or two omitted phrases 
 and altered words, the reader is presented with the discourse in its 
 original state. He cannot be blind to its beauties. There are two 
 Other discourses of this preacher which merit particular attention, 
 one of which is on Christian Vigilance, and the other on Hell. 
 Poulle's sermons were published in 1778, in two volumes 12mo. 
 ^They are scarce and expensive. It is a remarkable fact, that he never 
 committed them to paper, but retained them in his memory, and at 
 last, after the lapse of forty years, he was prevailed upon by his friends 
 to favour the public with discourses,, which had charmed the most 
 numerous audiences. 
 
SERMON VI. 
 
 Pil 
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 
 POULLE. 
 
 Luke xy. 20. — He was moved with compassion. 
 
 Ah ! my dear brethren, who can speak so suitably of the 
 divine mercy as the Saviour of the world, — mercy itself? 
 Under what tender and natural images has he not been 
 pleased to describe it. Sometimes it is that of a woman 
 inconsolable for the loss of a drachm, the tenth part of the 
 treasure that she had amassed by her labours and diligence. 
 With what ardour, with what anxiety she seeks it ! But 
 how great is her satisfaction when she finds it : that happy 
 day is to her a day of festivity, she is desirous that her 
 friends and neighbours may share with her in her transports 
 of joy. Sometimes it is that of an afflicted shepherd : 
 during his short absence, one of his sheep has strayed from 
 the rest of the flock ; it wanders far from his eyes, exposed 
 to every danger. The alarmed shepherd immediately 
 abandons his other sheep : he traverses the plains and the 
 mountains, he calls it by his cries : the lengths, the diffi- 
 culties of the way weary rather than repulse him : at 
 length he perceives it : this sight gives him fresh vigour, 
 he hastens, he approaches it, he seizes it, he lays it on his 
 shoulders, and with an air of triumph he brings back his 
 conquest into the fold : this is no burden to him, it is a 
 trophy which he displays to all beholders ; and as if these 
 different figures represented to us too imperfectly the extent 
 of the divine mercy which Jesus Christ so extols, as mucli 
 
 * 
 
£50 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 as feeble imagery will allow, lie shews it to us at one view 
 in the touching parable of the Prodigal Son, to which we 
 shall now solely direct our attention. 
 
 If in the parable the father and the son have no particular 
 name which distinguishes them, in the design of Jesus 
 Christ they have one which belongs to them, and which we 
 are going to give them. This insulted father, always alike 
 compassionate and generous, we will call mercy, — God : 
 this son, at first rebellious, afterwards miserable, we will 
 call the sinner, — you. Assisted by these denominations^ the 
 application of the parable will be complete; the figure will 
 give place to reality. Under the allegory of the wanderings 
 of the prodigal son, we shall deplore the crimes and the 
 miseries of the obstinate sinner who forsakes his God; this 
 will be the subject which will occupy the first part of this 
 discourse. Under the symbol of the return of the prodigal 
 son to the paternal house, we shall admire the power of 
 penitence, and, above all, the wonders and riches of divine 
 mercy ; this will be the subject of the second part. We 
 will then join our voices to the acclamations of angels, 
 to celebrate the triumph of grace, victorious over death 
 and sin. 
 
 Not to depart from the spirit of our parable, and the 
 design of Jesus Christ, let us not stop, my dear brethren, at 
 those sins of frailty which are more the effects of our weak- 
 ness than our wickedness, and which arise rather from 
 unforeseen occasions that present themselves, than from a 
 fixed and determinate will to evil. How enormous soever 
 those sins may be, they are nevertheless more excusable and 
 less odious. But let us consider sin become by the force of 
 habit, inclination, passion, almost necessity; and struck 
 with these atrocities, and their deplorable consequences, we 
 shall not fear to define it, the abomination of desolation. 
 Abomination with regard to God whom it attacks ; desolation 
 with regard to the sinner who commits it ; two truths which 
 the recital of the wanderings and misfortunes of the prodigal 
 son will fully justify. 
 
THE PRODIGAL SOX. '25\ 
 
 And, my dear brethren, this frightful picture of sin that 
 we are about to exhibit is not the invention of fancy; 
 Jesus Christ has taken the pains to make a draught of it 
 for us himself; he has even put it into action, to render it 
 more instructive and interesting. Let us observe, in order, 
 the different traits that this sorrowful picture presents to us ; 
 they are so admirably disposed, that if we only displace 
 them, we must injure the general effect which they are 
 intended to produce. 
 
 And let us begin by observing the shameful preference 
 which the sinner gives to the creatures, even beyond God 
 himself; this is the first step of the abomination of sin. A 
 certain man had two sous : and the younger of these said to 
 his father, Father, give me the portion of goods that fulleth 
 to me. Is not the alone name of father, that sacred name 
 which ought but to precede supplication and thanksgiving, 
 which this ungrateful son dares to put at the head of his 
 rebellion, sufficient to confound him ? Does it not call to his 
 mind all the gifts that he had received from him ? Does it 
 not bring to his recollection the day when he bestowed 
 upon him so many caresses, so many anxieties, so much 
 attention, so much generosity; in a word, ail the treasures of 
 paternal tenderness; and are not these bonds sufficiently 
 strong to fix him to his duty ? And now to be removed far 
 from a father so good and generous must constitute his joy ; 
 his presence troubles him, his counsels exasperate him, his 
 caresses weary him : even from the goodness of his father 
 he assumes a right to offend him with more assurance : 
 Ah ! could that afflicted father expect such baseness ? If 
 his servants had revolted against his orders, had it been 
 done by those hirelings who were only attached to his service 
 by the hope of reward or the fear of punishment, he would 
 have been less surprised, he was only as it respected them a 
 severe and exact master : but that a son should go to this 
 extremity, this is that which fills up the measure of his 
 grief. 
 
 In these fine touches, sinners who hear me, do you not 
 
 * 
 
252 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 recognize yourselves ? Do you not recognize your God ? 
 In whatever respect you consider him, is he not your 
 Father ? In the order of nature he lias produced you from 
 nothing, he sustains you, he animates you, he makes his 
 sun to shine upon you, lie commands his clouds to distil 
 their rain, he gives to the earth its fecundity : his watchful 
 providence abundantly supplies your wants : in the order 
 of grace he has redeemed you, he has regenerated you, he 
 protects you, he nourishes you by his word, and bestows 
 upon you every blessing : in the order of glory he destines 
 you to the enjoyment of his own perfect felicity. Creature, 
 child, heir of God, what are you that he has not made you ? 
 What have you that you have not received from him ? 
 What do you expect that you do not hope to enjoy through 
 him? But what effects have such singular benefits pro- 
 duced upon your soul ? Either through inconstancy, or 
 distaste, you have grown weary of the pleasures attached to 
 his service; his favours have become a burden to you ; in 
 the bosom even of his mercy, of which you feel the 
 effects, you have conspired against him. Could you more 
 cruelly wound his paternal heart ? 
 
 Believers united to him say, with glowing affections, our 
 Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy 
 kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is done in 
 heaven ; give us this day our daily bread ; lead us not into 
 temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen. A short but 
 sublime prayer, which so well expresses the various senti- 
 ments of the children of our Father in heaven, their lively 
 zeal for the glory of his name, a firm expectation of the 
 accomplishment of his promises, their entire submission to 
 the determinations of his will, a full confidence in his bene- 
 ficent providence, the tribute of their gratitude for the 
 favours already received, an ardent desire to obtain their 
 renewal, and their invincible hatred to every thing that may 
 displease him. 
 
 You, on the contrary, you have said to him, if not by 
 words, at least by actions^ and above all by your desires — 
 
i- 
 
 THE PRODIGAL SOX. 2oJ 
 
 and Goa" anderstands wishes as well as words, — keep the 
 
 trea>ures of thy grace : shed the dew of heaven upon thine 
 elect. I envy them not this mark of thy favour; I ask 
 nothing from thee but the fat of the earth ; but those good 
 things adapted to my carnal taste and inclination. Thy 
 riches are spiritual, give me terrestrial : thy consolations are 
 secret, I Want those that a?e sensible: thy rewards are 
 distant, I desire such as are present: the happiness of 
 heaven cannot make the happiness of earth : riches, plea- 
 sures, liberty, this is the portion of thine heritage after 
 which 1 aspire, and on which I eagerly seize : •■ Give me 
 the portion of goods that falleth to me;" to s y this would 
 be blasphemy : and is it not wickedness to do it ? Is it not 
 that which you do ? 
 
 At first this baseness is not visible : we sin at the begin- 
 ning by surprise, afterwards by weakness; but a natural 
 bashfulness, the shame attached to sin, the principles oi' 
 faith yet alive, the recent impressions of a Christian educa- 
 tion, the terrors of the Lord, which unite with the cries of 
 conscience, still so tender and so delicate, soon lead us back 
 again to duty. Nevertheless, these first essays of pleasure 
 are a continual temptation to which we yield. We return 
 to virtue, but with more difficulty; we return to vice with 
 more ea^e ; we fall, and we rise a^ain : we fall, and once 
 more we rise: we fall a°;ain. and rise no more. Durin"- the 
 course of these repeated trials, we lose insensibly the ta<te of 
 the gift of God : the fear of his dreadful judgments grows 
 weaker from day to day. the lights of faith become obscured : 
 we say to ourselves in secret. I have sinned, and what evil 
 has it brought upon me? This reflection ends all per- 
 plexities, it dissipates donb's. it inspires audacity. Soon 
 are heard in the soul those cries of sedition, let us break his \ 
 
 bands asunder, and cast anay his cords from us. Wiry 
 should we re-train ourselves ? Why should we torment 
 ourselves? Let us abandon all relio-ion. Wherein we 
 violate it, we already draw down divine wrath upon our- 
 selves : wherein we practise it. we cannot justify ourselves, 
 
254 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 ami it only serves to oppress oar spirits, and perplex us 
 with trouble: criminals in pari, let us be so altogether; if 
 we cannot be righteous, let us try to become tranquil : let 
 us cease to be our own enemies, and we shall have no more 
 war : let us only be daring, arid we shall enjoy that peace, 
 and that impunity after which we sigh. Here is a renun- 
 ciation of God on the part of the sinner; which is the 
 second degree of the abomination of sin. 
 
 The prodigal son departs, he flies those places that accuse 
 him, the example of the faithful servants which condemns 
 him, the remorse of his conscience which troubles him, 
 the presence of his father which confounds him; lie flies 
 himself, he shuns every way of return. He departs. At 
 this departure, O what sorrow ! what consternation in the 
 paternal house! In vain this inconsolable father plunges 
 himself into the most profound sorrow, his son remains in- 
 sensible ; in vain he calls him by his cries, his feeble voice 
 reaches not the cars of this unnatural child ; in vain he 
 sheds torrents of tears, his son will not witness them. What 
 then ! because, the son is ungrateful, must his father be 
 unhappy! Because this child is pleased to renounce the 
 privileges of his birth, must his father be deprived of the 
 rights which he had as a parent, that he should lose the 
 consolations and the aids that he expected from hira ! Was 
 it not enough that the sinner had offended his God, must he 
 also separate himself from him! Did he only allow grace 
 tlie time to act, it would find some favourable moment 
 to make him re-enter into himself, and it is from the 
 pursuit of grace that he wishes to escape ; he fears more 
 the goodness of God than his anger; and, to render himself 
 inaccessible to the attractions of divine mercy, he buries 
 himself in that distant region where the name of God is not 
 known, where piety is turned into derision, where sacri- 
 legious incense is lavished upon strange gods, where a 
 profane language is only heard, where voluptuousness, 
 pleasure, luxury, and licentious manners, reign uncon- 
 trolled; a dark region which the day of truth never 
 
>»rfl 
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON. 255 
 
 enlightens, and which virtue abhors. Where is this country- 
 situated ? It you consider only distance of places, it is not 
 far from the Father's house, the kingdom of heaven itself: 
 if you examine the manners and the character of the inhabi- 
 tants who people it, it is very far from it ! It has hell for its 
 bounds. 
 
 O church, chaste spouse of Jesus Christ, too unhappy 
 mother of this rebellious son whom you brought forth in 
 baptism, now give yourself up to excessive grief; he is 
 dead to you ; you will see him no more ; no more for him 
 are your temples opened, the tribunals of penitence erected, 
 the ministers of the gospel breaking the bread of life, and 
 the Christian passover approaching: he despises your so- 
 lemnities, your temples, your instructions, your sacraments, 
 your mysteries. In vain you invite him, you press him, he 
 is deaf to your prayers; you even arm yourself uselessly 
 with your spiritual thunderbolts to intimidate him, he has 
 prevented your menaces, he has voluntarily excommuni- 
 cated himself: and these are riot all your miseries, he 
 prepares you for yet greater. The abuses of God's gifts 
 turned even against God himself; this is the third and last 
 degree of the abomination of sin : u he wasted his substance 
 in riotous living." 
 
 Thus the malice of the sinner continues to increase : not 
 content with renouncing the friendship of his father and his 
 God, and departing far from him, he completes it by raising 
 the standard of revolt. He is no more simply a sinner, he 
 is sin itself; his inclinations are passions, his pnssions a,e 
 frenzies, his looks are darts, his words are poison, his 
 stumbling blocks are death. He corrupts hearts, he deeply 
 wounds souls ; he attacks at once morals, religion, God 
 himself: where he cannot persuade, he commands: wh re 
 he cannot conquer, he bribes : where he cannot convince, 
 he confounds ; wit, talent, beauty, industry, the holy 
 ministry, power, honours, employment, riches, every thing 
 serves as an instrument to secure him victims, or accom- 
 plices, or proselytes. I behold those gifts which came 
 
256 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 so pure and spotless from the treasure of divine mercy, 
 from whence the Lord had "drawn them, to indulge him 
 with a share, constrained to ascend again as incense into 
 the vases of divine wrath, profaned, defiled, loaded with 
 crimes and abominations, and demanding vengeance against 
 so many indignities : for he zcasted his substance in riotous 
 living. Will so much wickedness remain unpunished ? 
 No, without doubt, and the chastisement is not deferred ; 
 for these three degrees of the abomination of sin, in reference 
 to God, are followed by three degrees of desolation on the 
 part of the sinner. 
 
 And first, the prodigal son demands from his father the por- 
 tion of the inheritance which ought one day to come to him : 
 here is the abomination. A great famine afflicts the country 
 where he dwells, and he begins to be in want : here is the 
 desolation : he seeks abundance, he finds scarcity : this is 
 the misery of the sinner. The prodigal son, to escape 
 restraint, quits his father's house, and goes into a far 
 country : here is the abomination. He is forced to serve a 
 strange master; here is the desolation : he seeks liberty, he 
 finds servitude : this is the slavery of the sinner. The 
 prodigal son wasted all his substance in excess and de- 
 bauchery, and he glories in his rebellion : here is the 
 abomination. He is appointed to live among the most filthy 
 animals; here is the desolation: he seeks glory, he finds 
 infamy : the degradation of the sinner is the misery of the 
 sinner. Here his lamentations begin. How is this fine 
 gold become dim ! How has this soul become despoiled of 
 its ornaments, which was once enriched with the gifts of 
 God, decorated with so many virtues, and shining with so 
 much splendour! How is this field, once so fruitful, and 
 refreshed by living waters, now but a desert of land, smitten 
 with sterility and a curse ! What has produced such a 
 curse ? What has produced such a change? Sin. Lord, 
 said the prophet, what is my soul without thee, a land 
 without water. O my God, said St. Augustin, what am I 
 in myself without thy grace, a region of poverty. Where 
 
/»*t 
 
 THE PRODIGAL SO^ T . 257 
 
 God is not, how immense the void ! where grace is wanting, 
 what sterility prevails! where sin reigns, what desolation 
 appears! The enemy ravages every thing around, he 
 changes the pleasures of the sinner into bitterness, his joys 
 into griefs; he ravishes his domains, his treasures, his 
 houses, his honours ; he leaves him not till he lias forced 
 him to the most extreme poverty. The work is not long : 
 two or three years of luxury, of pleasure, of passion, of 
 complete abandonment to himself, devours the most opulent 
 fortune: they swallow up all the resources and hopes of 
 futurity. After a short sleep passed away in agreeable 
 dreams, sinners awakening to a sense of their misery, may 
 say with the Israelites, — The joy of our heart is ceased; our 
 dance is turned into mourning. The crown is fallen from 
 our head, our inheritance is turned to strangers, our houses 
 to aliens. Woe unto us that we have sinned. And the 
 children of their children, sitting upon ruins, may repeat 
 from age to age, — Our fathers have sinned, and zee have 
 borne their iniquities. 
 
 Behold the slavery of the sinner : he had made haste to 
 shake off the honourable yoke of Jesus Christ ; he had said 
 in his pride, I will not serve him ; and now he is the slave 
 of death, which holds him under its laws ; he is the slave of 
 the devil ; he neither thinks nor acts but by the inspirations 
 of the tempter ; he is the slave of human respect ; he dreads 
 the railleries and censures of libertines ; he is the slave of 
 the idol of his ow r n heart, it demands of him the greatest 
 sacrifices: he is the slave of the ministers of his passion, 
 they sell him their aid and advice ; he is the slave of the 
 great, before whom he cringes, and of his own servants, who 
 help him to bear the weight of his weakness ; he is the slave 
 of a thousand new wants to which lie has exposed himself; 
 be is the slave of what he has not, and of what he desires, 
 as well as of what he possesses, to which he is inseparably 
 attached. Ah! says St. Augustin, the prodigal son in his 
 misfortunes had only one master, but the sinner groans 
 under innumerable yokes. So many men, so many masters ; 
 and the sinner is as one chained down to iniquity ; he may 
 
 
$58 ?HE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 change the obje^et but lie changes not the habit. The 
 prodigal son felt the disgrace of his condition, but the sinner 
 is the most vile and the most proud of all slaves ; he loves 
 his servitude and glories in it. 
 
 Behold the degradation of the sinner. During the 
 impetuosity of youth, he was an object of compassion, we 
 pitied his errors, we deplored his misfortunes. At an age 
 more advanced, when iniquity is confirmed, he is an object 
 of contempt and horror ; his misfortunes are no more 
 regarded but as a just punishment of the perversity of his 
 manners ; his discourse terrifies modesty ; his aspect makes 
 virtue groan; al! intercourse with him would pass for crime; 
 his name even is an insult ; fathers shew him to their children 
 as a monument of infamy, exposed to all eyes to frighten 
 whoever should be tempted to imitate him. Stop, rash 
 sinner, and consider your ignominious condition ; you are 
 doing more injury to yourself than the most barbarous 
 enemy would even have dared to wish you. Ah ! how you 
 would hate yourself, if you were not yourself. You 
 have lost honour, probity, your wealth, your happiness, all 
 remains of personal consideration, and even your own 
 esteem : save your soul at least from this universal ship- 
 wreck, it is the only valuable portion that remains to you, 
 and that remains to you for ever : will you fill up the 
 measure of your iniquities by eternal reprobation ? After 
 having lived poor, a slave, contemptible and odious to 
 others, insupportable to yourself, will you die impenitent, 
 and so pass from one hell to another ? Ah ! rather open 
 your heart to repentance, and even to hope ; all unworthy 
 as you are of the favour of God, he commands us to 
 announce to you from him thoughts of peace. 
 
 O Lord, have I not profaned my ministry in relating all 
 these enormities with the utmost brevity : purify my lips 
 with a live coal, as thou didst purify those of the prophet 
 Isaiah, that I may be able worthily to celebrate the wonders 
 of thy mercy ; the return of the prodigal son to the paternal 
 house will make them manifest. This is the subject of the 
 second part of our discourse. 
 
THE PRODIGAL SOS 
 
 '59 
 
 SECOND PART. 
 
 ' Mercy of my God, thou meditates! a great work, a work 
 worthy of thyself, and which thou alone canst execute; — 
 the conversion of the sinner. Already thou hast sent thy 
 grace from the height of heaven, to prepare thy way. Thou 
 wilt follow it soon, and we shall admire thine incompre- 
 hensible proceedings. 
 
 How wonderful are the operations of grace! This 
 prodigal, whose wanderings and misfortunes, but a few 
 moments ago we so deeply deplored, is now become our 
 model and the object of our emulation. J^et us study his 
 conduct ; his most trifling actions, every single word afford* 
 us so many instructions : the prodigal at length comes to 
 himself. Till now he had only the sensation, and at most 
 but a superficial knowledge of the evils that he endured: 
 he suffered them impatiently, and never dreamt of looking 
 for deliverance from them. The deepest reflections upon 
 his present condition could alone inspire the wish and the 
 courage to return to his father's house. The sinner would 
 not have wandered from God, says St. Ambrose, had he not 
 wandered From himself. The first effect of grace is to restore 
 him to himself, that he may afterwards be restored to God. 
 In the height of his dissipation, he feels himself dragged 
 away by a secret virtue into the abyss of his Conscience; 
 he descends there with tenor; instantaneously grace throws 
 a light into the midst of the darkness which covers it. En- 
 veloped with this sudden brightness, what does he behold ? 
 within only crimes, only monsters appear; around, misery^ 
 chains, ruin; above is divine justice, armed with wrath; 
 beneath is hell, half opened and ready to swallow him up. 
 At the sight of these frightful objects courage becomes 
 alarmed, conscience strikes, the sinner trembles. O how 
 much he detests his sins ! how much be hates himself. 
 
 Then it is that he compares the happy destiny of the 
 faithful servants with his deplorable situation ; the felicity 
 
t60 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 that he had enjoyed in the days of his innocency, with that 
 long train of evils which have pursued him since his 
 desertion. Overwhelmed with grief, he exclaims, sighing, 
 what have I abandoned, and what have I found ! O my 
 father's house ! habitation of abundance, peace, and liberty, 
 when shall I see thee again? Far from thee, an unhappy 
 slave, tormented by the recollection of my sins, devoured by 
 remorse, covered with shame, I languish, I droop, I die : 
 here I perish with hunger. Ah ! / will arise. Behold 
 here the language of penitence ; behold the first expression 
 of the new heart which grace has just created in him. I will 
 arise, I will deceive the vigilance of the cruel master who 
 tyrannizes over* me; I will go out of this strange land, 
 which is desolated by famine and death : / will arise, in 
 spite of the railleries of libertines, in spite of the revolt of 
 my senses, in spite of the repugnancy of nature, in spite of 
 the ascendancy of my passions. / will arise, whatever it 
 may cost me : and what will it cost ? What more have I 
 to sacrifice ? Alas ! I have given every thing to the world, 
 sin has deprived me of all ; I have now nothing to offer but 
 my tears, my griefs, and the confession of my crimes. Be 
 it so ; full of confidence, / will arise and go. But where 
 shall this unfortunate son, this afflicted sinner, take refuge ? 
 Does any asylum remain open for him ? O where shall he 
 go? 
 
 Can you ask such a question ? He will go to his father : 
 I will arise and go to my father. What ! go to that God 
 whom he has insulted with so much audacity ? Let him not 
 deceive himself: no, he is no longer his father; he is an 
 avenging God : let him rather dread his indignation. — He 
 only fears his aversion and his absence ; he only fears that 
 he may not sufficiently love him. But how shall he be 
 able to soften him ? — Ah, you little know the power of that 
 divine love that inflames him ! That love is stronger than 
 the most inveterate habits ; it breaks in pieces every chain ; 
 it is stronger than human respect, it braves it : it is stronger 
 than death, it triumphs over it : it is stronger than the 
 
THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 261 
 
 justice of God, it disarms it : it is stronger than the sove- 
 reign judge, it converts him into a father. 
 
 Thus preventing grace fills up the office of the precursor 
 of mercy : it gives birth to sorrow, repentance, love ; but it 
 is profound sorrow, which will be the sorrow of life; it is 
 sincere repentance, a repentance immortal in ifs nature, 
 which will not be survived even by the pardon itself; it is 
 a generous love, an ardent affection, the fruit of justifica- 
 tion. Here, my dear brethren, grace so long concealed 
 labours to discover itself: here are no more secret senti- 
 ments of compunction ; here are no more vain projects of 
 return; it is a visible and rapid action. After the example 
 of the prodigal son, the sinner no longer says, — I will arise, 
 I will go ; he has already arisen, he has set out. The 
 signal is given ; it is time that mercy should appear ; this 
 alone can complete what grace has so happily begun. 
 
 Scarcely has the prodigal son shown himself at a distance 
 than his father perceives him : when he was yet a greed way 
 qffy his father saw him. Nothing but the eyes of a father 
 could recognize him so far distant, and in so deplorable a 
 condition ! He sees him. How powerful is the first glance ! 
 Forgiveness already occupies the soul of the father : misery 
 makes him forget ingratitude ; at the sight of this pitiable 
 object, his bowels are moved with compassion ; nature, 
 which before this moment suppressed itself, arouses as from 
 a profound slumber ; all its tender feelings burst forth ; it 
 impels the father towards this part of himself which comes 
 to unite again with its original : he seems to acquire a new 
 existence. 
 
 Such, and incomparably more rapid still, are the motions 
 of mercy at the sight of a sinner who is reclaimed by 
 repentance and love. It cannot have patience to wait for 
 him ; it goes before him, he ran : it runs to him to save him 
 the half of the distance, to prevent that bashfulness and 
 shame which would arrest him in his course : it runs to him 
 to reanimate his courage and ardour, and to defend him from 
 
 T 
 
£62 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 the snares and artifices of the angel of darkness : it runs to 
 him to satisfy itself and to enjoy the sooner its rightful eon- 
 quest. He ran ! what activity, what perseverance in mercy ; 
 to seek the sinner in the bye- ways of his iniquity ; to 
 support with patience his irresolutions and delays ; to draw 
 him gently by his grace ; to find him out when he returns ; 
 to be touched with his wretchedness : to fly to him at his 
 approach. He was moved with compassion! When we sec 
 so much haste, so much agitation, so much perseverance^ 
 does it not seem as though we were necessary to the happi- 
 ness of God ? No ; but he is necessary to our felicity. He 
 is our salvation and our life, this is his will, his desire, his 
 thirst, and if we dare use the expression, his very passion. 
 Behold the first step of the mercy of God, he prevents the 
 sinner with his goodness. 
 
 This unhappy child, influenced by fear and respect at the 
 approach of his father, renders a sacred homage to the 
 paternal power that he had despised : behold him prostrate 
 before the author of his days, as before the venerable image 
 of the God of nature. His father stretches forth his hand. 
 This son, trembling, dissolved in tears, confesses his crimes 
 humbly to his father, whom he regards at this moment as the 
 terrible executioner of vengeance. Far from seeking to give 
 them a favourable colouring, to diminish their horror, he 
 rather strives to exaggerate them ; he feels that this avowal 
 alone gives him courage. " Father, I have sinned against 
 heaven and in thy sight :" his father embraces him. The 
 same love here discovers itself very differently ; it speaks in 
 the son because repentance is always eloquent ; it consoles 
 itself in accusing itself: it is silent in the father, because joy, 
 when it is extreme, cannot find terms sufficiently strong to 
 express itself, it has only transports, it has no words ; but 
 how this silence, so expressive in action, reaches the centre 
 of the soul ! How sublime it appears ! The tenderness of 
 the father increases the sorrow of the son ; the sorrow of the 
 son redoubles the tenderness of the father ; the tears of the 
 
m 
 
 THE PRODIGAL SOX. 
 
 26$ 
 
 father and the son arc mingled and confounded together. 
 How great does our prodigal appear in the arras of his 
 father! There he recovers all his dignify. 
 
 Tell me now then, ye hardened sinners, what is there so 
 frightful in conversion ? Ah ! I see nothing but embraces, 
 but joy, but love. In the gloomy abyss of the tribunal of 
 reconciliation, you only discover the minister charged by 
 the state to exact the rigorous claims of justice. His aspect 
 intimidates you ; you are afraid to draw near : approach it 
 in confidence ; under this austere envelope is concealed the 
 father of mercies, invisible, yet always present. Long has 
 he called you : " Come unto me all ye that are weary," and 
 groan beneath the yoke of your iniquities, u and I will give 
 you rest." After such tender invitations, will he reject you 
 "when you go to him ? He receives us, he pardons us, he 
 consoles us, he pours oil into our wounds, he heals them, 
 he raises us up. When we are at the feet of Jesus Christ ; 
 ah ! then we are soon in his arms. He covers us with his 
 infinite merits: he mingles his cleansing blood with our 
 penitential tears : he regenerates us by his chaste embraces. 
 
 How delightful are the first moments of conversion ! 
 How sweet is it after a long absence to revisit our country, 
 and above all the paternal house ! to pass from the agitations 
 of vice to the calm of virtue, from the night of falsehood to 
 the day of truth ! To be delivered from the overwhelming 
 and shameful weight of our chains, to arise out of the 
 tomb of sin, to feel ourselves renewed to the life of grace, to 
 breathe the air of liberty far from the empire of our ancient 
 tyrants, to draw from the bosom of the Saviour another 
 spirit, other inclinations, another character, a new being, 
 the glory of fecundity ! no more to fear ourselves, no more to 
 abhor ourselves ! to be reconciled with God, with ourselves ! 
 During these happy moments the passions subdued deliver 
 themselves no more to alarming assaults; the conscience 
 appeased no more creates heart-rending remorse ; every 
 thing promotes peace in the work of sanctifying grace; 
 every thing yields without resistance to its secret operations : 
 
264 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 it destroys, it builds up. From the ruins of the carnal and 
 earthly man, it produces that spiritual and celestial man 
 which its high destinies call to sovereign felicity. But if 
 the remembrance of our sins causes us still some regrets, 
 those regrets are the unutterable groanings which the Holy 
 Spirit, the comforter, begets in us. If we shed tears, the 
 love that arises in our bosoms is the source. If we feel 
 sorrow, what sweetness does this salutary sorrow afford ! If 
 we make sacrifices, those sacrifices are a treasure of immor- 
 tality. But, speak no more of the sorrows oflabour, they 
 are forgotten. Joy succeeds ; the child of grace is born : 
 nourished with the blessings of heaven, he grows from day 
 to day, till he comes to the plenitude of the age of a perfect 
 man. 
 
 Here, my dear brethren, let us admire the astonishing 
 conduct of divine mercy. Sometimes severe in aspect 
 towards confirmed and persevering believers, it affects to 
 sow their ways with briers and thorns. It is always mercy, 
 but it is mercy exercising them by trials. It is mercy 
 jealous of its favours, and it is difficult to recognize it. 
 Suddenly, a singular plan of sanctification is to be executed. 
 The heavens become brass : the source of consolations 
 appears dried up : innocence feels unknown remorse : 
 grace loses its supernatural unction : virtue is despoiled of 
 its ravishing attractions : it experiences nothing but bitter- 
 ness : within are disgusts, perplexities, terrors ; without are 
 enemies, temptations, tempests. What waves lift up their 
 heads at once ! Does God then design to overwhelm his 
 faithful servants ? No ; he wishes to exercise their faith, to 
 try their constancy, to prove their love, to increase their 
 worth. These storms have but a limited course. The 
 purpose of God once accomplished, he will restore the calm, 
 and he will recompense the righteous with interest for their 
 past inquietudes. 
 
 But how indulgent is this same mercy towards sinners 
 newly converted. It knows that scarcely escaped from 
 shipwreck they have need of rest, of consolation : it respects 
 
THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 Q65 
 
 their grief. Observe also, what caution it uses with regard 
 to tliein. It does not conduct them across the country of 
 the Philistines, that people always restless and armed. 
 They would have too many combats to sustain : their 
 weakness would perhaps sink them under these reiterated 
 attacks. Nor is this precaution sufficient. It hides them 
 under the shadow of its wings, from the sword of the 
 Egyptian, who pursues them. Do s the sea oppose an in- 
 surmountable barrier to their precipitate flight? Mercy 
 opens to them a free passage in the midst of that immense 
 abyss. It does not even settle them in the desert. The 
 recent recollection of the pleasures and abundance of Egypt 
 would disgu t them with the sterility of that sorrowful and 
 savage abode. It wishes to prevent their complaints and 
 their murmurs. It transports them directly to the promised 
 land, that land of blessedness which has peace for its limits; 
 where flow rivers of milk and honey ; where the trees, 
 covered with leaves in all seasons, are perpetually loaded 
 with flowers and fruits. It is there that it says to them with 
 assurance — Take, try, taste, feel how the Lord is good. 
 Prove how light is his yoke. And they exclaim one to 
 another, O how good is the Lord! O how light is his 
 yoke ! and they say again to all the world — 3-es, yes, the 
 Lord is good ; yes, his yoke is light. When they shall 
 have resumed their strength, when they shall be clothed 
 again with the armour of righteousness, let the enemy then 
 appear, let trials multiply, they shall be in a condition to 
 triumph over them. Behold the second step of divine 
 mercy, it receives the sinner with love. 
 
 The prodigal son, confused and affected with the bounties 
 of his father on his arrival, finds himself constrained to 
 suppress a part of the discourse which he designed to address 
 to him : " make me as one of thy hired servants." These 
 words, too harsh, would offend the delicacy of the paternal 
 heart : he keeps the secret to himself. Henceforth he will 
 make them the rule of all his conduct : at present, he 
 contents himself with saying— no, I do not deserve that thou 
 
266 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 shouldst call me thy son. His compassionate father hears 
 him not. He commands his servants to bring the ornaments 
 which decorated his son in his happy days of innocency, 
 and observe, lie commands them to bring them without 
 delay. 
 
 God does not make us purchase his favours by degrees. 
 His kindness wills us every good: the same grace which 
 justifies us, enriches us without measure. Ah ! the mercy 
 of God is impatient. The least delay wounds it. His 
 justice is slow to punish : it warns, it menaces, it defers, it 
 suspends his blows, it strikes only at the last extremity. 
 But how prompt is his mercy to reward ! how abundant 
 is it! how active! how shall we form a just idea of it! 
 The speed), the thought, the desire even cannot follow the 
 rapidity of its almighty energy. We describe it by long 
 intervals: we cannot conceive of it, much less can we 
 depict it all at once. We are obliged to divide that which 
 is concentrated in a. single point. One instant is sometimes 
 the theatre of its innumerable wonders ; it is the word of 
 creation which produces beings by naming them. 
 
 Nevertheless, my dear brethren, let not our insufficiency 
 clip the wings of our gratitude. If we are not permitted 
 to comprehend this astonishing mercy, let us at least run 
 through the multiplied prodigies which it altogether effects 
 in our favour. The precious clothing provided for the 
 prodigal son, represents the nuptial robe which the sinner 
 had shamefully defiled and lost; God restores it to him, 
 after having imbrued it in the blood of the Lamb. He re- 
 clothes him with the righteousness of the saints. Ah! how 
 compassionate is the mercy of God : it suffers in our 
 misery : it hastens to efface even the slightest traces of it, 
 that it may spare itself from contemplating the afflicting 
 sight. The mj^sterious ring which the father of the family 
 restores to his son, is the pledge of a perfect reconciliation, 
 and the sign of a reciprocal engagement. God contracts 
 with the sinner a second— what do I say ? an hundredth 
 alliance. He even confides in him after so much infidelity. 
 
THE PRODIGAL SOX. 0,67 
 
 Ah ! the mercy of God is too rich and too liberal to be 
 circumspect or mistrustful. It takes no sureties from us, it 
 only contents itself with present repentance. Were God 
 only to shed his favours upon those who should remain un- 
 changeably faithful to him, he would have too few occasions 
 to signalize his matchless benevolence. He loves rather to 
 expose his treasures to our wanton outrages, than not to 
 shed them upon us. His infinite knowledge discovers to 
 him our future abuse of his bounties, jvt this assurance is 
 not capable of stopping their course. 
 
 What ! in spite of his senseless dissipations, (he prodigal 
 son recovers his first rights to his father's heritage ? What 
 an excess of generosity ! In this profusion of bounty, how 
 "wesee the weakness of paternal tenderness ! I am no longer 
 surprised that the elder brother submits not without mur- 
 muring, he sees an ungrateful brother enriched with a part of 
 his own spoils. Does not the converted sinner enter into the 
 possession of the celestial kingdom I does he not enjoy the 
 privileges reserved for the children of God ? The saint, 
 indeed, is not jealous on account of it. Why should he 
 complain ? He is always with his father, and all that his 
 father has is his. The glory, the abundance of the sinner 
 causes no injury to him ; the treasure always remains the 
 same ; but if the negligent servant, who only offers himself 
 at the last hour, receives the same wages as the diligent 
 servant, who has borne the heat and burden of the day, 
 might we not say, — what more then does the most constant 
 fidelity receive ? Ah ! the mercy of God is mercy itself; 
 it has no other reasons for its prodigalities than itself, it 
 alone can justify them. 
 
 The joy of the father of the family, the readiness of the 
 servants, ihe harmonious sounds of the various instruments 
 which are heard afar off, the tumultuous concourse of the 
 relations and neighbours, announce with joy the return of 
 this prodigal, the object of so many tears and so many 
 desires. The conversion of the sinner is the joy of the 
 church, and the feast of heaven. The angels celebrate it 
 
26S THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 with songs of praise. Ah ! the mercy of God is sacredly 
 ambitious ; it is more flattered by its new acquisitions than 
 by its ancient possessions. The saint was his property : 
 the sinner is his conquest; he is a long lost child that it has 
 found ; he is a beloved slave that it has redeemed ; he is a 
 dead creature that it has raised ; he is a prey that it has 
 taken away from the devil ; he is an instrument which must 
 promote its glory; he is a vessel of ignominy, of which it 
 makes a vessel of honour ; he is a new sanctuary which it 
 prepares for itself, it is eager to purify it and embellish it, 
 to render it more worthy ; the moment is arrived that it 
 shall dwell in it in a miraculous manner. 
 
 The father of the family appoints the preparations for a 
 great feast. — But let the parable disappear entirely. What 
 then does the reality present to our view ? The reconciled 
 sinner silting at the sacred table : but where is the father 
 of the family ; where is Jesus Christ ? He is that lamb 
 without spot that is just immolated. His blood is drink 
 indeed; his flesh is meat indeed. Ah ! the mercy of God 
 is at length satisfied. It crowns all the benefits with which 
 it has loaded the sinner, by the ineffable gift that it makes 
 of itself; of itself embodied in Jesus Christ. From what a 
 height and under what forms has it descended, to unite 
 itself more closely with us ! From mystery to mystery, 
 from sacrament to sacrament, it is at last absorbed in the 
 sinner, whom it has sanctified. They now together make 
 but one. May this sacred union be eternal ! O what a ban- 
 quet ! O what love ! Be astonished, O heavens ! Leap for 
 joy, O earth ! and for so many unprecedented favours, we 
 have nothing to give in return but a heart, a solitary heart. 
 Observe the third and last step of divine mercy : it re- 
 establishes the sinner in his ancient rights with promptitude, 
 — with liberality. 
 
 My very dear brethren, what can we add to this interesting 
 picture ? It is in vain that we have addressed you, if you have 
 not already spoken to yourselves; the application is so 
 natural. Behold your God waiting to discover you afar 
 
THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 9,69 
 
 off'. He takes his station upon the mountain; this is 
 Calvaty, this is the cross ; as the father of the family he 
 runs to you; this is grace: return, ye fugitive children ; 
 you have cost us too many tears, be at last our consolation ; 
 your absence causes an universal mourning : the righteous 
 pray, the church groans, the angels suspend their accla- 
 mations, nature appears sorrowful to be so long a servant 
 to your iniquities; return, all is ready for your reception, 
 both the nuptial robe and the ring, seals of a new covenant ; 
 the Passover is announced, the lamb without spot is immo- 
 lated : the servants, the relations, the neighbours of the 
 father of the family, your brethren in Jesus Christ, are 
 hastening in a crowd to range themselves around the sacred 
 tab!e. And will you alone be absent from the feast ? Why 
 should you delay? Divine mercy, although infinite, can 
 and justly may be wearied with your lingerings. Next to 
 despair, there is no greater crime in the eyes of God than to 
 abuse his patience, that you may offend him with more 
 security. Woe to the man who sins under the hope of 
 pardon ! Delay not : yet a few moments, and perhaps the 
 paternal house will be shut against you for ever. You will 
 then in vain knock for admission ; you will be answered 
 from within, — " I know you not." Hasten then to enter 
 in to-day, the father of the family himself invites you, 
 every blessing now awaits you, both for time and eternity; 
 this is what I wish you, my dearest brethren, in the name 
 of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. 
 Amen. 
 
BEAUVAIS. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 Jean Baptiste Charles Marie de Beauvais was bora at Cher- 
 bourg, in the year 1731.* His parents were respectable, but not 
 wealthy. His father, who was an advocate in the Parliament of 
 Paris, took great pains to cultivate this only fruit of his marriage, and 
 the progress of young Beauvais well requited his paternal solicitude. 
 His mother was equally careful to instruct him in those moral and 
 religious principles which afterwards influenced his mind in the 
 choice of the sacred office. Wishing to give their son a complete 
 education, they removed to Paris, and placed him at the college of 
 Harcourt, where he studied rhetoric under the celebrated M. Le 
 Bean, the successor of Roilin ; and the improvement of the scholar 
 did honour to the talents of the master. His father dying shortly 
 after, M. Beauvais, his uncle, took him under his care as his adopted 
 son, and charged himself with his education. This gentleman was 
 chief of the bureau of general agency, and keeper of the archives 
 of the clergy. The moment at length arrived, when his young 
 proteyS was to determine on some profession, and his natural taste 
 for eloquence, together with the innocency of his manners, led him 
 to enter the society of the Jesuits, which, amidst all their defects, 
 certainly were the supporters of the eloquence of the French pulpit, 
 and the props of literature among the clergy. His uncle purposed 
 to make him his heir, and designed to give him one of his daughters, 
 but his counsellor, M. Leger, Curef of SI. Andrew des Arcs, disposed 
 
 * The editors of the Bibliotheque Portative date his birth in 1733, but 
 the translator has preferred the date above fixed, as it is that which is given 
 in a celebrated periodical work, called Melanges de Philosophie, d' tlistoire, 
 de Morale, et de Littc'rature, which obtained the support of the most 
 distinguished ecclesiastics of France, and as it has since been repeated in 
 the Memoirs prefixed to Beauvais' Sermons more recently published. 
 
 f A Cure in France is the same as a Rector or Vicar in England. 
 
BEAUVAIS. 271 
 
 him to choose the ecclesiastical state. His mother applauded this 
 vocation ; and his uncle, not wishing to oppose his inclinations, sent 
 him to the college of St. Barbc, and afterwards to the seminary of 
 Saint Nicholas duChurdonnet, where he studied a course of theology. 
 After having passed through the usual routine of offices, and a 
 variety of changes common to the clerical character, he was at 
 an early period called to labour in Paris, where he soon attracted 
 general attention. He was indeed noticed too soon, for had he 
 not obtained popularity before his mind had undergone the disci- 
 pline of more mature study and experience, it is supposed that 
 he would have ranked yet much higher as a preacher. How- 
 ever, the whole capital was moved by his public discourses; and, 
 having once obtained a name, he drew crowds after him. His talents 
 were seconded by those exterior qualities which are not to be 
 acquired, but which are frequently of no small importance to the 
 success of a minister. He had a noble and prepossessing figure; 
 a mode of speaking which was easy without being negligent; an air 
 of confidence which was widely different from assurance, and which 
 tlid not detract from his modesty ; and a feeling mode of address 
 which seemed to say that the sentiments he announced flowed 
 from his heart. His moral character also added to his reputation, 
 and tended considerably to strengthen the favourable impression 
 which he always made on the hearts of his hearers when he entered 
 the pulpit. 
 
 In the year 1765 he was chosen to preach the Panegyric on 
 St. Augustin before the general assembly of the clergy. This dis- 
 course, which was delivered but once in ten years, was the only 
 occasion which an ecclesiastic of the second order had of introducing 
 himself to the notice of the dignitaries of the church, Eeauvais 
 succeeded, and the assembly requested the Archbishop of Kheitus 
 to recommend him to the Bishop of Orleans, that he might procure 
 for him the favours of his Majesty, as a remuneration for his talents 
 and conduct. 
 
 M. L'Abbe de Broglie, agent-general of the clergy, having tJie 
 following year been named Bishop of Noyon, chose him for one of 
 his vicars-general, and afterwards appointed him one of the canons 
 in Ins cathedral. His manners gained him the esteem of the bishop. 
 He had the modest disposition of a child, an open and affectionate 
 heart, a large share of benevolence, an agreeable but well-regulated 
 gaiety, and a facility in making himself familiar on all occasions, 
 without violating the bounds of propriety. 
 
 But it was in the years 1 768 and 1773 that the great seal was prefixed 
 to his reputation by two sermons preached before Louis XV. He 
 djd not immediately procure those rewards which his friends thought 
 
272 BEAUVAIS. 
 
 tfcat uis talents deserved ; but, at length, through their persevering 
 efforts in bis behalf, the king granted bim the bishopric of Senez. A 
 bishopric bestowed upon an ecclesiastic of common blood was then 
 a matter of astonishment ; bul the talents and character of the man 
 fully justified the choice of the prince, and every one approved 
 the presentation. 
 
 Immediately after his election, Beauvais preached before the king", 
 on the Lord's Supper, in which he availed himself of the authority 
 of his new station to inveigh against the abuses of the court, which 
 he strikingly contrasted with the misery of the people. Tor some 
 reason this sermon has been omitted in his works ; and it is the more* 
 to be regretted, as it contained one remarkable passage, which, 
 while if was a singular specimen of his mode of address, and his talent 
 at paraphrasing, in which the French preachers are often very 
 ingenious, was also an extraordinary instance of random prediction, 
 founded on the uncertainty of human life, and which the preacher 
 employed on the occasion to affect the heart of the dissipated 
 monarch with the thoughts of his latter end. The words which he 
 paraphrased weie — yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown. 
 To this passage" Beauvais refers in his funeral oration on Louis XV. 
 When addressing his afterwards unfortunate grandson, he Says, 
 " When a short time ago I announced the divine message to your 
 august predecessor; when I described to him the situation of his 
 people, and his heart seemed affected with the public misery; alas! 
 who could have foreseen the dreadful blow with which he was 
 menaced ? At that very moment the invisible sword of death was 
 suspended over his august head. Alas! who could have supposed 
 that the prediction then addressed to him should be literally accom- 
 plished : yet forty days, — yet forty days, and you shall be borne to 
 the sepulchre of your fathers ; and this same voice that you hear at 
 this moment shall interpret the sorrow of your people at your funeral 
 obsequies." 
 
 In 1783 Beauvais resigned his bishopric; but though his character 
 had been adorned by humility, benevolence, hospitality, and all the 
 moral virtues which could recommend him to universal esteem, and 
 though he had risen so high in public favour and ecclesiastical 
 honour, he had the mortification to see himself as much neglected 
 in his retirement as Charles the Yth, when he resigned his crown. 
 Of how littie value is the bubble praise, and of how mueh worth is 
 the testimony of a good conscience, to support the mind when the 
 approbation of a fickle world ceases, or can afford us no suitable aid. 
 In his retirement he pursued his literary labours, and endeavoured to 
 direct his attention to the improvement of the state of the church 
 At length the kingdom of 1 ranee was agitated with the first throes 
 
BEAUVAIS. »7S 
 
 of the Revolution, and Beauvais was appointed one of the deputies 
 of the states general. He did not at first foresee the calamitous 
 state of affairs, and thought it possible quietly to reform the public 
 abuses ; but he soon discovered the frightful abyss which threatened to 
 swallow up the whole nation, and, over-awed by the clamours of the 
 times, he shrunk back from the hardy effort of trying to resist its 
 fate. As one of the ecclesiastical order, he suffered among the rest 
 of the priesthood, and shared in the lapidation inflicted at Versailles 
 on the Archbishop of Paris, at the moment when the assembly 
 meditated the spoliation of the clergy. This event preyed upon his 
 spirits, and completely undermined his health, which from that 
 moment sensibly declined. A species of languor conduct&d him in 
 a few months to the tomb, whither he carried the most painful pre- 
 sentiments, and the sorrowful persuasion that he was going in more 
 than one sense to bid an eternal adieu to the church of 1 ranee and to 
 the monarchy. His fears have only been partially realized ; time 
 must yet develope vt hether experience has endowed the rulers of 
 France with that wisdom which gives stability to empires. 
 
 Beauvais died the 4th of April, 1790, in the Archiepiscopal Palace 
 of Paris, at the age of fifty-nine years. His body was placed in the 
 church of the Archiepiscopal parish, and was afterwards removed to 
 Mont Valerian, where, during some years, he had enjoyed an 
 honourable retreat. He was interred in the church of the priests 
 agreeably to his own request. His friends intended to raise a 
 marble monument over his tomb, and were about to open a sub- 
 scription for the purpose, when the Revolution prevented the execu- 
 tion of their design. The church which inclosed his mortal remains 
 was itself soon after demolished. " But," exclaims his biographer, 
 " if his ashes remain without honour, his name will not remain 
 without glory, and his sermons will recommend him more to posterity 
 than the most splendid monument, or the finest epitaph." 
 
 Beauvais ranks high among the second class of French preachers. 
 His funeral orations are considered exceedingly beautiful. He 
 presents us with many touching pictures, which are coloured with 
 great taste and judgment. Bis sermons cannot indeed bear com- 
 parison with the illustrious preachers whose names have given 
 immortality to French eloquence. We do not find in them that f 
 
 vigour of reason, that majesty of thought, that uniform arrangement 
 of one vast plan, that fecundity of imagination, which distinguished 
 the early orators; but they are characterized by a noble and dignified 
 simplicity, a sweet sensibility, a correct diction, and an indescribable 
 negligence, which is indeed not slovenly, but is just sufficient to 
 shew the momentary feelings of his heart, which often persuade 
 »it>re ? as they discover no labour to effect their object. He is some- 
 
2/4 BEAUVAIS. 
 
 times eloquent, but always instructive; he never dazzles the reader, 
 but he fails not to attract him ; he docs no violence to the heart, but 
 gently draws it. His compositions bear the impress of his character, — 
 moderation, gentleness, and ease. Almost always he wants force, 
 but never taste and harmony. If his thoughts are not great, they 
 are never subtil and ambiguous : if he wants vehemence and im- 
 petuosity, he never wants warmth. His eloquence is like the gentle 
 river which never overflows its banks, but which contributes not a 
 little to the advantage and beauty of the country which it waters. 
 Many orators have excelled in the sublime, but the forte of Beauvais 
 was peculiar to himself — simplicity. 
 
 Yet Beauvais could pay a compliment with some effect in ad- 
 dressing royalty, and at the same time mingle it with salutary truth. 
 An example of this nature has been quoted from a Discourse on the 
 Passover, preached before Louis the XVth. " My God," said the 
 preacher, " in the midst of all the evils which afflict humanity, we 
 confine ourselves this day to one solitary prayer. It includes all the 
 prayers which we can offer. My God, save the king, save a prince, 
 Who, both by his clemency and his humanity, is an object of mercy: 
 religion is now about to resume its former splendour; public manners 
 arc now about to recover their purity and innocence ; the nation is 
 now about to re-produce the ancient virtues and honour of France ; 
 and with the interior felicity of the state, the monarchy is about to 
 recover its exterior power and glory, and the ascendancy which it 
 has always enjoyed in the world. My God, save the king; this is 
 the prayer, this the universal cry of thy people. May Louis rise 
 with Jesus Christ; may he rise by the exertion of thine all-powerful 
 grace ; may he rise this day, this moment, and the happiness, and. 
 the glory, and the virtue of the whole nation rise with their master. 
 My God, my God, save the king, and all is saved." 
 
 This compliment is without doubt very inferior to those passed 
 upon Louis XlVth by Massillon, but there is something touching 
 in its simplicity ; and this effusion of heart which so well announced 
 the sincerity of the orator's desires, supplied in part the want of 
 ideas, and tailed not to make an impression Loth upon the monarch 
 and his auditors. 
 
 The simplicity of Beauvais may in seme measure be attributed 
 to the subjects of his sermons. His mind was never formed for 
 doctrinal discussions. He never soared into those sublime regions, 
 where the eagles of the French pulpit were accustomed to take 
 their noblest flights ; he never dived into those vast reservoirs from 
 whence they drew an abundance of sacred eloquence. To these 
 subjects, Eossuet and Massillon owed all their glory ; and the sermon 
 on the Passion of Jesus Christ would alone have been sufficient to 
 
BEAUVAIS. 275 
 
 fix the eternal renown of the one, and that on his Divinity the 
 renown of the other. But Beanvais discussed only morals. Lu.curt/, 
 compassion, the social virtues, these and similar topics constantly 
 engaged his attention. Here, indeed, he brought down the vengeance 
 of the new philosophers on his head, by predicting the awful conse- 
 quences of those sentiments which they so assiduously propagated. 
 He never ceased to combat them. He embraced every opportunity 
 to denounce their doctrines as the forerunners of innumerable 
 disasters, and the mortal poison which, insinuating - itself into all the 
 parts of the political body, threatened to precipitate it into complete 
 ruin. For when Beauvais first made his appearance, the contagion 
 of impiety had already commenced its ravages. The storm, which 
 was about one day to burst upon France, was then but an imper- 
 ceptible point, which shewed itself at a distance on the horizon, 
 but which did not escape the notice of a few discerning spirits. 
 Beauvais, like a vigilant sentinel, announced its approaches to 
 sleeping Trance, already fascinated by the sophistries of infidelity. 
 The more the torrent increased, the more he redoubled his zeal ; and 
 in many parts of his discourses his predictions might have been written 
 after the evil day had passed over, so exactly have they been ful- 
 filled. Thus, in his funeral oration for Louis XVth, he exclaimed, 
 " O eighteenth century, so proud of thy discoveries, and that exaltest 
 thyself above all others as the philosophical age, what a fatal epoch 
 art thou about to produce in the minds and manners of the nations ! 
 AVe do not dispute with thee the progress of thy know ledge : but 
 cannot the feeble and proud reason of man stop when it has reached 
 the point of maturity? After Laving reformed some ancient errors, 
 is it necessary by a destructive remedy to attack truth itself? There 
 shall be no more superstition, because there shall be no more religion ; 
 there shall be no more false heroism, because there shall be no more 
 honour ; there shall be no more prejudices, because there shall be no 
 more principles ; there shai] be no more hypocrisy, because there 
 shall be no more virtue. Rash spirits, see, see the ravages of your 
 systems, and groan over your success. Revolution far more sor- 
 rowful than the heresies which have changed the faces of many 
 surrounding states ! they have at least left worship and morals 
 uutouched; but our unhappy posterity will one day have neither 
 worship, nor morals, nor God! O holy Gallic church! O most 
 Christian kingdom! God of our fathers, have pity upon ou? 
 posterity." 
 
 Extracts of the same import might be made from the sermon here 
 translated, and from many other parts of his discourses, the senti- 
 ments of which were treated by the philosophers of the day as 
 interested and fanatical exaggerations, but which were sinjrnlariv 
 
£76 BEAUVAIS. 
 
 realized. These certainly do honour to the talents, the courage, 
 and the sagacity of Beauvais. 
 
 The funeral orations of this preacher are considered as a remark- 
 able contrast to his sermons, for he not only loses his natural sim- 
 plicity in them, but often rises even to the sublime, and succeeds 
 in a species of composition where Massillon himself has frequently 
 failed. Most of his orations were composed in the maturity of his 
 talents. The most celebrated are that for the Cure of St. Andr€-des- 
 Arcs, where he has fertilized a barren subject ; that for the Bishop of 
 Noyon, in which he has combined sensibility and imagination ; that 
 for the Marshal de Muy, where he is simple and noble as his hero ; 
 and that for Louis XVth, which shews his dexterity in avoiding the 
 shoals to which he was exposed, and in conciliating with singular 
 address the interests which he owed to truth, and the respect which 
 he thought due to the memory of the monarch. 
 
 The discourses of Beauvais are often mixed with the peculiarities 
 of the Catholic church ; but those which the translator has read 
 breathe a spirit widely different from intolerance and bigotry. His 
 sermons are posthumous, and are published in four volumes 12mo. 
 
SERMON VII. 
 
 ON 
 
 THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS, 
 
 BEAUVAIS. 
 
 Gen. iii. 19. — Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return. 
 
 Sire, — Such is (he sorrowful but salutary recollection to 
 which the church calls us, at the commencement of our 
 holy career. Remember, it says to us, imprinting upon our 
 foreheads the symbol of our mortality, — remember that ye 
 are dust, and that to dust ye shall return. 
 
 Alas ! this destiny belongs not merely to the first man ! 
 He not only dies, but all the human race must die also, and 
 I may indeed say to every thing that now surrounds us, to 
 this mighty kingdom, to the earth, to the heavens, to all 
 nature, I may say to them, as to feeble mortals, — Dust thou 
 art, and unto dust shalt thou return. 
 
 We cannot doubt these sorrowful truths, but how soon we 
 Jose the recollection of them ! If the death of our fellow- 
 creatures, of our friends, of our rulers, sometimes brings 
 them to remembrance in spite of ourselves, we soon discover 
 the means of distracting our thoughts by pleasing delu- 
 sions, and the present appears only for us without any 
 hereafter. 
 
 But why should we cherish such afflicting ideas, to 
 increase the trouble of a life already so painful and dis- 
 ordered ? My brethren, if they were useless to you, we 
 would, without hesitation, leave you in your security : but 
 we see you every day sacrificing your true glory and happi- 
 
278 ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS* 
 
 ness to vanity, and sliaTl we have the cruel complaisance to 
 abandon you to your illusion ! No ; it is not to augment your 
 afHiction that we recal these mournful truths to your minds r 
 far from our hearts be this odious misanthropy ; we will 
 not cast you down on the one side but to raise you on the 
 other ; we show you the vanity of your pretensions, only to 
 make you feel your true glory ; we speak to you of your 
 mortality, and of that of all terrestrial things, only to raise 
 you to immortality. 
 
 And what is better adapted to calm our passions and to 
 regulate our manners, to repress pride and ambition, and to 
 inspire sentiments of moderation and disinterestedness, so 
 necessary especially to those who preside over human affairs ? 
 Would to God then, that for the honour of virtue, and the 
 good even of hu inanity, mankind could never lose sight of 
 their last end ! Not only would they be more chaste, more 
 temperate, more religious ; but they would also be more 
 just, more modest, more gentle, more humane. Oh that 
 they were wise, that they understood this, that they would 
 consider their latter end! 
 
 . May our souls this day overcome a vain and dangerous 
 repugnance, and rise above the present world ; may they 
 be transported to the end of life and the end of time : let us 
 attempt to consider our own frailty and that of every thing 
 around us ; first, the mortality of man ; secondly, the 
 mortality of all human things. 
 
 Father of the world to come, who shalt come to judge by 
 fire the quick and the dead, shed this day upon our souls 
 that pious awe and that godly sorrow which works salva- 
 vation. Penetrate us at this time with those sentiments with 
 which we shall be penetrated, but too late, when these fatal 
 revolutions shall happen ; and I conjure you, Christians, by 
 the second coming of the Lord, to take care that you shut 
 not your hearts against the salutary trouble which must be 
 the precursor of true and solid peace* 
 
OX THE VAXITY OF HUMAN THINGS. 279 
 
 FIRST PART. 
 
 If man considers himself in the designs of God, what is 
 his greatness ? An immortal soul, destined to an immortal 
 felicity; a body which must fall into dust, but the ashes of 
 which the Creator shall reanimate and immortalize. But, 
 in the contracted circle of his understanding, what is his 
 misery and insignificance ? An unhappy creature, whose 
 existence is supported by a brittle and uncertain life, 
 and who, after having lingered upon earth during a 
 small number of painful years, is dissolved amidst the 
 sorrows and anguish of death, and returns to dust and 
 nothingness. Blind mortals, behold then to what you 
 reduce your destiny ! It is also in this point of view that 
 we are about to present man to himself. Consider now his 
 nothingness in the order of the present life ; firs!, man 
 menaced with death; secondly, man sti uck with death. 
 May we, humbled at our sorrowful destiny, at length be 
 induced to forsake this visible world, and to seek a 
 destiny more worthy of our nature, so that from the very 
 ashes of our tombs may arise the elevated sentiment of our 
 greatness ! 
 
 In the infancy of the world, men saw their days length- 
 ened out for many ages. Yet what was that long duration 
 compared with the immense extent of etemiry I When 
 Jacob was presented to the King of Egypt, he had already 
 «een one hundred and thirty years, and he calls them a small 
 number of evil days; but from the time of David* how 
 much was the period of human life limited in its duration ? 
 Already the days of all men had decayed ; seventy years, 
 fourscore years, was the most extended term, and the 
 prophet saw nothing beyond that age but labour aud 
 sorrow. 
 
 * The preacher here commits an error, for he means to refer to the 
 Psalm of Moses.— Translator. 
 
280 ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. 
 
 Behold, (hen, one age is the vast extent of human life ; 
 and when that is terminated, what are those who reacli this 
 short career ? Consult the registers of death. Alas ! the 
 greatest number have but just appeared upon the earth. 
 Some have perished in the weakness of infancy, or in the 
 vigour of youth ; others in full maturity of life : count the 
 small number who attain the period fixed by the prophet. 
 And what is the fate of those who survive that epoch ? 
 Would it not be better to be no more, than to be exposed to 
 so long and laborious a death ? If through the languor of 
 old age a few arrive at the revolution of a century, they are 
 prodigies that excite the wonder of the world ; report pub- 
 lishes it in every place, and the man who has been the most 
 obscure during his life, acquires by this single title a 
 moment of celebrity. 
 
 And how could a life be more durable which is so fragile 
 in itself, and beset with so many perils ? -Who can enumerate 
 all the causes of destruction which surround us, or which 
 we carry in our bosom ? And, as if we were not already 
 mortal enough, what a multitude of new dangers we create 
 at every step, by our imprudence and our passions ! How 
 many unhappy beings perish, consumed by the labours and 
 cares of pride, avarice, and ambition, or exhausted by the 
 excess of luxury and pleasure ; pleasure which every day 
 devotes more victims to death than the destroying sword, 
 and all the combined evils which desolate the world. 
 
 Thus every day every thing perishes, every thing falls 
 around us, and a rapidity which nothing can arrest, hurries 
 along the generations of man. Ye scattered remains of the 
 aged who yet breathe, seek the men with whom you have 
 lived ; your friends, your colleagues, your contemporaries. 
 Alas ! they all sleep in the dust of the tomb, and you find 
 yourselves, so to speak, strangers in the midst of your own 
 country. One generation passeth away, and another genera- 
 tion cometh, and what profit hath a man of all his labour 
 which he taketh under the sun. 
 
 Behold the brevity of our life : but, O not less mortifying 
 
ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. 281 
 
 truth, how great also is its uncertainty ! What will be the 
 time, the cause, the manner of our death ? Shall we perish 
 by a sudden revolution, or after a long disease ? Shall we 
 perish in the bosoms of our families^ or in a strange land ? 
 Shall we perish in the flower of our years, or in the matu- 
 rity of age ? Lord, make me to know the end of my days! 
 God has closed to us the book of futurity ; he only allows 
 us to see the present moment, that this uncertainty may 
 incessantly produce our vigilance and zeal : he conceals the 
 last day, that we may the more diligently observe every 
 day. 
 
 But how do some men, to whom the Lord appears to have 
 revealed their approaching end, either by the mortal infir- 
 mities which afflict them, or by the number of their years, — 
 how do they always preserve the same ardour, to acquire 
 wealth which they must lose with life, and to accumulate 
 new honours upon their drooping heads ! Wretched mortals, 
 who have but a feeble spark of life, must you also exhaust 
 the rest of your strength, and hasten your dissolution, by 
 inquietudes and agitations, about an hereafter which is not 
 made for you ? Say, at last, for it is time, — say as that wise 
 old man whom David wished to retain in his court, — how 
 long have I to live ? How many days remain for me, that 
 I should spend them in tumult and anxiety ? Let thy 
 servant, I pray thee, turn back again, that I may die in mine 
 own city, and be buried by the grave of my father and of my 
 mother. 
 
 Warriors, who add to other dangers the perils of their 
 profession, think that it is heroic to despise death. Woe to 
 me, Sirs, if I dared to blame a courage produced by the 
 Holy Spirit in the heroes of Israel, and commended by 
 Jesus Christ, not only to warriors, but to all Christians ! 
 When a virtuous man exposes his life in obedience to the law 
 which commands him to die, if it is necessary, for his nation, 
 his intrepidity has nothing which astonishes me : but what 
 strange temerity is it, when a vicious man every day braves 
 death, a death that is eternal, that he may boast of his intre- 
 
282 ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. 
 
 pidify, or acquire a vain distinction which must perish 
 with him ? Heroic souls, intrepid souls, continue to expose 
 your lives with the same courage, but let it be for a cause 
 more worthy of the sacrifice, for the love of your country, 
 which must have its martyrs, as well as your faith. Be 
 brave, but by your virtue be worthy of being so, and learn 
 by the fear of the Lord, not to fear death. And who but 
 God can repay you for your blood and your life ? 
 
 But those whose lives do not appear exposed to any perils 
 seem to encourage themselves, either in the vigour of their 
 youth, or of their constitution. You encourage yourselves 
 in your youth : Ah ! rather dread the imprudences and 
 passions which render that sprightly age the most perilous 
 of all human life. O what a crowd of silly youth death 
 cuts down every day around you ! How many fathers 
 are there whose ungrateful children impatiently expected 
 the heritage, and who now weep over the tombs of their 
 sons. 
 
 You encourage yourselves in the vigour of your consti* 
 iution ; and what will effect the ruin of the most established 
 health ? A contagious breath, a vapour, one intemperate 
 act, the slightest irregularity in the fragile springs of which 
 we are composed, a few days of sickness ; what do I say, a 
 few days ? Observe, my brethren, the sudden revolutions 
 which happen around us, and which in one moment destroy 
 the man of the most robust frame, and the most blooming 
 health. He said to his soul, Take thine ease in thine 
 abundance; and the Lord said to him, Fool, to-morrow, or 
 rather at this moment, thy soul shall be required of thee. 
 How many trembling frames, how many feeble reeds, have 
 on a sudden witnessed the fall of cedars which appeared to 
 them destined to brave the injuries of years ! And before the 
 revolution of the year, how many heads here present will, 
 by their unforeseen fall, prove this lamentable truth ! Alas ! 
 where are those of our number who must so soon be smitten ? 
 God sees them, God marks them ; but death equally 
 menaces us all, and those of us who shall first perish have 
 
ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. 283 
 
 not at this moment more apparent reason to tremble, than 
 those who shall attain the longest old age. O deplorable 
 fragility! O fearful incertitude of lite! And you know, 
 my brethren, whether any rank is above this inexorable 
 law. Does it not rather appear that the great must feel the 
 stroke of death more forcibly than the vulgar, — either 
 because the delights and excess of luxury, or the chagrins 
 and car s which environ greatness, or even the precautions 
 which are destined to relieve their maladies and to prolong 
 their days, abridge the course of their liyes ? And, notwith- 
 standing all the aid of art, do we not every day see them 
 fall under evils from which the child of poverty finds relief 
 in the resources of nature alone ? 
 
 Can you forget the sorrowful years which have just passed 
 away, and which have covered Europe with mourning and 
 griff? Where is the nation which has not had like us to 
 weep over some of its most august heads? O God, thou 
 art terrible to the great of the earth, we humble ourselves 
 under thy mighty hand. Who then is great, said one of 
 our ancient kings on his death bed, — who is great but the 
 King of heaven, who can thus destroy the kings of the 
 earth ! He shall cut off the spirit of princes : he is terrible 
 to the kings of the earth. 
 
 But suffer us to implore thy mercy for our master. Let 
 the king live, behold the cry and the universal vow of thy 
 people : And all the people shouted and said. God save the 
 king. How much more precious is his life become to us 
 since our misfortunes ! Add new days to the days of the 
 king, and extend his years from generation to generation. 
 Preserve this precious posterity, the prop of the monarchy, 
 and the resource of future generations ; and if the life of 
 man is so short, my God, grant that at least we may enjoy 
 that of our master to the full extent of the small number of 
 days that thou dost grant to feeble mortals. 
 
 But what if our days are extended to the last bounds of 
 human life; we must invariably arrive at the fatal term. 
 Men who only occupy themselves with pleasures, glory,, 
 
 \ 
 
 L 
 
284 ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. 
 
 immortality, will find these reflections too sorrowful : but 
 far from concealing them from their view, is it not rather 
 more needful to recal them to their recollection ? Alas ! 
 whatever surrounds them does but conspire to make them 
 lose the remembrance ; and what other voice than our's can 
 sound in the midst of the plaudits of their flatterers that 
 sorrowful but salutary word — Remember that ye are mortals? 
 Man, says the prophet, man has put his confidence in 
 his own strength. Dazzled with his greatness and riches, 
 he has forgotten his feebleness and mortality. But, O the 
 terrible day in which death shall come to snatch away 
 from him, with life, those good things on which he founded 
 his hope. 
 
 When that fatal moment shall approach us, when the 
 
 trouble and alarms of persons who love us, and when the 
 
 internal feeling of our decay shall warn us of our peril ; 
 
 when the church shall come to present us its last succours ; 
 
 and when the first ray of the great day of eternity shall 
 
 begin to pierce for us through the shades of the present 
 
 state, what a revolution will suddenly be produced in our 
 
 souls ! What will then become of all the phantoms, all 
 
 the delusions of glory and felicity which had deceived our 
 
 feeble senses ? What then can the most illustrious man 
 
 say, but, as a famous warrior of recent times said, when 
 
 expiring, in whose exploits many among you have shared : 
 
 " I have had a fine dream.' 7 When we recollect our labours 
 
 for a fortune which vanishes, for a world which we are 
 
 going to forget, for a reputation which will leave only the 
 
 shadow of a name ; what regrets shall we feel that we have 
 
 endured more to acquire those vain things which are going 
 
 to escape from us with life, than to acquire immortal 
 
 blessedness ? " Ah ! that I had but done," said a great 
 
 man of the last century in those sorrowful moments, — " that 
 
 I had but done for the king of heaven what I have done for 
 
 the king of the earth !" 
 
 In the midst of these painful reflections, of the frightful 
 signs which announce the approach of death, we call for 
 
ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. 285 
 
 (hose who were the most dear to us, and stretcli out our 
 trembling hands for them. Alas ! they are hurried far 
 from us, to spare their tender feelings the shock of our 
 dissolution. The church is more faithful to us ; she will 
 be so even to our last sigh. The ministers of religion 
 come lo support and comfort our souls in the anguish of the 
 ■final conflict ; but soon we hear no more, we have no other 
 feeling than the feeling of our dying pains. We give no 
 other sign of life than the symptoms of death. Christian 
 spirit depart. — Let us spare human frailty ; let us imitate 
 the condescension of the church, and promptly throw the 
 funeral veil over a spectacle which must inspire us rather 
 with horror than compunction. 
 
 But a doleful sound announces that you are no more ; 
 your funeral obsequies are prepared ; your grave is dug: 
 to those dazzling ornaments which adorn your dwellings 
 succeed the gloomy colours of death. The church clothed 
 in mourning comes to seek your mortal remains : you are 
 carried to the tomb in the midst of funeral dirges, and the 
 glimmering of the torch. You who enjoy so much im- 
 portance, reckon the small number of friends who deign to 
 follow your corpse. You are laid in the sepulchre ; your 
 families come to shed over you their last tears; the earth 
 covers your head ; the grave shuts itself up • and in this 
 eternal gulph all your titles, all your honours, all your 
 talents, all your rights, all your pretensions, whatever you 
 were, whatever you hoped to be, — all are swallowed up, and 
 in the order of time the whole is consumed. 
 
 Thus terminates the most brilliant life, as well as the 
 most obscure ; thus perishes that beauty which attracted 
 the admiration of the world, and that genius which en- 
 lightened the age ; that power which oppressed the innocent 
 and just, and that valour which made the nations to tremble ; 
 those vast projects and those high thoughts which seemed 
 ambitious to embrace all ages. Thus, said a great king, 
 thus death levels all men, the wise and the foolish, the 
 slave and the hero. One, says Job, dieth in his full 
 
286 ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. 
 
 strength, being wholly at ease and quiet, — and another 
 dieth in the bifterness of his soul, and never eateth with 
 pleasure. They shall lie down alike in the dust, and the 
 worms shall cover them. There rest the poor and the rich, 
 and the slave freed from the yoke of his master. And what 
 becomes of them in the depths of their sepulchres ? When 
 man is stripped of his all, when he is buried and decayed, 
 where is he ? Where is that countless multitude of moitals 
 which have existed from the commencement of the world ? 
 The most subtile parts are evaporated in air ; the most solid 
 are transformed into dust ; and where, on the surface of our 
 earth, — where is the dust which has not been animated? 
 O man remember, as the church tells us in the grave so- 
 lemnity in which it makes us bow the head under the 
 humiliating symbol of our nothingness, — O man remtmber y 
 that dust thou art, and to dust thou shall return ! 
 
 It is true that when the great are no more, their sad 
 remains appear still to retain some vestiges of their ancient 
 fortune : they are carried with pomp to the sepulchre of 
 their fathers ; they are buried in the august bosom of our 
 temples ; mausoleums erected about the sacred porticoes, 
 teach their titles to posterity ; and if they belong to the 
 blood of the masters of the world, you have seen, my 
 brethren, those pompous equipages which seemed rather to 
 celebrate triumphs than obsequies, those sumptuous deco- 
 rations, those titles, those trophies, those inscriptions, those 
 coffins elevated on thrones, and still decorated with crowns 
 and sceptres. My brethren, let us not envy the great these 
 last marks of public veneration ; let us not stop even at the 
 momentary and passing pomp ; let us erect for them durable 
 monuments ; let the marble and the brass perpetuate our 
 respect and our gratitude. Yet, have the most illustrious 
 a better destiny under this magnificent attire, than the poor 
 under the grass that covers his humble grave ? Ye miser- 
 able poor, whom the rich too often crush beneath the 
 weight of their power, u be not ye afraid," says the royal 
 prophet to you, " when one is made rich, when the glory of 
 
ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. £87 
 
 bis bouse is increased : for, wben be dietb, be sball carry 
 nothing away ; his glory sball not descend after him." 
 
 " Go," said St. Cbrysostom formerly to the people of Con- 
 stantinople, " go to the tombs." No spectacle will be found 
 more proper to moderate the human passions ; and we, my 
 brethren, we say to you the same, — Go to the tombs of your 
 fathers ; or, if a spectacle yet more striking is necessary to 
 move us, — Frenchmen, let us transport ourselves in spirit to 
 that ancient temple which is the last, the perpetual dwelling 
 of our sovereigns. Alas ! their palaces are but the asylums 
 of travellers, their sepulchres are their perpetual dwellings. 
 Let us not go there only to pay respect to the remains of 
 our first apostles ; let us also go to meditate over the ashes 
 of our ancient kings. Let us contemplate the tombs which 
 cover them, and where we yet think that we see the manes 
 of majesty hovering around. What now is left to them of 
 all their glory and power ? funeral lamps, gloomy cover- 
 ings, a vast silence, which is only interrupted by the vows 
 of the religious who visit their tombs. 
 
 The Pontiff, to whom Louis the Great had entrusted the 
 education of his son, one day conducted thither the heir to 
 the throne; and did he ever give him a more impressive 
 lesson ? Let us then descend into those funeral vaults in 
 their train. I think I hear the eloquent instructor say to 
 his august pupil, as he said at the funeral of a princess cut 
 off in the flower of her years : O prince ! see how the divine 
 power, justly irritated against our pride, reduces it to 
 nothing ; that he may for ever equal all ranks, as he forms 
 us all of the same dust. Can we build upon these ruins ? 
 Can we lean, however splendid the remains, on this in- 
 evitable wreck of human things ? 
 
 A pious doctor relates, that a powerful king, contem- 
 plating his army from the top of a mountain, an army the 
 most numerous and flourishing that ever engaged, could not 
 withhold his tears. His astonished courtiers asked him 
 what was the cause of his grief, when he beheld a spectacle 
 which reminded him of his greatness and glory: " Alas! 
 
1288 ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. 
 
 said he to them, sighing, before the lapse of an hundred 
 years, there will not remain a single man of all this 
 numerous and hardy host : other soldiers will be com- 
 manded by other chiefs, under the orders of another king." 
 Thus, Sire, when from the height of your throne you extend 
 your regards to your court and your kingdom, and consider 
 this vast nation which the Lord has submitted to your 
 power, the same thought must affect the heart of your 
 majesty. Yet a century, what do I say ? even before this 
 age has completed its revolution, where will be the great, 
 the statesmen, the warriors, the attendants who surround 
 you ? where will be all those whom you see assembled at 
 this moment in this temple ? where will be the greater 
 part of the people who now exist under your laws ? and 
 which of us can assure himself even of a glimpse of the 
 approaching century ? 
 
 The prince, of whom history has preserved to us the 
 mournful recollection, only wept over the frailty and woes 
 of humanity. But you, Sire, who ought to be illuminated 
 with a supernatural light, and whose hope should be full of 
 immortality, you must be affected with a sentiment more 
 noble and more salutary. Your majesty will say to your- 
 self, — Since such is the destiny of people and kings, since I 
 must soon disappear from this visible world, with the gene- 
 ration which the Eternal has confided to my government, I 
 wish that both it and myself should aspire after an existence 
 more durable. I wish to re-establish among my subjects, 
 and in myself, the reign of wisdom and virtue, and to 
 redouble my efforts to render them worthy of sharing with 
 me the eternal kingdom. 
 
 And ye also who surround the throne, and perhaps exult 
 more in your titles and honours than the prince in his 
 supreme power ; ye great of the present generation, let each 
 one of you, no longer deluded by this vain splendour, say 
 to himself,— Since death must soon annihilate the titles that 
 distinguish me, how shall I treat with disdain the unhappy 
 companions of my mortality ? But rather say, I desire hence- 
 
ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. 2S9 
 
 forth to respect my fellow- creatures ; I wish by my mode- 
 ration to acknowledge from this time the equality which 
 death must re-establish among all men : I will distinguish 
 myself no more but by ray virtues, the only distinction 
 which cannot perish. How shall I sacrifice that small 
 number of days which I have to remain in this world to a 
 fortune and a glory of which death must soon deprive me ? 
 I will turn my efforts towards a more durable object: O 
 my God, I will place my expectations above all revolu- 
 tions : I will deposit them even in the bosom of thy eternity. 
 And now, Lord, what wait I for, my hope is in thee. 
 
 Behold, my brethren, the useful resolutions which the 
 hope of immortality should inspire. But, instead of placing 
 our desires and hopes in that object which alone is perma- 
 nent, do we not still seek to retain hold of the earth after 
 our decease, by the chimera of renown, by that imaginary 
 life which respires in our posterity. Since then our mor- 
 tality is not sufficient to wean us from the earth, let us also 
 consider the mortality of all liuman things : this is the 
 subject of the second part. 
 
 SECOND PART. 
 
 To indemnify themselves for the short time that they 
 remain upon earth, men have then imagined that some of 
 them shall survive in the memory of their fellow-creatures, 
 and others in a long train of descendants. The most 
 ambitious flatter themselves that they shall immortalize their 
 names in the pageantry of glory : they persuade themselves 
 that they shall never wholly die. And this chimerical hope 
 supports and consoles them. Let us remove this ruinous prop 
 from their vanity : not only do men die, but the most dis- 
 tinguished reputations, the most illustrious houses, the most 
 celebrated names, the most powerful cities and empires, 
 must perish also, and the world itself must one day cover 
 all their ruins with its vast wrecks. Thou alone, O my 
 God, thou subsistest eternally : They shall perish, but thou 
 
ZQO ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS, 
 
 remainest; and they all shall wax old as doth a garment ; 
 and as a vesture shall thou fold them up, and they shall be 
 changed: but thou art the same, and thy years shall not 
 fail. 
 
 You flatter yourselves, my brethren, to leave a long 
 remembrance behind you. Alas! except a small number 
 of extraordinary men, who fix the attention of posterity, 
 "what is the fate of all others ? We hoped for a second life ; 
 let us learn our second death. How do we ourselves treat 
 those who have preceded us ? They need only disappear, 
 and the void that they have left is already filled. The 
 event of their death has engaged our attention for a 
 few days, and their memory, says the royal prophet, has 
 perished with this vain noise; we have already forgotten 
 that they ever lived. What do we now say of many cele- 
 brated personages, with whom, a short time since, we were 
 so agreeably entertained ? We are astonished that we have 
 thought no more of them ; other characters have now taken 
 their place to perish in their turn ; or if we still speak of 
 them, is it not sometimes to murder their memories by 
 satires more cowardly than the adulations with which we 
 loaded them during their lives ? 
 
 We flatter ourselves at least that we shall live again in the 
 memory of relations, friends, and children. Brethren, in the 
 first moment of your decease they will shed tears ; a few 
 days will scarcely glide away, and they will with indifference 
 divide your spoils. Behold that fortune which caused you 
 so much labour, so many cares, and perhaps so much injus- 
 tice, now torn to pieces by a crowd of covetous heirs ; see 
 your projects annihilated, your covenants violated, your 
 dearest friends, your most faithful servants, treated perhaps 
 with rigour, because they had shewn you kindness. See 
 your palaces despoiled, all those rich collections of 
 pageantry, of luxury, or of vain curiosity, violated and 
 dispersed. Your families will not yet have put off their 
 exterior marks of sorrow, the duration of which has already 
 been too much abridged by the laws of fashion, and the 
 
ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. 291 
 
 mourning which they still wear will exist only in the 
 apparel. 
 
 Men also promise themselves that they shall survive in 
 their posterity; already they think that they see their titles, 
 their domains, their riches, entailed with their blood and 
 their names to a long train of descendants. O vain hopes ! 
 how many illustrious families have been crushed by dis- 
 grace and misfortunes, or have been swallowed up by the 
 prodigality and disorder of a foolish generation ! 
 
 Have you also forgotten that generations are mortal as 
 well as men ? Count ihe few that remain of those illustrious 
 stocks which adorned the first ages of the monarchy. The 
 Lord has said, Cut down the tree, and cut off its branches. 
 You still hear their names pronounced, but do you 
 not recollect that they are superseded by 'a new race? 
 Only remember those which h :ve just perished under your 
 eyes ; observe around you all those who are ready to 
 expire, and who are about to be buried in the tomb with 
 the last of their offspring. 
 
 What would have been the grief of their ancpstors, if 
 they had foreseen these sorrowful revolutions ? The wise 
 men of their times said to them as we say to the ambitious 
 of our age, — you amass treasures, and you know not 
 whether they are for your children or for strangers : beware 
 1 st those domains which you extend, those palaces which 
 you embellish, do not become the portion of a menial race 
 whose fathers now cringe at your feet. The event has 
 justified their opinion ; the posterity of those proud men is 
 extinguished, or brought low, and all this immense fortune 
 has only served to decorate some new race. 
 
 And are sovereign houses themselves free from this decay, 
 the perpetuity of which is so important to the nations to * 
 
 spare them the revolutions of new empires? O people, 
 those august trunks themselves perish, and fall like yours. 
 Let us now search in Spain, in Germany, in the British 
 Isles, in the d iff rent regions of Italy, for the lines of their 
 ancient sovereigns. Great God, in the midst of the revolu- 
 
 w. 
 
%9% ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. 
 
 lions which have overturned our modern governments, thou 
 hast spared the race of Capets, the posterity of St. Louis, 
 almost extinguished in the last of the Valois, thou hast 
 revived it in the Bourbons.* This house, which has seen 
 all the reigning houses spring up, is still, under thy protec- 
 tion, the most powerful on the face of the earth. But how 
 long, my God, wilt thou preserve so precious a race, for the 
 happiness and repose of the world ? 
 
 A few extraordinary men, who attract the attention of 
 their age, imagine that they have found a more glorious and 
 durable means of surviving themselves. They wish to 
 immortalize their names by the monuments of their wisdom, 
 valour and glory. This is that which inspired the emula- 
 tion of the wise men and heroes of antiquity. Many, 
 indeed, have merited this glory : their towns, their kingdoms 
 are destroyed, and their names have survived their empires, 
 and will probably survive as long as the world. 
 
 Perhaps there may be in this age, and even in this assem- 
 bly, some great man, whose name may escape oblivion : for 
 since we speak before the heroes of the age, we may reason 
 here upon objects, the dignity of which would be unsuitable 
 before a less illustrious assembly. But among the most 
 ambitious men of all ages who have dared to claim this 
 glory, reckon the small number of names which have 
 reached us. Dazzled by their self-conceit and momentary 
 repute, they flattered themselves that they should always 
 be renowned in future ages : already this prince, puffed 
 up by the plaudits of his flatterers, reckons himself in the 
 rank of great princes ; already this politician, already this 
 warrior, beholds his name placed by the side of tiiose 
 which are most celebrated ; already this scholar, like one of 
 the ancients, thinks that he bears his voice sounding afar, 
 
 * There were two races of the house of Valois on the throne 
 of France, of which Henry III. was the last, and the crown 
 descended to Henry IV. who was of the race of the Bourbons. Both 
 were Capets ; of the latter house is the presentroyal family of France.— 
 Translator. 
 
ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. °9$ 
 
 in the night of time ; and scarcely have they ceased to live, 
 when their name sinks with them in the dust : happy, 
 indeed, if they have not had the grief and mortification, 
 which is so frequent, of even surviving their own renown. 
 
 And what if the wishes of ambitious souls should be 
 gratified, what if their glory should continue as long as the 
 world ; alas ! will this sad immortality reanimate their 
 ashes in their tombs ? or if the sound of this vain noise 
 should reach their spirits, what impression will it make 
 upon them in that new order of existence into which they 
 have passed ? Ye humble and obscure individuals, who 
 are forgotten as soon as ye have disappeared, console 
 yourselves, and envy not the illustrious man his abortive 
 glory. 
 
 While we hear the boasted names of all those heroes so 
 famous in Pagan antiquity, where are they themselves ? 
 Where are those celebrated princes? Where are those 
 sages who have only been wise men after the flesh ? Where 
 are the brilliant geniuses to whose imaginations we owe those 
 famous fictions ? Where are those great men so renowned 
 in the art of war ? Alas, they have never known true wisdom ! 
 Must qualities which appear so beautiful, having but vain 
 glory for their motive, have a recompence equally vain ? 
 
 O ye Christian heroes, who have had the happiness of 
 knowing and adoring the true God, and concerning whom, 
 faith permits us to hope better things ; and above all others, 
 French heroes, kings, princes, warriors, learned, great men 
 of this nation, illustrious dead, let me be allowed to inter- 
 rogate you here in the name of the living God, and in the 
 presence of your posterity. If your souls jet see what 
 passes under the sun, how insignificant in your view are all 
 those trophies, all those monuments erected to your memory, 
 those glorious inscriptions, those nations vanquished at the 
 feet of your statues, those exploits traced on the porticoes 
 of your palaces, those sumptuous edifices yet filled with 
 your glory and greatness? What would it avail you to 
 have your names inscribed in the registers of the earth, 
 
594 ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. 
 
 with the titles of great, wise, august, victorious, if they 
 are not inscribed in heaven ? 
 
 But where does the nothingness of human things shew 
 itself in a more striking manner than in the fall and disso- 
 lution of empires? M For if men learn to moderate their 
 ambition in beholding the death of kings, how much more 
 in seeing their very kingdoms expire ?" Thus spake, Sire, 
 to the ancestor of your majesty, the pontiff charged with his 
 instruction. " When you see," said he to him, — " when 
 you see vanishing from your view not only kings and 
 emperors, but likewise all those great empires which have 
 made the world to tremble ; when you see them present 
 themselves before you successively, and fall, so to speak, 
 one upon another, this frightful crash makes you feel that 
 there is nothing solid among men, and that instability is 
 the peculiar lot of human things." 
 
 Remember, my brethren, the flourishing state of those 
 empires, formerly so renowned for the wisdom of their 
 laws, the valour of their warriors, the genius of their literati, 
 and the magnificence of their arts and monuments. Where 
 are all those once celebrated nations of Africa and Asia, and 
 their famous towns, Memphis, Nineveh, Thebes, Corinth, 
 Babylon, Athens, Palmyra, and many others, of which our 
 most splendid cities are but feeble images ? Time has 
 even devoured their ruins. People, stupid and barbarous, 
 now inhabit the country of those renowned people ; and on 
 the scites of those superb cities the shepherd now feeds his 
 flock ; for the Lord predicted by his prophets that he would 
 humble their pride, that he would reduce their glory to dust, 
 and that they should be trodden under foot by the most 
 contemptible of men. 
 
 To this old world a new one has succeeded ; God has 
 willed that people scarcely reckoned among the ranks of 
 men in the times when those empires flourished, he has 
 willed that the Franks, the Germans, the savage nations of 
 the north, should inherit their glory. But how long shall 
 our modern states themselves subsist ? O my God, thou no 
 
ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. 
 
 Z95 
 
 longer revealest the destiny of these nations to thy prophets, 
 as in the days of old ; thou abandonest us to the feeble con- 
 jectures of human policy. But is it necessary that we 
 should possess a supernatural agency to foresee our de- 
 struction ? Let us regard the revolutions which have 
 preceded us, and let the past be the prophet of the future. 
 
 Since the mode of warfare and the systems of politics 
 have changed, and especially since the laws of the gospel 
 have softened the manners of men, and extinguished those 
 national antipathies which only terminated in the destruction 
 of one of the two rival nations, I know, Sirs, that the fall of 
 empires is become less frequent, and that the human race is 
 less exposed to those bloody revolutions. But what is 
 requisite, great God, to overthrow this equilibrium so much 
 boasted among us, this balance of Europe which appears 
 to assure its existence to each nation ? 
 
 Feeble mortals, open and draw forth all the resources of 
 your wisdom; your most solid establishments always carry 
 about them, like yourselves, the germ of their own de- 
 struction : you can prolong their duration, but flatter not 
 yourselves that you can give them a perpetuity incom- 
 patible with the works of men. The Lord has numbered 
 the ages of your empires, as he has numbered the days of 
 your lives : it is only the empire of the King of kings 
 which is unshaken and eternal. 
 
 Here, what a sorrowful presentiment strikes our minds ? 
 O ye who contemplate the magnificence of this kingdom, 
 the splendour of its cities, of its monuments, we are obliged 
 to say to you as Jesus Christ said to his apostles, at the 
 sight of the temple of Jerusalem : See ye not all these things * 
 Verily, I say unto you, there shall not be left there one 
 stone upon another that shall not be thrown down. 
 
 Yet a few ages, and what, great God, — what is the 
 appearance of this part of the world? I see Europe 
 become a barbarous country like Africa and Asia; I see 
 our most flourishing cities buried under their ruins ; 1 see 
 those palaces destroyed, those pillars overthrown, those 
 
2£)6 ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. 
 
 statues broken in pieces; I see their sumptuous ruins, like? 
 those of Tyre and Babylon, serve for the retreat of ferocious 
 animals ; I see in this same place another government, 
 another language, other laws, other customs, and perhaps, 
 alas ! — perhaps even another worship. In what age, O my 
 God, hast thou fixed this fatal epoch ? What will be the 
 new inundation of barbarians that shall subjugate our 
 posterity ? Will the tempest rise in the south or in the 
 north ? Will it be the new world that shall avenge itself 
 upon the old ? Let us reverence the veil which conceals- 
 the destiny of nations from our view. 
 
 What, above all, should be our alarms for the fu/ure 
 fate of this monarchy ! They are not a few passing evils 
 which affright us : the fecundity of our climate, the industry 
 of the French people, the valour of the nation, the wisdom 
 of our kings, can repair our misfortunes; but who would 
 not be affrighted at the sight of the revolution which is pro- 
 ceeding in our manners, at the sight of the pride, the 
 luxury, the licentiousness, the corruption, the spirit of 
 discord and independence, and so many other symptoms of 
 the decay of empires ? And must this monarchy then arrive 
 at its age of languor and decay ? This monarchy, the 
 duration of which has already surpassed that of all the 
 known empires, and which appeared only during the last 
 age to have attained the zenith of its glory ? 
 
 Great God, if such is the fa'e of the empires abandoned 
 to the course of human revolutions, thy sovereign power 
 can always suspend their fall, and imprint upon them a 
 stability which they cannot give to themselves. Deign, O 
 my God, deign to re-establish among us that strength and 
 that simplicity of manners, that zeal for thy religion and 
 for thy church, which rendered France so respectable 
 among all the nations ; give us those virtues which are 
 better supports to states than the richest treasures and the 
 most numerous armies. We feel, O my God, how little 
 we ourselves merit it : but we conjure thee by the faith of 
 our fathers; preserve the very Christian kingdom, the 
 
ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. 297 
 
 inheritance of St. Lewis, the patrimony of the eldest son 
 of thy church : and since every thing must perish, and 
 thou alone shalt subsist eternally, O ray God, let France 
 only perish by the same blow with which thou shalt 
 annihilate the universe. 
 
 The universe, — the universe itself must then perish. Yes, 
 frail mortals, the same God who has pronounced the decree 
 of death against you, has also pronounced it against all 
 creation : he who has said to man, thou shall surely die, has 
 said, the heaven and the earth shall pass aicajj. O frightful 
 fragility of this world, and yet more of this earth upon 
 which we crawl, and of which the foundations appear to us 
 to be unshaken and eternal I How easily indeed would it 
 be destroyed, if the hand of the Almighty deigned not to 
 sustain his work ! 
 
 During how many ages shall this world still continue ? 
 The disciples formerly dared to propose this question to the 
 Lord; the Lord answered that his Father had concealed this 
 secret even from his angels. The tenth age believed that 
 the fatal term had arrived, and the nations groaned in the 
 expectation of the last day: eight centuries have rolled 
 away since that alarm, and the world still continues. But 
 does not God seem to send us some signs as the forerunners 
 of that dreadful day ? Depravity of manners, weakness of 
 faith, the earth shaken in many regions, famous cities 
 destroyed by violent commotions, which have even affected 
 us, and which make us dread the same disasters ourselves. 
 Brethren, let us adore with trembling the decrees of him 
 who holds the universe in his hand. Far from us be rash 
 conjectures upon an event which the Lord lias concealed in 
 the secret of his wisdom : he wills that this disaster should 
 happen without being announced, and that it should sud- 
 denly overtake all men which dwell upon the earth. Watch, 
 he says to us, watch, because ye know not the moment 
 in which the sovereign Judge shall come. O terrible 
 expectation of the day of the Lord ! the son of man must 
 then appear in a moment, as the Jightning which shines 
 
5298 ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. 
 
 from the east to the west. Every new year, every new 
 day, is perhaps the last year, the last day of the world! 
 
 O how terrible will be that day, cries a prophet, that 
 day of wrath, as they chant at our funerals ! That day of 
 misery and calamity, that day of tempests and darkness ! 
 Who can represent to himself, without groaning, the general 
 commotion of the earth, the last convulsions of expiring 
 nature, and, if I dare so to express myself, the agony of the 
 universe ? My brethren, these are not the vain conjectures 
 of the imaginations of men ; we say nothing to you that 
 the Lord himself has not predicted. Then, as the Son of 
 God has predicted, there shall be signs in heaven, and upon 
 the earth, the nations shall be in distress; all men shall 
 shrink with fear in the expectation of what must happen to 
 the world, and even the powers of heaven shall be shaken. 
 
 The times of the nations are fulfilled ; the day is arrived 
 in which the Word, who presided at the creation of the 
 world, must preside at its destruction. O earth, earth, hear 
 the voice of thy master, and groan under his powerful 
 hand. In the beginning of time God says, let there be 
 light, and the firmament stretches itself out, the waters 
 retire, the earth appears, it produces plants and animals, 
 the sun rules the day, the moon the night; and all nature 
 obeys the voice of its author. At the consummation of 
 the ages, God says, let the world be no more, and the 
 stars falling from heaven burn up universal nature ; the 
 flaming elements are dissolved, the foaming sea is dried 
 up, the earth is consumed with all its cities and 
 empires, with all its unhappy inhabitants, and all who 
 breathe; and even the heavens pass away with the im- 
 petuosity of a tempest. Heavens, earth, elements, where 
 are ye ? Where is the immense matter of which ye were 
 composed ? They have fled before the Eternal. The earth 
 and \lhe heaven Jled away, and there was found no place for 
 them. 
 
 What then ! Will every thing be annihilated ? Dejected 
 mortals, hear the voice of your God : Lift up your eyes to 
 
\, 
 
 I 
 
 ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. 5299 
 
 ike heavens, saith the Lord, and look upon the earth 
 beneath ; for the heavens shall vanish away like smoke, and 
 the earth shall wax old like a garment, and they that dwell 
 therein shall die in like manner : but my salvation shall be 
 for ever, and my righteousness shall not be abolished. 
 
 Base-born souls, who cannot soar beyond the wonders 
 which fall under the notice of your senses, give yourselves 
 up to grief at the destruction of this globe. But ye pious 
 souls, souls worthy of knowing invisible good, rejoice in the 
 disappearance of a material world, which darkens your 
 prospects, and prevents you from contemplating the eternal 
 world. Filled with this glorious hope, let us say, with St. 
 Ambrose, — Let God then speedily destroy this world, we 
 will no longer lament its destruction, since it must be re- 
 placed by a new world, by the eternal kingdom which the 
 Lord has promised to those who love him. Heaven and 
 earth shall pass away, saith the Lord of earth and heaven, 
 but my word shall not pass away. 
 
 And now, Christians, is the vanity of man and of all 
 human things made clear to our conceptions ? and shall we 
 attempt to fix our glory and felicity on this brittle founda- 
 tion ? Immortal spirits, let us seek after happiness more 
 suitable to the dignity of our nature. Let us build our 
 hopes on a foundation more solid, not only than our life, 
 which passes away as a shadow, but more solid even than 
 the world itself, which must fall to ashes. 
 
 Seeing then that all these things shall be dissolved, what 
 manner of persons ought ye to be, saith the apostle St. Peter; 
 what ought to be our fervour and piety, in the expectation 
 of the coming of the Lord, who shall consume the heavens 
 and annihilate the elements ? As for ourselves, we, according 
 to his promise, look for new heavens and a new earth. } 
 
 Then let this feeble body perish, let the nations be over- 
 thrown, let the kingdoms fall, let the earth be shaken, let 
 its mountains be carried into the midst of the sea ; our 
 destiny is above all revolution. Ancient philosophy used 
 to say of its sage, though the wrecks of the world should fall 
 
 ! 
 
 ■ 
 
300 ON THE VANITY OF HUMAN THINGS. 
 
 upon his head, he would not be shaken. My God, it is to 
 him who hopes in thee, it is to him alone that it belongs not 
 to shrink even under the ruins of the universe. Blessed is 
 the man that fear eth the Lord — surely he shall not he moved 
 for ever. 
 
 Eternal God, behold thou bast made my days as an 
 hand-breadth, and mine age is as nothing before thee; in 
 the beginning thou hast laid the foundations of the earth, 
 and the heavens are the works of thy hands: they shall 
 perish; already the everlasting hills bend beneath the 
 advancing steps of eternity. They shall perish, but thou, 
 O Lord, thou shalt eternally exist; thou remainest. Grant 
 that we may be so deeply penetrated with a sense of our own 
 nothingness, and of the vanity of all human things, that we 
 may separate our hearts from them, and cleave only to thee ; 
 to thee, O Lord, who alone canst give immortality. Grant 
 that we may use temporal things only as they may be sub- 
 servient to the interests of eternity: riches, but to make 
 them pass by charity into the eternal world ; honours, 
 dignities, but to labour for the happiness and salvation of 
 th y people ; glory, but to do homage to thy supreme 
 greatness; life, but to consecrate it to thy service. Grant 
 bat we may live righteously and godly in this present 
 world ; looking for that blessed hope and the glorious 
 appearing of the great God. Amen, 
 
RUE. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 Charles de la Rue was a native of Paris, in which city he drew 
 his first breath, A. D. 1643, and where he also died, aged eighty-two. 
 He entered early among the Jesuits, and soon distinguished himself 
 as a Professor of Belles Lettres and Rhetoric. His poetical powers 
 were great, and his Latin Poem on the Conquests of Louis XIY. 
 was in so much esteem that Corneille translated it into French 
 verse. His acquirements as a scholar raised him very high in the 
 opinion of the learned, and he was numbered among the editors of 
 the Dauphin Classics, and published Virgil. 
 
 As a preacher, La Rue was very celebrated in the court and the 
 capital. The editors of the Bibliotheque Portative speak of him in 
 the highest terms of praise. " His Panegyrics," say they, " his Funeral 
 Orations, and his Sermons, shine with whatever can give them eclat, 
 a happy distribution of the parts, truth of delineation, vehemence of 
 style, and grace of diction; but sometimes he discovers more of the 
 poet than of the preacher.'" 
 
 Father Gisbert, in his Christian Eloquence, describes La Rue as 
 " a model of sublime, tender, and pathetic eloquence, in whom is 
 united the liveliest and most intelligent, the richest and the boldest 
 imagination; a most exalted genius; and an astonishing facility 
 of conception and expression. We forget the preacher and all his 
 rare talents to pay attention solely to the impressions which he makes 
 upon the heart; and, instead of amusing ourselves with exclamations, 
 we think on following him, or rather, without thinking about him, 
 we follow that rapid torrent of impressions and movements which 
 hurries us away towards that which is good, almost in spite of 
 ourselves." 
 
 There are some, however, who are of opinion that the discourses 
 of this preacher are more distinguished by the marks of laboured 
 thought than by those of spontaneous genius. Yet it must be 
 admitted that there are some rapid movements in his sermons which 
 
 I 
 
302 RUE. 
 
 art could never produce, or if they are the work of art, it is so 
 admirably disguised, that the preacher seems to be borne away with 
 his subject, and hurries us along with him to the object which he 
 keeps in view. 
 
 La Rue's works are very scarce, and very dear. They are contained 
 in three volumes 12mo. His most celebrated sermons are the Dying 
 Sinner, and the Sinner after Death. Many of the others are destitute 
 of interest. Want of room would not allow the insertion of both 
 these sermons, or they were both prepared for the press. The first 
 is, however, the most striking and impressive. Some of the senti- 
 ments of the Catholic are indeed to be found in it, but they cannot 
 spoil its beauties. The Creed of a Protestant, with the Bible in his 
 hand, will not allow him to believe that a sinner, dying in an uncon- 
 verted state, can possess a principle of latent faith which only wants 
 oringing into action. But when the reader meets with, this senti- 
 ment, let him only substitute the thought that the individual may 
 sometimes possess clear views of Gospel Truth, which have not been 
 suffered to influence his conduct, and the application will be forcible 
 and irresistible. The omissions and alterations in fhis discourse 
 only occur in one or two instances. 
 
sermost vin. 
 THE DYING SINNER. 
 
 PREACHED BEFORE THE KING. 
 
 RUE, 
 
 Luke vii. 12. — When Jesns came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, 
 there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and 
 she was a widow. 
 
 Sire, — To be young and powerful, to be important and 
 necessary, are vain obstacles to death. This dead man of 
 our gospel was in the flower of bis age. He was dear and 
 precious to a mother who had no other support. He was of 
 sufficient rank to draw all the city to his splendid funeral 
 procession. Yet he dies : and the sight of this death must 
 render the idea of it more terrible to those attached to life by 
 all these glittering bonds; but what can induce those to love 
 it who have no such attractions? However, the only means 
 of rendering death less terrible is to make it a custom and 
 duty to think upon it. 
 
 Melancholy duty to think upon death ; and above all, 
 when we are young ! But because we are young, are we on 
 that account to deem ourselves the less mortal ? You are 
 young and mortal : you are a sinner and mortal. And can 
 a mortal, who feels himself a sinner, harden himself against 
 the thought of death, whether he be young or old ? espe- 
 cially as it does not depend upon him to prevent death in 
 his youth : but it belongs to him to see that he die not in 
 his sin. What blindness, then, and what obduracy ! to turn 
 
304 THE DYING SINNER. 
 
 all our thoughts to our preservation from death, which 
 will come in spite of us, and must be either happy or 
 miserable ; instead of rather striving to render that death 
 happy, by immediately departing from sin. 
 
 I do not then mean lo-day simply to discourse on death, 
 but on death in sin ; by describing to you the image of 
 false conversion in a dying sinner, in contrast to the resur- 
 rection of the dead man in our gospel. 
 
 You see two things concur to the resurrection of the 
 dead man : the tender pity of the Saviour, and the prompt 
 obedience of death : on the contrary, a dying sinner, 
 under the hope of compassion from his God, and under the 
 presumption of his own obedience, dares to defer his 
 conversion till his last moment. Then will God wait 
 to regard him with pity ? No. Will even the dying 
 sinner be ready to render him obedience ? No. Two 
 terrible truths which it is too late to preach to the dying; 
 what can they make of them ? We must preach them to 
 the living, full of confidence in their health, in their strength, 
 in their youth : they will discover the end of them. And 
 with this end in view, dear hearers, what will be the 
 disposition of God towards the sinner ? you will see it in the 
 first part. What will be the disposition of the sinner him- 
 self towards God ? you will see it in the second. 
 
 FIRST PART. 
 
 Whether or not God may be disposed to bestow the 
 grace of repentance upon the dying sinner, is a point too 
 delicate to decide : for, in fact, God is the master of his 
 grace ; he can dispose of it as he pleases ; he sometimes 
 gives it to the most unworthy. Besides, we do not know 
 what passes between God and the dying man : we do not 
 know how far his mercy extends ; nor the compassion 
 which he exercises towards the frailty of the human heart : 
 what we at once condemn, perhaps God excuses. This is 
 all that we can say in favour of the dying sinner. But, on 
 
THE DYING SINNER. 
 
 305 
 
 the oilier hand, I see the church, the expositor of Jesus 
 Christ, deploring this sort of penitence ; regarding it as an 
 insult offered to God ; doubting its efficacy, and anxiously 
 turning away her children from it. All the holy fathers, 
 expressing themselves by the voice of St. Augustin, declare 
 that in receiving the sinner to this sort of penitence, they 
 cannot give him the assurance of his salvation. To relieve 
 the sinner from this fear, and to give him that assurance 
 which the church and the fathers feel themselves incapable 
 of giving, some superior authority is requisite : we must 
 have nothing less than the authority of God. Let us then 
 see what God has said, and what he has done in this 
 matter : we have only these two means of knowing the 
 truth. 
 
 What seems most to the point is, that marvellous incli- 
 nation to pardon which appears throughout the sacred 
 books; and particularly the promise which God makes by 
 the prophet Ezekiel: As for the wickedness of the zcicked, 
 he shall not fall thereby in the day that he turneth from his 
 wickedness. Nothing is apparently more favourable to the 
 pretensions of the obstinate sinner. I say apparently, Sirs, 
 for let us duly examine the sense of these words. God 
 promises to the sinner the forgiveness of his sins, whenever 
 he turns from his wickedness : but, does he promise to the 
 sinner the grace of conversion, at any time when he may 
 think of turning from his evil ways. These are two very 
 different things. You shall be pardoned when you are 
 converted ; this is what God has promised. You shall 
 have grace sufficiently strong to convert yourself, whenever 
 you wish it ; this is what God has not promised, and least 
 of all to the sinner who abuses divine mercy even till his 
 dying hour. For although mercy still accompanies him 
 till that period ; although it does not abandon him while he 
 is living upon earth ; although he may yet have at least the 
 ability to pray, which is the last resource and the last link 
 of connexion between the sinner and his God ; yet this feeble 
 link, which with time and during life might have become 
 
 
306 THE DYING SlNNEIt. 
 
 strong, by the habitude of the sinner, and have led him by 
 degrees to the end of his salvation, becomes useless on the 
 bed of death, by the terror of surprise, and by the flight of 
 time. 
 
 It then requires an energy more powerful and prompt 
 to effect his conversion, than even during the former course 
 of his life. Then so far from God having promised to 
 give the dying sinner this powerful grace ; he has posi- 
 tively threatened not to give it him. 
 
 See the first chapter of Proverbs : Because I have called, 
 and ye refused ; I have invited you, and you have not come. 
 / have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded ; you 
 have turned away your eyes. / also will laugh at your 
 calamity, I will mock when your fear cometh ; I, in my 
 turn, will laugh at your death, I will return contempt for 
 contempt, and mockery for mockery. Then shall they call 
 upon me, hut I will not answer, You shall cry then, you 
 shall call me to your aid, but I will not hear. And, in the 
 New Testament, John viii. 21 : I go my way, after having 
 dwelt so long with so little fruit among you ; and ye shall 
 seek me; when I shall be far from your sight : and ye shall 
 die in your sins ; in spite of your inquiries, ye shall die 
 in your sins. 
 
 Here then, sinners, collect all the force of your reason- 
 ing. If it is true that God bestows the grace of conversion 
 at death, often enough to support you in this hope ; why, 
 in all the sacred books, has God taken away this hope from 
 you? Why has he never said to you, that lie might be 
 disposed to give it you ? Why has he said, on the 
 contrary, I will laugh ; I will mock ; I will not hear ; ye 
 shall die in your sins. I hear nothing here of mercy or 
 grace. 
 
 Then, from what he has said, judge of his diposition 
 towards the obstinate sinner. 
 
 I go yet farther : judge of it from what he has done. If 
 it is true that this grace has ever been promised ; it is 
 probable that while there have been sinners, and dying 
 
THE DYING SINNER- 307 
 
 sinners, God, to support his promise, would have given us 
 some public example of a hardened sinner crowned with 
 grace on the bed of death. Produce me then one solitary 
 instance. St. Bernard finds but one ; that of the thief upon 
 the cross. I confess that this is a very great sinner; but is 
 he a hardened sinner ? This moment is the last of his 
 life; but, says Eusebius, it is the first of his calling. You 
 blame the tardiness of his conversion. I, says St. Ambrose 9 
 admire the promptitude of it. Had this thief ever seen the 
 Son of God preaching repentance, proving his divinity, mul- 
 tiplying the loaves, and raising the dead ? The eyes of all 
 Judea were filled with the wonders of the Saviour ; yet all 
 Judea being hardened, had rejected his grace and fastened 
 the Saviour to the cross. This thief, says St. Augustin, on 
 discovering the first beam of his grace, recognizes him as 
 his King, and adores him as his God, even upon the cross, 
 in the midst of outrages and contempt. And behold, my 
 dear hearers, the ground which you take, the model which 
 you choose to authorize your presumption. You who, 
 knowing the divinity of the Saviour, have for so many 
 years resisted the convictions of his grace, which urge you 
 to repent ; do you not, on the contrary, find the condem- 
 nation of your own obstinate malice in the docility of this 
 thief, and in his prompt obedience ? Where then will you 
 find examples which flatter you, if this example, which is so 
 public, is a decree against you. 
 
 You point to sinners yet more criminal than yourselves, 
 whose edifying deaths have made them the envy of the best 
 of men ; sinners who, after spending a libertine life, have 
 died, say you, true Christians, and true saints. What, 
 says St. Gregory of Nazianzen, does it cost so little to be a 
 saint ? Only a day, only a moment is necessary according 
 to us ; it is only to will it. Know that these people, what- 
 ever tears they may have shed, have not died true Chris- 
 tians. A true Christian does not defer his penitence till 
 death. A true Christian does not wait for the day of his 
 death to shew that he is a true Christian. Every day, and 
 
 HI 
 
 
 I 
 
SOS THE DYING SINNER. 
 
 every moment of his life, he is preparing for death. And, 
 tv here is the man, if he is not wholly in despair, who on his 
 dying bed, in the possession of his senses, and in the midst 
 of his friends, does not at least make some effort to support 
 the appearance of a Christian. It is rare to find railleries 
 and blasphemies carried there : he has not then the front to 
 do it. One begins to preach ; another sets all the churches 
 to pray for his salvation, or at least for his health ; another 
 will only die in the arms of the greatest servants of God. 
 Some cover their dying bodies with the sackcloth of repent- 
 ance. All confess, and communicate with the aspirations 
 of piety on their lips. If nothing more were necessary to 
 die the death of the righteous, all sinners on their dying 
 beds would be saints. All those who say to God, Lord, 
 Lord, would enter into his kingdom ; which is contrary to 
 the word of God. All those who have mocked at God, 
 would not in their turn be mocked of God; which is also 
 opposed to his word. All those who seek after God, after 
 having fled from him, would find him at every moment and 
 every hour, and would not die in their sin ; which is like- 
 wise against his word. If then what God has said is true, 
 the greater part of such kinds of repentance must be false, 
 in spite of all the appearances which they have of truth, 
 appearances which God permits for ends which are un- 
 known to us : appearances which even the devil supports 
 to draw other sinners into the snare ; and to persuade them 
 more powerfully, that it is easy to die in a state of grace, 
 after having lived in sin. Well then, my dear hearers, you 
 have not any certain example to sustain your presumption. 
 But I, — 1 have a hundred to confound it : an Antiochus, an 
 Esau ; a crowd of frightful instances in scripture and 
 in history. 
 
 This being established, I draw from it three conclu- 
 sions of great importance, if they may terminate in the 
 salvation of those who hear me. The first is, that no man 
 living can promise himself the grace of repentance at death, 
 without an extreme temerity. The second, that the great 
 
THE DYING SIXXER. 309 
 
 and the rich, above all. are those who ought to flatter them- 
 selves the least. The third, that in all conditions those who 
 have received from God the favour of a long life, have yet 
 less reason to expect this favour at cleat]]. Ljse nothing. 
 Sirs, of these three truths which are so weighty and so 
 pressing. You are all concerned in them. 
 
 I do not say that the dying sinner has nothing left to afford 
 encouragement. Our Lord has expressly granted grace to 
 the thief, to shew us the extent of his power, and to support 
 our hope. But he has granted this grace to the thief alone; 
 it does not appear that he has bestowed it upon any other: 
 to shew us that the fear of danger ought to check our pre- 
 sumption, and that what he has done once only in moments 
 so touching as those of his death, is but a pure miracle of 
 his goodness. 
 
 To defer repentance, and to defer it even till death, is 
 then to hazard salvation on the hope of a miracle. But, 
 is this a conduct pardonable even in one of a common 
 understanding, to make so rare a miracle the foundation of 
 the most important and the most difficult of his affairs, 
 which is that of his salvation ; — Would you make it the 
 foundation of your health and life ? For, only consult the 
 scripture, and it will appear that God has raised more from 
 the dead than he has converted when dying-. Would you, 
 on this account, dare to risk your life and to expose 
 yourself to death under the idea of a miraculous resur- 
 rection ? And how then dare you to risk your salvation 
 on the supposition of a miraculous conversion ? 
 
 God can, say you, convert me at death, as easily as 
 during life ! Is it then upon what God can do, that you rest 
 your hope ? and does God indeed do all that he can ? He 
 can on account of the first sin damn you as justly as he 
 has damned the rebel angels : yet he does it not. He does 
 not then all that he can : and since you do not fear all the 
 injury which you may offer to his justice, — how can you 
 promise yourself all the good which his bounty can bestow 
 upon you? Is it not an effort of goodness and mercy 
 
 Y 
 
310 THE DVING SINNER. 
 
 sufficiently great that he resolves to pardon you seven times, 
 and seventy times seven ? that he calls you to repentance 
 every day of your life ? that he shews you the rapidity of 
 time ? that he cautions you against the danger of surprise ? 
 Does all this serve only to harden you in sin ? to confirm 
 you in the sad design of pushing his patience as far as it 
 will go ; and not rather to humble you before him until the 
 moment when you shall see your inevitable ruin ap- 
 proaching, and his arm uplifted against you to strike the 
 last blow ? — At death, you say, when he shall urge us by 
 his grace, — at death, we will think upon it, — at death, 
 now we have other affairs, — at death, that will be the 
 proper time to think upon God, now is the time to enjoy 
 life. In this manner life passes away ; but death is before 
 your eyes, and what can you expect ? what but that God 
 will refuse to you at death, what you have refused during 
 life, — that he will make you feel that life was the time of 
 grace, and not the time of pleasure ? It is then an extreme 
 temerity for any man living to cherish the least hope of 
 obtaiuing the grace of repentance in his last days : a 
 temerity yet more criminal in tlie rich and the great. This 
 is a second reflection. 
 
 Is it not enough for these to have had as their share 
 the enjoyments of the earth, to have seen pleasure and 
 joy flow on all sides answerably to their desires ; to have 
 united to the indulgences which spring from fortune, 
 all those which crime and passion can give ? If, after a 
 long course of years passed away with impunity in this 
 tranquillity, they could, by a single sigh, by the repent- 
 ance of a moment, open to themselves the gates of heaven, 
 and pass from the felicities of time to those of eternity, 
 where would be the justice and providence of God ? who, 
 among the prosperous and great of the world, would not 
 abandon himself to his passions, on condition of spending 
 the last hour of his life in sorrow, and buying an eternity 
 of pleasures with a few forced tears ? It is justice and 
 providence in God, that the tears shed at death should 
 
1 
 
 THE DYIXG SINNER. 311 
 
 be useless tears, in order that men in general, and the 
 great in particular, might learn to weep over their guilt, 
 and to seek their salvation before death. For this cause 
 the wise man cries to all those who have power and 
 authority, that they must expect nothing else but a 
 judgment prompt and terrible. A judgment prompt by its 
 surprises, and terrible by its rigour : prompt without 
 admitting any leisure to contemplate it ; and terrible with- 
 out the hope of mitigation. And, Christian hearers, in 
 the only example which we have of divine clemency 
 towards a dying sinner, in that solitary instance of the 
 goodness of God in such a situation, upon whom has it 
 fallen ? Upon a miserable wretch, unknown by name, 
 known only by his crimes, and by the honour which he 
 enjoyed of being crucified by the side of Jesus Christ. All 
 the examples, on the contrary, of the insensibility of God to 
 the repentance of the dying, are taken from the most ex- 
 alted characters, the most illustrious sinners. It is thus he 
 has made it conspicuous. That Esau, who implored with 
 tears to be received as a penitent, and who was not received, 
 was the father and the head of an entire nation. That 
 Antiochus, whose vain repentance has so often sounde'd in 
 your ears, was the master of Asia, and the terror of all the 
 East. Was it not of the greatest importance to the glory 
 of the Lord to accept the submission of the greatest king 
 who then existed; to see him magnificently repair the 
 ravages which he had made in Jerusalem, establish 
 the law of the true God throughout all his empire, and 
 embrace it himself? What progress would not such a 
 change seem to promise to religion ? But to all this God 
 appears to shut his eyes. He finds it a greater glory and a 
 more important interest to undeceive the great respecting 
 this false opinion : to shew them that as lie distinguishes 
 them from others in the distribution of his favours, so if 
 he honour them with forgiveness, they must from this time 
 abase themselves to implore his pardon. He reproves the 
 great, however penitent they appear, and lavishes the grace 
 of repentance, so to speak, upon the head of a wretched 
 
312 THE DYING SINNER. 
 
 brigand : because he sees more malignity, ingratitude, and 
 presumption in the sins of the great than in the sins of the 
 poor ; a more voluntary inclination for all forbidden plea- 
 sures in the midst of all lawful enjoyments ; a freedom 
 from that want that hurries into vice, that necessity which 
 presses on to it — and in the stead a continual abundance of 
 all sorts of good, which aggravates their guilt — their's, 
 therefore, is the malignity of sin in all its extent. If 
 there is then any favour to be hoped for by the sinner at 
 death, it is less to be expected by the great than by the rest 
 of the world. 
 
 3. And yet less still is mercy to be expected by those 
 who have lived a long time in the world. This is my last 
 reflection. I dare assert, Sirs, that one of the most singular 
 favours which God can confer upon men, not only with 
 respect to their desires^ but with respect to their salvation,, 
 is to give them a long life, which conducts them beyond the 
 dangers of youth, and which affords them leisure to lament 
 their disorders and to correct their errors. For, to whatever 
 excess we may be abandoned in the blindness of youth, how 
 can it be otherwise but that in a course of years we must 
 be awakened by some disgrace, alarmed by some sorrowful 
 accident, disgusted at last with the world from the usage of 
 the world itself, and convinced of the necessity of com- 
 munion with God ? All these gifts of God are included in 
 this gift of old age; in that age which we have always 
 feared, and which we have always hoped. To^abuse this 
 gift by attachment to the world, to pleasure, and to sin, is 
 then to irritate God in the most sensible manner, and to 
 shut the treasury of his goodness against us for ever. Every 
 day God is prolonging your life, but you shorten not the 
 chain of your sins ; your lengthened years are so many 
 -useless benedictions : regard them, says St. Gregory, as so 
 many maledictions; as so many signs and presages of your 
 reprobation. 
 
 Why has the salvation of Solomon been held in doubt 
 during so many ages ? Is it not because of the abuse of his 
 
THE DYING SINNER. 3\3 
 
 last years ? His heart, upright till then, was corrupted in 
 his old age; and his corrupted old age effaced all his past 
 virtues. God no longer took pleasure in his wisdom, nor 
 in his zeal for the glory of his name. If he shewed him 
 mercy at last, he has thought fit to leave us ignorant of it ; 
 to prevent the hardened sinner from availing himself of 
 this example, and to teach us the hopelessness of old age 
 which is voluptuous and full of sin. 
 
 What then can they hope for, who, differing from Solomon 
 in the employment of their youth, also imitate the excesses and 
 shame of his last days ? For more than forty years this king 
 had been the example of the world, and the object of divine 
 approbation; yet all this has not prevented his salvation 
 from being left in doubt. And, you sinners, who can scarcely 
 remember that you have ever been righteous : who surpass 
 your former irregularities every day ; who are never weary 
 of life but on account of the difficulty of finding new plea- 
 sures : upon what can you repose your confidence at death? 
 to what can you impute your perseverance in evil ? Have 
 you wanted leisure to reflect upon your conduct, or light 
 to see its errors, or examples to instruct you at the peril and 
 expence of others? A thousand revolutions which have 
 happened before your eyes, since you have been in the 
 world, ought to have convinced you that none can escape 
 from the arm of God. You have escaped from it during 
 life, and you think yet to escape from it at death. No, your 
 obduracy lias no excuse : it will not have any pardon. 
 
 What injustice does God do to you ? no pardon : but 
 why ? because there is no end to your sins ! You have been 
 filling up the measure of them all your days : and now, ready 
 to quit life, you groan at its rapidity. Y T ou would fain be 
 immortal, that you might render your libertinism immortal. \ 
 
 And can you expect a happy immortality to be opened to 
 you at death, you who would have placed your happiness 
 in the immortality of your sin ? No, it is to you that these 
 words of the prophet Isaiah are properly addressed : I 
 have lo7ig time liolden my j?eace, I have been dill and re- 
 
314 THE DYING SINNER. 
 
 f rained myself I have waited for you patiently, I am 
 wearied. To you belongs what follows, now will I cry 
 like a travailing woman, I will destroy and devour at once. 
 I will at length speak : but at the same time I will over- 
 whelm you, I will destroy you. There shall be no interval 
 between your course of life and your entire destruction. But 
 if at death, you say, I seek on my part sincerely to obtain 
 mercy, will God refuse it to me ? No: but what I wish to 
 shew you is, that at death you will never be disposed to 
 seek mercy in a proper way. You have seen the dis- 
 position of God towards the dying sinner : now behold 
 the disposition of the dying sinner towards God. 
 
 SECOND PART. 
 
 Let us approach the bed of this sinner, who is so bold 
 that he encourages the hope of life even at the very gate of 
 death, and yet so timid respecting his health, that he dare 
 not so much as think upon God, lest he should impair it 
 by any gloomy thought. But the hour arrives in which 
 some faithful friend, wearied with complaisance and flattery, 
 comes to him to say as the prophet to the ancient king of 
 Judah, — Set thine house in order. Think on thyself; it is 
 high time for it. Generally this is not without some circum- 
 locution, nor without address. O how much caution is 
 there to make a mortal understand that he must die ! But now 
 it is over ! There is no more hope ! A minister must be 
 sent for. The sick man is pressed, and conjured ; at length 
 he is convinced of the fact. Then, seeking for some 
 remains of firmness at the bottom of his heart, merely to 
 support appearances, he abandons himself within to the 
 confusion of his thoughts. Ah ! what darkness of mind ! 
 what trouble of heart ! Let us enter into both; into his 
 mind and into his heart : and let us see what are their dis- 
 positions towards God. 
 
 There are two sorts of light in the mind which might 
 tend to promote his conversion, — reason and faith. Reason, 
 
THE DYING SIXXER. 31 J 
 
 by awakening in him some natural motives, such as hatred 
 and horror for his guilt : faith, by pressing him from super- 
 natural motives. 
 
 But where is reason in the obstinate sinner ? Wliat has 
 it done for him during the whole course of his life r What 
 power has it had over him ? Passion lias always b^rne 
 him away against the convictions of reason. Reasons 
 of health and of modesty in youth ; reasons of honour 
 and interest in a more advanced age ; reasons of health 
 in old age, — all were stifled by (lie single attraction of 
 pleasure. Behold from fifteen to fifty yens, what is the 
 force of reason upon the spirit of a libertine. — At death, 
 say you, reason will exert its strength : it will come forth 
 from the tomb, when man shall be ready to enter into it : 
 its light will awaken him, when life is almost extinguished. 
 Think, O think of the embarrassments which then beset 
 reason . 
 
 First, the burden of the disease; a soul plunged by the 
 violence of pain into sorrow, into an invincible inquietude, 
 collecting all its thoughts only to contemplate its misery. 
 Nothing can be thought of but its malady, restlessness, 
 vapours, tremblings, burning heats, perspirations, faintings, 
 and perpetually increasing disquietudes. Where is then the 
 reason of the man ? Would you allow him in this state to 
 decide on your smallest affairs ? would you find in him 
 sense enough to judge of them with propriety ? How then 
 can he have enough to decide with propriety on the affairs 
 of his soul ? 
 
 Besides the burden of the disease, there is another burden, 
 that of the remedies. He is recommended to rest, sleep, and 
 absence from whatever can disquiet him. Can he think 
 seriously on his sins, without a cruel inquietude ? Dispirited, 
 disgusted with every thing, interrupted continually by the 
 painful operations of the surgeons, — not having 1 sense 
 enough to be persuaded that the love of life ought to 
 overcome his disgust, can he have sufficient strength of 
 
 A 
 
316 THE DYING SINNER. 
 
 mind to persuade himself that Hie love of his salvation 
 ought to predominate over the love of his sin ! 
 
 Beside the burden of the malady, and that of the remedies, 
 there is another burden, that of his affairs. A family in 
 confusion, the heirs embroiled, accounts to settle, debts to 
 pay; offices and employments in danger; relations and 
 friends in tears. All the world is fixing its eyes upon him : 
 whatever arrests his attention seems to speak to him on 
 business. And how can he think only on those affairs 
 about which he has never thought before ? 
 
 Behold that man of importance who has never had time 
 during so many years to study his own heart, and to 
 scrutinize his conscience. Why ? sometimes it was a load 
 of trouble, sometimes a weight of infirmities, and sometimes 
 a press of business, which rendered him incapable of 
 application. In each of these embarrassments, taken sepa- 
 rately, he never found himself sufficiently free, nor his 
 reason sufficiently in exercise, to think upon God. Imagine 
 this to be your case. How then can any alteration take 
 place, my dear brother, how will your mind be prepared 
 when all these embarrassments together shall overwhelm you 
 at death ? When all the parts of your frame shall say to 
 you, by the exhaustion of your strength — think of us. When 
 your domestics shall say to you, by their feebly-acknow- 
 ledged and ill-requited services — think of us. When your 
 affairs shall say to you, by the disorder into which you have 
 thrown them — think of us. When your creditors shall say 
 to you, at the sight of their goods confounded with yours — 
 think of us. When those persons who are dear to you shall 
 say, by their sighs, alas ! for the last time — think of us. 
 Torn on every side, distracted by so many different cries ; 
 when your reason at its last gasp shall cry from the bottom 
 of your conscience — think of thyself, miserable man, think 
 of thyself ! leave every thing besides, and think only of 
 thyself! My dear brother, my dear friend, will your 
 feeble reason be able to make itself heard ? 
 
THE DYING SINNER. 
 
 17 
 
 Faith* will perhaps come to the help of reason, to make 
 you quit all other cares, and apply yourself entirely to 
 the care of your soul. Let us then see what is the 
 situation of faith in the soul of the sinner. It is there: for 
 where is it not ? And were any one to say to me now, it is 
 not in me; I would say, you deceive yourself; it is in you : 
 but surrounded with a thousand errors, obscured by a 
 thousand doubts, concealed under the mask of impiety ; 
 without action, without strength, useless and languishing, 
 In this condition, sometimes avoiding faith, and sometimes 
 opposing it, Ave become insensible to it. We are accus- 
 tomed to regard the cross as an indifferent object, and the 
 gospel as a fable. We are no longer touched by any thing. 
 And do you persuade yourself that at the mere mention of 
 death, at the first sight of danger, you shall feel faith revive 
 in. your soul? that this single thought — I must appear 
 before God — will restore you to the respect which you have 
 stifled for the cross, for the sacraments, and for the truths 
 of religion ? I admit it : but grant me what I am going 
 to say. 
 
 If then your faith recover some strength, it will be but 
 very feeble. It will never return with its former vigour, all 
 of which you will then need. It will not destroy the 
 habits of aversion to the things of the other life, of 
 disgust and coldness towards God, habits rooted in you, 
 and become, as it were, your nature. An act of faith will be 
 required of you, my dear brother; an act of faith, which 
 will testify to God and to all who are present, that you die 
 in the sentiments of the church. Yes, I believe, says the 
 dying man. You believe? That word is soon uttered, 
 but is it deeply graven on your heart ? Does it efface in 
 one moment those ideas produced by so many libertine 
 conversations, so many speculative studies, so many affected 
 
 ^ 
 
 V 
 
 * By faith, as employed in this place, it is evident that the preacher 
 means nothing more than the voluntary homage which nature gene- 
 rally pays to Revelation in the hour of affliction, or at the approach 
 of death. — Translator. 
 
318 THE DYING SINNER. 
 
 doubts, such disguised atheism, such imaginary power of 
 reasoning? Oh! you who have reasoned so much upon 
 the mysteries of religion, upon predestination, providence, 
 immortality, divinity. You who railed so admirably at 
 the credulity of the simple. You who knew so well the 
 strength of your genius and the subtilty of your discern- 
 ment. Now, you say, I believe ! You reduce yourself then 
 to the rank of the simple and ignorant ? You renounce 
 then your worldly wisdom ? Your reasons then are of no 
 avail ? You have then no more scruple s iff these matters ? 
 It is then no longer a dishonour to you to say, with all the 
 church, I believe. These two words are indeed very 
 powerful to make such a wonderful revolution in your mind 
 in a moment. 
 
 But if you do believe with an undisguised faith, this 
 is only the disposition of the understanding ; what is 
 that of the heart ? for it is in the heart that conversion 
 must be consummated. That heart ought to be free, 
 sincere, and firm, which is truly converted : this is abso- 
 lutely necessary. But the will of a dying sinner, far 
 from being free, is forced ; far from being firm, is weak, and 
 always ready to change ; far from being sincere, is double 
 and disguised, and counterfeited. What appearance is 
 there of conversion in a heart thus disposed ? 
 
 There is no conversion without liberty. But is the 
 divorce which is made at such a time from sin, free ? is 
 it not really forced ? Is it not the effect of fear and neces- 
 sity ? You forsake your sins ? You are deceived, says 
 St. Ambrose. Your sins forsake you. You say that 
 you forsake at least the occasions and the objects of 
 them. You are wrong, they are the occasions and the 
 objects which forsake you. With what grief do you see 
 them escaping? What would you not do still to recal 
 them ? And you boast that you have forsaken them ? 
 You say you offer your life to God in expiation for your 
 sins. Imaginary sacrifice ! vain and foolish presumption. 
 It is God who takes your life away from you. You have 
 
I 
 
 THE DYING SINNER. 319 
 
 
 never dreamt but of life, while there was the least hope of 
 saving it : you have struggled to preserve it even to the 
 last spark : and now you pretend to offer it, and to sacrifice 
 it to God, when it is no longer your own. 
 
 But suppose the offering to be free, suppose the change 
 to be unconstrained : what is its duration ? Till death ? 
 Ah, would to God that it were. For, without noticing 
 the usual relapses of the greater part of those who escape 
 the danger, how much is to be feared from inconstancy 
 and lightness of heart, even in the moment of death ? 
 To how many unforeseen assaults and new temptations is 
 the man then exposed ? You have never known how to 
 combat them during life, how then can you repulse them at 
 death ? How necessary was it for you in full health to 
 receive supplies of grace when you visited the church, 
 that sacred place, where you applied to receive them? 
 What was then wanted to recal you to sin ? Often nothing 
 else but a recollection, an idea, a sudden return of affection 
 for some detested objects. When in full health, nothing 
 more was requisite to bring you under the yoke of your 
 first tyrant. What will then be necessary in the dimi- 
 nution of your strength, and in the increase of his fury 
 against a soul that has always been his slave, and that must 
 soon be his prey ? het then one single sin, a sin of habit, a 
 sin of the heart, present itself to the sinner's mind, to his feeble 
 imagination : let the heart, yet more feeble, indulge this 
 phantom with a parley but for a moment, and express but 
 one single sentiment of regret : ah ! he abandons himself,- — 
 he abandons himself, to return to himself no more! It is 
 done ! It is the last movement of that heart, the last breath of 
 life, the decisive sigh of a wretched eternity! Zealous v 
 
 ministers, sympathizing friends, pray, weep, bear to his deaf 
 ears the name of the Saviour; exhibit that Saviour upon the 
 cross ; redouble your aspirations and your cries. You see 
 not the bottom of that mind nor of that heart. God sees it. 
 God condemns it. — He is dead, — he is damned ! 
 
 But is it necessary for his damnation, that, while he 
 
f> { 20 THE DYING SINNER. 
 
 breathes his last, the phantom of his sin should be brought 
 io his recollection, and be retraced in his heart? Had 
 it ever quitted it ? Had he ever sincerely detested it ? 
 Far from it. What is it to be truly converted ? It is to love 
 what you have hated ; it is to hate what you have loved ; it 
 is to love God above all created good ; it is to hate sin 
 more than all other evils. A change so difficult, and yet 
 so necessary and important, is not effected without dili- 
 gence, and above all, great courage. But in the moment of 
 exigency, to what feebleness has habit reduced the sinner ? 
 The enormity of his sins, the facility with which he has 
 sinned, his insensibility to sin, have generated a multitude 
 of difficulties. Slow to fly it, to avoid it, to quit it, 
 from the tender years of youth, and in every future stage of 
 life; he said an hundred times to those who pressed him to 
 forsake it, — No, I cannot, I cannot now ; do not speak to 
 me about it, I cannot. And now, when the soul hangs 
 trembling on the lips, how can he have sufficient courage 
 and firmness resolutely to say, — I can, yes, I can ? 
 
 Can you, my dear brother, hear then what the minister 
 says to you, while performing his office for the last time ? 
 You believe ; this is not enough, my dear brother : you 
 must love God: this is the essential point; without love 
 to God there is no salvation. Well, answers the dying 
 man, I must love God. What must I say ? But how ? What 
 must I do ? Aid me. 
 
 Aid you ! O sinner, object of pity, aid you to love 
 God 1 Did you need any aid to make you love the world, its 
 fashions, its vanities, its company, its excess — into which your 
 depraved heart hurried itself without any difficulty? You 
 were created to love God, for this is the end of man. You 
 were created to love God, but you have never loved him 
 in the whole course of your life, and yet you expect to love 
 Ii i m at the moment when you are about to die, and even in 
 that deplorable moment you want aid to love him. 
 
 Poor substitute for a duty personally necessary ! Useless 
 substitute ! The love of God on the lips of a minister, only at 
 
THE DYING SIX XL K. 
 
 321 
 
 the moment when it ought to be in the midst of your henrt ! 
 It' this love was there, if it was in your heart, how would 
 it make vou feel the evil of sin: how would it make you 
 feel itself? Can a heart love without feeling it? By what 
 bursts will not the love of God make itself known in the 
 hearts of penitent saints? To what lengths did not the 
 love of God go in the heart of Saint Paul. He loved 
 God so as to call all the powers of earth, heaven, and 
 hell to be witnesses of his love : so as to defy all creatures to 
 separate him from his love. Who shall separate us from the 
 hie of Christ f This man says that he is a penitent; Sirs, 
 that is to say, that there is nothing that can dispute the first 
 place in his heart with God ; that is to say, that he no 
 longer loves any thing that is opposed to God, nor more 
 than God. nor like God. There is no conversion unless we 
 have all thrse preferences for God. And how can we have 
 them, and feel nothing? and not be able without being 
 taught to say to God, my God, I love thee? Ah I 
 thou wilt then be the only being, O thou God of inex- 
 haustible goodness, — thou wilt be the onlv bein^ that can 
 be loved, without feeling that we love thee, and without 
 being able to express it ! We may then die, like Christians, 
 in the hope of thy glory, without ever having exercised the 
 essential act of a Christian during life, and knowing how to 
 exercise it at death ! 
 
 Think, Sirs, on the grief of a zealous and sincere 
 minister at the sight of this stupidity in a dying man, 
 Perplexed about what he must do, not daring to deprive 
 him of hope, and seeing no foundation on which to give 
 him encouragement ; fearing lest he should flatter him by 
 too much tenderness, and still more lest he should drive 
 him to despair by too much boldness : mistrusting equally 
 his pity and his zeal : ah ! if in this embarrassment he could 
 release you from the obligation of loving God ; if he could 
 make up for your insensibility by the ardour of his word?, 
 and the tenderness of his heart ! might not this be acceptable 
 with God? 
 
 h 
 
322 THE DYING SINNER. 
 
 No, tli is will not do. my dear brother. We must per- 
 sonally believe and personally love. O moments lost for 
 ever, in which, during the whole course of your life, you 
 might have loved God, might have learnt to love him, 
 might have accustomed yourself to love him ! Precious 
 moments! in which divine grace solicited your heart; in 
 which all the obstinacy of your malice was necessary to 
 resist. Then, then, God spake; the mind and the heart 
 had but to follow : now God speaks no more : his mind 
 and his heart are shut against your misery : your mind and 
 your heart are shut against his mercy. What do you 
 expect but the rigours of his justice ? My hearers, you 
 still possess these precious moments. God addresses you 
 while I address you. Expect not that these moments will 
 never pass away. Make use of them in the exercise of a 
 prompt repentance. So be it, — in the name of the Father, 
 of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. 
 
FENELON. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 .Fenelon, Francis de Salignac de la Motte, was born at the 
 Castle of Fenelon, in Bcrri, 1651, and died at Cambray in 1715, 
 aged sixty-three years. From his infancy he displayed extraor- 
 dinary talents, and the pledges of those powers of mind which 
 afterwards charmed the world. He Avas educated at Cahors and 
 Paris, and took orders at the age of twenty-four. In 1686, after 
 the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, he was sent at the head of 
 the missionaries to convert the Protestants of the coast of Saintonge 
 and the Pays de Aunis. In 1689 he was appointed tutor to the 
 Dukes of Burgundy, Anjou, and Berri ; and the King, for his services^ 
 gave him in 1695 the Abbey of St. Valery and the Archbishopric 
 of Cambray. In 1697 Madame Guyon published her mystical 
 reveries, and disturbed the kingdom of France with the same claims 
 to a divine mission which were lately made in England by the 
 notorious Joanna Southcott. Fenelon very absurdly espoused her 
 cause in a work called, " The Maxims of the Saints concerning the 
 Interior Life." 
 
 It was proposed to Fenelon to sign a recantation, and when he 
 refused, the affair was referred to the king, and then to the pope, 
 who, in condemning the archbishop's book, declared that he had 
 erred from excess of love to God, and his opponents from excess of 
 love to their neighbour. Fenelon's opponents are, however, sup- 
 posed to have had more of interest in their zeal against his mistakes, 
 than of regard to the purity of the church. The good bishop was 
 about to be appointed almoner to the Duchess de Bourgoyne, and 
 there were some who wished to prevent him from filling that office, 
 probably that they might fill it themselves. He at length submitted 
 to the decision of the pope, and read the sentence, and his recan- 
 tation in his own diocese. He afterwards assisted the Jesuits against 
 the Jansenists, and procured the disgrace of Noialles, their patron, 
 
TJ4 FENELON. 
 
 The most celebrated work of Fcnclon is his Tclcmuchus, which lie 
 wrote for his young pupil the Duke de Bonrgoyne. I'his work gave 
 great oH'ence, and was prohibited in France at the time of its publi- 
 cation ; for Louis XIV. and his courtiers thought that they saw in it 
 their own characters exhibited to the world under feigned names. 
 Calypso seemed to describe Madame dc Montespau ; Eucharis, 
 Mademoiselle de Fontanges; Antiopc, the Duchess of Burgundy ; 
 Protesilaus, Louvois ; Idomencus, James II.; and Sesostris, the 
 French king. But though the work w r as rejected in France, it was 
 encouraged in other countries, and has been translated into all the 
 languages of Europe. Indeed, a surreptitious edition appeared at 
 Paris in 1699, and a corrected French copy was printed at the 
 Hague in 1701. From this fact it seems that Louis XIV., much as 
 be has been extolled as the patron of literature, would have crushed 
 one of the finest productions of the human pen, merely because it 
 reproached his guilty conscience with being a tyrant. Fenelon 
 wrote a Treatise on the Education of Daughters, 12mo. which 
 has been much admired. — Dialogues of the Dead, two volumes 
 12mo. — Dialogues on Eloquence and the Eloquence of the Pulpit, 
 12mo. — Lives of Ancient Philosophers Abridged, 12mo. — Spiritual 
 Works, four volumes 12mo. — And a Demonstration of the Existence 
 of God, 12mo. 
 
 There arc but four of Fenelon's Sermons extant ; these are pub- 
 lished in one volume 12mo. together with his Dialogues on Eloquence. 
 The first is on Foreign Missions, from Isaiah lx. 1 ; the others are on 
 Prayer, Piety, and the Consecration of the Elector of Cologne. 
 The latter are all without texts. The discourse on prayer is 
 reckoned " a chef-d'eeuvre for simplicity, argument, piety, and com- 
 position." These discourses were all of them the produciious 
 of his early days, with the exception of that on the Consecration 
 of the Elector.* After the first years of his ministry, Fenelon 
 generally wrote nothing more than a mere skeleton. A great number 
 of examples were found among his manuscripts, and as it is a 
 curious specimen of the method adopted by so great a man in almost 
 all his preparations fur the pulpit, one of them is here substituted for 
 a sermon. — lie was only nineteen years of age when he attracted 
 public attention as a preacher, and succeeded by almost extempore 
 eloquence to tread in the steps of his immediate predecessors 
 Bourdaloue and Bossuet. He soon took the charge of the Nouveiles 
 Catholiques, to which he diligently attended, and wrote for that body 
 his Treatise on the Education of Daughters, and that on the Ministry 
 
 * They were preached when he was about thirty-five years of age, and 
 bear the marks of a mind in its fall vigour, 
 
FENELON". o c 25 
 
 frf "Pastors ; works which speedily raised Ills name in public estimation. 
 His preaching from that time became so familiar, that he no longer 
 composed his sermons. The Marquis de Fenelon, his nephew, says, 
 *' very little preparation was sufficient to form in his own mind the 
 whole view of his subject, and the order which lie purposed to follow, 
 after which he trusted to the res<*urces of his richly-furnishc d under- 
 standing. It w r as like an overflowing fountain, bursting forth upon 
 his auditory, and his eloquence was of that impassioned kind which 
 always touches the heart, but which loses much of its effect in a 
 studied discourse. We heard him, during his episcopate, preaching 
 regularly the Lent Sermons in some of the churches of his city, and 
 on certain days in his Cathedral church, without ever recapitulating 
 his old discourses. The same subject was always treated with the 
 novelty of a fruitful genius, which has no need to copy itself. There 
 was not a single church in his diocese where he did not occasionally 
 labour, but he left his most sublime and pious discourses inscribed 
 on the hearts of the people." M. Ramsay, who was converted from 
 infidelity by the preaching of Fenelon, resided near this great man 
 during the latter years of his life. His testimony is in similar terms: 
 " M. do Fenelon visited his diocese with a degree of diligence which 
 the troubles of war would scarcely allow, and preached in every 
 church. Nothing more evidently designates the disposition of mind, 
 and the piety of Cambray, than the different methods which he 
 adopted in his public instructions to accommodate himself to the 
 capacities of all. He stooped to the most simple, while he soared to 
 the most elevated. All his sermons flowed from the fulness of his 
 heart. He never wrote them ; most frequently lie preached them 
 without premeditation ; he accustomed himself to retire into Ids 
 cabinet, aud to call forth the energies of his mind by prayer. Like 
 Moses, the friend of God,, he ascended the holy mountain, and then 
 returned to the people to communicate to them what he had learnt 
 in his delightful intercourse. In those public discourses he won 
 every heart by affection, but it was that affection which produces and 
 which perfects all the virtues. He banished all subtile ideas, abstract 
 reasonings, and superfluous ornaments, which mar gospel simplicity. 
 His delicate genius thought only on speaking as a good father to 
 console, to comfort, to enlighten fiis flock." 
 
 From the very short sketches left among Fenelon's papers, 
 it is probable that his sermons had all the appearance of being 
 unpremeditated, as the subjects, after being arranged, were left 
 to the unfettered thoughts of the moment for illustration. But 
 Fenelon had too much good sense to deliver crude and undi- 
 gested discourses from the pulpit, though he did not practise 
 the slavish method of preaching memoritcr. From the specimen 
 
 Z 
 
326 FENELON. 
 
 here given, it appears that the mode of discussion, the facts de- 
 signed to illustrate the subject, the imagery he meant to use, and 
 the portions of scripture he would introduce, were at least in part 
 regulated by an attentive preparation; but had it not been so, the 
 temporary efforts of so sublime a genius would be no justification 
 for negligence in minds of an inferior order. He however prac- 
 tised what lie prescribes in his Dialogues on Eloquence : " Remark," 
 says he, " that the greater number of those who do not preach 
 memoriter, do not prepare themselves enough : the subject should be 
 deeply studied, to adjust all the parts likely to produce an effect, and 
 to give to the whole that order that may serve to exhibit it in the 
 best point of view." 
 
 Cardinal Maury has selected the discourse at the Consecration of 
 the Elector, as the subject of criticism, as this was the only one 
 printed at the wish of the archbishop. " Here," says the Cardinal, 
 " is an eloquence soft and flowing, which, far from exciting violent 
 emotions, gently insinuates itself into the soul, and awakens the 
 most tender affections ; it is the consequence of natural and touching 
 sentiments which overflow in abundance ; and at the moment in 
 which they affect us we forget the orator that inspires them, we think 
 that we are conversing alone with ourselves. The impression that 
 we receive resembles recollection: every word adds to the emotion, 
 and produces I know not what kind of sensation, 'which expands 
 and agitates every heart. Such is the eloquence of Fenelon. The 
 first part of his discourse for the Consecration of the Elector of 
 Cologne, is written with the energy and elevation of Bossuet. The 
 second discovers a sensibility which belongs only to Fenelon ; I will 
 merely cite one example: * O pastors, far from you be every straitened 
 heart; extend, extend your compassionate bowels! You hnoiu nothing 
 if you only know how to extort, to reprove, to rebuke, to teach the letter 
 of the law : be fathers; — this is not enough, — be mothers. 7 " 
 
 The character of Fenelon can scarcely find a superior. " How 
 amiable is the Abbe Fenelon," wrote Madame de Maintenon ; " what 
 charms he gives to virtue, how easily he persuades us to believe 
 what others have so much trouble to make us understand! His 
 piety is communicative : we cannot prevent ourselves from thinking 
 and acting like him ; and he thinks, he acts holily with the most 
 engaging sweetness and facility." " Nothing," observes La Harpe, 
 " ever equalled the charms of his society: his temper was even, his 
 politeness tender and simple, his conversation intelligent and ani- 
 mated. An engaging cheerfulness tempered in him the dignity of 
 his ministry, and his zeal for religion was neither lukewarm nor 
 fiery. His table was open during the war to all the officers, whether 
 enemies or countrymen, whom his reputation drew in crowds to 
 
FENELON. 3%7 
 
 Cambray. He also spared them some precious moments in the 
 midst of the duties and fatigues of the episcopal office. His rest was 
 short, his meals extremely frugal, his manners irreproachably pure* 
 He knew neither pastime nor lassitude. His sole amusement was a 
 walk, yet he found there the secret of associating it with usefulness. 
 If he met with any peasants, he took pleasure in conversing with 
 them. He was seen sitting on the grass in the midst of them, like 
 St. Louis formerly under the oak of St. Vincennes. He entered 
 even into their cottages, and received with delight the homely fare 
 which they offered him in their simple hospitality." The author 
 of the Christian Classics has not then said too much in summing up 
 the character of Fenelon in these words: " Fenelon, Archbishop of 
 Cambray, is universally and deservedly considered as one of the 
 most excellent of mankind: equal to the first in talents and genius, 
 and inferior to none in piety, virtue, meekness, and gentleness." 
 
 The spirit of this worthy man pervades all his writings. It is seen 
 in all the beauties of moral sentiment in his Telemachus, which, 
 while it discovers the stores of antiquity, the riches of an exuberant 
 imagination, and the style of a finished writer, conveys the most 
 important instruction, and presents virtue to the mind, arrayed in 
 irresistible charms. Such was the influence of his example, that the 
 Duke, to whom he was preceptor, from the proudest, most violent, 
 and most unamiable youth, was converted in a short time into the 
 mildest, the most sensible, and the most virtuous of princes. The 
 sermons of our orator are deeply imbued with the sentiments of the 
 Catholic church, more particularly that on Foreign Missions. 
 
 The memory of this good man seems to be still revered in the 
 country where he so diligently laboured ; for when the translator 
 lately made a short excursion into his diocese, his driver, who was no 
 friend to priests and bishops, did not forget to state, that that was 
 the diocese of the amiable Fenelon. 
 
 Fenelon was a member of the French academy, and one of its- 
 most illustrious ornaments. 
 
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SERMONS. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 PROTESTANT DIVINES 
 
ABBADIE. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 Jacques Absadie was born in 1654, at Nai', a town about four 
 leagues from Pau, in Beam. He commenced his studies under M. 
 La Placette, a celebrated minister at Nai, from whose care he was 
 transferred to P113 laurens, where he studied philosophy, and then to 
 Saumur and Sedan, in which universities he completed his studies in 
 theology. At the last place, when he was only seventeen years of 
 age, he took the degree of D. D. After returning to his native country, 
 he revisited France, that he might cultivate the acquaintance of men 
 ofleiters; and he went to Paris especially with a view to prepare 
 himself for the pulpit, under the eminent men who then preached in 
 that capital, among whom were Claude and Alix. Being solicited 
 by the Elector of Brandenburgh to settle at Berlin, he accepted the 
 invitation, and obtained the permission of the French king to leave 
 that country, some years before the revocation of the edict of Nantes. 
 At Berlin he was ordained pastor of the French church, by imposition 
 of hands. His ministry soon became popular, and while he preached 
 the gospel with fidelity, he at the same time grew in esteem both 
 with the prince and the people. When the refugees fled from the 
 persecution of Louis XIV., Abbadie's influence at Berlin was verj 
 beneficial to them, and he rendered them many important services. 
 
 Having formed some friendships in Holland, during several visits 
 to that country to print his works; after the death of the elector, he 
 was prevailed upon by bis friend, the Marechal de Schomberg, to 
 accompany him in the expedition with King William, when that 
 illustrious prince was invited to ascend the British throne. He 
 accordingly landed in Ireland in the summer of 1689. King William 
 afterwards made him minister of the Savoy, and advanced him to the 
 Ueanry of Killaloe. in Ireland. 
 
 Abbadie's works are numerous, and most of them very celebrated. 
 He published a Defence of the Revolution; and an Account of the 
 Conspiracy against King William. He also wrote a work in vindc- 
 
334 ABBADIE. 
 
 cation of the reformed religion ; and another entitled, the Triumph of 
 Providence ; which is on the fulfilment of Prophecy. Dr. Lambert, 
 then Bishop of Dromore, translated the former for the instruction of 
 the Roman Catholics of his diocese; and though the latter has been 
 spoken of contemptuously by Voltaire, which has tended to injure his 
 character, it is not a work to be neglected. The editor of his work 
 observes, that * even those intelligent men who do not enter into all 
 the views of the author, hesitate not to admit that he has given to 
 his system a great air of probability, and that it is the production of 
 a fine genius." He adds, that " this work, like all the other produc- 
 tions of this author, is written with much elegance, and that it 
 possesses an astonishing vigour for a man of his advanced age ;" 
 for he was then in his sixty-ninth year. He goes on to observe that 
 *' the examination of A nanism in the third volume, and that of 
 Purgatory in the last, pass for two finished works." But the most 
 celebrated publications of Abbadie Mere his Art of knowing 
 Oneself; his Treatise on the Divinity of Christ, and that on the 
 Truth of the Christian Religion. The second of these was translated 
 into English, and afterwards republished with a few trifling abridg- 
 ments by the late Rev. Abraham Booth, whose testimony in its 
 favour is thus expressed : " The doctrine of our Lord's essential 
 divinity having been, on different grounds, the object of long and 
 violent opposition ; many learned, ingenious, and able pens have 
 been engaged in defence of that capital truth. Few, however, have 
 repelled the adversary with those powers of genius, and that force of 
 argument, which were employed by Dr. Abbadie in composing this 
 admirable treatise. — Far from contenting himself with dogmatical 
 assertions, and equally far from amusing his readers with curious 
 metaphysical speculations, on the grand subject of his inquiries ; he 
 has recourse to the testimony of God — to that revelation which 
 Jehovah has made of himself in the Bible, and to those deductions 
 from it, which are natural, clear, and conclusive. The generality 
 of writers on this very interesting subject, do little more than collect 
 and retail the thoughts of others, which they express in a different 
 style and method. Not so Dr. Abbadie; for the reader of this masterly 
 performance, if not possessed of uncommon penetration, is enter- 
 tained with ideas entirely new, as well as with arguments irre- 
 fragably strong." The treatise on the Christian Religion was, 
 however, the grand performance of Abbadie. Many editions of 
 this work were printed, and it was translated into several languages. 
 Even Voltaire condescends to inform us, that " Abbadie was 
 celebrated for his Treatise on the Christian Religion." 
 
 The Abbe Houteville, who wrote a work of a similar kind, says, 
 " The most shining of those treatises in defence of the Christian 
 
ABBADIE. S35 
 
 Religion, which were published by the Protestants, is that written 
 by M. Abbadie. The favourable reception it met with ; the praises it 
 received, almost without example, immediately after its publication; 
 and the universal approbation it still meets with, render it unnecessary 
 for me to join my commendations, which would add so little to the 
 merits of so great an author. In the first part he combats the 
 Atheists; the Deists in the second, and the Socinians in the third." 
 The latter refers to the work on the Deity of Christ, which has been 
 reckoned as a third volume. Bayle, speaking of this work, says, "It 
 is a long time since a book has appeared which discovers more 
 energy and greatness of mind, more powerful reasoning or elo- 
 quence." The celebrated Marchioness de Sevigne, one of the 
 literary wonders of the age of Louis XIV., was enraptured with it. 
 " It is," says she, " the most divine of all books ; this esteem is 
 general; I do not believe that any writers have ever described 
 religion like this man." Desfontaines, who was a poet of the first- 
 rate talents, and a most severe critic, calls this " a complete work, 
 distinguished by an eloquent style, and in which erudition and 
 argument leave nothing to be desired. This admirable book," 
 continues he, " throws entirely into the shade every thing which has 
 been published before it, for the defence of Christianity. What 
 conversions has it not effected ? What obstinate minds has it not 
 subdued?" The late Mr. Penn adds his testimony in these words; 
 " It is a book in the highest form for reputation, in all the Pro- 
 testant countries abroad ; a book in which the horrid absurdities of 
 all who, under pretence of being more rational in religion, reject the 
 counsel of God, are exposed in a most masterly manner." 
 
 Thus it appears that Catholics and Protestants, the gay and the 
 grave, have alike done justice to the talents of Abbadie. 
 
 The character which the editor of his works gives of his sermons 
 is so just that no better terms can be used to describe them. — 
 ?' This celebrated man has always passed for one of the first preachers 
 of his time. To a profound knowledge of the subjects on which he 
 treats, he unites much order and propriety in their disposal, and 
 much solidity and force in his reasonings. These talents, adorned by 
 afineand vast imagination, discover every where a great master, who 
 opens for himself new tracks, and who designs with spirit and 
 dignity ; equally interesting the mind and the heart. He was also 
 one of the first preachers who began to reform the method of preach- 
 ing which was adopted in his time. He likewise possessed, in a very 
 high degree, that part of oratory which we call action, for which he 
 was chiefly indebted to his own natural endowments. Perhaps in 
 some of his discourses it will be remarked that he gives the reins too 
 freely to his imagination: but this light defect, into which few 
 
336 ABBADIE. 
 
 preachers inn Mic risk of falling, is amply remedied by a thoiisand 
 solid beauties." 
 
 The sermon which is here selected is not so animated as several 
 others which the translator has perused. The great number of 
 distinct observations which it contains prevented the preacher from 
 pursuing each part of his subject till he became warm in the pursuit. 
 But the remarks are highly judicious, the descriptions natural and 
 tender, the reasonings just and conclusive. The preacher has not 
 a.Uol**-' sought for imagery to arfniildWl this subject, because he had one 
 great picture to which he wished to direct the eye without any 
 diversion. He has not left out any part which could add to its beauty 
 and interest; he has not added any touches which exceed the 
 limits of truth. 
 
 One of Abbadie's sermons on the Way which leads to God, is 
 particularly striking. The reader may judge of its character by the 
 introduction* The text is John xiv. 6. I am the way, the truth, and 
 the life. It is thus introduced : " My brethren, a great conquerer of 
 ancient Rome, wishing to mark the prosperity of his arms and the 
 rapidity of his victories, contented himself with writing these words 
 to the Senate: I came, I saw, I conquered. May Ave not say, my 
 brethren, that this remarkable expression of the pride and vanity of 
 a man who congratulated himself on his good success, may also be 
 adopted as the language of humility, to express the gratitude of the 
 believer, when he has fought the good fight, finished his course, and kept 
 the faith. 1 came, he may say, I saw, I conquered, by the grace of 
 my Saviour, who is made unto me righteousness, that I may approach 
 unto God; jvisdom, to enlighten me; redemption, to give me eternal 
 life. I came, for Jesus was my way : I saw, for Jesus was my truth : 
 I conquered, for Jesus was my life." 
 
 Whoever reads the sermons of Abbadie, must be struck with his 
 fidelity. A singular anecdote, illustrative of his character in this 
 respect, must not pass unnoticed. In his way from Brandenburgh to 
 England, when he first visited this country, he had to pass through 
 Zell, where he paid his respects to the duchess. This princess was 
 a great reader, and a woman of a strong mind ; she especially took 
 delight in conversing on religion, and directed the conversation to the 
 divinity of Christ, apparently on account of the treatise of Abbadie 
 «n this subject, on which question she adopted the negative. The 
 conversation being animated, insensibly degenerated into dispute, 
 and became perhaps rather more warm, as the fair polemic was sus- 
 pected of having relaxed sentiments on this doctrine. Many years 
 afterwards Abbadie being in London, went to pay his respects to 
 King, who happened to have with him the Princess of Wales, 
 afterwards Queen of England. Her royal highness immediately 
 
ABBADIE. 33/ 
 
 recollected him, and having heard speak of this conversation, said to 
 him before the king and the court, "I have heard, Mr. Dean, that 
 some time ago in passing through Zell you quarrelled with my late 
 grandmother." Abbadie, without being in the least disconcerted, 
 replied : " Madam, I feel too sensibly how much I owe to all your 
 august house ever to be guilty of shewing them any kind of disre- 
 spect ; but when I am called upon to defend the honour of my master, I 
 know not the great of the earth." This answer was highly applauded, 
 by the king, by her royal highness, and by the whole court. Fidelity 
 never loses its reward. 
 
 From his intercourse with the great, the manners of Abbadie 
 were highly polished. He was a most intelligent companion, as his 
 mind was well informed, and he had a facility of communicating his 
 thoughts on all subjects. His benevolence was extensive. Slander 
 was never suffered in his presence. He always did justice to 
 real merit. In a word, his qualities were such as secured him 
 universal esteem. He died in the parish of Marylebone in the year 
 1727, and in the seventy-third year of his age. At the time of his 
 dissolution he had several works in hand, particularly one which ho 
 intended to call A new method to prove the Immortality of the Soul. 
 His sermons were collected and published in three volumes 12mo. 
 with some panegyrics and letters. They are numbered among the 
 scarce books. 
 
SERMON IX. 
 
 THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 ABBADIE. 
 
 Gen. xxiu 10. — And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the 
 knife to slay his son. 
 
 JL he wicked worketh a deceitful work. This is a maxim of 
 the wise man, which we explained to you last Sunday.* 
 
 * The sermon to which the preacher alludes precedes that which 
 is here selected in the first volume of his sermons, and is entitled, the 
 Fruits of Vice and Virtue; the chief design of it is to shew the various 
 ways by which the wicked is snared in the work of his own hands. 
 It is admirably interwoven with gospel truth, and enriched with scrip- 
 tore facts and glowing thoughts, and contains some striking appeals 
 to the conscience. The reader will excuse the interruption it will 
 occasion if he is here presented with one passage, which will give him 
 some idea of the energy of Abbadie, when addressing profane 
 characters. 
 
 "There is nothing more frantic than those blasphemies, those 
 ravings, and that impious fury, by which men rise up against God. 
 It is an attempt to combat with the Almighty on his throne. It is 
 employing against him that tongue, that breath, that motion, that 
 life, which he supports in us ; and it is also preparing ourselves 
 for eternal torments and punishments. What, wicked man 1 dost 
 thou think that the horror of thy crimes will pierce the firmament, 
 to trouble that invariable repose which God enjoys in himself? 
 Sinner, thou deceives! thyself; whatever design thou mayest have of 
 offending God, thou never in reality injurest him. It is not against 
 him, in this sense, it is against thyself that thou sinnest. Thy crimes 
 are a vapour which ascends against God, but it never reaches him ; 
 it remains far below ; it converts itself into a tempest, and soon we 
 
THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. 339 
 
 The righteous also sometimes does a work which deceives 
 him. This is a truth which we are going to exhibit to- 
 day. The wicked destroys himself by the efforts which he 
 employs to promote his own gratification. The believer 
 attains an invaluable object, when he seems to act against 
 his own interest. This, my brethren, is a truth which the 
 sacrifice of Abraham admirably confirms : here we find a 
 spectacle of horror in appearance ; and we see a holy spec- 
 tacle in reality. It seems, on beholding this object, as if 
 hell must surely triumph, and it is heaven which finally 
 vanquishes. An action which we should suppose all must 
 detest becomes the eternal object of their admiration : the 
 pulpits propose it for a model and an example ; the memory 
 of it is celebrated in all ages ; and all believers, to the end 
 of time, must make it the perpetual subject of conversa- 
 tion, the constant theme of their praise. It is then not 
 without cause that we ask of you to apply yourselves to the 
 consideration of this great object. And Abraham •, says the 
 sacred text, stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to 
 slay his son. 
 
 It is useless to relate to you the account which is con- 
 tained in the preceding verses; it is a history too well 
 known for any of you to be ignorant of it, You know that 
 God, wishing to try Abraham, commanded him to take his 
 son, and to go and sacrifice him upon a mountain, of which 
 he would tell him. You know also, that this great and 
 illustrious servant of God obeyed the voice of heaven, and 
 took two of his young men to attend him in his journey ; 
 that being arrived near the place where his faith must 
 be thus tried, he ordered his servants to wait for him while 
 he went forward accompanied only by his son ; that Isaac, 
 little instructed in his design, asked him, — u Where is the 
 lamb for the burnt-offering f To which Abraham re- 
 plied, — My son, God will provide himself a lamb for a 
 
 shall see it discharging that thunderbolt which already menaces thy 
 guilty soul. Rash man! thou doest then a work which deceiveth 
 thyself! 
 
340 THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 burnt-offering ; which afterwards occasioned this proverb 
 known among the Jews, In the mount of the Lord it shall 
 be seen; and on account of which this mountain was called 
 after the event, by the name of Moriah. Y* u know that 
 Abraham, having prepared the altar and laid the wood in 
 order, took the submissive, the obedient, the innocent Isaac ; 
 that he bound him, and fastened him to the altar, and that 
 finally he prepared to finish the most sorrowful and painful 
 sacrifice of which the imagination can conceive. It is this 
 last circumstance, my brethren, which supposes all the 
 others, and which constitutes the essential part of that sacri- 
 fice which we must, now examine. And Abraham, says the 
 scripture, stretched forth his handy and took the knife to slay 
 his son. 
 
 Although these words are sufficiently plain in themselves, 
 it may not be unprofitable to devote a portion of time 
 to their contemplation, that we may understand the mys- 
 teries which they include, and the fruits which we may 
 derive from them. They are capable of three different 
 senses, — a literal sense, a mystical sense, and a moral 
 sense. The first relates to the simple facts which they 
 narrate ; the second includes the mysteries which they 
 represent; the third communicates instruction to our con- 
 sciences. The sacrifice of Abraham is a singular and 
 astonishing event, which is highly worthy of our consider- 
 ation. The sacrifice of Abraham is an admirable type of 
 the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, which we cannot describe 
 to you under too many images. The sacrifice of Abraham 
 is a model from which we may form the desire of sacrificing 
 to God whatever is most dear to us, a duty upon which we 
 cannot bestow too much attention. These are the three 
 parts of this discourse. The first will shew you Abraham 
 lifting the knife to plunge it into the bosom of his son ; the 
 second will shew you God himself with uplifted arm 
 inflicting his strokes upon his eternal Son, conformably 
 to that ancient type; the third will shew you the believer 
 holding in his hand the sword of the Spirit, and sacrificing 
 
THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. 341 
 
 the dearest passions of his heart. You "will see in the first 
 a material fire ready to consume Isaac, the burnt-offering of 
 Abraham ; you will see in the second the fires of divine 
 justice surrounding Jesus Christ, the burnt-offering of 
 God ; you will see in the last the sacred fire of the Spirit 
 of God consuming the vices and passions of our hearts, the 
 burnt-offering of the believer. O that our hearts, inflamed 
 with this divine fire, and burning with zeal, may present 
 themselves to-day as so many voluntary victims to that 
 great God who calls them to mortification and to repent- 
 ance ! O that the Father of believers may to-day add 
 largely to the number of his children, through the immo- 
 lation of his Son ! O that grace nicty render him our 
 Father, though the connection seems to have ceased by- 
 nature ! O (hat heaven, which arrested the arm that 
 Abraham had already lilted up with so much resolution and 
 courage, may to-day animate and sustain our arms, to 
 enable us to sacrifice to God our sins and our vices ! O 
 that we may to-day become so many innocent Isaacs ! O 
 that we may be changed into so many courageous Abra- 
 hams ! But this is not our work, it is the work of God ; 
 let us beseech him to animate and encourage us, that we may 
 sacrifice ourselves to him, at the sight of the sacrifice 
 of Abraham ; and that after being immolated, like Isaac, we 
 may revive and be able to glorify him in our bodies 
 and our souls eternally. Amen. 
 
 FIRST PART. 
 
 That we may properly ascertain the extent of Abraham's 
 virtue, we must consider the relative situation in which he is 
 placed at this critical period. Abraham is a man, he is a 
 father, he adds faith to the promises which God has already- 
 given him, and he is filled with love and zeal for his God. 
 The action which lie is called to perform by an order from 
 heaven seems to violate all these relations, and absolutely to 
 annihilate these qualities. Abraham finds that all the 
 
 2 a ' 
 
342 THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 affections of the man, all the tenderness of the father, the 
 confidence and failh of the believer, the love and zeal of a 
 saint, are opposed to his design of offering up his son. 
 Humanity shudders at this bloody spectacle ; nature abhors, 
 it ; faith seems to resist it. Zeal and love for God cannot 
 support the idea of it. Let us examine these four conflicts 
 which terminate in four crowns for our triumphant patriarch. 
 Human nature in general beholds the death of man 
 only with pain ; but it looks upon their bloody death with 
 peculiar repugnance. That horror which our nature feels 
 at human bloodshed, has even attached a kind of infamy to 
 the profession of those who execute the most righteous 
 decrees, and who punish the guilty. How much greater 
 then is this infamy when innocent blood is spilt ? When 
 any one, impelled by the violence of passion, commits 
 a murder, he draws down upon himself the hatred of heaven 
 and earth. And what is it but murder to sacrifice a man 
 in cold blood, after three days 1 deliberation, after an 
 example of obedience and constancy so rare as that of this 
 man who presents himself to be immolated ? Yet Abraham, 
 a man, perceives nothing which does not move him to 
 compassion : Abraham, a father, feels nothing which does 
 not plead with him in favour of his son. His interest stands 
 opposed to this sorrowful sacrifice, he has been accustomed 
 to view Isaac as the support of his life, and he must devote 
 him to death. His regard for the honour of his character 
 cannot allow him to consent; the death of his son will fix 
 an eternal stigma on his memory. He has hitherto been an 
 example of justice and of piety, beloved by his neighbours, 
 and respected by the nations among whom he has sojourned, 
 and this action is going to render him odious to the whole 
 world; he will draw down upon himself the hatred and 
 imprecations of all mankind. All nations and all ages will 
 regard him as an assassin of his own son ; as an enemy of 
 his own bowels, w r ho pretended to murderous revelations, 
 and a cruel piety, to commit a crime which nature and 
 reason detest. If these reasons are powerful, the voice of 
 
THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. S43 
 
 paternal affection, which speaks from the bottom of his 
 heart, is yet more so : it is difficult to conceive "what must 
 be the emotions of his breast at the sight of a victim so dear 
 and so precious. This is the fruit of his loins, he received 
 him from heaven by a miracle in an advanced old age, 
 and when the years of Sara no longer allowed him to 
 encourage this hope. God had tried him by keeping him 
 long in a state of suspense. He had solemnized the birth 
 of this son by public marks of joy; he had abandoned 
 Ishmael and his mother for the love he bare to him; he had 
 brought him up with tender and anxious care; his soul 
 was cemented to that of his son ; he saw himself living 
 again in his person. Isaac, under the blessing of heaven, 
 inherited the virtues of his father, never was more respect 
 and obedience discoverable than in this beloved son, and 
 never did the affection of a tender father appear to be so 
 just and reasonable. In fine, the soul of Abraham is occu- 
 pied only with thoughts of his Isaac, and his heart is 
 engaged only on schemes and projects of paternal love. 
 He would have trembled at the least danger menacing 
 the life of his son, were not his heart encouraged by 
 reflecting on the promises of God ; but he has no reason to 
 apprehend that any accident will take from him a son 
 whom heaven has miraculously given to him. He employs 
 himself in returning thanks (o God for a present which he 
 so highly values, nor does he think he can sufficiently 
 express his gratitude, when suddenly his ears are struck 
 with these words : Abraham, take now thy son, thine only 
 son Isaac, whom thou loxest, and get thee into the land 
 of Moriah ; and offer him there for a burnt-offering upon 
 one of the mountains which I will tell thee of 
 
 If it is possible, brethren, only imagine the agitation and 
 trembling of Abraham, on hearing these words, so extraor- 
 dinary and so unexpected; and permit me for a moment 
 to give utterance, in your presence, to the heart of this 
 patriarch. " Is it I," says he, " Am I Abraham ? Is that 
 the voice of my God which I have heard ? Is it my son 
 
344 THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 that it demands of me ? What! my son, my son Isaac, 
 my only son, my joy, my consolation, shall I see thee 
 Stretched upon a pile, shall I bind thee myself, and shall I 
 embrue my hands in thy blood? Is this the fruit of thy 
 obedience and of the tenderness I have had for thee ? If it 
 be necessary to make such a sacrifice, is there no other 
 priest to be found for the task than myself ? Cannot my 
 son die without being slain by the hand of his father ? O 
 my son, must I mingle my tears with thy blood ? Must I 
 tear out my own bowels ? Is it my God who gives the 
 command ? And can God command me to commit a 
 crime? Is not Isaac the foundation of his promises ? Is it 
 not in Isaac that I am the father of many nations ? Shall I 
 immolate my son, who is a respondent for the fidelity of my 
 God, and a precious pledge of the truth of his promises ? 
 What will become of my faith, what will become of the 
 glory of God whom I serve ? Will not the nations have 
 reason to blaspheme the name of that God ? that great and 
 adorable name will be held in execration by all the people 
 of the earth. O if this should be the consequence, I would 
 rather perish myself with my son. Let my God launch 
 his thunders upon this mountain, and let him reduce me 
 and my son to powder, rather than that my obedience 
 should bring such dishonour upon his sacred name. I will 
 renounce myself, O God, but I cannot renounce the zeal 
 that animates me for thy glory. I will sacrifice my son to 
 thee, I will sacrifice myself, but I cannot sacrifice thine 
 interests, which are dearer to me than my own life, and the 
 life of my son : thy glory restrains me, thy holy name 
 arrests me. But have I forgotten that I am but dust and 
 ashes, that I should speak thus to my Creator ? His under- 
 standing is infinite, and mine is bounded. Isaac will 
 receive death from the hand of his father : but was it not 
 from the bosom of nothing and of death that it pleased God 
 to bring him into life ? Was he not conceived in a woml} 
 which old age had already deadened ? Is God less able to 
 raise him from the tomb than he was to draw him from 
 
1HE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. 345 
 
 nothing ? Is it becoming in me to refuse my son to that 
 great God, to whom I am indebted for whatever I am, and 
 whatever I possess ? If he will have the life of my son, is 
 he not sufficiently powerful to take it, and am I strong 
 enough to prevent him ? No, no, I return from my wan- 
 derings, my faith cannot be more enlightened than that of 
 him who gave it birth, nor do I know the interests of God 
 better than God himself: I will content myself with glo- 
 rifying him by my obedience. Since he has raised me 
 above all men on the earth by the blessings which he has 
 conferred upon me, I must rise above the reasonings and 
 common weaknesses of men, to do what he commands me. 
 O God, I sacrifice to thee my son, in spite of nature, and 
 the blood that curdles round my heart ; 1 immolate to thee 
 my joy and my hopes. It is my heart that I offer to thee 
 upon this gloomy pile ; my heart is the burnt-offering 
 which I readily present to thee in spite of my weakness, 
 and which I am going to slay." Thus we may suppose 
 that Abraham spoke, while his arm was already stretched 
 out to slay his son. His faith and zeal overcame every 
 other sentiment. There were in Abraham two men, two 
 understandings, two wills : the man of God and the na- 
 tural man ; the old man and the new man ; the will of 
 the flesh and the will of the Spirit ; reason and faith ; the 
 understanding of the man and the understanding of ihe 
 believer. Two Abrahams combated one against the other; 
 but divine and heavenly principles raise him far above 
 those which are carnal and terrestrial. Grace triumphs 
 over nature. 
 
 Abraham makes a double sacrifice to God ; an exterior 
 sacrifice upon the mountain, and an interior sacrifice in the 
 secret of his soul. In the one he takes his son and binds 
 him : in the other he immolates to God the sentiments of 
 his soul. Outwardly it is Isaac who is offered up, inwardly 
 it is Abraham who suffers and who sacrifices himself. 
 Abraham ascends upon a mountain to finish the exterior 
 sacrifice ; the heart of Abraham rises above all the obstacles 
 
346 THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM., 
 
 of the earth, above the weaknesses of flesh and blood, above 
 temporal considerations, and ascends towards God to ac- 
 complish the interior sacrifice. The outward sacrifice is 
 stayed, only because the sacrifice within is completed. 
 Isaac rises only after faith has immolated Abraham. O, my 
 brethren, what greatness, what elevation ! This is not only 
 to obtain a victory over the weaknesses of his heart, but a 
 triumph over the most legitimate feelings of nature. This 
 is not merely to overcome doubt and unbelief, but it is to 
 combat a reason which reposes upon the promises of God 
 and the assurance of faith. This is not a conflict of the 
 affections of man with the glory and the interests of God ; 
 it is a conflict in which paternal tenderness and human 
 affection unite themselves with the glory and the interests of 
 the Deity. 
 
 Behold a sacrifice which includes all others : behold a 
 man who, by one oblation, immolates all things to God. 
 He sacrifices to him his wealth which lie desired only for 
 the sake of Isaac, his joy which depended upon the preser- 
 vation of his son, his hopes which rested upon him, his love 
 and his tenderness which were fixed upon this son, his very 
 reason which could not comprehend the meaning of this 
 strange sacrifice. But he also sacrifices to him something 
 which appears to be more considerable, and which has 
 commonly been dearer to the hearts of men ; he immolates 
 to him a sentiment to which we have seen the most illustrious 
 men sacrifice all things. They have so ardently loved that 
 glory and eclat which accompany virtue, that they have 
 renounced all other advantages to be able to boast that they 
 possessed this ; but behold a man who, in obedience to the 
 orders of heaven, rejects, despises, and, in a certain sense, 
 tramples under foot that glory, that eclat, those fine names, 
 those honourable titles which accompany virtue. He 
 assumes the appearance of a criminal, he is willing to pass 
 for a murderer — the murderer of his own son. It seems 
 as if the love of God, which transports him, and the zeal 
 which animates him, change the nature of things upon 
 
THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. , 347 
 
 this mountain. Sin appears to be no more ski, murder 
 becomes legitimate, and crime demands praise. Why ? 
 because God alone is his rule. He sees none but God, he 
 hears none but God, he recognizes neither vice nor virtue 
 but in relation to God. True elevation of an holy soul! 
 sublime impulse of an heart inspired with zeal for God ! 
 Human virtues are only efforts which we make to sacrifice 
 our passions and self-love, that we may exalt ourselves; 
 efforts which do not prevent us from returning again to 
 ourselves : but Abraham goes out of himself, and rises 
 indeed to God. Never did the Deity regard a sacrifice 
 with so much pleasure, — never did heaven behold so de- 
 lightful a spectacle. But yet this is not the greatest object 
 which our faith discovers here, it is not the sacrifice of 
 Abraham which demands our highest admiration ; there is 
 yet something remains more worthy of his attention and of 
 ours. He is now upon the mount Moriah, but let him 
 only lift up his eyes, and he shall behold the mount of 
 Calvary, his son will discover to him his Saviour, the arm 
 which he has lifted up will shew him the arm of God raised 
 against the victim of the human race, and he will find an 
 adorable mystery which saves him, in that strange sacrifice 
 which has alarmed all the tender feelings of his heart. 
 
 SECOND PART. 
 
 In fact, my brethren, the sacrifice of Abraham has been 
 handed down to us as a great and splendid type of the 
 sacrifice of the cross. Abraham immolates his only son. 
 God also sacrifices his own Son. You see on Moriah a 
 murder in appearance, which conceals a sacrifice in effect; 
 on the mount of Calvary you find an oblation where you 
 only thought you beheld an execrable murder. The 
 victim of Abraham has received being by a miracle; Isaac 
 was conceived in the womb of a barren woman. The 
 victim of God has come into the world by a birth yet 
 more miraculous ; Jesus Christ was conceived in the womb 
 
348 THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 of a virgin. Isaac is represented to us as an innocent and 
 submissive victim, who docs not murmur even when his 
 father stretches out his arm to sacrifice him ; Jesus Christ 
 was holy, harmless, undcfled, and separate from sinners; he 
 was led as a lamb to the, slaughter. Abraham has already 
 seized the knife, and is about to plunge it into the bosom 
 of his son, without having lost any of the tenderness which 
 he has always had for him. The Eternal Father lays his 
 strokes upon his Son, who has ever been the object of his de- 
 light, and in whom lie has always taken the highest pleasure. 
 Isaac, the foundation of the promises of God, on whose life 
 depended the hopes of the church, and who seemed to 
 include in himself all the benedictions of God, is about to 
 be sacrificed upon a mountain, and even by the order of 
 God. But what a prodigy ; Jesus Christ, the Messiah, the 
 Redeemer of Israel, he who must bring deliverance to 
 Jacob, and who is only sent into the world to free him from 
 his sins, that Jesus who, so to speak, holds in his hands all 
 the graces and all the benedictions of heaven, is going to 
 suffer death, and even by the eternal counsel of God. Who 
 is not surprised at this event ? Isaac, reviving as it were, 
 after his sacrifice, and in a certain sense arising from under 
 the knife which his father had already suspended over him, 
 leaves a posterity numerous as the stars of heaven, and as 
 the sand of the sea, in which are accomplished the promises 
 and the oracles of God ; Jesus Christ, really restored to life 
 after the sacrifice of his body, and, rising gloriously after 
 his death, beholds an infinite number of his children and 
 disciples who follow him, and whom he renders partici- 
 pators of all the graces and of all the blessings of heaven, 
 according to that ancient prediction, when thou shall make 
 his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall 
 prolong his days, and the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper 
 in his hand. 
 
 Behold the agreement which subsists between these two 
 sacrifices, and which obliges us to consider one of these 
 objects in the other as in the most perfect type : but behold 
 
THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. 549 
 
 the difference which distinguishes them, and which dis- 
 covers to us how much the image sinks below the original. 
 
 Go to Moriah, and you will there find a victim who 
 follows the priest without knowing at first whither he is 
 going, and who asks his father, where is the lamb for a 
 burnt-offering ? Turn your eye towards Calvary, and you 
 will see Jesus Christ who exposes himself voluntarily to the 
 sword of his Father, and who, perfectly acquainted with 
 his destiny, says to him, Lo, I come to do thy zoill, O God. 
 There angels are sent from heaven to arrest the arm of 
 Abraham ; here devils issue from hell to hasten the death 
 of Jesus Christ. In the sacrifice of Isaac, the fire, the knife, 
 the sacrificer, are visible, but the victim does not at first 
 appear; in the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, the victim appears 
 first, but the knife, which is the sword of divine justice, and 
 the fire, which consists in the ardour of his wrath and judg- 
 ments, are invisible, are only seen by the eyes of faith. 
 Upon the mountain of Moriah Abraham sacrifices his son 
 to his master, to his benefactor, to his creator, to his God ; 
 upon the mount of Calvary, God immolates his Son for 
 the salvation of men, who are nothing but meanness, misery, 
 and corruption. There Abraham renounces his blood and 
 himself to obey a God who can amply reward him for his loss; 
 here God gives what he esteems the most precious to save 
 men who have not even the means in themselves of simply 
 expressing their gratitude, and who could never find it in 
 their own bosoms. There we see one who is but dust and 
 ashes making a sacrifice to God, of what he received from 
 him ; here we see the Deity sacrificing the object of his eternal 
 affection and delight, of his treasure, of his Son, for the 
 salvation of dust and ashes. In fine, in the one is a man 
 who is sacrificed to God ; in the other is a God who is 
 sacrificed for the salvation of man. Here flesh and blood 
 must be silent, and cease to murmur. Abraham does infi- 
 nitely less for God, than God has already done for Abraham. 
 He presents his son, he binds him to slay him; but God has 
 already slain his Son for the salvation of Abraham ; for 
 
3oO TK1L SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 this, in the language of scripture, is the lamb slain before 
 the foundation of the world. Heaven has then prevented 
 the earth. And does Abraham then exalt himself by this 
 action ? No, he remains profoundly abased before his 
 Creator. Does he not attempt to justify himself before 
 God ? JNo, but he lays himself under renewed obligations : 
 he receives all from God, when he seems fo give up all to 
 God, since the father and the son, the priest and the victim, 
 have no real existence but in the regard that God already 
 has to the sacrifice of the cross. Had not God alreadv 
 sacrificed his Son for the salvation of Abraham, Abraham 
 would not have been in a condition to sacrifice his son to 
 God. It is the efficacy of the blood which Jesus must shed, 
 that gives strength to Abraham to raise his arm that he may 
 shed his own blood. The virtue and the zeal which are 
 so illustriously displayed upon the mountain of Moriah, 
 have their first source and principle upon the mount of 
 Calvary. 
 
 Thus, my brethren, the sacrifice of Jesus Christ is found 
 in the sacrifice of Isaac in its type; the sacrifice of Isaac is 
 found in the sacrifice of Jesus Christ in its accomplishment. 
 From the sacrifice of Jesus Christ proceed the strength and 
 virtue which inspire Abraham ; from the sacrifice of Abra- 
 ham proceeds the light which discovers the sacrifice of 
 Jesus Christ. But both must be found in the sacrifice of 
 our hearts, which is their legitimate and natural end. This 
 is the third object of our meditation, w ith which we pur* 
 pose to finish this discourse, 
 
 THIRD PART. 
 
 It is very proper that we should admire the two great 
 objects which we have just set before you, but permit us to 
 say, that this admiration would be wholly useless, unless it 
 were accompanied with the practice of those duties which 
 these truths enforce upon us. The great point is, to draw 
 from them those consequences which may influence our 
 
THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. 351 
 
 lives ; we must now, therefore, dwell for a few moments 
 upon the sacrifice of ourselves. In effect, the words of our 
 text oblige us to draw four conclusions. Abraham irarao- 
 laics to God his only begotten son ; we ought then to sacrifice 
 to God whatever is most dear_and precious to us. Abraham 
 hears neither the murmurs nor oppositions of flesh and 
 blood ; he does not even assign any of those reasons which 
 seem so plain and specious, and which naturally strike the 
 mind, to justify him in dispensing with the commandment of 
 God : we ought then to renounce all those vain reasonings 
 and pretexts which flesh and blood employ to prevent us 
 from doinjr whatever God commands us. Abraham loses no 
 time ; no sooner does he hear the voice of God directing 
 him, than he sets out on his journey ; and he binds his son 
 immediately that he has reached the destined spot : wa 
 ought then to render to God a prompt obedience. We 
 must not look behind, but we must glorify God in promptly 
 sacrificing our vices. In fine, the holy patriarch neither 
 trembles nor wavers when he is commanded to sacrifice his 
 son, he stretches out his hand, he seizes the knife; we 
 ought not then to content ourselves with a few feeble and 
 imperfect dispositions of a pious tendency which we may 
 feel within us. We must neither delay, nor dissemble, 
 nor lose our courage, when we are required to renounce our 
 vices and to sacrifice our passions. Four truths with which 
 our text furnishes us for the instruction of our consciences, 
 and upon which we shall do well to meditate. 
 
 1. It appears that the commandment which God gave 
 to Abraham was a mysterious commandment. In exacting 
 this sublime effort of virtue from the father of the faithful, 
 he seems to have described the kind of sacrifice which lie 
 should demand from believers in future times. Abraham 
 was obliged to testify his faith by the sacrifice of his son; 
 true believers under the gospel are obliged to testify their 
 faith by renouncing themselves. Jesus Christ, the teacher 
 sent from God, teaches them that they must hate their own 
 souls for his sake, that they must pluck out their eyes and 
 
ZOZ THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 cut off their hands to enter into the celestial kingdom to 
 which he calls Ihem. It is true these words are figurative, 
 but they are not the less forcible on that account, since the 
 Son of God considered this truth of so much importance, 
 that he chose to employ the most lively expressions to 
 render it intelligible. 
 
 But to confine ourselves to the ideas in our text, it is 
 proper to remark that we all carry about with us an Isaac 
 in our hearts, or rather that there are three Isaacs in every 
 one of us. There is an Isaac of sin, an Isaac of nature, 
 and an Isaac of grace. The first we must every where, 
 and at all times, sacrifice to God; the second we are not 
 called to immolate but in certain circumstances, and the 
 third God requires that we always spare. 
 
 If you are anxious to know what is this Isaac of sin, ask 
 your heart what is the vice which it loves ? It is that 
 criminal pleasure which voluptuousness promises you ; 
 it is that cruel satisfaction which vengeance gives you ; it 
 is that malignant joy which the misfortunes of others 
 produce in your hearts, and of which you dare not make a 
 public avowal ; it is whatever gives a relish to slander; it 
 is that fatal and worldly joy which you derive from the 
 human passions; it is the pleasure which avarice, pride, 
 and ambition communicate; it is, in fine, the fruit which 
 you think that you derive from all the sins that you 
 commit. Can we hesitate to sacrifice to God this Isaac of 
 corruption, when we see Abraham offering his Isaac to 
 God, that Isaac, the object of his tenderness, that Isaac 
 whom he loves ? Shall we love vice more than Abraham 
 loved his son ? If this patriarch binds an Isaac whom 
 heaven had given to him, shall we fear to sacrifice an Isaac 
 which hell has placed in our hearts ? Can we contemplate 
 Abraham lifting up his arm to destroy the work of God at 
 the divine command, and hesitate one moment about destroy- 
 ing the work of the devil, when God so often exhorts us to it. 
 Abraham sacrifices an Isaac who is the foundation of all the 
 promises of God \ and shall not we put that Isaac to death 
 
THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. Sob 
 
 who is the foundation of all his threatenings ? Abraham is 
 going to slay him from whom must proceed the salvation 
 and benediction of the people ; and shall not we sacrifice 
 that idol which engenders only misery and death ? 
 
 And, my brethren, we must yet make a greater sacrifice. 
 We must sacrifice to God that Isaac of nature, that innocent 
 Isaac whom we love without crime, but whom we cannot 
 refuse to God without ingratitude. There are three occa- 
 sions on which God demands from you this sacrifice : they 
 are, the times of sickness, the season of adversity, and 
 the day of death. In sickness we must sacrifice to God the 
 complaints and murmurings of human nature, the hope of 
 health which can never be re-established, the sight of friends 
 which are goi?ig to be taken away from us. In adversity 
 we must sacrifice to him the good things which we justly 
 possessed, and which we possess no more. Finally, in 
 death, we must make a voluntary offering of all that we are 
 going to leave behind us. We must offer to God relations, 
 friends, estates, riches, grandeur, the care of our chil- 
 dren, the preservation of our families, father and mother, 
 and whatever we possess. For, doubt not, my brethren, 
 that we can make a present to God of things that we 
 no longer possess. We can offer him whatever we lose 
 without fearing that he will refuse it. We can sacrifice to 
 him tilings which are not in our power : this is the excel- 
 lence, and the wonderful advantage of religion. 
 
 We give to God whatever we cheerfully relinquish for 
 his sake, and hence we place ourselves above the necessity 
 which bears us away : but this can only be done by early 
 acquiring an holy habitude of detaching ourselves from 
 the world, and fixing our confidence upon the spiritual 
 good which God promises us. This sacrifice must begin 
 during life, and terminate at death ; we must incessantly 
 sacrifice ourselves to God by submitting ourselves, without 
 murmuring, to the sacred orders of Providence ; by acqui- 
 escing in his good pleasure in all things, and by humbly 
 receiving the good and the evil, which in his wisdom 
 
554 THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 he is plcrised to dispense to us, being always in that 
 disposition which made Job formerly to say, the Lord gave, 
 and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of 
 the Lord. Finally, we must renounce our reason, our 
 desires, and our feelings, when the renunciation of them 
 is requisite to the advancement of his glory. 
 
 2. But perhaps you will say, how can we rise thus above 
 ourselves ? Are we Abrahams, that we should sacrifice 
 ourselves to God ? Are we Abrahams ! and what matters 
 it, my brethren, that we are not? Are we under less 
 obligations to God than that ancient patriarch ? Are our 
 means of knowledge less than his ? Abraham performs this 
 action without an example, but we have the example of 
 Abraham before our eyes. Abraham only knew the Deify 
 through the mysterious shadows and veils with which he 
 then covered himself; but we all with open face behold as 
 in a glass the glory of the Lord. Abraham had no clear and 
 distinct ideas of the salvation which we have obtained 
 through the blood of our Lord ; but we see the life, 
 glory, and immortality which are brought to light by Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
 Shall our zeal then grow colder, because grace hath 
 appeared unto us? Shall our gratitude dimmish, because 
 the heavens are opened to us ? Shall we discover such 
 weakness, because we are not solitary as Abraham was, but 
 are encompassed with so great a cloud of witnesses who 
 encourage us by their example, and whom we have seen 
 pass before us, martyrs of God in this career of blood 
 and tears ? Shall we no more sacrifice ourselves for God, 
 since the Son of God has sacrificed himself for us ? 
 
 Or rather is there less necessity now to immolate to God 
 our affections and vices, than Abraham formerly had to 
 sacrifice his son ? Is the voice from heaven now silent 
 which formerly spake to this patriarch ? No, it speaks to 
 us in a multiplicity of ways, all clear and intelligible. Do 
 you suppose that the oracle of Abraham does not a 1 dress 
 us ? God speaks to us by the mouth ot the prophets ; 
 
THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. 355 
 
 he speaks to us by the eternal word ; he speaks to us by the 
 wounds of his Son, which are so many mouths to teach 
 us our duty. He descends in tongues of fire upon the 
 apostles, to speak to us by their ministry ; every day- 
 he employs the voice of his servants to speak to our 
 consciences ; and instead of one command which he ad- 
 dressed formerly to Abraham, he addresses to you an 
 infinity of exhortations, and reiterates incessantly in your 
 ears his command of death to sin, and renunciation of 
 the world. How blind are we, my brethren, if we yet find 
 it difficult to understand the will of this great God, who still 
 speaks to us ; and if we do not yet know that we must take 
 up our cross and follow him, that he calls us all to die, 
 to hate ourselves, and to glorify him by a prompt renunci- 
 ation of the dhisiiws of the flesh, and the delights of sin ? 
 
 My dear brethren, we are sufficiently acquainted with our 
 duty : but the self-love and cupidity which enslave us, find 
 a thousand pretexts to prevent us from rendering to God the 
 obedience which we owe to him. I must sacrifice my 
 resentments to God; I know it, we say in the recesses of our 
 hearts ; but I am cruelly insulted, my honour is at stake ; 
 as if in making a sacrifice to God we must give up nothing. 
 I must relinquish this object of sensuality and mirth ; but; 
 the inclination which draws me towards it is so strong, 
 I cannot forsake it. I must renounce the world ; but I 
 must also imitate its customs, and live as others. I 
 must follow the Saviour who proposes himself as an ex- 
 ample to us that we should tread in his steps ; but shall I 
 oppose commonly received practices, and expose myself Jo 
 the shafis of satire and of slander, by an extraordinary 
 conduct ? Vain pretexts of flesh and blood, ridiculous and 
 miserable evasions of an heart possessed with the world and 
 its vanities! Can you compare these empty reasonings tvitli 
 those specious and plausible pretexts which presented 
 themselves to the mind of Abraham r Had he wished 
 to dispense with the obligation of obeying his God, heaven 
 and earth, nature and religion, furnished him with abundant 
 
356 * THE SACRIFICE Ot ABRAHAM. 
 
 excuses : but he despises every thing to obey promptly 
 the voice of his God, who gives him the command. 
 
 The love of the world which is in us, and the habit which 
 we cherish of warmly interesting ourselves in the affairs of 
 this life, determine our minds to take the part of the world, 
 and to seek for false reasons to dispense with banishing 
 it from our hearts. But were we accustomed to the long 
 and holy habit of loving our God more than all the objects 
 of this life, as Abraham was, we should take the part 
 of God against the world, without listening to the language 
 of that impostor who only makes use of our weakness, our 
 hesitations, and our delays, to vanquish us. 
 
 3. If Abraham had at first had too much complaisance 
 for the feelings of flesh and blood, and the tender move- 
 ments of his heart, which pleaded with him in behalf 
 of Isaac, he would have fallen from one degree of weakness 
 to another, and the sight of his son would have caused the 
 knife to drop from his hand ; and then his purpose to obey 
 God, and the efforts he had employed, would have been of 
 no avail, since he must inevitably have been guilty of 
 rebellion and disobedience in the sight of God. Thus, my 
 brethren, let us beware that we cherish none of those cow- 
 ardly weaknesses, of those criminal condescensions to our 
 passions, which leave vice to live and reign in our hearts. 
 Let us arm ourselves with a holy severity in this respect, 
 and above all let us hasten to profit by the good dispo- 
 sitions which God produces in our hearts, if it is true that 
 we are to-day moved by that great object which now strikes 
 our eyes. No hesitation, no delay ; — to-day, — at this hour, — 
 this moment, let us hear the voice of God, let us not harden 
 our hearts ; let us imitate the holy patriarch in the fervour 
 and promptitude of his zeal ; let us hasten to sacrifice 
 to God our pride, our avarice, our voluptuousness, our 
 ambition, our slander, our resentments, our doubts, our 
 murmurs, O how pleasant an odour will this sacrifice send 
 forth before God, who regards us to-day, and who perceives 
 the bottom of our thoughts and hearts ! O how will our 
 
THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM. 3,5/ 
 
 souls be filled with consolation and joy. if while we hear 
 the voice of God, and faith transports us to the mount 
 Moriah, we sacrifice ourselves to God by a sincere re- 
 pentance, by a happy separation from whatever engages 
 our affections, and by a prompt renunciation of whatever 
 charms our hearts. 
 
 4. Let us not fear to renounce whatever is dear to us, and 
 be well assured that the depravity of our hearts is so great 
 that if we w ish to know 7 what are cur most fatal attachments, 
 we have only to examine what those are v, hit h inspire us with 
 most joy and pleasure. Sin, in almost (very case, pleases us 
 in proportion as it is dangerous; and we may say in almost 
 every case that it is dangerous in proportion a> it pleases 
 us. Do not then spare a vice because it is the delight 
 of your hear! : Abraham did not so reflect respecting 
 Isaac, and why shou'd you respecting sin ? Whatever 
 in your souls opposes itself to the glo~v ot God, destroy it, 
 annihilate it, sacrifice it to him who demands it. SeifcP the 
 victim; grasp the knife; boldly strike the blow: expect 
 not that heaven will send you angels io interrupt this 
 sacrifice : they will be sent only to exhort you to finish it : 
 and he:rven and this pulpit will never adclr ss to you 
 any other language. — To-day, then, present your bodies 
 a living sacrifice, hoty^ acceptable unto God, whuh is your 
 reasonable service, and be certain that this happy annihi- 
 lation of yourselves will give birth to the most lively 
 hopes. You will ascem! towards God while you sacrifice 
 all things to his glory, and God will descend towards you 
 as he came of old time to Abraham, and will say ^o 
 you, — Now I know that thou fear est God. To this great 
 God, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, be honour, glory, 
 majesty, and dominion, for ever and ever. Amen. 
 
 2b 
 
MOUCHON. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 Pierre Mouciion was the son of an industrious watch-maker at 
 Geneva, who brought up a family of thirteen children, of winch he 
 was the eldest. He first drew his breath the 30th of July, 1733, and 
 died August 20, 1797. His genius was very extensive, and embraced 
 the whole circle of the sciences, and his mechanical talents so great, 
 that, had he followed secular concerns, he would no doubt have 
 increased the temporal welfare of his family, as well as his own. 
 His knowledge of fortifications procured for him an invitation from 
 France, under very promising circumstances, but he refused every 
 other profession, and entered upon the office of the ministry on the 
 18th of August, 1758. 
 
 His early labours obtained the greatest approbation. He was 
 reckoned an able defender of the truth, and a most distinguished 
 orator. Richness of idea, strength of argument, an harmonious and 
 diversified style, lively images — in a word, ingenuity, solidity, and 
 vigour, were considered as the peculiar features of his discourses. 
 
 These talents had to contend with the disadvantages incidental to 
 the sacred profession, where trivial iucomes are united to limited 
 circumstances ; and it has been much lamented that the eight best 
 years of such a genius should have been devoted from necessity to 
 the instruction of youth. 
 
 The expences of his family increasing, he removed to Basle, and 
 there became pastor of the French church in the year 17G6. 
 
 About this time he engaged to prepare the Analytical Table of the 
 Encyclopaedia, and received from M. M. Cramer and De Tournes 
 the handsome sum of eight hundred louis for his labours. This work 
 was an arrangement of all the articles of the Encyclopede in regular 
 order ; so that instead of perusing them in detached parts, as they 
 stood in the alphabet, the lover of any science might have the regular 
 epitome of and reference to the whole placed before him at one 
 view. It required much labour, and the most extensive acquaintance 
 
mouchox. 359 
 
 with the sciences. The work occupied five years, and made two 
 folio volumes. 
 
 Mouchon returned to Geneva in the month of May, 1778, and 
 having been elected a pastor in that city, he had now obtained one 
 of the first wishes of his heart, which was always fixed upon that 
 place. But he returned to it with some difficulty, for he was offered 
 the citizenship of Basle, which was a rare honour, and various other 
 advantages, if he coutd have heen prevailed upon to refuse the 
 invitation to his native spot; and on his departure numbers of his 
 parishioners followed him out of the city, and pastor and people 
 presented a scene similar to that of the separation of St. Paul from 
 the Ephesians. Nor was this momentary, for the same affection was 
 discoverable when he many years afterwards revisited that place. 
 At Geneva he long laboured highly esteemed by his fellow-citizens, 
 and also filled the office of one of the superiors of the College, to 
 which he was elected in 1791. In this city he ended his days. 
 
 As a speaker, this preacher possessed many advantages. His 
 constitution was strong and robust, his voice loud and sonorous, 
 his pronunciation clear and distinct, and his manner earnest and 
 animated. He never had need to crave attention, he always com- 
 manded it. 
 
 As a man he was formed for friendship, and was greatly beloved ; 
 and though naturally of a warm temper, the influence of his religion 
 had entirely vanquished it. 
 
 There is one trait in his character, to which is attributed a very 
 great share of his success ; and as this volume may be perused by 
 many just entering the field of labour, the propriety of the remarks 
 made by his biographer on this part of his conduct will fully justify 
 the quotation of them at length. " One leading quality of his mind we 
 ought not to forget, because it particularly distinguished him, that is, 
 the spirit of order, which, in the most minute as well as in the 
 greatest things, never abandoned him, which presided over every 
 moment of his time, regulated it in an early stage of business, and 
 fitly arranged all its occupations. To do one thing after another is a 
 precept for the conduct of life, the observation of which is not very 
 common, and which includes much that is important in its extreme 
 simplicity. The true secret of doing much, is to do it well. Imagi- 
 nation, the enemy of this spirit of order, is the tyrant of literary men, 
 because it intrudes upon the hours of labour, and comes to trouble 
 and distract. To make it useful in our studies, wc should confine it, 
 and bring it into subjection, and not allow it to domineer over us ;. 
 for it is as bad as a master, as it is good as a servant. Without this 
 regularity the mind is fatigued, the time is lost, the most active 
 spirits descend to a level with the most indolent, and are tormented 
 
360 MOUCHON. 
 
 by that anxiety which the confusion and multiplicity of affairs never 
 fail to produce, and which is to them a discreditable circumstance. 
 Exact in the details without being minute, M. Mouchon, who felt 
 very strongly that the excellence of the execution depends always on 
 the perfection of the details, placed a great value on regular occu- 
 pations which made them succeed, and his activity was directed by 
 an exquisite discernment." Mouchon was twice married; his first 
 wife, to whom he was tenderly attached, died in 1789, after an union 
 of thirty years ; his second lived with him seven years. He was 
 equally happy in both. 
 
 The five children of Mouchon, three sons and two daughters by 
 his first marriage, are singularly separated, and are settled in Berlin, 
 Holland, France, America, and one son in the ministry at Geneva, 
 where his father was gratified by assisting in his ordination. 
 
 This preacher died suddenly of an apoplexy, while preparing to 
 set off on a journey to Switzerland. His sermons are a posthumous 
 production, in two volumes 8vo. ; to which are prefixed a long 
 memorial of the author, drawn up by his colleagues at Geneva, who 
 greatly regretted his loss. 
 
 Their partiality may have given him a higher character than he 
 deserves, especially when they exalt him above Massillon. Massillon, 
 they say, is more touching, but he more great and elevated. Yet 
 there is certainly great strength and dignity in his style, and his 
 discourses are lively and interesting. His sermons are well arranged, 
 and never weary from their length. They contain some very fine 
 passages for the common-place book. They are perfectly consonant 
 with the doctrines of the reformed church, but are not in general 
 remarkable for doctrinal discussion, nor experimental truth. These 
 discourses are very scarce, though but recently published. From some 
 circumstances which have transpired, the translator is led to suspect 
 that there have been two preachers of this name, whose sermons 
 nave been published. He has heard of a volume bearing the name 
 of Mouchon of a very early date, but he has neither been able to 
 obtain it, nor any account of the preacher. 
 
SERMON X. 
 GOD MANIFESTED BY JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 MOUCHON. 
 
 1 Tim. iii. 16. — Without controversy great is the mystery of godliness ; 
 God was manifest in the flesh, justified in the Spirit, seen of 
 angels, preached unto the Gentiles, believed on in the world, 
 received up into glory. 
 
 What a richness of expressions and ideas! "What impor- 
 tant truths, Christians, are contained in the words which you 
 have just heard ! Every thing here is adapted to awaken 
 admiration and gratitude, and to sanctify the heart. God 
 dwells no more in light inaccessible : his majesty descends 
 upon the earth : angels render immortal homage to him in 
 the sight of men : the Son of the Most High brings us 
 the doctrine of salvation. Israel saw the first rays of 
 the sun of righteousness ; but his beneficent beams now 
 give life to the world. The gospel shall be published 
 among ail nations : and, at length, the Son of God, 
 the conqueror of sin and the benefactor of the human 
 race, like a hero crowned with glory and honour, shall be 
 exalted in the heavens, and enjoy the fruits of his victory. 
 Such are the great objects which are here presented to you: 
 too familiar perhaps to your minds to strike by their 
 excellence; but you, penetrating spirits, who delight your- 
 selves in contemplating sublime objects, and who desire 
 to search into great truths, behold a mystery, equally 
 profound and sublime, here offered to your meditation; 
 you, pious souls, who seek in religion only the sanctification 
 of your hearts, come hither and satisfy your desires, come 
 
36 c 2 GOD MANIFESTED BY JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 and contemplate with us the great mystery of godliness. 
 For this purpose, Christians, we shall first explain the 
 propositions of our text, and develope the truths which 
 they contain. We shall prove, in the second place, that 
 their assemblage is a mystery, which displays the most 
 dazzling characters of greatness. We shall shew, lastly, 
 the end of this mystery ; that is, godliness, which it must pro- 
 duce in our souls : without controversy great is the mystery 
 of godliness; God mas manifest in the flesh , justified in the 
 Spirit, seen of angels, preached unto the Gentiles, believed on 
 in the world, received up into glory ! Without doubt, 
 Christians, so many sublime objects sufficiently interest your 
 hearts, without the necessity of soliciting your attention, 
 
 FIRST PART. 
 
 No man can see my face and live; thus spake the 
 supreme God under the old law. His face was veiled ; his 
 glory appeared only in the ministry of the holy angels, the 
 executors and interpreters of his will. But, Christians, 
 this dark economy, the shadow of good things to come, 
 continued only for a time : God, in a certain respect, 
 has rendered himself visible now he has spoken to us 
 in these last days by his Son, in whom dwell all the fulness 
 of the godhead bodily, God, says our text, was manifest 
 in the flesh. 
 
 A manifestation which shews, first, the importance of the 
 doctrine which Jesus Christ is come to announce. Trans- 
 port yourselves into those times of darkness in which 
 the gospel first appeared. Walking in the vanity of their 
 mind, having the understanding darkened ; the nations knew 
 not the hand that formed them, the providence that was 
 their guide. Although that which could be known of God 
 had been manifested to them ; although God ceased not to 
 speak to their consciences, in his character of Judge and 
 Ruler, and to all their senses as the Supreme Benefactor ; 
 yet they were plunged into degradation and crime. Every 
 
GOD MANIFESTED EY JESUS CHRIST. 363 
 
 succeeding age surpassed the impiety of former ages, and a 
 false philosophy, converting its own errors into principles, 
 and meanly accommodating itself to the superstition of the 
 people, rendered the evil more sad and incurable. 
 
 It was then of the greatest moment that men should be 
 raised from this unhappy degradation : and for this purpose 
 it was necessary first to disperse the darkness which con- 
 cealed the Creator and Ruler of the world from their view ; 
 then to establish that Providence which, invisible in principle 
 and essence, is yet strikingly discoverable in the events of 
 this lower world : and then, fixing the religion of man upon 
 tins sure foundation, to lead him to that spiritual, rational, 
 and pure worship, which restores the creature to his true 
 relation to the Creator. Such then, Christians, was the 
 work which the Son of God came to execute here below. 
 He cleared up all the difficulties of the divine government, 
 which all the efforts of philosophy could never accomplish. 
 He made the Creator known to us, under the endearing 
 and consoling relations of Rewarder and Father, till then 
 but barely conjecture. His superabounding mercy, for 
 which no mortal had dared to hope, and which was 
 never before revealed to mar?, is revealed to us. The plan 
 of salvation, dictated by his wisdom, is executed before 
 our eyes ; his will is published without any reserve ; and 
 although by a human mouth, with all divine authority. 
 No more veils, no more obscurity, no more mystery: 
 Jesus has appeared ; God was manifest in thejlesh. 
 
 And this manifestation, my brethren, was so much the 
 more perfect, as God communicated himself to him in a 
 peculiar manner. The glory of the Creator, of which he 
 is the faithful image, shone in him. Sublime virtues, 
 immense power, profound wisdom, infinite knowledge, — 
 all the divine perfections beamed from his person, before 
 the eyes of mortals. 
 
 Here appeared first, the love of the Saviour of men. 
 Chrisiians, what character did the Son of God discover 
 here below ? How are your hearts affected with that 
 
364 GOD MANIFESTED BY JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 renunciation of glory, that abject condition, those sufferings, 
 that death, to reconcile the world to God ; when the 
 world, far from desiring it, did not even suspect its distance 
 from God ? How are your hearts affected with the conse- 
 cration of his life to the succour of humanity, the deliverance 
 of it from its evils, and the guidance of it to felicity, by the 
 way of perfection ? Love, love of my God ! who can 
 remain ignorant of thee, with such dazzling traits ? Thus 
 then, through Jesus, this divine virtue strikes the attention, 
 and rejoices the hearts of mortals. 
 
 With love, wisdom also shines in Jesus. From the 
 beginning the heavens and the earth preached it to our 
 hearts ; but men knew it not. It must have a human form ; 
 it must be rendered palpable to our senses. Jesus shews 
 it to us alive, in that simplicity, and that dignity, which 
 form his true character. See his conduct, hear his conver- 
 sation, admire his wisdom, on every occasion ! See how he 
 sustains the dignity of his ministry ! how he adapts his 
 instructions to the circumstances, the capacities, the neces- 
 sities of those who hear him ! how he exposes and overcomes 
 the subtilty of wicked men, affects hearts, and commands 
 the highest admiration. Could God himself, laying aside 
 his glory, appear in any other manner among men ? Be 
 not surprised, God was in Jesus, reconciling the world to 
 himself; he is God manifest in the flesh. 
 
 And from hence, Christians, that infinite knowledge which 
 God gave him, not only of the mysteries of nature, but of 
 the bottom even of the consciences and of the most hidden 
 secrets of the human heart ; from hence that immense power, 
 which life and death, angels and devils, inanimate beings, 
 nature and the elements, obeyed ; from hence, in a word, 
 that royalty, that empire, which now places the universe 
 under his feet. In every respect, then, Jesus is truly the 
 brightness of the Father's glory, and the express image 
 of his person: whosoever hath seen him hath seen the 
 Father also, 
 
 God, having been manifest in the flesh, was justified in the 
 
GOD MANIFESTED BY JESUS CHRIST. 365 
 
 Spirit} adds St. Paul ; that is to say. to the wonderful 
 works of which we have just spoken, God resolved to add 
 splendid testimonies in favour of his Son, equally adapted 
 to convince the world and to confound infidelity. 
 
 Consider first that long train of oracles dictated by 
 the Spirit of God, which bearing as a focus of light upon 
 the person of the Redeemer, left no doubt in an attentive 
 and impartial mind, respecting the time in which the 
 Messiah should appear, the place of his birth, and of 
 his tribe, his ancestors, his particular character, the end 
 of his coming into the world, his virtues, his abject life, 
 his cruel death, his resurrection, his glory. Is there a 
 single interesting feature, characterizing the Saviour of 
 the world, by which the prophets have not announced 
 him ? Have they not described that astonishing contrast of 
 profound abasement and supreme exaltation, which, since 
 the world began, has never been found in any man, but in 
 Jesus ? Can we read the prophets with an unprejudiced 
 heart, without being immediately forced to admit the 
 gospel ? Can we know the gospel without being immediately 
 possessed of the key to whatever the prophets have 
 announced ? 
 
 But as such researches often merely set the mind at ease, 
 while the conviction which they produce is not sufficiently 
 deep, it was necessary that Jesus should be, so to speak, in- 
 stall d by God himself, in the presence of mortals. The divine 
 Spirit then descends upon him in a signal manner. From 
 the height of the most excellent glory, a celestial voice is 
 heard, which bears witness to the Son of his love, declares 
 him his ambassador, the eternal object of his delight, and 
 consequently whom we, the human race, are to hear as God 
 himself. Here we are no more dependent upon profound 
 researches, and speculations where reason is so often seduced 
 by prejudice : the testimony is solemn ; and to render 
 it more authentic, God repeats it on three different occa- 
 sions : incredulity now absolutely remains without excuse. 
 
 But the Son of God was principally justified by the 
 
5\)0 GOD MAX J TESTED BY JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 Spirit, when, after his ascension, the gifts of that Spirit were 
 bestowed to enrich the apostles. Till then conviction 
 existed only in the hearts of the disciples, who were the 
 witnesses of their exalted master's glory : the progress of 
 Christianity was suspended ; the first heralds of the gospel 
 kept silence ; ungrateful Jerusalem yet triumphed. And 
 iti such a state of things what will become of the work of 
 the Lord ? Shall the prodigies of divine grace be obli- 
 terated from the memories of men ? Will the human race 
 remain ignorant of their Redeemer ? How will this sacred 
 fire, now concealed under the ashes, at last consume the 
 universal world ? It belonged not to men to resolve these 
 important questions, but Providence was about soon to 
 complete the grandeur of his work : Jesus had promised 
 the Holy Spirit to the apostles ; he sends him. And thus, 
 Christians, he dispels every doubt, if any yet remained ; he 
 bears a decided witness to the glory which Christ enjoys, 
 destroys perfectly the scandal of his cross, raises the courage 
 of his messengers, and gives them strength sufficient to 
 triumph over the whole world. Thus, according to my 
 text, after having been manifested in the flesh, the Lord 
 Jesus is justified by the Spirit. 
 
 Here, Christians, the apostle combines every thing that is 
 great and glorious in the manifestation of salvation. Seen 
 of angels, adds he; remarkable words, which the apostle 
 explains elsewhere, when he represents the supreme God, 
 introducing his Son into the world, and commanding the 
 angels to worship him. What happened in heaven, when 
 this Son, burning with love, resolved to execute the won- 
 derful design of saving men ? Doubtless the angels, struck 
 With such love, cast their crowns at his feet, and burst forth 
 into songs of praise. It is not for us, my brethren, to 
 speak of the invisible things of God : the spectacle of the 
 celestial powers belongs not to flesh and blood. But at the 
 birth of the Saviour of the world, the angels themselves 
 come to establish the communication between earth and 
 heaven, to announce that peace so long desired, and solemnly 
 
GOD MANIFESTED BY JESUS CHRIST. 367 
 
 to celebrate the deliverance of the human race. No sooner 
 lias the Lord honoured the world with his presence, than 
 these submit to his orders, and attend upon him. After the 
 conflicts of his temptations, they gather around him, and 
 minister unto him. In the midst of his agony they come 
 to succour his fainting spirit. As soon as he is risen, they 
 announce his victory to his friends. And to console them 
 after his return into heaven, they carefully proclaim to them 
 his triumph. And, without doubt, at his entrance into the 
 heavenly places, Jesus Christ was seen of angels. "What 
 an holy ardour must inspire these sublime intelligences, to 
 hasten to contemplate Hie Lord of Lords, to celebrate 
 his combats and his glory, and to render homage to his 
 immortal virtues ! 
 
 The apostles, on their part, the witnesses of so many 
 prodigies, now feel their faith and their courage fortifying 
 them in an invincible manner. Who. indeed, can conceive 
 the strength, the zeal, the ardour, which must produce in 
 them such demonstrations of the Spirit and of power ? Also, 
 when the divine Spirit enriciies these Christians with his gifts, 
 the^ become valiant champions ready to die for the cause of 
 the Lord Jesus : neither the efforts of devils, nor menaces of 
 the 1 mighty, nor the obstinacy of the world, can diminish 
 their courage. Their preaching makes astonishing progress, 
 surpassing any thing ever before seen. The mystery of 
 the manifestation of God is announced to the Gentiles, and 
 received in the world, in the most glorious manner. And 
 thus is accomplished the great mystery of godliness, God 
 manifest in the flesh, justified in the Spirit, seen of angels, 
 preached unto the Gentiles, believed on in the zcortd, and 
 received up into glory. 
 
 Let us now prove, Christians, that this series of prodigies 
 includes the most striking characters of greatness. This is 
 the subject of my second point. 
 
168 GOD MANIFESTED BY JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 SECOND PART. 
 
 There are few religions which have not had their 
 mysteries. Paganism had its mysteries, absurd mysteries, 
 hideous rites, worthy of the darkness with which they were 
 surrounded. The Christian religion, pure, excellent, and 
 true, lias sanctified this word in applying it to that order of 
 truths which is above the human understanding, of which 
 God has only unveiled what is requisite to regenerate 
 the heart ; truths which are obscure and incomprehensible, 
 while we seek only to nourish a vain curiosity; sanctifying 
 truths when applied to godliness. 
 
 This term mystery also frequently signifies an important 
 event, quite unexpected, which men could never have fore- 
 seen, and which God has concealed in his own counsels until 
 the time determined for its developement. Thus the calling 
 of the Gentiles, so contrary to the pretensions of the Jew, 
 and so far from human expectation, is called by St. Paul, 
 a mystery. Thus the great mystery, — that which includes 
 and completes all the rest, the manifestation of which dis- 
 sipates the obscurity of the ancient oracles, makes the 
 divine perfections to shine before our eyes with increasing 
 splendour, and transports us, so to speak, into the counsel of 
 the Creator, — is the mystery of godliness ; God manifest 
 in the flesh. 
 
 And first, Christians, this mystery will appear great 
 from the sublime ideas which it gives us of its author. 
 Whatever we now conceive of God, whatever our senses 
 and reflections discover of him, permits us not to doubt 
 that the plans which he forms, and the manner in which he 
 executes them, bear about them the most striking marks of 
 excellence. He has no need, like us, of comparing his 
 ideas to separate the false from the true ; to rise slowly? by a 
 chain of consequences, to a desired truth; to dispel that 
 gloomy cloud which collects in our stormy passions : he 
 perceives every thing at the first glance. The true, the 
 
GOD MANIFESTED BY JESUS CHRIST. 369 
 
 good, the just, shine in his eyes with invariable splendour: 
 or rather he is himself truth, goodness, justice ; and what- 
 ever he conceives, whatever he executes, bears necessarily 
 that character of wisdom which must always imprint the, 
 infinity of his attributes upon his works. 
 
 Behold, Christians, what our feeble reason already makes 
 us conceive of God ; but, above all, behold what the 
 mystery of godliness shews us in a clearer manner. 
 Here recollect, first, the incomprehensible work of God's 
 love. The Gentiles were walking, as St. Paul says, in the 
 vanity of their mind. Instead of those important truths, 
 which reveal to man his origin and his destiny, they had 
 substituted ridiculous fables, and monstrous systems; and 
 the falsehoods of an extravagant philosophy prevailed in 
 their hearts over the voice of the universe which proclaims 
 a God. Crimes raised to the rank of virtues, marched in 
 the train of superstition, which with its dark veil covered 
 the earth. What now wili that great God do, whose hap- 
 piness is unchangeable ; who, though the human race should 
 all perish, would still remain the Being of beings, inde- 
 pendent, immortal, blessed ? Men, by their excesses, seem 
 to wish to provoke his vengeance ; but will he then destroy 
 his unhappy creatures ? Will he for ever abandon the 
 work of his hands ? 
 
 You know, Christians, that this God, whose essence is 
 love, takes pity on these wanderers ; his bowels of mercy 
 move. However you have criminally forgotten your father, 
 yet your father never for a moment loses sight of you ; the 
 greatness of the means which he is going to employ to 
 redeem you, will make you feel that the greatness of his 
 compassions can even bear him above the atrocity of your 
 ingratitude. Two perfections of the Creator, indeed, 
 appear here to be opposed to each other: on one side 
 justice lifts up its vengeful arm ; on the other, mercy 
 suspends the blow : how then can their unalterable claims 
 agree? How can mercy shiiie forth, without infringing 
 upon justice? 
 
370 GOD MANIFESTED BY JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 But, Christians, the wisdom of the Creator, in its inex- 
 haustible treasures, is about to devise the means. He clothes 
 his only Son, his Son burning with love like himself, — he 
 clothes him in weak and mortal flesh. The Saviour will be 
 delivered to death even by those whom he comes to save : but 
 by this death the crime is punished, justice appeased, the 
 guilty penitent escapes, love triumphs. Adorable mystery of 
 a God who delights himself in diffusing happiness ! Behold 
 what he himself has condescended to discover to us : all the 
 rest is impenetrable ; it is as an abyss, the bottom of which it 
 belongs not to the angels to fathom. Let us then content 
 ourselves with admiring its greatness, respecting its obscu- 
 rities, and crying out, O the depth of the riches both of the 
 wisdom and knowledge of God! hou) unsearchable are his 
 judgments, and his ways past finding out ! 
 
 The mystery of godliness will not less strike you, if you 
 observe it in all the greatness and excellency of its end. It 
 was then necessary, Christians, to retrace in the heart of 
 man those majestic traits of innocence and purity, those 
 august characters of the Creator's image, which had been 
 shamefully effaced. It was requisite to add a luminous, 
 authentic, and perfect revelation, to the miserably cor- 
 rupted principles of natural religion. It was necessary to 
 establish calmness and innocence in the heart; and concord 
 and peace in societies ; to substitute for the imperfect sacri- 
 fices of the former worshippers, a victim of infinite price for 
 men of all times and in all places ; to teach men to render to 
 the Creator the homage of the heart and the mind, which is 
 the only way to honour and glorify him ; in a word, to draw 
 the world as it were from its thick darkness, and to sanctify 
 it. O ! how sublime are these designs ! What excellence 
 in such a plan! What are all the mysteries of human 
 wisdom, all the ends at which policy is forced to arrive by 
 innumerable well-concerted plans ? What are all the dis- 
 coveries of arts and science, all the ardent researches of the 
 most exalted mind, compared with the mystery of God 
 manifest in the flesh? A mystery which opens to us all the 
 
GOD MANIFESTED BY JESUS CHRIST. 3/1 
 
 treasures of the most valuable knowledge, a mystery which 
 restores the bliss of immortality to our souls, and teaches 
 us how to attain it. Where is the wise ? where is the scribe? 
 where is the dispuler of this worlds who could render this 
 important service to the human race f Certainly, Christians, 
 great is the mystery of godliness, God was manifest hi 
 the flesh ! 
 
 This appears in the third place, if you consider it in 
 .lesus by whom it was manifested. His life from his birth 
 was but a continual series of humiliations and miseries : 
 the divinity which dwelt in him, often pierced through an 
 infirm flesh, and his majesty ravished the eyes of mortals: 
 like those great men of the earth who, under a mean exterior, 
 discover the splendour of their origin by the dignity of 
 their sentiments. Already, even before his birth, every thing 
 is in motion in the expectation of a redeemer. Now peace, 
 of which in a higher sense he is the minister from God, anti- 
 cipates his arrival, and establishing itself among all nations, 
 it already appears as a prelude to his great ministry, and a 
 preparation of the ways of this illustrious deliverer. Is lie 
 born ? the angels descend from heaven, as if they saw nothing 
 so wonderful there as that which has just happened upon 
 earth ; the world resounds with their sacred songs in honour 
 of the Prince of Peace. An extraordinary star directs to 
 the place of his birth. Judea is agitated and disordered ; 
 it is about to be the theatre of the prodigies which this 
 envoy from heaven shall perform. His body, it is true, 
 will become the victim of malice; but, even in this his 
 mighty power will appear : he will burst the bands ofdeath^ 
 not only for himself but for all men, he will quit the tomb 
 as a conqueror, he will be seen of angels, who will publish 
 his triumph : an immortal triumph ! soon shall he be placed 
 upon the throne of his Father, far above all principality, and 
 power, and might, and dominion, that at the name of Jesus 
 every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in 
 earth, and things under the earth : and that every tongue 
 
 i 
 
372 GOD MANIFESTED BY JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God 
 the Father. 
 
 In fine, my brethren, that which completes the greatness 
 of this mystery is the splendid success with which its pub- 
 lication was soon crowned. For having been preached 
 unto the Gentiles, my text says, he was believed on in the 
 world. 
 
 Here, Christians, St. Paul sees by anticipation what had 
 not yet happened ; the world converted, the truth justified, 
 the gospel every where triumphant. But how could those 
 ambassadors of Christ expect their future triumph from 
 the very bosom of reproach ? How could twelve men, 
 without learning, without reputation, without human 
 power, — how could they dare, even for a moment, to 
 conceive the astonishing, may I say, the absurd, the extra- 
 vagant design of reforming the world ? How happened 
 it that their courage was not confounded at the very com- 
 mencement of so immense a project, when they saw the 
 difficulties they must experience, the forerunners of the 
 torments reserved for them, the feebleness and poverty of 
 the means with which they were provided, the folly of 
 reckoning upon success, and the fate which awaited them ? 
 Yet these astonishing men dare to speak : they venture to 
 brave the storms and the tempests; they attack corruption 
 even on the throne, and overturn the empire of falsehood ; 
 they tell the great men of the earth, that the good things in 
 which they glory are only snares and vanities, and that they 
 must substitute the rigours and the tears of repentance for the 
 pleasures of the world; and they preach to the poor con- 
 tentment under their lot. They combat principles univer- 
 sally adopted, abuses consecrated by policy, reb'gion, and 
 philosophy. Would you, Christians, judge of the gre ■■ + ness 
 of the obstacles which impede this enterprize ? Qui y consider 
 how much it costs to correct one solilary abuse in a stnte, 
 to banish one single disorder, to form one useful establish- 
 ment, and then judge of what nature was the enterprize of 
 
GOD MAXIFESTED EY JESUS CHRIST. 373 
 
 converting the world. Nevertheless, men are congregated by 
 thousands ; persecution is redoubled ; but the blood of the 
 martyrs is as a seed which peoples the church of the 
 sainfs ; and the efforts of its enemies only tend to render it 
 more stable. Oh, what then is this train of wonders ? 
 What a Providence presides over these astonishing revolu- 
 tions ! Yes, you recognize it, Christians : great is the 
 mystery of godliness ; God was manifest in the flesh, justified 
 in the Spirit, seen of angels, preached unto the Gentiles, 
 believed on in the world, received up into glory ! 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 Now, Christians, if the custom of hearing the works of 
 God celebrated has not weakened the impression of them 
 on your hearts, — if while I addressed the word to you, God 
 himself spoke within you, and supplied for the feebleness 
 of the preacher, — what profound admiration ! what holy 
 emotions will the great truths, which you have heard, excite 
 in your souls ! Behold, now is the accepted time, — behold, 
 now is the day of salvation. We have just opened to you 
 the work of God; what now is the work of man? That 
 the one may be worthy of the other, there must be more 
 than transports, more than vows, which one day often wit- 
 nesses just springing up and then vanishing away : there must 
 be godliness. St. Paul teaches you this in my text ; the 
 mystery that we announce to you is the mystery of godliness^ 
 and every event, every trait that it offers, must impress it 
 upon your hearts. And, Christians, are you indeed smick 
 with the greatness of the design which Gog formed tor the 
 salvation of men ? Think, at the same time, that there 
 would have been, in this long train of wond-rs, an astonish- 
 ing superabundance of means, a very superfluous provision, 
 had it not been necessary to fit men for he»ven. No, it is 
 not thus that the Divinity proceeds ; he acts not like us 
 by a simple arbitrary will, by caprice or ostentation : 
 
 2c 
 
374 GOD MANIFESTED BY JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 every divine attribute invariably maintains its rights ; and in 
 the works of the Creator, in all his designs, goodness, 
 wisdom, justice, and holiness, equally keep pace with each 
 other. Behold, Christians, the explication of so many 
 prodigies which astonish you ; but, on the other hand, 
 behold the confirmation of the decree determined on high, 
 that man must concur with God in so great a work, in 
 imprinting godliness on his heart, in approaching God in 
 gratitude and holiness, as God approaches him in mercy 
 and love. 
 
 After this, Christians, fix your regards for a moment 
 upon Jesus, executing and consummating the generous 
 design of his mercy. If you are truly his disciples, if his 
 spirit is in you, what ought his humiliations to say to your 
 hearts, — that grief, that cross, that torn body, that shed 
 blood, that death, of which you yourselves, as sinners, were 
 the cause and the object ? How should the world be to 
 you what it was to your master; thus ought you to esteem 
 its good things ; thus ought you to seek its welfare ; or 
 rather, let us say, thus ought you to repulse its attractions, 
 to brave its threatenings, to trample its promises under foot^ 
 and to acquire continually a splendid victory over it. 
 
 Go farther : carefully follow every truth of the gospel 
 system, of which there is not one that is not a motive to 
 godliness. If the Son of God comes into the world to bless 
 t/0Uy it is, says the gospel, in turning away every one of 
 you from his iniquities. If he founds a church here below, 
 it is to form a people who shall be consecrated to him by 
 good works, an assembly of saints, of regenerate, of priests, 
 and kings. If he dies, it is that we ourselves, being dead to 
 sin, may finally appear before God without spot or blemish. 
 If he rises, it is that we should henceforth live a new life 
 with him. If he is received into glory, it is that we should 
 set our hearts there, and that we should conduct ourselves 
 as citizens here below. Admirable combination ! Beauty 
 without equal in the religion of the Lord Jesus, where the 
 
GOD MANIFESTED BY JESUS CHRIST. 375 
 
 mystery tends only to godliness, and where godliness alone 
 can make us admire the greatness of the mystery ! Excellent 
 union, worthy of the most holy, who is the author of it. 
 
 And moreover consider, how this obligation to godliness 
 is yet more powerfully enforced by gratitude. If our salva- 
 tion has been the principal object of the designs of God ; if 
 those astonishing revolutions, which have so often agitated 
 the world, have been but, the developement of the plan of 
 redemption executed by Providence ; what then is the 
 crime of those base souls, always sensual in their pursuits, 
 incapable of concurring in such sublime designs ? What, 
 my brethren, have your souls been so precious in the 
 eyes of the Creator ! Was it about you that the Eternal 
 Being occupied himself before all ages ! Is it for you that 
 the prophets have been inspired, that the divine oracles 
 have been announced, that the heavens have brought forth 
 the holy and the just, that Jesus humbled himself even to 
 death, that the powers of the heavens are shaken ! And yet 
 you remain insensible! and render this work useless by your 
 indiiference ! Ah ! perish, perish {lie ungrateful man who 
 feels not his heart burn with celestial fire, and whose frozen 
 soul contends yet with his God ! Yes ; remember then 
 that great punishments are always attached to the despisers 
 of great grace, and that the severity of God is never more 
 terrible than when the riches of his love are exhausted upon 
 insensible hearts. See, says the apostle, that ye refuse not 
 him that speaketh—for if the zcora spoken by angels was 
 steadfast, and every transgression and disobedience reeeived a 
 just recompence of reward, how shall we escape if we neglect 
 so great salvation. 
 
 Would you then, Christians, enter more fully into the 
 designs of the Supreme Benefactor ? Let godlin; ss establish 
 itself in the centre of your hearts, that it may be there as 
 a sacred fire penetrating and inflaming them, converting 
 them into burnt-offerings to the God of holiness. P rsuade 
 yourselves no longer that it is sufficient to un with ardour 
 into our temples, and to wear the exterior of meditation in 
 
376 GOD MANIFESTED BY JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 approaching the holy table. Vain demonstrations ! without 
 the sacrifice of a broken spirit, without godly sorrow, without 
 godliness, your devotion, your worship is nothing: your 
 hymns are no more than a sounding brass and a tinkling 
 cymbal. I do not go far enough ; fear,— above all fear, that 
 by continuing to obey only the voice of your passions,, 
 without appreciating the favour which the Lord offers to 
 you, neither the greatness of your engagements, nor the 
 excess of the torments which he has suffered for you, nor 
 the recollection of so many former infidelities, may be ca- 
 pable of reforming you; fear lest the mystery of godliness, 
 which in the intention of God, is a savour of life, may 
 become by a terrible judgment, a savour of death in you 
 that perish. 
 
 You that perish ! Oh ! great God, deign to remove such 
 frightful presages ! Let thy saving work be accomplished 
 in the midst of us. Hasten, Almighty God! Behold our 
 years fly away, our iniquities multiply, thy terrible day i& 
 about soon to come upon us; the fatal moment approaches 
 in which the sepulchre shall swallow its prey, in which the 
 time of patience shall be exhausted, and there remains 
 nothing but an eternity for justice ! What fruit, then, 
 shall we have had in those things whereof our consciences 
 are already ashamed ? Alas I they terminate in death ; but 
 if we are now free from sin, if godliness really exists 
 in our hearts, we shall have our fruit unto holiness, and the 
 end everlasting life. Amen 1 
 
HUET. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE, 
 
 x heodore Huet was thirteen years pastor at the Hague aud at 
 Amsterdam. There are three volumes of his sermons in 8vo. which 
 contain nothing remarkable, and four posthumous volumes of Dis- 
 courses on the Sections of the Catechism of Calvin, which were 
 published at Amsterdam by his widow in 1734. The latter combine 
 critical and practical remarks on the principal Doctrines of Divine 
 Revelation, and may be found useful for students in theology. The 
 following discourse has been selected from these to give the reader a 
 specimen of the manner in which the ministers of the French re- 
 formed church have been accustomed to explain their articles of 
 fairfi in a periodical course of lectures. A short paragraph has been 
 omitted, because the translator did not think that his readers would 
 deem it essential to the grand argument to drag Popery into the 
 ■discussion of the subject. 
 
SERMON XI. 
 
 THE DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 HUET. 
 
 John x. 30. — I and the Father are one. 
 
 \jhristiaxs, we destine this discourse to maintain the 
 rights of your Saviour. We purpose to set before you the 
 glory of his attributes, and the excellency of his person. 
 But whatever splendour shines in the Revelation of his 
 sovereign Majesty, by whatever sensible proofs it may have 
 verified the august names of own Son, only Son, eternal Son 
 of God, there is not one of these titles against which the 
 sacrilegious hand has not dared to aim a blow. 
 
 Here the disciple of the synagogue rises up against the 
 Lord and against his anointed, despises the decree of him 
 who has said, thou art my son, this day have I begotten 
 thee ; and instead of bowing the knee in the presence of 
 this Jesus, whom all the angels of God worship, charges his 
 titles with falsehood, and treats as impostures the oracles of 
 eternal truth. There, in the seat of Christianity, appears 
 the inauspicious cloud of heresy, which, under the specious 
 pretext of exalting the glory of the Father, endeavours to 
 bury that of the Son beneath the shades of the sophistical 
 art. In the first ages of the church we behold a priest, 
 consecrated to the altars of Jesus Christ, arming himself 
 against those same altars which he ought to have defended 
 at the price of his blood, and degrading the Redeemer of 
 men to the rank of those creatures who owe their existence 
 and their faculties to the good pleasure of the Creator. In 
 
THE "DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 379 
 
 vain do the councils hurl their anathemas at the head of 
 Arius. In vain do the true pastors of the faithful devote 
 all their cares to preserve their flocks from the poison of his 
 ■doctrines. Arius dies, but he does not. carry them with 
 him into the night of the tomb. Arius 1ms successors, 
 who are followed by others. The error to which the East 
 gave birth fourteen centuries ago, and to stifle which in the 
 cradle every effort was employed in vain, the West has 
 seen resuscitated during two hundred years, and per- 
 petuated in different climates and under different forms. 
 And would to God it were necessary to go back beyond 
 the age in which we live to find the tenets of Arianism! 
 Would to God that w 7 e had need of the aids of history to 
 instruct us about that lamentable sect, which makes itself 
 so celebrated in the world, and so terrific to the church ! 
 But, without forming superfluous wishes, without expressing 
 useless regrets towards error, let us fix our regards upon 
 truth. Let us standfast in the faith, and instead of suffering 
 ourselves to be tossed to and fro by every wind of doctrine, 
 let us listen only to that infallible teacher given to the 
 church to lead it into alt truth. Let us hear the eulogium 
 which the Holy Spirit makes upon the person of our 
 Saviour : In the beginning was the zcord, and the word tea* 
 with God, and the word was God. The same was in the 
 beginning with God. All things were made by him, and 
 without him was not any thing made that was made. 
 
 Come, my dear brethren, behold the glory of your con- 
 dition, while you contemplate the glory or this Word, who. 
 by his incarnation, is become like to yourselves in partici- 
 pating your miseries, that he may make you like unto 
 himself hy the communication of his holiness and happiness. 
 Come and render the homage of your minds and hearts to 
 that Jesus who receives the adorations of cherubim, seraphim, 
 and angels. Let us unite our sentiments with those of the 
 church triumphant, and let earth answering to heaven sing 
 that immortal song, Worthy is the Lamb that zcas slain to 
 receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and 
 
380 THE DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 honour, and glory, and blessing.— Blessing and honour, and 
 glory and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, 
 and unto the Lamb for ever and ever. 
 
 Our discourse will contain two general parts. I. We 
 must establish the sense of the words of our text, / and the 
 Father are one. II. In recalling to you the principal proofs 
 of the divinity of the Redeemer, we shall justify this 
 profession of faith, J believe in Jesus Christ, the only be- 
 gotten Son of God. 
 
 FIRST PART. 
 
 The occasion of the words of our text was the conver- 
 sation which Jesus Christ had with the Jews on the divinity 
 of his mission. They came round about him, with the 
 apparent intention of knowing from his own mouth whether 
 he was the Messiah, and with the design of entrapping him 
 in some manner, if he answered their inquiry. In case he 
 should refuse to declare himself, they hoped to make the 
 multitude suspicious of him, by accusing him of having 
 sometimes assumed a title which he did not dare uniformly 
 to sustain. But if, on the contrary, he should declare 
 himself in the presence of all the people, they might bring 
 an accusation against him a' the tribunal of the Sanhedrim, 
 or of the Roman Governor, an accusation sufficiently proved, 
 by his making himself pass for the deliverer who was to 
 redeem Israel. It appears from all that follows, that it was 
 in this spirit that they asked him, how long wilt thou make 
 us to doubt ? If thou art the Christ, tell us plainly. The 
 Saviour, who carried his piercing regards into the most 
 secret thoughts, discovers their real malice under these 
 appearances of sincerity. He adapts his answer to the 
 end which his enemies propose in interrogating him. 
 "Without declaring himself in a decided manner, he con- 
 tents himself with calling to their recollection the miracles 
 which he has performed, that they may judge for themselves 
 what HE must be, whose power can controul at pleasure 
 
THE DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 381 
 
 the course of nature's laws. To this solid, though indirect 
 answer, he also adds the reproach of their incredulity, which 
 has so blinded them, that they know not and persecute their 
 Saviour. Ye believe not, says he to them, became ye are not 
 of my sheep. My sheep hear my voice, and I knozv them, and 
 they follow me. And to prove to them that they are as 
 miserable as they are criminal, he sets before their eyes the 
 felicity which he destines for those true believers, whom he 
 lias just designated under the name of sheep; a felicity 
 which consists in an exemption from all the terrors of 
 death, and in the possession of a life eternally blessed ; a 
 felicity, the hope of which nothing can shake, since on the 
 one hand he himself becomes the guarantee, and beholds the 
 divine power combined for its protection : and on the other 
 hand th re is a necessary harmony, an indissoluble bond 
 between their reciprocal conduct. It is upon this harmony 
 that he establishes the proof in our text, by the intimate 
 communion which he declares himself to have with the 
 Deity, — I and the Father are one. 
 
 Such was the occasion of these celebrated words. This 
 abridged commentary on the connexion, already serves 
 to fix the sense of this verse. It includes the reason why 
 Jesus Christ had just said, that none could pluck his 
 sheep out of his hand, since the Father who gave them to 
 him was greater than all things. We do not at first see the 
 consequence of these ideas. We do not feel how much the 
 infinite power of God proves the perfect assurance of the 
 happiness of believers under the protection of Jesus Christ, 
 while we remain ignorant of the relations which unite 
 him to his Father. He expresses these relations by the most 
 powerful terms of which human language is capable. He 
 affirms that we cannot separate the idea of the one from that 
 of the other, on account of their mutual union. This is 
 neither disputable nor disputed. But when we demand the 
 sense of this same proposition, when we examine whether 
 it means a proper unity, which consists in the participation 
 of the same nature, which is the point here, or whether we 
 
582 THE DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 are to consider the expressions, like a great many similaf 
 ones, intended only to describe a metaphorical unity which 
 merely respects the thoughts, purposes, and actions, we 
 find expositors of contrary sentiments. Some, among 
 the number of whom we range ourselves, for reasons which 
 we shall soon assign, exclude every figurative idea from 
 these words, and regard them as an authentic decla- 
 ration of the eternal divinity of the Redeemer. Others, 
 ■without including the disciples of Socinus only, who 
 oppose the literal sense, think that it means here nothing 
 more than union of will between the Messiah and the Su- 
 preme Being, although in other respects they recognize Jesus 
 Christ as God over all blessed for ever. Among the latter is 
 the most illustrious of our reformers. Calvin not only 
 cannot discover in our text any proof that Jesus Christ is 
 God, but he accuses the weak logic of those who use it, 
 and expresses himself in a manner which I would not 
 advise any expositor or modem preacher to imitate in a 
 commentary or sermon. 
 
 For, my brethren, the common order of people usually 
 confound the persuasion which we have of any doctrine, 
 with the method which we employ to establish it. If we 
 wander from beaten paths, we seem to them to wander 
 from the truth. If in the choice of our arguments we do 
 not employ precisely the same as those which tradition 
 appears to have consecrated, we run a risk of being accused 
 or bad intentions. Nothing is more unjust than these pre- 
 judices. Nothing is more contrary to the privileges of the 
 spiritual man, who judgeth all things, while he himself 
 is judged of no man, than to wish to subject every mind to 
 the same conception. We may be very sound in a principle 
 without admitting all the proofs which others employ to 
 establish it. It is trampling under foot all the laws of 
 charity and right reason, to suspect a man of heresy because 
 in the choice of his arguments on a contested point he has 
 omitted such or such particular arguments. For example, 
 the necessity of grace in the conversion of a sinner is a 
 
THE DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 383 
 
 doctrine of our churches, and the scripture presses it in so 
 many different places, that there is no need to reckon the 
 proofs, but only to weigh them. One of these proofs, 
 which we consider most forcible, is this declaration of the 
 Saviour, in the forty-fourth verse of the sixth chapter of 
 tin's gospel : No man can come to me, except the Father winch 
 hath sent me draw him. But how powerful soever this evi- 
 dence may be, we believe that we should be guilty of injus- 
 tice if we were to accuse a theologian, who confirmed the 
 doctrine elsewhere, of denying the necessity of grace, be- 
 cause he could not discover it in this passage. Who could 
 endure this mode of reasoning: Calvin did not see the 
 divinity of Jesus Christ in our text; then Calvin was a 
 heretic on the divinity of Jesus Christ. It is precisely the 
 same kind of logic in both cases. 
 
 But, to improve this digression to the end which we always 
 propose, which is the formation of our hearers' minds for 
 the search after truth, learn, my brethren, not to form a 
 hasty opinion on any subject. Learn not to full into that 
 puerile reasoning which is only adapted to keep you in 
 gross ignorance : the explication of this passage is not that 
 of our ancestors, then it ought to be suspected. And when 
 this thought happens to enter into your minds, oppose to it 
 the example of that great reformer, who observed to this 
 purport respecting our text: " The ancient doctors have 
 greatly abused this passage, to prove that Jesus Christ is of 
 the same essence with his Father ; for our Lord Jesus does 
 not dispute here on the unity of the substance, but respecting 
 the oneness of action or design which he has with his 
 Father, that is to say, that whatever he does shall be con- 
 firmed by the power of his Father." You will find these 
 words of our incomparable Calvin, in his Commentary on 
 the Gospel of St. John. I am well persuaded that he is 
 mistaken. And you will agree with me, if you observe the 
 connexion of the words, of which our text is the conclusion, 
 the fury with which the Jews were inflamed against Jesus 
 Christ, with the reasons which they alleged to justify their 
 
384 THE DIVINITY OF JESU* CHRIST. 
 
 false zeal, and the answer which the Redeemer made to 
 them. All these combined reasons prove clearly that Jesus 
 Christ is the own Son, the only begotten Son of God, pos- 
 sessing the same divine nature with the father, by that 
 eternal, ineffable generation, which the language of man 
 could never express, which no human mind can com- 
 prehend. 
 
 First. This truth, Jesus is God blessed for ever with his 
 Father, he is one with him in an infinite essence, 
 appears evidently included in my text, by its connexion 
 with that which precedes it. That which precedes it is the 
 sublime promise of whu h we have already spoken ; that is, 
 the certainty of the salvation of the elect, founded upon 
 the infinite majesty of the Almighty, and the communion 
 of divinity which there is between the Father and the Son. 
 Then this real communion of perfections cannot subsist in 
 beings so different in their nature, as a mere mortal, and 
 Deity. The infinite attributes of the Creator could not be 
 given to the creature. He then who participates in the 
 divine power, can be no other than that Son who from all 
 eternity participates in the divine essence of the Father 
 by his high generation. Then if the divine essence appears 
 in the Messiah, as in him of whom he is the ambassador, 
 it is certain that the Messiah is equal to God, one zdth God 
 in the most true and proper sense. This is what those 
 words of our Lord express, My sheep shall never perish, 
 neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand; my Father 
 which gave them me, is greater than all; and no man is able 
 to pluck them out of my Father's hand. I and the Father 
 are one. 
 
 Behold a second proof of the sense which we have 
 adopted, the fury with which the Jews are inflamed at 
 the declaration which Jesus has just made. They scare* ly 
 allow him to finish* Scarcely can they perceive the 
 whole parallel which he has drawn between his own glory 
 and the essential glory of the Supreme Being, before their 
 eyes are struck with horror. Their false zeal is provoked 
 
THE DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST. S$5 
 
 at the idea of the divine majesty being outraged by the 
 pretensions of a man in whom they see nothing above 
 humanity. They are transported with rage at the name of 
 the Sou of God, because they feel all the distinction, all the 
 eminence of that title in the only sense in which Jesus has 
 applied it, as importing the unity of the s:ime essence, the 
 perfect resemblance of God, the entire equality of the 
 Father and the Son. Such a pretension, from the ignorance 
 and incredulity of those who hear him, can only appear 
 to them to be impious, detestable, and worthy of immediate 
 death. To avenge this crime of high treason against the 
 divine majesty, which they consider Jesus as having 
 dared to commit, they arm themselves against him upon 
 the very spot, and prepare without delay to execute the 
 cruel decn e of his punishment, which their blind passion 
 has pronouiiced. This we learn from the thirty-first verse, 
 Then the Jezvs took up stones again to stone him. 
 
 The third proof of our system is, the reasons which the 
 Jezvs allege to justify their fury. The Saviour addresses 
 to them these words, so well adapted to calm an impetuous 
 movement. With that magnanimity which has always cha- 
 racterized him in the midst of the storms of persecution, he 
 says gently to them, many good zvorks have I shewn you from 
 my Father ;for which of those zvorks do ye stone me ? These 
 words, in which wisdom, goodness, and greatness, are 
 equally united to strength of reasoning, and to justness of 
 reproach, serve to disarm them. At least they wish to 
 vindicate their atrocity by pleading the justice of their 
 cause. At least they declare that they are only influenced by 
 zeal for the sacred interests of heaven, not being able to 
 suffer a mortal to assume the sublime title of Son of God^ 
 in a sense of participation with the nature of the Father. 
 This is what they clearly express in their apology, which 
 proves that they have perfectly understood all the pre- 
 tensions of Jesus, when he says, / and the Father are one. 
 Head the thirty-third verse. The Jezvs answered him^ 
 faying, for a good work zee stone thee not; but for 
 
3§r5 THE DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 blasphemy ; and because that thou, being a man, makest 
 thyself God. 
 
 In fine, in the fourth place, the answer of the Redeemer 
 confirms our commentary. How can he justify himself 
 from the atrocious accusation of blasphemy ? What argu- 
 ments can he employ to vindicate his assumption of the 
 title of Son of God which he takes, and yet give a favour- 
 able sense to the unity which he himself has attributed to 
 the Supreme Being? Jesus Christ does not deny that he 
 is equal zcith God. He does not say to his adversaries that 
 they have misrepresented his thoughts. He does not reduce 
 his union to an agreement of will, to an imitation of virtues, 
 in a word, to an imperfect metaphorical resemblance, which 
 is to be found between the Creator and the creature. But 
 tliis he ought to do, if the Jews have falsely accused 
 him. The glory of God requires nothing less than such an 
 explanation. But instead of giving it to the Jews, the 
 Saviour leaves them with the first ideas which they have 
 conceived of his pretensions. He contents himself with 
 shewing them the precipitation in their conduct, founded 
 on the ignorance of their own sacred writings. He shuts 
 their mouths, without enlightening their minds, by a rea- 
 soning from the less to the greater, in technical language. 
 He employs that kind of argument, the consequence of 
 which is drawn and expressed in this manner, from the most 
 powerful reason, how much more may be inferred. Without 
 explaining himself respecting his equality with God, with- 
 out developing the signification of Son of the eternal Father, 
 Jesus Christ contents himself by exalting his character as 
 the Messiah above that of all human beings. He infers, that 
 if mere magistrates are called Gods, and Sons of God, in 
 that Revelation, the terms of which are so many infallible 
 oracles, from the most pozcerful reason with how much more 
 justice do this denomination, and those majestic titles, belong 
 to the Messiah, consecrated by heaven itself to this grand 
 mission, as being really and truly that eiernai Son of God, 
 alone capable of fulfilling such a ministry, according to so 
 
THE DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 38? 
 
 many oracles which have marked the divinity of the person" 
 of the Redeemer, promised to Israel. Witness Jeremiah in 
 the twenty-third chapter of his Revelations : Behold, the 
 days come, saith the Lord, that I will raise unto David a 
 righteous branch — and this is the name whereby lie shall be 
 called, the Lord our righteousness. Witness the second 
 verse of the fifth chapter of Micah : But thou, Bethlehem 
 Ephratah, though thou be little among the thousands of 
 Judah, yet out of thee shall he come forth unto me that is to 
 be ruler in Israel; whose goings forth have been from old, 
 from everlasting. Jesus Christ recals these great truths to 
 the Jews. He confounds their malignity by this mode of 
 arguing, leaving them without any excuse at the tribunal 
 of reason. Is it not written in your laze, I said, ye are gods? 
 If ye called them gods unto zchom the word of God came, 
 and the scripture cannot be broken ; say ye of him whom the 
 Father hath sanctified, and sent into the zcorld, thou blas- 
 jphemest, because I said I am the Son of God? Thus we 
 have established the sense of these words, 1 and the Father 
 are one. We have shewn that they include the adorable 
 mystery of the eternal Son, begotten of the substance of the 
 Father before all worlds. This is our first part. Let us 
 pass to the second, and recal to our minds some of those 
 evidences which the scripture furnishes of this great truth, 
 Jesus is one with the Father, he is the same deity as Jehovah, 
 the sovereign God, the creator of the heavens and the 
 earth. This is my second point. 
 
 SECOND PART. 
 
 That Jesus Christ was the only Son of God, by nature 
 from eternity, and not made so in time, as the daring 
 enemies of true Christianity assert, — that this Saviour was 
 the true God in a proper and real sense, we prove, my 
 brethren, — 1 . By the combination of honours which Revelation 
 demands for Jesus Christ. 2. By the perfections and 
 works which it attributes to him. 3. By the idea which. 
 
388 THE DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 it gives of his manner of existing. Let us weigh these 
 considerations. 
 
 1. The combination of honours which Revelation de- 
 mands for Jesus Christ proves the sense which I have 
 given to Ihis passage. JT and the Father are one. In the 
 scripture, both in the Old and New Testament^ God only 
 is the object of all religious worship. Nothing that is not 
 God can have any part in the supreme homage which 
 earth renders to heaven. Adoration is an honour which 
 belongs properly to the Supreme Being, it is a glory essential 
 to the governor of the world ; a glory which never was 
 susceptible of division or communication. This thesis is 
 that of right reason. Reason teaches whoever consults it, 
 that adoration supposes infinite perfections, that is to say, 
 the divinity of the subject which we adore. It supposes 
 immensity of presence, which extends to all places in the 
 universe, beholding all beings prostrate at his feet, at 
 the same instant, in places the most remote from each 
 other : omniscience to know all the desires which are formed 
 in the souls of mortals bowing down before the celestial 
 throne, and to read in the bottom of the heart the prnyers 
 which believers raise to heaven, without the utterance of 
 the voice : infinite pozver to satisfy the numerous wants 
 of the body and soul, and to bestow upon sinful and 
 miserable men who desire to be happy, all the good things 
 capable of rendering them so, both in time and in eternity. 
 Consequently, reason concludes that he only in whom 
 these perfections are found, ought to be adored by rational 
 creatures. 
 
 Let us hear a train of sound reasoning upon this subject 
 from the oracles of scripture. These say that God only 
 must be adored. These say it, and repeat it in every page. 
 Hear this fundamental law, Thou shah have no other Gods 
 before me. Hear this decision, Thou shalt zcorship the Lord 
 thy God, and him only shalt thou serve. Hear this formal 
 declaration, J am the Lord ; that is my name : and my glory 
 zvill I not give to another } neither my praise to graven images. 
 
k\ 
 
 THE DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 389 
 
 Has the gospel abrogated the law ? Has Christianity ex- 
 tended the limits of divine service to creatures ? Oh, 
 eternal shame to those who oblige us to propose to them 
 this insulting question ? O grief, that men, who call them- 
 selves Christians, trample under foot the principles of 
 Christianity in a matter of worship and adoration ! See the 
 description which St Paul gives of the crimes of idolatry : 
 they have changed the truth of God into a He, and worshipped 
 and served the creature more than the Creator, who is blessed 
 forever. Amen. Behold the bitter grief of the apostles: 
 when the inhabitants of Lystra wished to offer them sacri- 
 fices, they rent their clothes, and ran in among the people, 
 crying out, and saying, Sirs, zvhy do ye these things? We 
 also are men of like passions with you! See St. John cen- 
 sured by an angel from heaven, whose glory bad dazzled 
 him: And I fell at his feet to worship him. And he said 
 unto me, see thou do it not : I am thy fellow-servant — worship 
 God. Thus our maxim is well supported. God alone 
 is adorable, God alone merits the homage of religious 
 worship. 
 
 From hence necessarily follows the consequence that we 
 wish to draw from it, that is, the consubsiantiality of the 
 word, the unity ef the Son with the Father. For who can 
 deny that Jesus Christ is presented to us in scripture as 
 worthy of adoration ? Who will dare to say that the same 
 honours due to the Father, are not demanded for the Son ? 
 Prayers, vows, oaths, solemn worship, devotion of the 
 closet, all these effusions of the faithful soul have Jesus 
 Christ for their object. All the inhabitants of the earth are 
 so many subjects who owe this tribute of adoration to the 
 monarch of the Christians, from the example of the celestial 
 intelligences themselves. Witness that order issued from 
 the divine mouth, as David and St. Paul teach us : When 
 he bringeth the first-begotten into the world, he saith, And 
 let all the angels of God worship him. Witness the 
 vision related by St. John in the fifth chapter of the Reve- 
 lation : And I beheld, and I heard the voice of many angels 
 
 2d 
 
390 THE DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 round about the throne, and the beasts and the elders — and 
 every creature which is in heaven, and on the earth, and under 
 the earth, and such as are in the sea, and all that are in 
 them, heard I saying, blessing and honour, and glory and 
 power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the 
 Lamb for ever and ever I Jesus Christ is represented in the 
 scripture as the object of divine adoration ; then Jesus Christ 
 participates in the divine nature. The Son is equally 
 adored with the Father by saints, angels, and every 
 creature; then he is one zcith the Father. This is what 
 results from the homage which religion demands for the 
 Saviour. 
 
 II. A second principle from which we draw the same 
 consequences is to be found in the perfections and zvorks y 
 which the scripture attributes lo Jesus Christ. 
 
 1. I say the perfections. Not only does divine Revelation 
 assign to the Saviour the divine essence, by demanding for 
 him, as we have just seen, a homage which supposes in its 
 object attributes inseparable from Deity ; but it makes us 
 also expressly remark those attributes as existing in him* 
 Let us only reconsider the three which we have already 
 mentioned in the preceding reflections, immensity, omni- 
 science, and omnipotence. Immensity is a divine attribute- 
 As every creature is necessarily limited in his existence, as- 
 well as in his faculties, it is impossible that any one can with 
 propriety use this majestic language, Do not I Jill heaven 
 and earth saith the Lord? It is absurd that we should 
 render to any one who is not the true God, — the Supreme 
 Being, — this homage, the heaven and heaven of heavens cannot 
 contain thee. But, according to the declarations of Jesus 
 Christ himself, he has a right to the appropriation of this 
 language; we can render him this homage without being 
 chargeable with absurdity. Exalted to heaven, and there 
 receiving the adorations of celestial beings, he is not re- 
 moved from receiving the adorations which believers address 
 to him on earth. He is with them always, even to the end of 
 the world. Where two or three are met together in \\\< 
 
THE DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 391 
 
 name, there is he in the midst of them. Omniscience is a 
 divine perfection, the knozcledge of all hearts. This is 
 attributed to God exclusive of every other being. Thou 
 only knowest the hearts of the children of men. The heart is 
 deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can 
 know it ? / the Lord search the heart, I try the reins, even 
 to give every man according to his ways, and according to the 
 fruit of his doings. But Jesus Christ possesses this know- 
 ledge. He applies to himself the perfection which I have 
 just cited, and that in a manner the most direct, the most 
 adapted to deprive the enemies of his deity of every sub- 
 terfuge, and the most inconceivable in one who was not 
 the true and supreme God. He does not content himself 
 with saying I knozc thy zcorks, he styles himself by excel- 
 lence, he zchich searcheth the reins and hearts, and will give 
 unto every one according to his works. Omnipotence is a 
 divine attribute, it is the Lord God, the God of Israel, who 
 only doth wondrous things. It is God, God who is in the 
 heavens, who hath done whatsoever he pleased. It is with 
 God nothing shall be impossible. But Jesus Christ pos- 
 sesses this immense power. For what things soever the 
 Father doeth, these also doeth the Son likewise. By his 
 power he is able even to subdue all things unto himself. 
 
 2. I say zcorks. Operations, which require the possession 
 of the most incommunicable properties of God, are attributed 
 to Jesus Christ. Witness that of giving life to the dead. It is 
 God which raiseth the dead. The Lord kdleth and maketh 
 alive : he bringeih down to the grave % and lifieth up. 
 And he who eatcth the flesh of the Son of man, and drinketh 
 his blood, hath eternal life, and shall be raised up by him 
 at the last day. He shall change our vile body, that it may 
 be fashioned like unto his glorious body. Witness that of 
 preserving the world. God has established the earth, and 
 it abideth. They continue this day according to his ordi- 
 nances. And Jesus Christ is the preserver of the world : he 
 upholds all things by the zcord of his power. By him all 
 things consist. Witness that of creating the world. Thou, 
 
3$2 THE DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 even thou, art Lord alone: thou hast made heaven, the heaven 
 of heavens, with all their host, the earth, and all things that 
 are therein, the seas, and all that is therein. And Jesus 
 Christ is the Creator of the world. For by him were all 
 things created, that are in heaven, and that are in earth, 
 visible and invisible, whether they be thrones or dominions, or 
 principalities or powers : all things were created by him. 
 And to take away every subterfuge from them who regard 
 the Son of God as a being of an excellent nature, but yet 
 produced from nothing, and who afterwards made the other 
 creatures, we remark that this creation is described as the 
 immediate work of God, and not effected by the agency 
 of an inferior being, — I am the Lord that maketh all things; 
 that st retcheth forth the heavens alone ; that spreadeth abroad 
 the earth by myself ; we cannot then be ignorant that 
 Revelation ascribes to Jesus Christ both the perfections and 
 works of God, of that God who has said that he will not 
 give his glory to another. What else can we then infer, but 
 that Jesus Christ is the Son of God in a sense which does 
 not agree with any creature, by an inexpressible communi- 
 cation of essence, which proves that from all eternity he has 
 continued to be the true God with his Father. 
 
 3. The same conclusion must be drawn from a third 
 principle which we have stated. This principle is the idea 
 which Revelation gives us of the manner of the Saviour's 
 existence. In speaking of the duration of the Son of God, 
 the scripture employs similar phrases to those which it 
 uses to express the eternal duration of the Supreme Being. 
 Does it say of God that he existed before the mountains 
 were brought forth, or the earth and the world were formed, 
 to declare that from everlasting to everlasting he is the 
 mighty God ? Does it say of God that he is the first and 
 the last, to teach us that he never had a beginning, and 
 that he shall have no end ? Does it say of God that he 
 changes not, that he is eternally the same, to express that 
 uniform unalterable existence, without succession or vicissi- 
 tude, which agrees only with the being who exists by 
 
THE DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 393 
 
 himself? It says also the same things of the Son. According 
 to its decisions, Jesus Christ not only existed before his 
 birth, for the word zcas made flesh, not only before the 
 patriarchs, for before Abraham was, he is, not only when 
 the earth was founded, for in the beginning was the word, 
 but even before any creature. For he is before ail things. 
 Him, the wisdom of God, as he designates himself, the Lord 
 possessed in the beginning of his zcay, before his works of 
 old. He was set up from everlasting, from the beginning or 
 ever the earth was ; when there zcere no depths, when there 
 were no fountains abounding with water, before the mountains 
 zcere settled, and before the hills. He himself says that he is 
 Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, which is 
 and which was, and which is to come. It is said of him, 
 thou remainest — thou art the same, and thy years shall not 
 fail. Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, and to-day, and for 
 ever. In speaking of the greatness of the Son of God, the 
 scripture describes it as of a superior kind to that of the 
 most excellent created beings, and it not only imposes upon 
 all the duty of rendering to him the honours of adoration, — 
 and without contradiction, he who worships is inferior to him 
 who is worshipped, — it not only declares that all have been 
 created, and are preserved by him ; and zoithout contradiction, 
 the work is inferior to the workman, and the preserver 
 greater than the thing preserved, — but it also represents 
 him as the end, the principal end of all things; for all 
 things zcere created for him, which is the just right of the 
 true God, of whom it is said, of him and thro ugh him, and 
 to him, are all things : to whom be glory for ever. Amen. 
 Speaking of the sonship of the Saviour, the scripture em- 
 ploys the most suitable terms to remove every idea of 
 figure and metaphor from the generation by which he is 
 the Son of God. It calls Jesus Christ God's own Son. It 
 says on the one hand, that he is begotten by the Father; on 
 the other hand, it attributes to him an eternal existence, 
 saying that his goings forth have been from of old, from ever- 
 lasting. It calls the angels of heaven, the judges of the 
 
394 THE DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 earth, and the members of (he church, sons of God ; ac- 
 cording to it these have even the glorious privilege of being 
 horn, of being begotten of God ; and yet it gives (o Jesus 
 Christ the title of only Son, or, agreeably to the force of 
 the Greek word, the only begotten Son of God. How can 
 these declarations agree, if Jesus Christ is only the So?i of 
 God in a figurative and metaphorical sense ? How, without 
 putting scripture in contradiction with itself, can we resolve 
 the proposed objection of the catechist, Why do we call the 
 Saviour the only Son of God, since God calls us all his 
 children? unless we answer with him, that if we are the 
 children of God, it is only by adoption and grace; while 
 Jesus Christ is begotten of the substance of his Father, and 
 having the same essence zcith him, is by peculiar right called 
 the only Son of God, because lie only is so by nature, 
 
 APPLICATION. 
 
 Such, Christians, is he whom you profess to regard as 
 your Lord, Such is he in his original nature, he who has 
 taken another nature in the bosom of a virgin, by the in- 
 comprehensible power of the Holy Spirit, and of the Father 
 of mercies, who destined him to be our Saviour, and prepared 
 for him a body. While you behold that flesh in which he 
 was manifested, while you contemplate in that Son made of a 
 xooman, a true member of the human race, while you recog- 
 nize in that body, sensible of suffering, in that soul, susceptible 
 of grief, in that hunger, in that thirst, of which he felt 
 the pains, in that sleep which closed his eyes, in that 
 blood spilt upon the earth, the irrefragable proofs of the 
 Saviour's humanity, do not lose sight of his Divinity. 
 Remember that that holy one to whom the blessed Mary 
 was warned that she should give birth, must be called the 
 Son of God. Remember that that man, who, although 
 he was made in the likeness of sinful flesh, is from his con- 
 ception, holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners; 
 is> a man in whom dwells all the fulness of the godhead 
 
THE DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 395 
 
 hodily ; a personage in whom that which is born in time, 
 and that which in eternity lias been begotten of God, is 
 combined in unity of person. 
 
 Let these great, let these sublime truths, make the deepest 
 impressions upon your hearts \ Let them inspire you with 
 the most humble veneration for the majesty, and the most 
 lively gratitude for the love of your Lord and Saviour 
 Jesus Christ ! He is your Lord. He is so by nature ; as he 
 is even God blessed for ever with his Father, he is the 
 creator and the possessor of the world. It is he whom all 
 the angels of God worship, before whom all creatures must 
 bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things 
 under the earth. What submission do wc not owe to him ! 
 What obedience to his commands does not his supreme 
 greatness demand from us ! Oh ! if it is a crime to 
 despise dominion, if it is a crime to resist the ordinance of 
 God, and to oppose the power which he has established ; 
 if it is rebellion against the Most High only to refuse 
 obedience to the just laws of those whom he deigns to 
 call his children upon earth, and to honour with the 
 title of Gods; what a crime is it to despise the autho- 
 rity, to violate the precepts, and to shake off the com- 
 mandments of that eternal wisdom, by whom kings reign, 
 and princes decree justice ; of that King of kings, to whom 
 alone God has said, thou art my Son, this day have I 
 begotten thee; of that Jesus Christ, who is God in the 
 most literal, God in the most proper, and in the most 
 extensive meaning of the term, God over all, blessed for 
 ever ! 
 
 But what do I say ? He is your Lord by nature ! He 
 is so by titles yet more glorious. He has upon you more 
 sacred claims than those which you acknowledge as crea- 
 tures. He is your Lord, because he is your Saviour. 
 Behold what he has done to make you his own. Behold 
 what it cost him to become your Saviour in this latter 
 sense, Behold into what an abyss of humiliation arid 
 
596 THE DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 misery he has deigned to descend, to acquire a dominion 
 over you, the end of which was your happiness ; since, 
 if the Father has given him power over all flesh, it is, 
 that he should give eternal life to as many as the Father 
 hath given him. Let us recollect the remark of St. Paul: 
 Jesus Christ being in the form of God, thought it not 
 robber?/ to be equal with God; but made himself of no 
 reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and 
 was made in the likeness of men: and being found in fashion 
 as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient unto 
 death, even the death of the cross. Is it too much that 
 as the reward of such deep abasement, of a punishment 
 so cruel and ignominious, God hath highly exalted him, 
 and given him a name which is above every name ? Is it 
 too much that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ 
 is Lord, to the glory of God the Father? 
 
 But if Jesus Christ is our Lord by such weighty con- 
 siderations, if our bodies and spirits are his, as redeemed 
 by the price of his blood, can we neglect to employ 
 them for his glory, can we refuse to keep the command- 
 ments which he has given us, those commandments which 
 are not grievous, and in keeping of which there is great 
 reward? Would this be the gratitude that we owe him ? 
 Oh, if ingratitude is an odious vice, when it has for 
 its object only men whose benefits are always limited ; 
 what punishment do they not deserve, who not only 
 refuse the title of Saviour to Jesus Christ, and declare 
 openly we will not have this man to reign over us, but 
 who above all, while they recognize him as Lord and 
 Christ, do not study to fulfil his precepts and imitate his 
 example. My brethren, be not of this number. Detest 
 so black, so criminal a disposition. Let us strive to do 
 whatever he requires of us, for he has done every thing 
 for us. Let us put on the virtues which he has so much 
 recommended. In particular, let us make the same use of 
 ihe incarnation of the Son of God which St. Paul has 
 
THE DIVINITY OF JESUS CHRIST, 
 
 397 
 
 taught us. Hazing the same love, being of one accord, of 
 one mind. Let nothing be done through strife or vain 
 glory ; but in lowliness of mind, let each esteem other better 
 than themselves. Look not every man on his own things, 
 but every man also on the things of others. Yes! Let 
 this mind be in you, which teas also in Christ Jesus! To 
 him as to the Father and to the Holy Spirit, be honour 
 and glory, for ever. Amen, 
 
FAUCHEUR. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 Michael le Faucheur was minister of the French reformed 
 Church at Montpellier, Charenton, and Paris, and was greatly cele- 
 brated for his eloquence. It was a striking proof of his persuasive 
 powers, that after hearing him discourse on duelling, le Marechal de 
 la Force said, *' If a challenge was sent to me now I would refuse 
 it." This eminent minister died at Paris in 1667. He wrote a 
 Treatise on Oratorical Action, Christian Prayers, and Meditations, a 
 Treatise on the Eucharist, and some volumes of sermons. The 
 latter are exceedingly scarce. They are faulty from their extreme 
 length and diffuse style, and often require great attention to under- 
 stand them ; but the reader is amply rewarded for the pains of 
 perusal by the cogent arguments, the apt illustrations, the fine strokes 
 of eloquence which frequently occur, and above all, the vein of 
 evangelical sentiment which pervades the whole. It is true, we in 
 vain look for the touches of a Massillon, or a Bossuet; but while they 
 every moment fire the imagination, Faucheur succeeds in warming 
 the heart. His sermons need only to be known to be admired, and 
 it is matter of regret that a copy of them is rarely to be found. 
 
SERMON XII. 
 
 THE WAGES OF SIN, 
 
 AND 
 
 THE REWARD QF GRACE. 
 
 FAUCHEUR. 
 
 Rom. \'u 23. — The wages of. sin is death, but the gift of God is 
 eternal life, through Jesus Christ our Lord. 
 
 God is an object so lovely, and so worthy of our homage 
 and veneration, considered either as God sovereignly per- 
 fect in himself, or regarded as our God infinitely good 
 towards us, that if there were no other advantage to be 
 derived from his service than the satisfaction of rendering to 
 him a portion of that which is his due, we ought to do it with 
 the most fervent zeal and devotion. And though holiness, 
 which is his image, should have no other attractions than 
 those of its own excellence, yet it is so beautiful in itself, and 
 so perfectly adorns the soul, that this should be a sufficient 
 inducement for us to make it our study, and to practise 
 its obligations, with ardour and delight. But because 
 self-love is essentially attached to our nature, God, 
 by the supernatural affections that his spirit begets in 
 us, does not extinguish the natural feelings, but renders 
 them more perfect, and exalts them, — that they may be 
 serviceable to the promotion of his glory, and of our sal- 
 vation. When he wishes to persuade us to love him, and 
 to be holy as he is holy, he not only employs the argu- 
 ments arising from his own perfections, and the divine 
 beauty of his image, which ought to be our principal 
 
400 
 
 motives to this duty, but also those which arise from 
 the love that we bear to ourselves, and that we have for 
 our own interests; arguments the most familiar to our 
 nature, and peculiarly forcible. Thus in contracting 
 his covenant with Adam and Eve, he not only makes 
 known his holy will, but he adds the promise of life, if they 
 obey, and the threatening of death, if they break their 
 engagements. In the same manner he has acted in the 
 law that he has given by Moses, where he has united the 
 promise of a life of felicity to the prescribed duties, and 
 the denunciation of death and malediction to the trans- 
 gressors ; and in the gospel also he commands us not only 
 to believe in Jesus Christ, but likewise says, " He that 
 believeth shall be saved, and he that belie veth not shall be 
 damned." For the same reason, the apostle having endea- 
 voured in this chapter to urge us to the study of holiness, 
 does not merely employ arguments derived from our duty, 
 our union with Christ, and our baptism ; but adds those 
 which are doducible from our interest, from the miserable 
 end of those who serve sin, and from the glorious and 
 immortal recompence with which God indulges such as 
 follow after sanctification. " For," says he, " the wages 
 of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life, through 
 Jesus Christ our Lord." He has justly observed in the 
 three preceding verses, " when ye were the servants of sin 
 ye were free from righteousness. What fruit had ye then in 
 those things, whereof ye are now ashamed, for the end of 
 those things is death. But now being made free from sin, 
 and become servants to God, ye have your fruit unto 
 holiness, and the end everlasting life." If indeed the addi- 
 tion of this sentence were only expressive of the same things 
 it would be useless, but it is not so ; first, because what he 
 has said with a particular reference in the one passage, he 
 confirms by a general proposition in the other ; and 
 besides, in the former he has expressed the recompence 
 both of sin and righteousness by that of an end which is 
 common to both 3 remarking, that the end of servitude to 
 
AND THE REWARD OF GRACE. 401 
 
 sin, is death, and the end of servitude to God, is life eternal ; 
 from whence it might be inferred, that they were decreed by 
 the justice of God equally to the merit of both: he here, 
 therefore, distinctly marks the difference, declaring, that 
 the one is the reward which sinners have merited, but the 
 other a gift with which God favours the saints ; so that 
 while those cannot complain against God, as he only deals 
 with thpm in equity, these have no reason to be inflated 
 witli self-complacency, as that which he bestows upon them 
 is of pure grace. 
 
 In order th it you may perfectly understand this sentence, 
 my brethren, I will exhibit it to you in its separate parts, so 
 that you may consider them distinctly one after the other. 
 You see then, I. Who are the masters in the service oi' 
 which men engage ; on the one side sin, and on the other 
 God himself: II. What are the rewards which these masters 
 give to those who serve them; on the one part death, the 
 reward of sin for the wicked ; and, on the other part eternal 
 life, with which our gracious God crowns the saints : and 
 III. What is the quality of these rewards ; the one being 
 due to the merit of those to whom it is paid, which the 
 apostle signifies by the word zvages, and the other being a 
 pure effect of the grace of him who bestows it, which he 
 expresses by the word gift. 
 
 ] . The first master of whom the apostle speaks, and to 
 whom the greater part of mankind surrender themselves 
 slaves, is sin, that strong man who, having once obtained 
 possession of their souls and their bodies, either by subtilty 
 or violence, dwells there as in his own mansion, and exer- 
 cises a complete tyranny, assisted by his satellites, which 
 are their carnal desires, with which he makes war against 
 their souls, and armed with their own members, that is 
 to say, not only their eyes, their tongues, or their hands, 
 which are properly the members of the body ; but also 
 their understandings, their wills, and their passions, which 
 are also the members of their souls, and which are what 
 the apostle designs when he says in this chapter, " Let not 
 
402 THE WAGES OF StN, 
 
 sin therefore reign in your mortal body, that ye should 
 obey it in the lusts thereof. Neither yield ye your mem- 
 bers, as instruments of unrighteousness unto sin." The 
 other master is God, our true, natural, ancient, and legiti- 
 mate Lord, who has made us after his own image, redeemed 
 us by his Son, sanctified us by his Spirit, honoured us with 
 his baptism, admitted us to his table, and sealed us with 
 his seal to the day of redemption, on account of which the 
 apostle says to believers, " Ye are not your own, but are 
 bought with a price; therefore glorify God in your bodies 
 and in your spirits, which are his. We are his workman- 
 ship, created anew in Christ Jesus unto good works, which 
 he hath before-ordained that we should walk in them. It is 
 God that worketh in us both to will and to do of his own 
 good pleasure." And from hence, you may observe, dear 
 brethren, how wretched is the condition of the wicked in 
 serving so infamous and execrable a master as sin, the 
 author of all their evils and the mortal enemy of their 
 nature ; and how happy is that of the saints to be engaged 
 in the service of a master so holy, so good and so glorious 
 as God is, their Creator, their Redeemer, the only object 
 and eternal source of all their felicity. But you will per- 
 ceive it yet more, if you will consider with me and with 
 our great apostle the rewards that these masters give to 
 those who serve them. 
 
 The reward which sin gives is death, not merely the first 
 death, which is the separation of the body and soul, under 
 the power of which man is fallen, having become mortal 
 from the day that he ate of the forbidden fruit, but the 
 second death, which is " the lake burning with fire and 
 brimstone," that is, eternal damnation. For the death of 
 the body is not an accident purely natural, as Pelagius and 
 Celestius would teach us, but a punishment decreed against 
 sin, as the councils and the fathers have wisely determined ; 
 and as it is implied in that threatening of the Deity, " in 
 the day that thou eatest thereof thou shaft surely die." This 
 appears clearly by the execution of this sentence ; when he 
 
AND THE REWARD OF GRACE. 403 
 
 says to man, " Dust thou art, and to dust thou shait 
 return ;" which properly refers to the body, and cannot 
 have any reference to the soul. But it is not of this 
 first death only that the apostle here speaks, this is the 
 least p >rt of the wrath of God. For in opposing to it 
 eternal life, he makes it sufficiently appear that he intends 
 to speak of a death that is equally eternal, and of that 
 which the apocalypse calls " the second death," which 
 the holy scriptures frequently signify by the word death, 
 particularly those of the New Testament, where the wrath 
 of God against the ungodly, as well as his grace towards 
 believers, is much more clearly revealed than in the Old. 
 Thus in the eighth chapter of John, Jesus has said, " If a 
 man keep my saying he shall never see death ;" and in 
 2 Tim. i. speaking of Jesus Christ, the apostle says, he 
 " hath abolished death, and hath brought life and immor- 
 tality to light through the gospel." This death has three 
 degrees; the first is in this life, in which the wicked begin 
 to feel their hell in their perturbed passions, and in the 
 mortal convulsions of a troubled conscience. Hence the 
 holy scripture calls them dead, because the grace of God, 
 which is the true source of life, has withdrawn itself from 
 them for ever, so that they have no warmth of devotion 
 within, nor any living consolation ; they live no more like 
 men, but a life either of beasts or devils, and there is no 
 more vital principle in them than there is in a dead carcass, 
 excepting the worms which gnaw and devour them ; that is 
 to say, the vices which corrupt, and the remorse which 
 torments them. For " there is no peace, saith my God, 
 to the wicked," they " are like the troubled sea when 
 it cannot rest, whose waters continually cast up mire and 
 dirt" upon its shores. The second degree is in the se- 
 paration of the body and soul, which is the condition 
 in which the soul of the wicked man must be found 
 when it goes out of his body, of which we have a lively 
 picture in the parable of the rich man, whose soul burns in 
 the flames, and asks only for one drop of consolation, but is 
 
404 
 
 unable to obtain it with all its cries and all its tears. The 
 third degree will be in the general resurrection, when " the 
 Lord Jesus shall be revealed from heaven, with his mighty 
 angels, in flaming fire, taking vengeance on them that know 
 not God, and that obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ : who shall be punished with everlasting destruction 
 from the presence of the Lord, and from the glory of his 
 power." For then, instead of hearing the sweet voice of 
 the gospel which now cries to them, " Repent ye there- 
 fore and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out, 
 when the times of refreshing shall come from the presence 
 of the Lord ;" they shall hear that dreadful thunder, " I 
 know you not, whence ye are, depart from me, all ye 
 workers of iniquity." " Depart from me, ye cursed, into 
 everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels;" and 
 after that they shall be precipitated both body and soul 
 into " the lake of fire and brimstone," where they shall be 
 " tormented day and night, for ever and ever." Behold the 
 recompence which is prepared for all those who love rather 
 to serve sin than God, iniquity than righteousness, and pol- 
 lution than sanctification. On the contrary, the reward 
 which is promised to those who study to please God being 
 fruitful in every good work, is eternal life, which consists in 
 their re-union with God, and which likewise lias three 
 degrees. The first is in this life, from the first moment of 
 their regeneration. For then, ceasing to live to themselves, 
 they begin to live to God, to say with St. Paul, 6c I am 
 crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live, yet not I, but 
 Christ liveth in me : and the life which I now live in 
 the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved 
 me, and gave himself for me." And it is of this degree of 
 life that he speaks in this chapter, u Reckon ye also your- 
 selves to be dead indeed unto sin, but alive unto God 
 through Jesus Christ our Lord." This is a supernatural 
 and divine life, of which Jesus Christ says, " The kingdom 
 of God is within you;" this kingdom is "righteousness, 
 peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost," and " whosoever be- 
 
AND THE REWARD OF GRACE. 405 
 
 lieveth in him, is already passed from death unto life." The 
 second is at death, when their souls are carried in the arms 
 of holy angels, not into Abraham's bosom, but into that of 
 their Saviour, where, as they have had their evils, they 
 have also their consolations and their joys, which can never 
 be disturb j d nor taken away. 
 
 Then indeed they die, as to the body, in which their con- 
 dition seems to resemble that of the wicked, but in reality 
 it widely differs from it. For as they acted in a very 
 different manner in pulling down the house infected with 
 the leprosy, the materials of which were cast away with 
 detestation into an unclean place, and in taking down the 
 tabernacle, when in changing their stations they took it to 
 pieces and carefully delivered the various parts to the Levites, 
 that they might afterwards replace them with due honour; 
 so distinct is the death of the ungodly, which is accom- 
 panied with the wrath and curse of God, and which con- 
 stitutes part of the wages due to them for the service they 
 have rendered to sin, and that of the " beloved of God," 
 who are " precious in his sight," and in which their souls 
 being gathered into Paradise, their bodies are deposited in 
 the earth to be kept in its bosom, until they shall be raised 
 in glory, and rendered conformable to the body of Christ. 
 The wicked die to suffer the punishment of sin ; the believer, 
 on the contrary, dies to be delivered from sin. For, to use the 
 comparison of an ancient father, as when an ivy so entwines 
 itself with all the stones of a wall, that it creeps through 
 every crevice, and threatens it every moment with ruin ; we 
 pull it down to deracinate this troublesome plant, then we 
 rebuild it and render it much better and more secure than 
 it was before ; so sin having taken such deep root in all our 
 bodily appetites, that the body and soul are continually 
 labouring under it, God delivers his own from it by death, 
 in which he destroys all those criminal passions and desires, 
 to restore their bodies in honour and glory, and to re-unite 
 them with their happy souls in perfect purity, without the 
 least root or fibre of corruption or vice. The third degree 
 
 2e 
 
406 THE WAGES OF SIN, 
 
 of this blessed life is the celestial beatitude, in the possession 
 of which our Lord Jesus will put the faithful after the 
 general resurrection, that they may eternally enjoy it in 
 body and soul in the glorious society of angels and saints. 
 It is this kingdom of glory which Jesus Christ describes as 
 prepared for the blessed of his Father, " from before the 
 foundation of the world," where in the contemplation of 
 his face he will give them fulness of joy, and refresh them 
 in torrents of eternal pleasure. 
 
 You have heard, my brethren, who are the masters that 
 invite you into their service ; on the one hand sin, and on 
 the other God : and what are the rewards which they give 
 to those who serve them ; on the one part death, and on the 
 other eternal life. It now remains that you should hear how 
 sin rewards its miserable slaves with death, and our God 
 his faithful servants with lite eternal. The apostle explains 
 it very clearly and very distinctly in these words. For 
 first, as to death, he shews how sin pays it to those who 
 serve him as wages, as a thing well merited. " The wages 
 of sin," says he, " is death." The wages of sin, by which he 
 does not mean the wages which are given to sin, but the wages 
 which sin pays to those who serve him, in the same sense as 
 in the other part of this sentence, the gift of God is said to 
 be not a gift made to God, but a gift that God makes to 
 his servants ; where we must remark that the original word, 
 which our translators have interpreted wages, signifies 
 properly a certain measure of corn, and a certain portion of 
 other food, which was formerly given to each soldier in an 
 army, either daily or monthly ; and because this portion or 
 measure was a substitute for pay, the ancient Greeks, and 
 particularly the Hellenists, very often used it to express 
 either the pay of the warrior, or the wages of an hired 
 servant. Thus the apostle here uses this word to shew us 
 that when the wicked are punished for their bad life by 
 death and eternal damnation, nothing happens to them but 
 what they might justly expect, and which they have not 
 well merited. For is it not very just that those who have 
 
AND THE REWARD OF GRAGE. 407 
 
 employed their whole life only in offending that good God 
 to whom they were indebted for it, should be deprived of 
 the abused favour by a miserable and accursed death ? 
 That those who have said to him when he wished to direct 
 them in the way of salvation, " Depart from us, we desire 
 not the knowledge of thy ways," should be banished far 
 from him for ever ? That those who have despised " the 
 riches of his goodness, and forbearance and long suffering," 
 by which during thirty, forty, fifty, or sixty years, they 
 have been incessantly invited to repent that they might be 
 saved ; and who, notwithstanding all his temporal benefits, 
 all his spiritual favours, all his public exhortations, 
 all his secret admonitions, and all the warnings of their 
 consciences, have continued asleep in their vices, and dead 
 in impenitence ; — that those, I say, should at last feel bis 
 patience turned into fury against them ? That those whom 
 he has threatened during so many years to punish and to 
 damn eternally, if they change not their course, and who, 
 disdainfully tossing their heads at his menaces, have rendered 
 themselves double, triple, yea even five-fold children of hell, 
 should learn in hell itself, by a sorrowful and irremediable 
 experience, how terrible a thing it is to fall into his hands ? 
 That those, in a word, who have wished to have their portion 
 with the devil in life, should have it also with him after death, 
 and be precipitated with him into torments and flames ? Do 
 not ask what proportion is there between a single sin, or the 
 sins of a whole life so short as ours, and punishments which 
 are eternal ? For we ought not to estimate the demerit of a 
 man's crime from the length of time in which he has been 
 committing it, but from the dignity of him who has been 
 offended, and from the eager disposition with which it has 
 been done. And consider, who is it that sinners have 
 offended ? Is it not a God of infinite majesty ? Do they 
 not then deserve to suffer an infinite punishment ? And if 
 they cannot endure a punishment infinite in magnitude? 
 because their nature being finite is not capable of bearing it, 
 is it not just that they should suffer a punishment, the duration 
 
408 THE WAGES OF SIN, 
 
 of which must be eternal ? Observe too with what a dis- 
 position they have sinned. Has it not been with all their 
 power, with all the affections of their souls, and with an 
 invincible obstinacy ? Have they not made sin their plea- 
 sure and amusement ? Have they not persevered in it 
 during their whole lives 2 Have they become dead to it 
 even at the last moment ? Have they not desired an hun- 
 dred times to be able to live eternally, that they might 
 eternally continue their wicked courses ? And it* they 
 could return into the world to live here again, all this that 
 they have done, and an hundred times as much more, would 
 they still continue to practise, hardened as they are, and as 
 we may say, naturalized in their vices ? From a vice then 
 which is eternal in their intention, and in their desire, does 
 not God justly exact an eternal punishment ? And, conse- 
 quently, is it not with great reason that the apostle calls 
 this death u the wages of sin," that is to say, the just 
 punishment which the wicked have merited, for the long, 
 diligent, and laborious services which they have voluntarily 
 rendered to sin, whom they freely chose for their master ? 
 St. Paul does not use the same language when he speaks 
 of the recompence which God gives to those who serve him. 
 For he says, that u eternal life is the gift of God through 
 Jesus Christ our Lord," to shew us that we have not merited 
 it, whether we consider our persons or our services. For 
 as to our persons, what are we but worthless servants, who 
 have no right to dispose of ourselves, nor of any thing that 
 we possess, but who entirely belong to God ; and if St. Paul, 
 having been the instrument in converting Philemon to 
 Christianity, and having shewn him much kindness, had a 
 right to say to him, " thou owest unto me even thine own 
 self;" God, who has created us by his goodness, who has 
 redeemed us by his mercy, who has given us this body and 
 this soul with which we serve him, who has taught us in 
 his gospel the way in which our service may be most 
 acceptable, who has inspired us with holy desires by the 
 virtue of his Spirit, and, in a word, who has given us freely 
 
AND THE REWARD OF GRACE. 409 
 
 all that we have of good both in nature and grace, — this 
 God lias then much more cause to say, as he says else- 
 where by his apostle, " Ye are not your own, ye are 
 bought with a price, therefore glorify God in your bodies 
 and spirits, which are his ?" What are we still but poor 
 worms of the earth, to whom the God of glory does too 
 much honour when he deigns to stoop to regard us ? Who, 
 though we were as great as Abraham, should recollect 
 with him that we are but " dust and ashes?" though we 
 were as perfect as Job, ought to say with him, when dis- 
 cussing the question of judgment, " How shall I answer 
 him, and choose out words to reason with him ? Whom 
 though I were righteous, yet would 1 not answer, but I 
 would make supplication to my judge ;" though we 
 were as eminent as John the Baptist, should count our- 
 selves unworthy to loosen the shoe latchet of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ. Far from pretending to merit his celestial 
 kingdom as though we had put the crown upon his head, 
 were we blameless as the Virgin Mary, we ought with her to 
 adore the mercy with which he regards our littleness : 
 were we pure as the seraphims, we ought to drop our wings 
 before him, and with the greatest humility cover not only 
 our feet, but our faces. And as to our works, are they not 
 all infected with that original and hereditary leprosy with 
 which we are born ? I do not merely speak of the bad, for 
 which we have need to implore forgiveness every hour, 
 but the best, the most holy, even our righteousnesses, which, 
 by the prophet, is compared to " filthy rags." And 
 though they were the purest in the world, all the good that 
 is in them comes from God, and not from us. Is it not 
 true that we are not sufficient to think any thing good of 
 ourselves, but that all our sufficiency is of him who works 
 in us efficaciously both to will and to do ? And therefore 
 we are debtors to him in every possible manner. And after 
 all, whatever service we render him by our works, are 
 we not bound so to do ? Has he not required it of us ? 
 And when we have done all, has he not commanded us to 
 
410 THE WAGES OF SIN, 
 
 confess ourselves " unprofitable servants ?" No, no, if God 
 gives us his glory and blessedness, be does not bestow it 
 upon us as a tiling of right ; all our services, of whatever 
 kind they might be, could never merit such great wages. 
 For there is no proportion between a finite work and an 
 infinite good ; between a momentary service and an eternal 
 recompence ; between a righteousness marked with a thou- 
 sand faults and sins, and one free from any trouble or 
 sorrow. The defenders of merit dare, however, to argue 
 that there is. And I ask them where they will find it ? 
 Is it because the agent that produces good works in 
 us, that is, the holy Spirit, is an infinite dignity, that 
 the reward ought to be the same ? But as their own 
 scholastics say, the estimation of the worth of an act is 
 not to be taken from the mover, but from the virtue 
 which he puts in the act, and which formally resides 
 there. For the agent does not formally perfect the sub- 
 ject by himself, but by something that he infuses into 
 him. Thus the holy Spirit does not imprint in us any 
 habitude so perfect, nor does he give us any motion so 
 powerful, that he entirely removes all vice and defect from 
 our souls and actions. So that our works remaining always 
 in some degree sinful and imperfect, on account of the 
 pollution that our wretched flesh attaches to them, there 
 could not be any proportion between them and a thing so 
 excellent and so perfect as eternal happiness. This infinite 
 cause, although it gives us the impression to do good 
 works, does not prevent some acts produced immediately 
 by ourselves, and therefore some finite acts of a finite 
 creature. For though it is the holy Spirit who moves us 
 to believe, to love God, to weep for our sins, it is not he 
 properly who believes, who loves, who weeps. This, there- 
 fore, is the reason why we believe that if we love God and 
 repent of our sins, all the glory is due to him. since without 
 his grace we could not do these good works : but because 
 it is we who believe, who love God, and who deplore our 
 faults, as we have not an infinite essence, nor an infinite 
 
AND THE REWARD OF GRACE. 
 
 411 
 
 dignity, so neither have our works ; and thus they remain 
 always infinitely disproportioned to eternal life. So far 
 then from this circumstance being a foundation for good 
 works, it destroys them entirely. For when we do these 
 good works, we mix nothing with them but sin and infir- 
 mity ; all the good that belongs to them is derived from 
 another source. We conclude, then, that to us belong all 
 the faults of them, and that to grace is due all the glory : 
 and that when God rewards them with eternal glory, this is 
 not wages that he pays to us, but a pure gratuitous gift 
 that he bestows upon us. Indeed, our Lord Jesus speaks of 
 it ordinarily as a gift. " My sheep," snys he, " hear my 
 voice, and follow me. And I give unto them eternal life." 
 And elsewhere, " Thou hast given him," the Son of man, 
 " power over all flesh, that he should give eternal life to as 
 many as thou hast given him." He speaks of it as a gift 
 which has no other cause nor motive than the pure good 
 pleasure of God. « Fear not," says he, " little flock, for it 
 is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom." 
 We ought also to remark, that the word which is here 
 employed by the apostle, and which we have translated gift, 
 signifies properly a gratuitous gift, or a pure favour. Grace, 
 which he opposes every where to works, as when he says, 
 " For by grace are ye saved through faith, and that not of 
 yourselves, it is the gift of God. Not of works, lest any 
 man should boast." " And if by grace, then it is no more 
 of works, otherwise grace is no more grace." He " hath 
 saved us, and called us with an holy calling, not according 
 to our works, but according to his own purpose and grace, 
 which was given us in Christ Jesus before the world began." 
 " Not by works of righteousness, which we have done, but 
 according to his mercy he saved us by the washing of 
 regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost, which he 
 shed on us abundantly, through Jesus Christ our Saviour. 
 That being justified by his grace, we should be made heirs, 
 according to the hope of eternal life." Our adversaries 
 object that this eternal life is also called wages or hire : but 
 
412 THE WAGES OF SIX, 
 
 they do not consider that the word wages does not always 
 signify the same thing in the holy scriptures. For it is to 
 be taken sometimes in the strict sense, and sometimes not. 
 Strictly, it is used for a reward that is due to a hired 
 servant, and which is proportioned to his work. Thus it 
 is said in the twenty-fourth chapter of Deuteronomy, 
 " Thou shalt not oppress an hired servant — at his day thou 
 shalt give him his hire." Here I say that the reward is due, 
 because it is very reasonable, that the hired servant should 
 receive it, as he gives us his labour, as he owes us nothing, 
 and as we derive as much advantage from the work that he 
 does for us, as lie derives from the recompence that we be- 
 stow upon him : neither could we refuse it to him without 
 a manifest injustice, against which the threatenings of the 
 prophets and apostles are so often denounced. In a more 
 extended sense, it is used to express a gratuitous reward 
 rendered for a service to which we were obligated, and the 
 value of which it much exceeds. Thus it is said in the 
 twenty -ninth chapter of Ezekiel, that God will give Egypt 
 to Nebuchadnezzar for the wages of the service which he 
 has rendered to him in executing his judgment upon Tyrus. 
 Now observe, this was not a reward that was due to him, 
 seeing that what he had done was not to serve God, but only 
 his own ambition ; and though God had even commanded him 
 to do what he had done, and he had done it to obey him, he 
 would have done nothing but what he ought to have done : 
 and admitting that some reward were due to him, he had 
 received one sufficiently great in the conquest of Tyrus, 
 without any claim upon Egypt. Then we cannot say that 
 eternal life is wages in the first sense : first, because we are 
 not hired servants who have rendered a voluntary service to 
 God, without being obliged to do it; we are his creatures 
 and his children, who owe him our property, our time, 
 and even ourselves. Secondly, because by the confession 
 of our opponents, it is a recompence which infinitely ex- 
 ceeds our services, God giving himself to us, with all his 
 celestial treasures, even for a drop of cold w ater that w« 
 
AXD THE REWARD OF GRACE. 413 
 
 have given to our neighbours. It remains then to consider 
 this word in the second signification, that is, as a remune- 
 ration purely gratuitous, which is rendered to us rbr the 
 services which we were obliged to perform, and which in 
 price and value surpasses them far beyond all proportion. 
 Therefor^ from wages understood in this sense, judge if we 
 can infer, that they are what we can and ought to acquire 
 by the merit of our works ? You will say, if bad. works 
 merit death, why do not good merit life ? There is a great 
 difference between them, for the bad are entirely so, and as 
 entirely our own : so that by them we do inderd merit death : 
 but the good that we do are not entirely good, nor entirely 
 ours ; and thus we do not merit life by them. Behold then 
 why St. Paul calls death the wages of sin, and etern A life 
 the gift of God, opposing to those merited wages which 
 the geueral formerly paid his soldiers, ihe voluntary dona- 
 tion which he bestowed upon them out of his pure liberality, 
 and shewing us that eternal life is not a thing which God 
 owes us in strict justice, but which lie gives us out of pure 
 grace. If there are any merits to which they are due, 
 they are the merits of Jesus Christ. As for ourselves, if 
 we receive any thing, it is of pure grace. Therefore, with 
 great propriety, the apostle joins these two things, " the 
 gift of God, through Jesus Christ our Lord." So the 
 apostle John, " God hath given us eternal life ; and this life 
 is in his Son." It is he who is the true Jesus, the true 
 Captain of our salvation, who has reconciled us to God, 
 and who has obtained a complete salvation for us, not only 
 by delivering us from the damnation of hell, and the punish- 
 ment which we had deserved, but by acquiring for us the 
 glory of heaven by the merit of his obedience. For in his 
 death, my brethren, we find two things which ought to be 
 very carefully remarked, the most bitter suffering, and the 
 most submissive obedience. As he suffered, he satisfied the 
 justice of his father for all our sins, and has removed the 
 barrier that stood between him and us; for although he 
 loved men with great tenderness, and felt a strong inclina- 
 
414 THE WAGES OF SIN, 
 
 tion to promote their eternal well-being, be could not do it 
 on account of the opposition of his justice. And as it was 
 a perfect obedience, rendered by an infinite person, and 
 infinitely agreeable to God, he has merited by it the infinite 
 recompence of eternal life for all those for whom it was 
 offered. Had his sufferings simply included punishment, 
 he would have delivered us only from the penalty of 
 sin, and have obtained for us the bounties of Providence, by 
 removing the impediments to the enjoyment of them that 
 our sins had thrown in the way, after which he would have 
 remunerated the obedience that we might have rendered 
 to him, with that proportion of felicity that might have 
 seemed good in his sight. But there also being an infi- 
 nite obedience of -pure merit in the work of Jesus 
 Christ, he has in consequence acquired that supreme 
 and incomparable degree of God's favours that extends 
 even to eternal life. For by his oblation he has con- 
 secrated and sanctified us for ever, and has given us 
 the liberty of entering into the holy places, where having 
 entered first for us to prepare the way, it is as if he had 
 already introduced us there; as says the apostle to the 
 Ephtsians. i; lie hath raised us up together, and made us 
 to sit together in heavenly places in Christ." Christ then 
 by his merits having acquired for us eternal life, the 
 apostle here justly ascribes this blessing to him ; and in the 
 Revelations the twenty-four elders seated around his throne, 
 cast their crowns at his feet, to indicate that they have only 
 obtained them by his merits. And therefore it would be a 
 great sacrilege in us to wish to attribute the invaluable 
 acquisition either to our own merits, or to those of any other 
 creature. But it is not our intention, say the adversaries of 
 this doctrine, in establishing our merits, to take away from 
 Jesus Christ the glory of his : for we confess, freely, that 
 all the glory of our merits depends upon his, who gives to 
 them all the weight and value that they possess. What 
 do they mean by this ? Is it that the merits of Christ may 
 be mixed with ours, and that by this mixture they acquire 
 
AND THE REWARD OF GRACE. 415 
 
 a value which they had not in themselves ? but would you 
 mix grains of gold with grains of sand, that the mixture 
 might make the grains of sand more valuable ? No, truly, 
 for sand, mix it with whatever you please, must remain 
 sand, of no consideration nor value. The gold alone is 
 valuable, and all the sand that we can add to i( cannot 
 increase its intrinsic worth. Is it then that our merits, not 
 having a sufficient value in the sight of God to satisfy for 
 what we owe him, the merit of our Saviour ought to be 
 added to them, to give them the necessary value, as if Ave 
 owed a thousand crowns, and having only an hundred to 
 pay, another were to add nine hundred to complete lie 
 sum ? By no means ; for were it so, our merits considered 
 in themselves would have their own value before God, at 
 least in proportion to the quantity that we had furnished on 
 our own account, and the merits of Christ would have 
 their value, although in a much greater degree ; and not- 
 withstanding that he would be by far the largest contri- 
 butor in the work of our salvation, we should always have 
 a right to say, that in part we were our own saviours. He, 
 for example, would have nine parts of the glory of having 
 obtained our salvation, and we should have the tenth, and 
 thus he would not have the whole. Or rather, do they 
 mean to say, that our merits may be perfumed with the 
 odour of the merits of Christ, as a mass which of itself has 
 no scent, takes the scent of the perfume with which it is 
 mixed ; or, as a water which is insipid and inefficacious in 
 its own nature, takes the tincture and the virtue of a medicinal 
 drug that we infuse into it ? I do not think that they would 
 wish to say this. For besides that the merits of Christ are 
 not material things which may be mixed and incorporated 
 with our works to influence them, and to give them some 
 inherent quality which they had not before in themselves, — 
 were his merits to render our works meritorious, they must 
 impress upon them the infinite dignity of his person, and 
 the immaculate holiness of all his affections, which are the 
 things upon which his merit is properly founded. Then 
 
416 THE WAGES OF SIN, f 
 
 they neither communicate nor can communicate the one 
 nor the other to us, or our works ; for could it be so, they 
 would make us gods, equal to our Lord Jesus Christ, and 
 our works divine and equal to his. We cannot then say 
 with propriety that the merits of Christ render our works 
 meritorious. What then, in fine, do the merits of Christ 
 produce those of believers, because Jesus Christ is the vine, 
 and they are the branches ? They cannot indeed say any 
 thing more specious, but who does not see that this ruins 
 their cause ? For as the branches do not bring forth fruit, 
 partly by the virtue of the vine and partly by their own, 
 seeing that all the sap they possess, and all the fruit they 
 bear, proceed from their root, to which all the glory is 
 due, — neither can believers, in whole or in part, attribute to 
 themselves the honour and praise of their good works, nor 
 pretend to any merit on account of them, since they all 
 proceed from Christ and not from themselves. There 
 remains yet another manner in which we may understand 
 what they say, namely, that the merits of Christ are imputed 
 to ours, that the justice of God might accept them as good 
 and valuable, though they may not be so in reality. But 
 this they cannot justify. For if our 'works could only be- 
 come merit by the imputation of the obedience of Christ, they 
 would not then be such in themselves, but only by a gra- 
 tuitous acceptance ; and if they became such only by 
 gratuitous acceptance, how could they be real merits ? 
 You perceive then that these are only frivolous excuses 
 and delusive words which are without sense. How much 
 better is it to strip ourselves freely of all these proud 
 pretensions of our own merits, to give glory to those of our 
 gracious Saviour, and to acknowledge with the great 
 apostle that the torments of eternal death are indeed the 
 wages that they merit who are the servants of sin : but that 
 as to eternal life and blessedness, it is a pure gift of God, 
 which has been procured for us, acquired, and merited 
 by our Lord Jesus Christ only. 
 
 My dear brethren, you ought to engrave this holy 
 
AND THE REWARD OF GRACE. 41? 
 
 doctrine very deeply on your souls, and carefully to 
 preserve it there the whole of your lives, that it may server 
 as a salutary preservative against all the temptations of 
 sin, and against all the contagion of the world, and as a 
 lively incentive to the study and exercise of saactifica- 
 tion. If then sin,. which you have renounce.] in baptism, 
 wishes to draw you into his service, consider what a 
 master he is, how disgraceful and infamous, what punish- 
 ment he gives to those who serve him, what remorse 
 he causes in the conscience, and in fine, what wages he 
 pays them at the end of their servitude. The arch deceiver 
 promises you an happy and contented life ; but hear ikz 
 voice of truth crying to you by the apostle, " The wages 
 of sin is death." If avarice tempts your hearts to heap up 
 the wealth of this world, whether by honest or dishonest 
 means, remember that " the love of money is the root of all 
 evil;" that "they who will be rich, fall into temptation 
 and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, 
 which drown men in destruction and perdition;" that if 
 you enter into its service, it will make you carry the 
 whole day heavy sums of gold and silver, for which you 
 will have no use, and from which nothing will remain 
 in the evening but dejection, lassitude, and at last torments 
 without end; for " the wages of sin is death." If ambition 
 carries you as upon a high mountain, and if in shewing 
 you all the pomp and grandeur of the world, it says to 
 you, " All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall 
 down and worship me," do not allow yourselves to be 
 dazzled by this vain tempter; but represent to yourselves 
 how short a time its illusions and charms will continue, 
 and what wa^es it at last pays to those who amuse them- 
 selves with it; and hear the voice of heaven which tells 
 you, that as the devil shewed the kingdoms of the world 
 and their glory to Jesus Christ only for one single moment, 
 so that which it offers you with so much ostentation is 
 but a shadow, and a shadow even that passeth away ; 
 but there is one thing which it leaves behind, which is 
 
418 THE WAGES OF SIX," 
 
 real, and lasts eternally, and that is damnation. For 
 although the world deceives us, and although our flesh 
 believes it, " the wages of sin is death." If pleasure 
 allures you, to draw you into vain recreations, into intem- 
 perance, or into the infamous enjoyments of the debauchee, 
 beware that you are not surprised by its attractions, and 
 by the delights of sin to which it invites you. Let not your 
 hearts go out after it, for we may apply to it what is said of 
 the strange woman, " her feet go down to death ; her 
 steps take hold on hell." While it promises you so 
 many delights and enjoyments that it will bestow, these 
 are only sweet waters, to which if you allow yourselves to 
 be conveyed, it will soon conduct you to the sea, into an 
 abyss of eternal bitterness. For, celestial truth cannot lie, 
 u the wages of sin is death." O cruel master, who under 
 such specious promises engages men into his service, to give 
 tbem at length for all their wages but eternal damnation ! 
 O miserable and more than miserable slaves, who, being 
 warned by the voice of heaven of the wages that this master 
 gives, still remain attached to him, and continue in his 
 service even till death, to suffer for ever without consolation 
 or remedy, " the worm which dieth not, and the fire 
 which is not consumed !" My dear brethren, be not of 
 this number. My dear brethren, in the name of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ, be not of this number. O give yourselves up 
 immediately to that kind master who calls you to him with 
 so much affection and concern for your salvation, who 
 only requires from you u whatsoever things are true, what- 
 soever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, what- 
 soever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, 
 whatsoever things are of good report," and that " if there 
 be any virtue, and if there be any praise," you should 
 " think on these things," and not remain " barren nor un- 
 fruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ ;" but 
 that you should make increasingly sure the internal evi- 
 dence of your " calling and election," and that externally 
 you should do honour to his sacred doctrine and the dis- 
 
AND THE REWARD OF GRACE. 419 
 
 cipline of his house by your holy and exemplary lives. For 
 this, he promises to give you eternal life, as a pure gift, for 
 the sake of his only- begotten Son. You are born in his 
 church, you have taken the oath of fidelity to him by 
 the mouth of your sponsors in baptism, you have 
 renewed it as often as you have presented yourselves at 
 his table : take care then that you are faithful to him even 
 unto death. " Having therefore these promises, dearly 
 beloved, cleanse" yourselves " from all filthiness of the flesh 
 and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of God, 1 ' and 
 beware that you do not allow any temptation of Satan, any 
 allurement of the world, any seduction of sin, to debauch 
 you in any way, from the service tiiat you owe to him. If 
 you thus attach yourselves to his service, be assured that as 
 he is the God of Truth, he will make you feel the effects 
 of his great and precious promises, that he will fill you 
 with consolation and joy ; and that at last he will give 
 you the possession of his eternal blessedness. From this 
 time he will establish his kingdom in you, to make you 
 abound in all spiritual and celestial blessings ; he will in- 
 spire you with a firm assurance that he is your Father ; that 
 Jesus Christ is your Saviour ; and that one day his Paradise 
 will be your inheritance; amidst all the sorrows of this life, 
 he will favour you with u a joy unspeakable and full of 
 glory ;" and will cause you to experience even in the 
 expectation of immortal bliss, ten thousand times. more sa- 
 tisfaction than the children of the world, with all their 
 wealth, with all their honours, and with ail the advantages 
 that they enjoy, in their most flourishing prosperity. And 
 when your hour shall come " to go" from this world " lo 
 the Father," he will redouble in your hearts the sweet sen- 
 sations of this blessed hope ; he will shew you " the heavens 
 opened," as he did holy Stephen ; he will make you cry 
 out with rapture and transports of joy, as he did his great 
 apostle, " I have fought a good fight, I have finished my 
 course, I have kept the faith ; henceforth there is laid up for 
 me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord the righteous 
 
420 THE WAGES OF SIN, &C. 
 
 Judge shall give me at that day;" be will send his angels 
 who will carry your souls in their arms even into " ever- 
 lasting habitations," at the gate of which you will meet 
 Jesus Christ himself, who will say to you, " Good and 
 and faithful servants, enter ye into the joy of your Lord," 
 and who will give you to enjoy without interruption 
 those felicities which u eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, 
 neither have entered into the heart of man," but 
 which " God hath prepared for them that love him." 
 And finally, when the great Judge shall descend from 
 heaven, to shew himself glorious in the eyes of his sainfs, 
 and admired of ail them that believe, while the wicked 
 appearing before him shall be seized with despair and 
 horror, and while they shall receive only death for all the 
 services that they have rendered to sin, and a death, a 
 torment, and a shame that must be eternal, you shall be 
 presented before him with a heart full of delight, and an 
 exalted head, to hear from his mouth that consoling and 
 glorious invitation. — " Come, ye blessed of my Father, enter 
 into the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of 
 the world." And then you shall be borne away into the 
 clouds, and mount in his triumphal car amidst the gratulations 
 of angels, archangels, and all the glorified spirits, to enter 
 into his heavenly Jerusalem, where he will present you 
 himself to his Father, who with his own hand shall crown 
 you with blessing and glory, as the dear and precious 
 members of his only-t>egotten Son, that you may bless and 
 glorify him eternally. 
 
DUMONT. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 JlVobinson translated an Essay by Dumont on the conduct of David, 
 at the Court of Achish, King of Gath. It is to be found at the end 
 of the fourth volume of his translation of Saurin's Sermons. To this 
 is prefixed a short sketch of the author, in which that ingenious man 
 places him in the first rank of preachers. A man of Robinson's 
 warm temperament could know little moderation in praise or censure, 
 but his opinion must be received with that deference which his fine 
 understanding merited. The subjects in Dumont's volume are gene- 
 rally treated in a plain, expository, and practical way, and those who 
 have read Robinson's Village Sermons will not be surprised at his 
 admiring Dumont. As no specimen of these discourses has ever 
 before met the eye of the English reader, he will be gratified in the 
 perusal of the one here translated, particularly when he has read the 
 following little memoir by Robinson. 
 
 " Gabriel Dumont was born at Crest in Dauphiny, August 18tb, 
 1680, and died at Rotterdam, January 1, 1748. He was a refugee 
 for religion, and was pastor of the Walloon church at Rotterdam, and 
 professor of the oriental languages and ecclesiastical history. He 
 published nothing himself during his life ; but after his decease, 
 Mr. Superville, his colleague, published, with a short preface, one 
 volume of his sermons, containing twelve discourses, the most plain, 
 artless, and edifying, that I have ever had the happiness of reading: 
 not so disputatious as those of Amyraut, not so grave as those of 
 Superville, not so stiff as those of Torne and Bourdaloue, not so 
 far-fetched and studied as those of Massillon, nor so charged with 
 colouring as those of Saurin : but placid, ingenious, gentle, natural, 
 and full of evidence and pathos : just as wisdom from above should 
 be, pure, peaceable, mild,— full of mercy and good fruits, — soiun in 
 peace to makepeace, (James iii. 17, 18.) The public owe this volume 
 to Mademoiselle xle HeuqueviJJe, the pious patroness and friend of 
 
422 DUMONT. 
 
 the author, who had as it were extorted them from him before 
 his death." 
 
 Whether the scarcity of these sermons, the character of them 
 by Robinson, or their intrinsic merit, have raised them in the public 
 estimation, or whether all have combined to enhance their price, 
 it is difficult to say, but they are enormously dear, and even at a sale 
 fetch the highest price of a modern octavo volume. 
 
SERMON XIII. 
 THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 
 
 DUMONT. 
 
 Philipp. iii. 13, 14.— This one thing I do, forgetting those things 
 which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are 
 before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling 
 of God in Christ Jesus. 
 
 Vanity or idleness often renders the most promising 
 designs abortive, and causes the best concerted enterprizes 
 to miscarry. A vaiu and presumptuous spirit is inflated 
 with what it has already done, and deems what yet remains 
 to be accomplished not worthy of a moment's concern. 
 After a few steps it imagines that it has attained the end of 
 its career. An idle and cowardly man, fatigued with the 
 commencement of the work, is frightened at what yet 
 remains to be executed. The least difficulties appear to 
 him to be insurmountable ; and he is soon disheartened by 
 his projects. How is it that those two men of letters have 
 only acquired such a limited portion of knowledge ? They 
 neither want talents nor help to become eminent in the studies 
 which they have chosen. The one would be skilful, if he 
 did not flatter himself too soon that he is so. The other 
 would have been a profound scholar, if he had only deter- 
 mined to be diligent, and to use that degree of application 
 which is essential to success. These two faults do not pro- 
 duce less evils in religion. How many Christian pro- 
 fessors stop in the midst of the course, as if they had 
 already attained ! Vanity destroys them. How many others 
 discourage themselves when they consider the number both 
 of the obstacles which they must overcome, and of ths 
 
424 THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 
 
 duties which they must fulfil ? Indolence keeps them back 
 in their natural misery. The believer, who is resolved to 
 be saved, knows how to rise above these two vices. Humble, 
 he" does not allow himself to be dazzled by the illusions of 
 self-love. He considers all the good which he has been 
 able to perform only as nothing, or at best but very little. 
 Laborious, he stirs up himself in his work at the sight of 
 the task: which is assigned to him. Such was the apostle 
 St. Paul. His humility made him regard his progress 
 in the faith as very little compared with that which he 
 hoped to make : and his zeal excited him courageously to 
 surmount whatever could oppose itself to his happiness. 
 For my part, said he, this one thing I do, forgetting those 
 things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things 
 which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of 
 the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. 
 
 We have thought, my dear brethren, that the example 
 of this apostle would be suitable to confirm you in the holy 
 resolutions which you have taken, in the sacred engage- 
 ments into which you have entered in renewing your cove- 
 nant with God, in the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, a 
 covenant in which he has deigned to treat with us, through 
 the mediation of Jesus Christ his Son. Sensible as you are 
 of the spiritual favours which you have so richly received 
 from his bounty, you have without doubt pledged yourself 
 in future to be more submissive to his will, more faithful to 
 his service, and more diligent in the ways which he has 
 marked out to conduct us to a glorious immortality. Come 
 then, Christians, and facilitate the execution of these pro- 
 mises, by learning from one of the most faithful servants of 
 Jesus Christ what ought to be your principal occupations. 
 
 This one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, 
 
 and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I 
 press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of 
 
 God in Christ Jesus. 
 
 We shall first give you a short exposition of these words 9 
 
 and we shall afterwards confine ourselves to the truths and 
 
THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 425 
 
 duties which they include. May our meditation, accom- 
 panied with the efficacy of the Holy Spirit, awaken sinners 
 from their stupidity, and give new strength to the piety of 
 believers ! Amen. 
 
 I. All the expressions of my text manifestly allude to 
 those races, so celebrated among the Greeks. They had a 
 starting place from whence they began to run ; a course in 
 which the different competitors strove to take the lead of 
 each other ; an end which they endeavoured to attain ; a 
 goal, elevated at the end of the course, where the judges 
 fixed to preside over these assemblies, named the com- 
 petitors, gave them the signal to run, and distributed 
 the prize, which was usually a crown. These games 
 were renewed every five years at Olympus. They were 
 practised not only throughout Greece, but even in Egypt, 
 in Lybia, in Sicily, and in the provinces yet more distant. 
 Besides the glory of conquering under the eyes of so 
 great a cloud of spectators ; besides the crown which the 
 victors received from the hands of the judges ; their 
 names were engraven on tables of marble, to preserve their 
 memory to posterity; statues were laised, and even some- 
 times temples were erected to their honour. They were 
 reconducted In triumph into their country ; they entered as 
 conquerors by a breach made on purpose in the walls of 
 their town ; and all the rest of their lives they occupied the 
 first places in all the games, and were honourably enter- 
 tained at the expence of the public ; their names enhanced 
 the glory of the place of their birth, and of their relations. 
 The Greeks held their games in such high estimation, that 
 they spoke of them as the foundation of their religion, and 
 of their republics. Plato himself, whose wisdom procured 
 him the name of divine, was not ashamed to be seen among 
 the number of the competitors, and St. Cyril* himself re- 
 proaches him with it. It is not then surprising that the 
 most serious writers of antiquity, the fathers of the church, 
 
 * Cyrillus, lib. vi. contra Julian, p. 208. 
 
42(5 THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 
 
 and even the apostles, should have borrowed ideas ancl 
 comparisons from these esteemed exercises, in order to> 
 animate men to the practice of piety. St. Paul in parti- 
 cular has so plentifully scattered these allusions to the 
 Grecian games throughout his epistles, that entire books 
 have been formed of the selections which have been 
 made from them.* In my text he compares himself 
 to one of those men who wish to gain the prize ; having 
 set off with extreme swiftness, he labours to arrive at the 
 end of the race; and, without allowing himself to think 
 about the portion of time in which he has to run, he only 
 occupies his mind with the care of speedily and hap- 
 pily finishing his course. This one thing I do, forgetting 
 those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those 
 things zohich are before, I press toward the mark for the 
 prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. Let us 
 unfold a little, the various ideas of this comparison ; and 
 let us consider on one hand, the activity of St. Paul. He 
 does one thing; he forgets those things which are behind? 
 he reaches forth unto those things which are before; and he 
 shoots, or presses toward the mark ; and on the other, the 
 principle, or the cause of his activity ; he wants to obtain 
 the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus* 
 
 1 . Prudent in his activity, he proposes to himself a mark, 
 he chooses means, and he applies himself to make those 
 means subservient to the proposed end. What is the mark 
 at which St. Paul wishes to arrive, and which he represents 
 as the end of his course ? We generally and properly 
 understand that it is perfection. He has just said, Not as 
 though J had already attained, either were already perfect : 
 but I follow after, if that I may apprehend that for which 
 also I am apprehended of Christ Jesus. Brethren, I count 
 not myself to have apprehended. But in going back a little^ 
 we perceive that he made the perfection, after which he- 
 aspired, to consist in three things: in the knowledge of 
 
 * Jacobi Lydii Agonistica Sacra. 
 
THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 427 
 
 Jesus Christ ; he counts all things but loss for the excellency 
 of the knowledge of Christ Jesus his Lord; in the righteous- 
 ness that we have through the faith of Christ, and which 
 God gives to those who believe : a righteousness winch by 
 assuring us of the remission of our sins, and of our right to 
 salvation, necessarily engages us to an entirely new life, to a 
 holiness, which shews that we are made conformable unto 
 the death of Jesus Christ, and that we have felt the power 
 of his resurrection ; in fine, in the consummation of his suffer- 
 ings for Jesus Christ. The false teachers, who wished to 
 subject the Christians to the observation of the legal 
 ceremonies, preached Judaism only to shelter themselves 
 from the persecution of the Jews. But St. Paul considers 
 it as his greatest glory to carry the cross of Christ, to suffer 
 for his gospel, and thus to have the fellowship of his suffer- 
 ings; this is what he here particularly calls his perfection: 
 either because his ministry, like that of Jesus his master, 
 must be perfected by his sufferings ; or, because that in 
 dying for the faith, he should pass into a state of glory, 
 which is the consummation and the last perfection of man; 
 as the author of our salvation has been himself made perfect 
 through sufferings, and on account of his ignominious death 
 raised to a sovereign authority. 
 
 What are the means which our apostle chooses to arrive at 
 the perfection of the kuowledge, the righteousness, and the 
 sufferings of the Lord Jesus ? He imitates those who wish 
 to attain the mark in the race. He forgets those things 
 which are behind, and he reaches forth unto those things 
 zchich are before. Those things which he forgets, and 
 which he leaves behind him, are the advantages which he 
 renounced, and the progress which he had already made 
 in the gospel. He renounced two kinds of advantages : 
 the advantages of Judaism ; being circumcised the eighth 
 day, of the stock of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, an 
 Hebrew of the Hebrezcs ; as touching the law a Pharisee; — 
 touching the righteousness which is in the law blameless, 
 he had been a religious observer of the legal ceremonies, 
 
428 THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 
 
 and before his conversion to the faith he had maintained a 
 conduct which the Jews could not blame. None of them 
 could glory in all these prerogatives better than he ; but 
 far from resting his salvation upon them, he counts them 
 but loss, persuaded that the Judaism in which he had lived 
 was more calculated to place numerous obstacles in his 
 course, and to make him lose the prize of his happiness, 
 than to conduct him to perfection and blessedness. He 
 also renounces all the temporal advantages, which he might 
 have enjoyed, by continuing in the religion of his fathers y 
 or by forsaking the Christians to return to it. A native of 
 Tarsus, where, as it appears by his epistles, he had doubtless 
 been instructed in the knowledge of the Greek authors, 
 which were read in an academy almost as celebrated as the 
 schools of Athens and Alexandria ; brought up in Jerusalem 
 at the feet of Gamaliel, a celebrated Kabbi, who had 
 initiated him with the greatest care into the law of Moses, 
 and into the traditions of the Pharisees ; known by his zeal 
 for bis religion, and already authorized by the high priest, 
 and by all the senate, and honoured with their commissions 
 against the disciples of Jesus ; who can doubt but that in 
 remaining a Jew, he might either have aspired after the 
 first employ in his nation, or that he was not offered the 
 most advantageous stations if he would return again into 
 the bosom of Judaism ? But he forgets all these temporal 
 things, he entirely effaces all his worldly hopes from his 
 memory ; they have no more power over his heart. 
 
 He even leaves behind him the progress which he had 
 hitherto made in the gospel. The desire of advancing 
 prevents him from stopping either at the knozvledge of its 
 celestial truths, which he had already acquired ; or at the 
 degrees of Christian holiness at which he had arrived : or 
 at the sufferings which he had already endured for the pro- 
 fession and preaching of the cross of Jesus Christ. Not 
 that he does not bless God a thousand and a thousand times 
 for this happy progress, but he does not think highly 
 ef himself, he does not wish to limit his exertions. 
 
THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 429 
 
 Forgetting those things which are behind him. he presses 
 towards those things which are before, towards the duties 
 and the rewards of the gospel. Towards the duties. He 
 only occupies himself to extend and perfect his knowledge 
 in a science so beneficial as that of the gospel, to cleanse 
 himself from all Jilt hiness of the flesh and spii it, perfecting 
 holiness in the fear of God, and to fill up the measure 
 of his sufferings which he must yet endure for the edifica- 
 tion of the church : at the same time that he advances in 
 the practice of all these duties, he coufirms himself more 
 and more in the rewards which are proposed to us. To the 
 advantages which he might hope from Judaism, he opposes 
 the blessings of grace and of glory ; the assurance of the 
 pardon of his sins for the sake of Jesus Christ, the sense of 
 God's love, peace of conscience, the consolations and joys 
 of the spirit, a happy resurrection, and a glorious immor- 
 tality. Whatever the world can offer him vanishes away 
 at the sight of those great and precious promises which God 
 presents to believers, and towards which he is so power- 
 fully impelled by his desires. I reach forth unto those 
 things which are before. He here borrows a term from the 
 Grecian runners, who, when they had just finished their 
 race, extended the head, the eyes, the arms, and all the 
 body, towards the mark, and inclined their whole frame 
 towards the end of the course ; which admirably ex- 
 presses both the progress which St. Paul proposed to himself 
 in his course, from the end of which he was not far distant; 
 and his efforts and zeal to advance towards perfection, 
 which he was so near attaining. 
 
 In order to insure success, he applies himself to so im- 
 portant an affair only. One thing, says he, I do. He labours 
 to increase his faith, to establish his hope, to inflame his love 
 to a greater degree, to hate always a conscience void of offence 
 toward God and tovcard men ; to dispose himself to suffer 
 courageously for the profession of the gospel. This is hi* 
 usual occupation, that on which he bestows the most assi- 
 duous and the most earnest cares, that to which he directs 
 
450 THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 
 
 all his steps. This one thing I do, I forget those things 
 which are behind, and reach forth unto those things zvhich 
 are before. 
 
 2. He teaches us himself in my text what is the principle 
 ■which makes him act with so much activity ; what is the 
 cause of his ardour to attain perfection. It is, that at the 
 end of the race he is assured that he shall carry away the 
 prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. 
 
 This prize is eternal life, the glory and immortality, 
 which God has promised to those who shall persevere in 
 his covenant even to the end ; a prize infinitely more worthy 
 of our ambition and ardour than all the crowns, all the 
 honours, all the rewards, which Greece promised to those 
 who conquered in the games of the course, or in their 
 other athletic exercises. A prize which the scripture calls 
 elsewhere a favour, a gift, a heritage ; because salvation is 
 only founded upon the bounty and pure mercy of God 
 our Father, and by no means on the merit of those who are 
 put in possession of it. 
 
 This felicity is a prize of the calling of God; or a 
 prize to which God calls us, in the same manner as the 
 hope of the Christians is called the hope of their calling; 
 that is to say, the hope to which they are called. God calls 
 us to this prize. This points out four truths. 
 
 1. God calls us to this prize: then we cannot excuse 
 ourselves from aspiring after it. In the Grecian games no 
 one was constrained to become a competitor for the crown. 
 He might either absent himself, or only join the number of 
 the spectators. We are not allowed to run or not to run in 
 this career of salvation, to aspire after the crown of life, or 
 to abandon the pursuit of it. Though all our happiness 
 were not to depend upon this prize, it would be sufficient 
 that God calls us to it, his invitation is a command, and we 
 cannot despise his will, without exposing ourselves to his 
 anger. 
 
 2. God calls us to this prize : then we may promise our- 
 selves his aid. Be of good comfort, said the people to the 
 
THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 431 
 
 blind man, the master calleth thee. And we too have only 
 to follow the voice of God. He who calls us is faithful; 
 and he is not less powerful. He will support us in our 
 course, he will fortify us by his Spirit, he wiil hold us by 
 his right hand, he will guide us by his counsel, and he will 
 receive us into his glory. 
 
 3. God calls us to this prize : then salvation is assured to 
 all those who go on unto perfection. In the Olympic games 
 the best runner was not always sure of carrying away the 
 prize. The judges appointed to bestow it were indeed 
 celebrated for their impartiality and justice. They were, 
 however, sometimes corrupted. Christians have nothing 
 of this kind to fear. I therefore so run, said St. Paul, not 
 as uncertainly ; so fight I, not as one that beateth the air. 
 See with what confidence lie speaks in the fourth chapter of 
 his second Epistle to Timothy : For I am now ready to be 
 offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have 
 
 fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept 
 the faith : Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of 
 righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give 
 me at that day : and not to me only, but unto all them also 
 that love his appearing. 
 
 4. God calls us to this prize : then it must be a prize of 
 infinite value. It will without doubt be answerable to the 
 boundless love, the greatness, and the omnipotence of him 
 who destines it for us. What will not that God do for his 
 beloved children, who is so great in counsel, so rich in 
 mercy, when he shall be pleased to bestow upon them the 
 incomprehensible treasures of his bounty ! 
 
 St. Paul further enhances the excellency of salvation, 
 when he calls it the prize of the high calling, or of the 
 calling from on high. He continues the allusion to the 
 Grecian games. The crown was suspended from an ele- 
 vated place at the end of the course ; from whence the 
 judges, who were seated there, invited the racers, and 
 encouraged those who entered the lists by promising them 
 the prize which was set before them. God sits as a judge 
 
452 THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD* 
 
 in heaven. It is from heaven that he calls us, that he 
 exhorts us to be perfect, and that he cries to us, be faithful 
 unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life. It is also in 
 heaven that God has laid up this prize for us. Our 
 reward is entirely celestial, entirely divine. Blessings that 
 are incorruptible, undefiled, that fadeth not away, and of 
 which we are the heirs, are reserved for us in heaven. 
 
 In fine, salvation is a prize to which God calls us, from 
 on high, in or by Christ Jesus; because it is to Jesus 
 Christ that we are indebted for so great a salvation. It is 
 he who has merited this prize by his sufferings. His death 
 has brought many sons unto glory. It is he who has fully 
 manifested this prize to us. He hath brought life and 
 immortality to light through the gospel. It is he who calls 
 us to the acquisition of this prize. I am the zvay, and the 
 truth, and the life : no man cometh unto the Father but by 
 me. It is he who shews us the course in which we ought 
 to run, and in which he has himself run to obtain the prize. 
 Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that ye 
 should follozo his steps. It is he who guides us and supports 
 us in our race by the efficacy of his Spirit. He draws us, 
 and we run after him. Jt is he who is gone to take pos- 
 session of the prize, not only for himself, but for us. He 
 has entered into heaven as our forerunner, that he may 
 prepare a place for us. It is he who in the last day will 
 distribute the prize to us. For our conversation is in heaven, 
 zvhence also we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ ; 
 who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like 
 unto his glorious body. As the sovereign Judge of the 
 world, he will reward our feeble efforts, he will crown our 
 fidelity with all his glory. He that is unjust, let him be 
 unjust still: and he zvhich is filthy, let him be filthy still: 
 and he that is righteous, let him be righteous still. And 
 behold, I come quickly ; and my reward is zvith me, to give 
 every man according as his work shall be. Such is the prize 
 which excited the most ardent desires in St. Paul, and 
 which all his conduct testified it was his chief aim to secure. 
 
THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 433 
 
 My dear brethren, do you not feel yourselves excited 
 to follow this apostle in his course, and so to run that you 
 may obtain the prize ? His example cannot but interest 
 all Christians. The same course is open to them ; the same 
 prize is proposed to them ; the same means, the same sup- 
 ports, are offered to them. And a few verses after our text, 
 he exhorts all believers to be his imitators, and to regulate 
 their conduct after the model of his. Let us then enter into 
 the same sentiments ; and to aid us to go on to perfection, 
 like him, let us endeavour to understand the truths and the 
 duties included in his words. We observe here a truth under- 
 stood, and two important duties expressed. The truth 
 understood is, that the most advanced believers in the present 
 state have not yet arrived at perfection. Of the two duties 
 expressed, the one is, that we must make continual progress 
 in piety, forgetting those things which are behind, and 
 reaching forth unto those things which are before. The 
 other, that this study must be our principal occupation, as it 
 was that of St. Paul; this one thing I do. Let us explain 
 the truth and the duties. 
 
 II. The truth understood in my text, and which serves for 
 a foundation to the duties there expressed, is, that the 
 saints who live yet upon the earth, however they may be 
 regenerated by grace, whatever progress they may have 
 made in godliness, have not yet attained perfection, towards 
 which they tend. It is of importance to be well established 
 in this doctrine, either to defend ourselves from the ancient 
 errors, which are renewed in these last times, upon this 
 article; or to preserve ourselves from falling into the dan- 
 gerous illusion, that we have nothing more to do in the 
 great work of our salvation. 
 
 If we would consult only the oracles of God, the question 
 may soon be decided. There we read the most formal 
 declaration upon the subject, and the confessions of the greatest 
 saints. 
 
 These are not merely the Jobs who have lived under the 
 economy of nature, and who ask, How should man be just 
 
434 THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 
 
 with God? If he will contend with him, he cannot answer 
 him one of a thousand : not merely the Davids and the 
 Solomons, who have lived under the dispensation of the 
 law, and who in their prayers to the Lord declare, 
 that in his sight shall no man living be justified, and 
 that there is no man that sinneth not ; but the holy Pauls, 
 the holy James's, the holy Johns, who have lived under 
 the splendid light of the gospel, and the ministration of the 
 Spirit/ who have even been the faithful dispensers of them, 
 and who assure us, — the one who was distinguished by the re- 
 velation made to him of the most profound mysteries in Pa- 
 radise, — That zee only know in part, and we prophesy in part; 
 that now we do but see through a, glass darkly ; that at best 
 we understand things imperfectly, but that zvhen that which 
 is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done 
 away; — the others, whose writings breathe such pure morals 
 and such ardent love, that in many things we offend all, and 
 that if we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and 
 the truth is not in us. 
 
 What can we oppose to such decisive passages ? What St. 
 John himself says in the second chapter of his first Epistle, — 
 that those believers who have received an unction from the 
 Holy One know all things ? How can St. John agr< e with 
 St. Paul but in remarking that the expression of the first is 
 one of those general modes of speaking, which must be 
 understood with limitation, and that it must be confined to 
 those truths of the Christian religion, the knowledge of 
 which was necessary to those believers, to preserve them 
 from the false doctrine of deceivers. Shall we further op- 
 pose what the same apostle says in the third chapter of this 
 first Epistle, — Whosoever is born of God doth not commit 
 sin ; for his seed remaineth in him, and he cannot sin, be- 
 cause he is born of God? Will St. John on this account 
 contradict himself? The master will come forward to 
 justify the beloved disciple. Whosoever committeth sin, said 
 Jesus to the Jews, is the servant of sin. To commit sin is to 
 addict one's self to sin 3 to make it a pleasure, and to allow 
 
THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 435 
 
 it to reign over us. St. John does not vary if you thus un- 
 derstand bim, speaking of the habit and domination of sin, 
 when he declares that the faithful child of God doth not 
 commit sin, and cannot sin. He cannot live in sin, which he 
 has renounced, nor delight himself in those vices which he 
 detests. A disposition very different from the impious error 
 of Simon and the Nicolaitans, whom, it seems, St. John de- 
 signed to combat, and who, according to the testimony of 
 St. Iren&us, taught that sin was a thing of little moment ; 
 and consequently gave themselves up to all sorts of impu- 
 rities and abominations. 
 
 Is it necessary, in addition, to point you to the confessions 
 of the most holy saints of the Old Testament, as those of a 
 David, who conjures the Lord not to enter into judgment 
 with him, and acknowledges that if the Lord should mark 
 iniquities and examine men with rigour, none of them 
 could stand : and of the nexo economy, as those of a St. Paul, 
 who confesses so expressly in the chapter from whence our 
 text is taken, that he has not already attained perfection, 
 but that he is employing efforts to arrive at it? Where is 
 the believer who dares to boast that he has more piety than 
 the man after God's own heart ; more holiness and zeal than 
 the apostle, who always continued faithful to the cause of 
 his master, and whom Jesus selected to be a chosen vessel for 
 his use. 
 
 I know that Job is called a perfect and upright man, and 
 one that feared God and eschewed evil. I know that Zacha- 
 rias, and Elizabeth his wife, were both righteous before God, 
 walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord 
 blameless. I know that St. Paul often calls the most ad- 
 vanced Christians perfect men; and that in this chapter, 
 after having said that he has not already attained perfection, 
 he adds, let us therefore, as many as be perfect, be thus 
 minded. But I know also that there is an absolute perfec- 
 tion, and if I dare so express myself, there is also a relative 
 perfection, a perfection of degrees and of parts ; a perfection 
 taken from the rigour of the law, and a perfection under- 
 
436 THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 
 
 stood in an evangelical sense. Job, Zacharias, Elizabeth, 
 St. Paul, and all Christians advanced in the faith of Jesus, 
 are perfect, but not with an absolute perfection, in the most 
 rigid sense of the word, having no deficiency either in 
 knowledge or piety : we have just heard their confessions and 
 their declarations, and Zacharias was not so perfect, but that 
 he was afterwards punished for bis disbelief of the words of 
 the angel ; but they are perfect with a relative perfection; 
 perfect in opposition to those who have not yet formed 
 the design of going on unto perfection, and even to those 
 believers who are yet only in the beginning of their 
 conversion. They have merely an evangelical perfection. 
 They are perfect because their piety is sincere, because 
 God accepts of their services, and because he pardons 
 ail their faults and imperfections for the sake of Jesus 
 Christ. They have only a perfection of parts. They 
 have in them the principle of every truth and of every 
 grace, although they do not yet know all these truths with 
 that degree of evidence with which they shall one day 
 know them, and although their graces have not yet attained 
 that exalted degree of energy which they shall possess in a 
 state of glory. I know also, that in the style of the writers 
 of the Septuagint, which the apostles have imitated, the 
 perfect frequently mean nothing more than wise or enlight- 
 ened men, who possess knowledge and prudence ; and that 
 it is only believers who can be truly perfect men, who, 
 having attained their full age, have their senses exercised to 
 discern both good and evil. I likewise know that St. Paul, 
 who was so distinguished both as a scholar and for his 
 knowledge of Jewish traditions, might also with great 
 propriety apply the name of perfect to the Christians, to 
 oppose them to those whom the Pagans called perfect, 
 when they were initiated into the mysteries and ceremonies 
 of their religion ; and to those to whom the Jews gave the 
 same name, when they had learnt the traditions of their 
 fathers, and the highest points of their theology ; and to the 
 Heretics^ who pretended that the revelation of the apostle* 
 
THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 437 
 
 was not sufficient to give men all the knowledge necessary 
 for their salvation. 
 
 But why should we dwell any longer on a question, 
 which the experience of every believer too readily places 
 beyond all dispute, and which would probably be no more 
 agitated, if those who are rilled with such flattering thoughts 
 of an accomplished piety, would deign to consider the 
 weakness inseparable from human nature, with the number 
 and purity of the duties which are prescribed to us ; and 
 then with sincerity and impartiality consult the movements 
 of their hearts, their discourses, and their actions. Would 
 they then dare to say, that they have already made that 
 progress in knowledge and love which they ought to have 
 made, in proportion to the favours that they have received 
 from God, or which they might have received, had they 
 asked for them as they should have done ? Would they 
 dare to say, that their souls are so pure, that no more 
 sentiments of pride rise in them, no evil desires ? That 
 their tongues are so holy, that they offend not in word? 
 That their conduct is so exacf, that they have no more 
 need to address to God the prayer of David, — Cleanse thou 
 me from secret faults; or the prayer dictated by our Lord, — 
 forgive us our trespasses ? Let us then conclude with those 
 words of St. Augustin, in one of his letters to St. Jerome, — 
 Virtue is great in some ; less in others : but it is not to be 
 found complete and perfect^ so as not to admit of increase, in 
 any man living upon earth. 
 
 This doctrine being once established, we deduce from it 
 two duties which are discoverable in the example of St. Paul. 
 The first is to make continual progress in piety : and the 
 second is to make this progress our principal business. 
 
 I. Forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching 
 forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the 
 mark, I hasten to perfection. By how many different 
 motives are we not engage! to imitate this apostle, and to 
 advance both in the knowledge of saving truth, and in the 
 practice of Christian virtue, 
 
 2* 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
438 THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 
 
 1. Can we dispense with the augmentation of our know- 
 ledge, so as to make that more clear which we already 
 possess, and to add fresh acquirements, after the commands 
 which God lias given us by his prophets and apostles? 
 Is it not by his authority that Solomon tells us in the fourth 
 chapter of Proverbs, that the path of the just is as the shining 
 light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day ? Is 
 it not in his name that St. Peter commands us to grozo in 
 grace, and in the knozdedge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus 
 Christ % But if there were no express command, would not 
 the intrinsic excellency of the truths of salvation deserve our 
 serious application, that we might incessantly discover 
 some new wonder ? What are all the sciences in the world, 
 if you compare them with the mystery of godliness, which 
 is so profound, that even the angels desire to look into it ; so 
 true, that it is supported by incontestable facts and witnesses : 
 so consol'uig and so efficacious, that it communicates a joy 
 that is unspeakable to the hearts of believers, and changes 
 them fro?n glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord ? 
 We believe that we ought to defend ourselves from error 
 and to abide firm in the faith: but if we do not labour to 
 preserve ourselves against illusion, to confirm our minds in 
 the profession of the truth, by an abundance of kuowledge 
 which may aid us to distinguish the gospel from falsehood,, 
 and good from evil, will a superficial knowledge of Chris- 
 tianity, like that which we acquired in our early years, be 
 sufficient to preserve us against seduction ? Let us not 
 expose ourselves to the evils of being like children tossed to 
 end fro, and carried about with every zmnd of doctrine ; bj/ 
 the sleight of men, and cunning craftiness whereby they lie 
 in wait to deceive. 
 
 2. This continual advancement in the knowledge of the 
 truths of salvation, is already a proof of the necessity under 
 which we are, of making progress in the practice of 
 Christian virtue. Ought not godliness to increase in pro- 
 portion as our knowledge increases ? Is it not proper, is it 
 not natural 3 that the more our zeal is enlightened, the 
 
THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 439 
 
 greater should be the degree of its warmth ? What use do 
 we make of our knowledge but to increase our criminality, 
 and become more like the devil, if we do not apply it to its 
 legitimate use, which is our sanctification ? 
 
 This sanctification, for the perfection of which we seek, is in 
 effect the will of God. What has he commanded by his Son ? 
 Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven 
 is perfect. And who does not perceive that so exalted, so 
 accomplished a model, always leaves us to acquire some 
 additional perfection ? For what purpose lias he established 
 the gospel ministry ? Does not his apostle St. Paul teach 
 us, that it is for this purpose that we may all come in the 
 unity of the faith and of the knozvledge of the Son of God, 
 unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the 
 fulness of Christ ? What is his design in the institution of 
 the sacraments? Are not these visible signs of his love, 
 intended to give new energy to our faith and hope, and to 
 warm our hearts with a more ardent and obedient love ? 
 Why does he who doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the 
 children of men, so often cause his elect to pass through the 
 furnace of temptation, if it is not to purify them more and 
 more from their dross, and to give new power and splendour 
 to their graces ? 
 
 Among the Greeks it was not enough to have run for to 
 attain the crown, it was necessary to persevere to the end ; 
 the first steps were reckoned nothing. In the career of 
 piety, we go backwards the moment that we cease to 
 advance. Our attachment to virtue is so weak, temptations 
 are so frequent and so powerful, that unless we for fy 
 ourselves by our habits of holiness, we cannot resist the 
 attacks of our spiritual enemies, and our latter end will be 
 worse than the beginning. Our firs' steps suppose that we 
 have acknowledged the justice of our duhes, and that God 
 has already granted us a certain measure of his grace. And 
 if we turn from the holy commandment, ought we not to fear, 
 lest an account should be required of us for the favours 
 that we have abused, and lest instead of receiving the 
 
 I 
 
<440 THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 
 
 crown which is promised to those who run the race se} 
 before them, the divine judgments should overtake us as 
 cowardly deserters, who plunge anew into the corruption 
 that is in the world, which we had renounced. 
 
 When we are called to obey any of the precepts of the 
 Lord, which we find opposed to our temporal interests, to 
 our inclinations, to the maxims and customs of the world; 
 when we must relinquish any good which we had accus- 
 tomed ourselves to enjoy, or pardon sincerely an enemy 
 who persecutes us, or vanquish a passion of inebriety or 
 impurity which has begun to seduce us ; we find the yoke 
 of Jesus Christ uneasy, and his burden insufferably heavy. 
 And what pains and labours does it cost us honestly to 
 submit ourselves to it? Can we be ignorant that what 
 seems to us so difficult and so heavy, would be easy and 
 light, if, more used to control our inclinations, more 
 accustomed to the obedience which Jesus demands, we 
 were by continual progress to facilitate the observance of 
 his commands, which are not grievous but to those who are 
 beginning to practise them, and which become easy as we 
 advance in the ways of righteousness. 
 
 A Christian who remains always in the same state^ 
 must unavoidably be in doubt respecting his salvation. 
 As he does not give diligence to make his calling and 
 election sure, he cannot perfectly satisfy himself whether 
 lie is the object of God's love or of his displeasure. 
 Every day he hears about the felicities of a Paradise, and 
 the torments of a hell, without being able to ascertain 
 which shall be his portion. Kow can any man continue 
 to live in such cruel suspense, who knows that he must 
 die ? And if there were no other consolation to be derived 
 from knowing that we are among the number of God's 
 Children, and heirs of his kingdom, ought not this to be 
 enough to determine us to advance as much as possible 
 towards perfection ? 
 
 But we go further, and we dare to assert, that every 
 Christian who. contents himself with that degree of holiness. 
 
THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 441 
 
 which he thinks he has acquired, and does not endeavour 
 to advance in the divine life, has every reason to believe 
 that he has only a form of godliness, and is denying the 
 power thereof The proofs of this are but too plain and 
 evident. True believers love God above every other 
 object. And how is it that we advance not in the observance 
 of his obligations, if it is not that we prefer the world to 
 God ? The love of God induces us to imitate his per- 
 fections. But can we love him when we do not strive to 
 imitate so perfect an original more and more ? The love of 
 God only makes us anxious to please him. And can we 
 doubt but that we shall be more agreeable to him in pro- 
 portion as we increase in every divine virtue ? The love of 
 God renders us sensible of his benefits. And is it possible 
 that we can know that God has delivered his Son to death 
 for us, that he has drawn us from a frightful and eternal 
 misery, that he has prepared for us an ineffable felicity, 
 that he sets no bounds to his love ; and shall we set bounds 
 to our gratitude ? Ah ! have we not tasted but little of the 
 grace of God, when we have such feeble desires to obtain 
 fresh supplies ? True believers are quickened and led 
 by the Spirit of God ; and can so efficacious a principle as 
 this spirit of life dwell in us without acting ? Can it 
 influence of our hearts without making us produce all the 
 fruits of righteousness ? It would be even a kind of con- 
 tradiction to say that a man is a true believer, and that he 
 does not fortify himself in the practice of godliness. The 
 Christian virtues are perfected by repeated acts. Few days 
 pass away in which we have not some reason for humbling 
 ourselves before God, some cause for exercising our love or 
 our patience. Can we conceive it possible for a Christian 
 who has a sincere piety, to neglect all these occasions which 
 present themselves ? Or do we imagine that we can profit 
 by these occasions, without at the same time considerably 
 strengthening our virtue ? No, Christians, let no one 
 seduce you; your holiness is but pure hypocrisy, or at 
 best but a human virtue, if it does not constrain you to 
 
442 THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 
 
 press towards 'perfection. Remember that the natural dic- 
 tates of conscience, the effects of a good education, the 
 desire of obtaining human approbation, the fear of injuring 
 your credit, or your reputation ; all this may be the cause 
 of a regular conduct, and even of the greatest exactness in 
 performing the exterior duties of religion. 
 
 "Would you, my dear brethren, assure yourselves of 
 the sincerity of your faith and the certainty of your happi- 
 ness ? Make progress in sanctification \ forget, says St. Paul, 
 those things which are behind, reach forth, like him, unto 
 those things which are before. But like him also apply 
 yourselves without reserve to so important an affair. This 
 is the second duty which his example furnishes to us. 
 This one thing I do, said this apostle. Let this progress 
 also be your occupation, your only occupation. 
 
 The care of your advancement is a matter which regards 
 you all individually. It is the task which God has 
 assigned to you. Wo one can labour in your place, and 
 the gain or the loss must personally affect you all. 
 
 For what reason, do you suppose, has God drawn you 
 from your original nothingness, given you existence, and 
 placed you in the church of his own Son ? Is it only that 
 you may taste the pleasures of sense, that you may heap up 
 unrighteous riches, for the purpose of acquiring rank in 
 civil society ? that you may distinguish yourself in it by the 
 keenness of your policy, or by the extent of your know- 
 ledge ? Is it only to swell the number of those who are 
 called Christians, and to have some part in their exterior 
 worship ? No, you yourselves answer me, that God has 
 created you in nature, and called you by his grace, for 
 this purpose, that as he which hath called you is holy, so you 
 may be holy in all manner of conversation ; that the work in 
 which he has engaged you is to labour not for the meat 
 that perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto ever- 
 lasting life. 
 
 Since you know that this is the task which God has 
 assigned you, how then does it happen that you do not 
 
THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 443 
 
 make it your business ? Is there any one who can engage 
 in it for you? Great men of the earth, you may arm whole 
 nations to support your rights, or even to satisfy your 
 ambition. Rich men of the world, do you want to augment 
 your pleasures ? a thousand hands are extended to execute 
 your commands and to anticipate your wishes. Masters, 
 you have domestics to whom you can trust the management 
 of your houses. Merchants, you can relieve yourselves 
 from the burdens of commerce, by the prudence of a partner, 
 or the diligence of a faithful deputy ; but whoever you may 
 be, high or low, rich or poor, upon whom can you depend 
 for the sanctification and salvation of your soul ? Who can 
 put himself in a state of grace for you ? Who can render 
 those talents serviceable in your behalf which God has en- 
 trusted to you ? Who ran advance for you in the paths of truth 
 and virtue ? Every man shall bear his oxen burden. Every- 
 one must answer for himself before the Sovereign Judge. 
 
 Besides, in every respect, this is nothing less than your 
 own concern. Increase your capital and your revenues ; 
 it is as much for your friends, and your relations, and even 
 for strangers, if you are liberal, as it is for yourself ; and if 
 you only think about heaping up, for you know not who, — 
 who shall gather, who shall possess, or rather perhaps who 
 shall squander your inheritance. But here you only gain 
 or lose for yourself; all the good that there is to hope, all 
 the evil that there is to fear, regards you personally, touches 
 you only. If you save yourself, who can lessen your hap- 
 piness by dividing it with jou ; but if you are so unhappy 
 as to destroy yourself, who can recompense you for your 
 loss, or even diminish the acutemss of your torments ? Be 
 not deceived; God is not mocked: for zchatsoever a man 
 sozceth, that shall he also reap. For he that soweth to the 
 flesh, shall of the flesh reap corruption ; but he that soweth 
 to the Spirit, shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting. 
 Therefore, brethren, Let us not be zceary in well doifig : 
 for in due season zee shall reap ifzcefauit not. 
 
 II. The care of advancing in piety ought to be our 
 
444 THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 
 
 principal business; that to which all others should tend; 
 that to which wc should apply our greatest efforts ; that 
 alone on which we place our real happiness. This one 
 thing I do. 
 
 God forbid that by overstrained morality, by a mistaken 
 devotion, by a piety which would tend more to promote 
 a melancholy disposition, than the spirit of true Christianity, 
 I should attempt to advise you to neglect the duties of 
 your employments, the labours of your professions, the 
 preservation of your property, the care of your families, 
 to attend only to the advancement of your holiness. We 
 have not so learned Christ. His religion does not destroy 
 society, nor subvert its economy. On the contrary, it is 
 its most solid support and its finest ornament. St. Paul, 
 who says in our text, this one thing I do, was a tent-maker. 
 But he means that he engaged in nothing which was not 
 subordinate to the great design which he had formed of 
 pressing towards perfection. That was a limit to which all 
 Lis thoughts, all his desires, all his actions, extended. And 
 Christians, you are to regulate all your steps by the same 
 rule. Whether therefore ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye 
 do, do all to the glory of God. In the choice of a business, 
 in the enterprizes which present themselves, determine 
 nothing without examining whether what you propose is 
 useful, or whether it is useless and injurious to the work of 
 your sanctification. Is the matter of some utility for your 
 principal purpose? However painful it may be, and 
 though passion may seek to render it odious to you, you 
 ought to embrace it with joy, since in truth it is a treasure 
 which has fallen into your hands. Does it appear useless 
 to your holy resolutions ? Though it be pleasant and ad- 
 vantageous in a worldly point of view, set lightly by it, 
 even view it with disgust ; but, above all, guard against 
 bestowing that ardour upon it which you ought to reserve 
 for your salvation. Is it a thing which prevents, which 
 retards your important work, which tends to awaken any 
 of your passions, which visibly places your soul in danger ? 
 
THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 446 
 
 Though it were to present the probability of gaining the 
 whole world, flee from it, Christians, detest whatever would 
 oppose itself to your true interest. 
 
 To advance in piety is also our principal business, be- 
 cause it demands from us greater efforts than any other 
 work, on account of our natural corruption, the malignity 
 of our enemies, and the short space of our lives. We have 
 always a weak and impotent reason, an understanding 
 exposed to deception, an imagination which leads us astray, 
 a nature which solicits us to crime, a heart which betrays us, 
 and which would take from us every hope of the smallest 
 progress, unless we do all things through Christ which 
 strengiheneth us. At every step we meet with enemies, who 
 have conspired to turn us from our course, and to deprive 
 us of our crown. Spiritual wickednesses^, against which it is 
 the more difficult to combat, as their attacks against us are 
 made by invisible hands. Visible enemies, but concealed 
 under all sorts of iorms. Here is a persecutor who pre- 
 tends to be the master of our conscience. There is a 
 flatterer who detains us by his wiles, and who makes us fall 
 into his snares. Yonder is a pleasant company which 
 urges us to take part in the unfruitful works of darkness. 
 Almost every where a false shame, an unhappy human 
 respect, prevents us from running in the ways of the Lord, 
 before the eyes of a corrupt world. The night cometh, 
 xohen no man can work; death approaches, which will in- 
 terrupt our labour, if we have not taken care to finish it. 
 Life is short, and the work is long. We do not even 
 know but that the little duration of our life will be abridged 
 by some sorrowful accident, or by some violent malady. 
 And if we are taken unawares, we are lost without remedy. 
 When the term of our life has expired, our fate will remain 
 fixed for ever. 
 
 Ah ! assemble together in your ideas the whole of the im- 
 portant transactions that you have ever seen. Join to them 
 all in which you have ever been engaged ; add further, those 
 of all the princes who have ever reigned, or who shall reign 
 
446 THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 
 
 in a course of ages. Combine with these the tranquillity 
 or the revolutions of all the states and all the empires in 
 the world. Can all these affairs together be of such moment 
 to you as that of reaching your mark, of attaining the prize 
 of your high calling? Will your glory, your riches, your 
 pleasures, descend with you into the tomb ? Nothing but 
 your holiness will accompany you after death, nothing 
 but your good works will follow you. Though you may 
 have lived in the most smiling prosperity, no misfortune 
 can be greater than yours, to have lost the celestial crown. 
 But what happiness can equal yours, though you may 
 have failed in all your temporal prospects, if in the hour 
 of your death you are found faithful in the work of 
 your salvation ! 
 
 Men and brethren, what should we not do in time to 
 prepare for eternity ? What means should we not employ 
 to perfect the work of our sanctification ? Ardent and 
 repeated prayers ; attentive reading of the word of God ; 
 singing of his divine praises ; diligently frequenting the holy 
 assemblies, approaching the sacraments, flying worldly com- 
 pany, choosing pious friends, holy conversation, retirement, 
 fasting, and self-examination. All these are useful precautions 
 necessary for every man, who wishes to attain unto per- 
 fection, and to gain the prize. What objects have we not 
 incessantly presented to the eyes of our faith, both the God 
 who calls us from heaven to the acquisition of his kingdom 
 by Jesus Christ, and the value of the prize which he pro- 
 mises to all those who shall have valiantly completed their 
 career ! How much are we not animated in our courage, to 
 employ noble efforts to reach the mark, by the sight of a 
 God who calls us to run towards it, and who is always 
 disposed to grant us his assistance ? And if we frequently 
 remember the excellency of the glorious crown which he 
 offers to us, what a tendency will not this recollection have 
 to kindle our zeal. If caught up like St. Paul into Paradise, 
 we had there contemplated the glory of the spirits of the just 
 made perfect, and had eaten the fruits of that tree of life, 
 
THE BELIEVER PRESSING FORWARD. 44? 
 
 with which victorious believers satisfy themselves, and 
 tasted some drops of the river of pleasure where they slake 
 their thirst : and the angels and saints had told us that 
 there is no way to the eternal enjoyment of this immensity 
 of pleasures, than to press onwards like them unto perfection : 
 what, I ask, would be our employ on our return to earth ? 
 And does not God himself, who cannot lie, and who is the 
 distributor of prizes and crowns, assure us repeatedly of 
 the same truth in scripture? Let us believe a God who 
 loves us, and who only desires our happiness. And besides 
 this, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue ; and to 
 virtue knowledge ; and to knowledge temperance ; and to 
 temperance patience ; and to patience godliness ; and to god- 
 liness brotherly kindness ; and to brotherly kindness charity. 
 For if these things be in you and abound, they make you 
 that ye sliall neither be barren nor unfruitful in the know- 
 ledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. — And so an entrance shall 
 be ministered unto you abundantly into the everlasting 
 kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen! 
 Amen ! 
 
GUILLEBERT. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 Jean Guillebert was a co-pastor with the celebrated Du Bo£e at* 
 Caen, and after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, finished his 
 pastoral labours at Haerlem in Holland. He was taken ill while 
 Du Bose was on his dying bed at Rotterdam, and died at Haerlem 
 eight days before his beloved colleague, at the close of the year 
 1691. Le Gendre, in his Life of Du Bose, says of him, " He was a 
 good Christian, a good theologian, a good preacher, a good pastor, 
 and of a sweet and affable disposition. M. Du Bose was his model ; 
 and no other preacher ever so nearly approached him, nor did any 
 preacher ever labour with greater diligence to cultivate the talents 
 with which God bad endowed him. His labour was not in vain, for 
 he always greatly edified the church ; and his loss was the more 
 afflicting, as he was in the flower of his age when God took him, and 
 capable of doing much service to the cause of his divine master." 
 
 The chief design of publishing the small duodecimo volume 
 which contains his sermons, was to confirm the persecuted 
 Christians in their most holy faith, and to reclaim those whose 
 fears had led them to betray their cause. The subjects are 
 well adapted to the purpose. They are as follow : The Necessity 
 of frequenting the Assemblies of the Saints ; Motives to Perse- 
 verance; the Misery of Apostates; the Delays of God in avenging 
 his Elect; the Attachment of the Believer to Jesus Christ; and that 
 here translated. These discourses were printed separately. They 
 are all written in a similar strain, and abound in truths, founded on 
 an experimental acquaintance with the invaluable doctrines of the 
 everlasting gospel. We talk of persecution, — this good man felt it, 
 and preached under the fullest experience of the support of al- 
 mighty grace. There is much spirit in many parts of his sermons. 
 They possess many recommendations to claim the attention of the 
 divine, and will highly gratify the devotional, but especially the 
 suffering Christian. The date is 1687. 
 
SERMON XIY. 
 
 THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE 
 
 GUILLEBERT. 
 
 f 
 
 2 CoR. xii. 9. — My graco is sufficient for thee. 
 
 My Brethren, — God never afflicts his children without 
 taking care to furnish them with powerful means of sup- 
 port under their afflictions, and with a triumphant deliver- 
 ance from them. If he suffers them to be tempted, in every 
 temptation he makes a way for their escape. If he casts 
 them down with one hand, he soon lifts them up with the 
 other; and when they are reduced to the greatest extre- 
 mities, he teaches them, by sweet experience, that he has 
 always grace to help them in every time of need. He 
 suffers his ancient people to fall into the hands of the 
 Egyptians, who so severely oppress them that their ruin 
 seems inevitable. But at length he casts his eyes upon his 
 captive nation, and sends Moses to their relief, who, 
 seconded by his almighty arm, performs the most sur- 
 prising miracles to effect their deliverance, and who in 
 fact completely emancipates them, in spite of the resistance 
 of their cruel and merciless enemies. He permits the three 
 companions of Daniel to be precipitated into a burning 
 furnace, because they will not bow down to the golden 
 image which the Chaldeans have worshipped at the com- 
 mand of their king. But at that instant they are cheered 
 with the sight of an angel from heaven, who, entering into 
 the midst of the flames, appeases their consuming ardour, 
 
450 THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 
 
 and preserves tbese men by an astonishing miracle, without 
 receiving the least injury in their persons. He exposes 
 his faithful servant Stephen to the persecutions of the Jews, 
 who, treating him as a deceiver, avail themselves of the 
 opportunity to stone him with a violence and injustice 
 which cannot be sufficiently detested. But in that moment, 
 to animate the courage and the faith of that holy martyr, 
 Jesus rends the heavens, and discovering to him his glory, 
 he presents him with the rich crown with which he is ready 
 to reward his perseverance and piety. 
 
 These examples are remarkable ; yet we may venture (o 
 assert, that this truth never appeared more clearly than in 
 the person of that great apostle St. Paul, whom, amidst all 
 his diversified trials, God always graciously assisted. Is he 
 a prisoner at Jerusalem for the cause of the gospel ? The 
 Lord then presents himself to him, to encourage him by 
 the animating exhortations which he addresses to him at 
 this sorrowful moment. Is he tossed upon the sea by a 
 violent tempest which threatens him with an immediate 
 shipwreck ? In this agitation the angel of God comes to 
 calm his fears, and assures him that whatever be the danger, 
 lie shall not perish, and that he will watch over his preser- 
 yation, and safely guarantee it, as well as that of his com- 
 panions. If, lest he should be exalted above measure, 
 on account of the abundance of his revelations, God thinks 
 fit to send him a thorn in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to 
 buffet him, that a sense of his infirmities may oblige him to 
 the constant exercise of christian and apostolic humility ; that 
 same God, who engages him in this painful conflict, gives 
 him strength proportionate to the nature of the assaults which 
 he is called to sustain. The interest which he takes in his 
 salvation obliges him to grant all the graces necessary to 
 render the attacks of the tempter useless ; and he commu- 
 nicates to him his Spirit in an abundant measure, sufficient 
 to insure him a glorious victory over this terrible enemy : 
 this is the design of the words which I have just read to 
 you, My grace is sufficient for thee. 
 
THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE, 451 
 
 This was all the answer given to his prayer, as he asserts 
 
 in this place. Grieved at the necessity of being- daily 
 engaged in a conflict with this indefatigable adversary, who 
 insulted him without a moment's intermission, he humbly 
 intreated the Lord to grant him deliverance; and not satis- 
 fied with having once implored this favour, he several 
 times repeated this holy exercise, till he learnt by express 
 revelation that his wishes were in vain. The Lord declared 
 to him that his intention was not to hear him in this instance : 
 but as he loves his believing people with singular tenderness, 
 which will not allow him to forsake them, he promised to 
 assist him so powerfully by his grace, that all the efforts of 
 Satan against him should be of no avail ; My grace is suffi- 
 cient for thee. We propose to ourselves, my dear brethren, 
 to meditate to-day upon these important words, which are 
 so proper to fortify us against the great afflictions with 
 which we behold ourselves surrounded on every side. At 
 present our condition is something like that of this great 
 apostle : Satan, unchained, c; because he knoweth that he 
 hath but a short time," is making his last efforts against the 
 church, and in a certain sense, is arming all the powers of 
 the earth against it, nor are there any instruments which 
 he does not employ to attain his object. Amidst those 
 trials which seem to thrust it to the brink of a precipice, 
 what shall we do on our parts, believers r We must follow 
 the steps and the example of St. Paul, and apply to the 
 eternal Son of Gcd for his support and assistance: we must, 
 in a word, implore his grace, without which n'e can do 
 ncthing. but with which we shall have cause to say like 
 this apostle, I can do all things through Christ that 
 strengtheneth me. 
 
 To designate the sovereign majesty of God, the Hebrews, 
 among other expressions, employed the word Shaddai, 
 which in its etymology properly signifies, the all-sufficient ; 
 because, as an author has justly remarked, not only has he 
 no need of any thing in himself, but he has sufficient to 
 give to every one of his creatures whom he has formed^ 
 
,452 THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 
 
 whatever is fit and necessary for them. And indeed, though 
 we could carry our thoughts no farther than his grace, this 
 title would be his legitimate right. For we may say that 
 this grace, which takes its rise originally in him as its 
 source, is the principle of our happiness, the foundation of 
 our hopes, the foretaste of celestial felicity, the most pre- 
 cious of all the good that we can possess in the present 
 life: and to say yet more, it is alone sufficient for our 
 salvation. This is what we shall attempt to shew you in 
 this discourse, m which our design is to reflect upon this 
 salutary grace iu all its extent, and to prove that it is suffi- 
 cient for us, on whatever side, and in whatever view, we may 
 consider it. For it is sufficient for our justification, our sane* 
 tification, and our glorification. In the first sense, we shall 
 describe it to you as a merciful grace, with inexhaustible 
 treasures of compassion, which are sufficient to procure for 
 all repenting sinners the remission of their sins. In the 
 second sense, we shall set it before you as an almightj 
 and victorious grace, which can infallibly triumph over our 
 natural rebellion, and the strength of which is sufficient to 
 bring all our thoughts into captivity to the obedience of 
 Jesus Christ, And we shall finally describe it to you as 
 a supporting grace, which always comes to the help of 
 those who are in affliction, and which, by a secret vir(ue, can 
 fill them with the sweetest joy amidst the most bitter sorrows. 
 But as it is necessary that this grace should operate effec- 
 tually in our hearts, before we can suitably describe it, let 
 us first implore the Lord, who is the author and principle of 
 all grace, to make us now feel its influence, which shall enable 
 us to discourse in a suitable manner upon its excellence; so 
 that this grace may not only be poured into our lips, but 
 that it may insinuate itself into the inmost recesses of our 
 souls, to produce there those holy dispositions which agree 
 with his purity, and with the instructions which he gives us, 
 " to deny ungodliness and worldly lusts, and to live soberly^ 
 tighteousty) and godly, in this present world.' 7 Amen. 
 You observe in these words, that Jesus Christ speaks of 
 
THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 453 
 
 grace as being his, and properly belonging to him, My grace 
 is s u [flcie nt for thee ; which well merits to be considered with 
 attention. It is true, that it is sometimes called the grace, 
 not only of the Son but of the Father, which made the 
 apostle say, grace, mercy, and peace, from God our Father, 
 and from the Lord Jesus Christ, because the eternal Father, 
 without any consideration of our worth or works, by a pure 
 motive of mercy, introduces us into the communion of his 
 Son, and for his sake enriches us with all the grace that 
 we can desire to make us happy. But this grace is parti- 
 cularly called the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, because 
 lie lias merited and acquired it by his sufferings; for this 
 reason, St. John, in the distinction which he makes at the 
 beginning of his gospel, between Moses the Legislator of 
 the Israelites, and Jesus Christ the Mediator of the New 
 Covenant, though he speaks highly of that great prophet 
 who has given the law, adds, that the glory of having 
 given us grace can only be justly ascribed to the Son of 
 God : the lavs was given by Moses, but grace and truth came 
 by Jesus Christ. For, indeed, we may say, that as grace 
 was the matter of all his preaching, so it must likewise be 
 considered as his proper work. It is to bring us the 
 agreeable news that he descends from heaven to earth ; to 
 sound in the ears of men those gentle words, grace, grace, 
 who before had only been accustomed to hear the thunders 
 of Sinai rattling oyer their heads. It is to make us re- 
 cipients of it, that he has endured a shameful and cruel 
 death upon the cross, the virtue of which has fuily recon- 
 ciled us with the divine Majesty. It is to shed it upon men 
 yet more abundantly, that he has ascended to the right 
 hand of his Father, where he has taken possession of all 
 the treasures of his holy habitation, that he may communi- 
 cate them to us. Thus we read, that it hath pleased the 
 Father that in him all fulness should dwell; that, as Si. John 
 says, out of his fulness we may receive, and grace for grace. 
 It is then justly that the Lord glories in the possession of 
 this grace, and calls it his, since it belongs to him for so 
 
 2h 
 
454 THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 
 
 many reasons : it is his from the full and entire mani- 
 festation which he has made of it in his gospel; it is his 
 by the inestimable price of his sacrifice, which has removed 
 all the obstacles that prevented its blessings from being 
 communicated to us; it is his by the virtue of his- inter- 
 cession, which has obtained and procured us the enjoyment 
 of it, the Father of mercies only loading us with his sa- 
 lutary graces on his account. For, if we are elected from 
 all eternity, it is in Jesus Christ. Having predestinated us 
 unto the adoption of children by Jesus Christ, to himself, 
 according to the good pleasure of his will. If we are 
 savingly called it is still in Jesus Christ, since God, as 
 St. Paul speaks, hath saved us and called us with an holy 
 callings not according to our zcorks, hut according to his ozvn 
 purpose and grace, which was given us in Christ Jesus before* 
 the world began. If we are absolved and justified from our 
 guilt, it is in virtue of the grace and merit of that great 
 Saviour who- was made sin for us, that zee might be made the 
 righteousness of God in him; and while we consider this 
 grace under this view, we may assure ourselves without 
 fear that it is sufficient for us. We cannot be deprived of it 3 
 without our condition becoming instantly wretched. For 
 being all criminals by nature, enemies to God, worthy of 
 death and eternal condemnation, what could we do to 
 reconcile ourselves with his justice, and to render it favour- 
 able to us? Though all men should have agreed to immo- 
 late themselves as a propitiatory sacrifice, though every 
 angel, touched with our misery, should have assumed a body 
 to expose himself to all the shafts of divine wrath in our 
 stead, we should not at last have been rendered more blessed, 
 and his inexorable justice had still remained our enemy. 
 But what all creatures in heaven and in earth might have 
 tried in vain to accomplish, the grace of our Lord Jesus 
 Christ is sufficient to effect, and accomplishes in us in tire 
 most wonderful manner. His death procures our life, his- 
 sufferings are the price of our redemption, and his cross 
 gives us a right to possess the throne of the universe. 
 
THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 455 
 
 However great may be the number of our offences, the 
 grace of the Lord Jesus Christ is yet greater. Though 
 they be red like crimson, this grace hath virtue to make 
 them white as snow. Though their number should equal 
 the sand upon the sea shore, of which it is impossible 
 to calculate the grains, this grace, by a blessed and salutary 
 inundation, can cover them all, so that they never more 
 shall meet the eyes of God to condemn us. For ivhere sin 
 abounded, grace did much more abound. There are no 
 rebellions however crying, no crimes however atrocious, of 
 which it cannot procure the pardon and abrogation, if at 
 the same time we sincerely repent. It was sufficient to 
 efface in former ages the incest of a Lot, the adultery and 
 homicide of a David, the impurities and scandalous de- 
 baucheries of the adulterous woman, the rapines and ex- 
 tortions of a Zaccheus, the persecutions and blasphemies of 
 a Saul ; in a word, there are no transgressors that it cannot 
 save, no spots that it cannot wash out, no debts that it 
 cannot pay, no crimes that it cannot for ever annihilate. 
 
 Yes, poor sinners, who groan under the oppressive 
 weight of your crimes, cease to apprehend and to fear. If 
 your consciences accuse you, know for your consolation 
 that the grace of Jesus is sufficient for your salvation ; if 
 seized with a just horror at the recollection of your re- 
 bellions, you cannot prevent yourselves from individually 
 groaning in bitterness of spirit, O wretched man thai I am, 
 who shall deliver me from the body of this death, make no 
 hesitation in gladdening your hearts from the riches of 
 this salutary grace which Jesus has acquired for you, I 
 thank God, through Jesus Christ our Lord. And here, my 
 brethren, we see how much we ought to rely upon this 
 grace. For since it is sufficient to justify us before God, 
 what more can we reasonably desire? Why should we 
 think of associating with it either the pretended merits of 
 our good works, or the superabundant satisfactions of the 
 saints ? Is not this doing it a manifest injustice, and treating 
 it as insufficient, as though it had not virtue enough to 
 
456 THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 
 
 effect our peace With God ? Either grace cannot by its 
 own efficacy confer upon us the pardon of our sins; and if 
 so, how can the word of the Lord by his apostle be true, my 
 grace is sufficient for thee : or, if we admit that grace alone is 
 sufficient to obtain the absolution of our crimes, why should 
 we unite our merits with it, which cannot be compatible with 
 grace. For if it be of works, then it is no more grace : other- 
 wise work is no more work. I will then renounce my works, 
 to expect my justification from the alone grace of the Lord 
 Jesus. If I find myself destitute of merits, yet I shall 
 have no cause to fear ; for this grace will be my merit, and 
 I will place the hope of my salvation alone in it. If I 
 only discover in myself defects which must shock my eyes, 
 I shall have recourse to the grace of my Saviour, which 
 never breaks the bruised reed, nor quenches the smoking 
 flax, persuaded that in his arms I shall never perish. Such 
 was the sentiment of Job, the most patient of men, when he 
 cried upon his dunghill, How should man be just with God 9 
 If he will contend zcith him, he cannot answer him one of a 
 thousand. Such was the sentiment of David, the man 
 according to God's own heart, who, humbling himself pro- 
 foundly in his presence, made him this sincere cenft ssion : 
 If thou, Lord, shouldest mark iniquities ; O Lord, who shall 
 stand? But there is forgiveness with thee, that thou maijest 
 be feared. Such was the sentiment of the holy prophet 
 Daniel, when, convinced of his own unworthiness, he spake 
 as much in his own name as in that of all the people : 
 To the Lord our God belong mercies and forgivenesses^ 
 though we hate rebelled against him. We do not present our 
 supplications before thee, for our righteousnesses, but for thy 
 great mercies. This is also the conduct of St. Paul. He 
 defies ail the enemies of his salvation to bring any sort of 
 accusation against the elect of God; he assures himself 
 that there is no condemnation to fear. And what do you 
 suppose is the foundation of this assurance ? Is it his 
 works ? Is it the good opinion that he has of his virtues 
 and hit merits ? Ah ! how far is such a thought from him; 
 
THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 457 
 
 he who makes an open profession of entirely renouncing 
 his. own righteousness which is of the lazo ; but that which 
 inspires him with confidence under a sense of his own sins, 
 is the grace of Jesus Christ, is his infinite merit; it is this 
 which puts those beautiful words into his mouth, — Who is 
 he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea, rather 
 that is risen again. There is nothing more necessary, nor 
 at the same time more sure, than to repose ourselves en- 
 tirely upon the grace of the Saviour; a grace which is 
 sufficient for the justification of all sinners, both of those 
 who have formerly lived under the law, and those w ho now 
 live under the gospel, as well as those who shall yet live 
 till the consummation of the ages ; a grace which can never 
 be exhausted, and which is sufficient to save not only this 
 world, but ten thousand worlds, if there are as many in 
 existence; a grace which is represented to us in scripture 
 with tender bowels of compassion, with hands full of 
 blessings and favours to shed them upon men, and with 
 regards gentle and benign, that discover nothing but love 
 to contrite and penitent souls. 
 
 But, my brethren, this is not the only advantage which 
 we derive from grace. As it is sufficient for our justification, 
 we say, in the second place, that it is sufficient to regenerate 
 us to a new life, and to produce the habits of holiness in 
 our hearts, without which no man can see the Lord. In this 
 sense we ought carefully to distinguish grace from the 
 preaching of the gospel, which God employs to call men to 
 salvation, and to introduce them into the fellowship of his 
 Son. I admit that this word, outwardly announced, is 
 sometimes called the grace of God. Ye have heard and 
 known the grace of God in truth, says the apostle to the 
 Colossians. We beseech you, says he elsewhere, that ye 
 receive not the grace of God in vain ; the grace of God, 
 that is to say, the word of the gospel which has been 
 preached to you, and which you have professed to receive 
 in the obedience of faith. But in this sense we cannot 
 say that the grace of God is sufficient for our sanctification. 
 
458 THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 
 
 All that the gospel can do, when it is only proposed by the 
 outward ministry of preaching, is to convince men, and to 
 render them inexcusable; since, if they do not profit, it is 
 their fault, and is to be ascribed (o the invincible hardness 
 of their hearts. But it is not capable of converting them 
 effectually. The scripture, when speaking of the state 
 in which men are in their natural corruption, represents 
 them as blind, deaf, paralytic ; it even declares that they are 
 dead in trespasses and sins. And if such is the condition of 
 all men in the world, it is plain that the word of the gospel 
 cannot raise them of itself, as it would be as useless as to 
 cry aloud in the ears of a dead man to restore him to life. 
 Hence, to render the external ministry of the word beneficial, 
 an internal grace must operate with it. Without this we 
 shall never embrace it ; and, instead of submitting ourselves 
 to it, we shall rather say with those wicked disciples who 
 turned their backs upon the Saviour, because they did not 
 understand his doctrine,-- This is an hard saying, who can 
 hear it ( l Let the ministers of the gospel, like so many 
 Boanerges, thunder with all the force and eloquence of 
 which they are masters ; let them try to alarm their hearers 
 by denouncing the inflexible severity of the just judgments 
 of God ; let them strive to draw them with cords of' a man, 
 and with bands of' love ; let them equally employ the terror 
 of threatenings and the engaging sweetness of the promises ; 
 unless an interior and all-powerful grace come to their help, 
 to give weight and efficacy to their words, unless an irre- 
 sistible force seizes their affections, every exhortation will 
 be as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal, and all the fruit 
 they will receive for their labours will leave them reason to 
 exclaim with the prophet in bitter sorrow, who hath believed 
 our report, and to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed ? 
 Thus, while the first martyr of the church, St. Stephen, 
 apologized for himself and the Christian religion to justify 
 himself from the crimes of which he was accused, in the 
 presence of the great council of the Jewish nation, these 
 miserable men, full of fury because they could not con- 
 
THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 459 
 
 tradict the evidence of bis reasoning, were cut to the heart, 
 gnashed on him with their teeih, and stopped their ears, as 
 if he had uttered some impious and blasphemous discourse. 
 In like manner, when St. Paul stood in the midst of Mars- 
 liill, and explained the principal mysteries of faith, with a 
 force and eloquence worthy of the spirit with which he was 
 animated, the Athenians, on hearing this new doctrine, of 
 which they could neither comprehend the holiness nor the 
 value, repulsed him with disdain, and even treated him as 
 a visionary and babbler* So also, sometime after, Festus, 
 having heard him announce the truths of the gospel, accused 
 him of being beside himself; a certain proof that if God 
 does not accompany his word with the power of his holy 
 Spirit, it is impossible that it should ever produce in us the 
 salutary consequences which it is designed to effect, and we 
 shall only regard it as foolishness. At the same time that 
 the word strikes our ears, his Spirit must break our hearts, 
 to convert those hearts which are hard as stone into hearts 
 ■of flesh ; and when once it pleases the Lord to exercise this 
 almighty grace in us, we must acknowledge that it is 
 sufficient for us. 
 
 That we may better comprehend the nature of this suffi- 
 ciency, of which the Lord speaks hy his apostle, be careful, 
 my brethren, that you do not imagine it to be such a 
 sufficiency as some describe it to be, who pretend that 
 we ought to distinguish between two sorts of grace, one 
 which they call sufficient, and the other which they call 
 efficacious. They assert that there is no other difference 
 between these two graces than that which is made by the 
 will of man, and that grace is only sufficient when man 
 believes not, and obstinately opposes himself to the truth ; 
 but that, on the contrary, it is efficacious when he is vigor- 
 ously and savingly touched. According to this idea, all 
 the efficacy of grace must depend, not on its own particular 
 energy, for it is supposed to be equally passive in all, 
 but it must depend entirely upon our own strength; since, 
 without determining the will on either side, it will rest 
 
460 THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 
 
 contented with placing it in a kind of equilibrium between 
 good and evil, leaving it to take that part which it may 
 deem most expedient. A strange and irrational doctrine, 
 which is only adapted to inflate the heart of man with 
 presumption and pride : nor can it agree with that of the 
 scripture, which entirely overthrows it; and in order to 
 destroy it, we need only reflect upon those words of St. 
 Paul, when he proposes that question to believers, — Who 
 maketh thee to differ from another ? and what hast thou 
 that thou didst not receive ? Now if thou didst receive it, 
 xchy dost thou glory, as if thou hadst not received it 9 In 
 these words he plainly supposes that the distinction which 
 we remark between men, of whom the one believes, and the 
 other believes not, can be derived from God only, who 
 himself distinguishes them, and who puts such a difference 
 between them as seemeth good in his sight. Hath not the potter 
 power over the clay of the same lump to male one vessel unto 
 honour, and another unto dishonour. Tims he leaves the 
 one in his original corruption by an effect of his just judg- 
 ment, and acts efficaciously in the other, to bring him 
 savingly to himself; for as this great apostle teaches us, it 
 is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of 
 God that sheweth mercy. If then it is not the individual 
 believer who distinguishes himself, he is not indebted to 
 his will for his faith, nor for the virtues with \vhich he is 
 adorned ; it is God only who makes this distinction, and 
 who subdues the rebellion of his heart by the virtue of his 
 grace, without which it would be in the power of man 
 effectually to resist. And what vain assistance would it 
 have been, to fortjfy his apostle against the violent attacks 
 of the tempter, had he only been satisfied with giving him 
 a grace of that sort which would have been of no other 
 use than to place his will in a state of neutrality and 
 equilibrium. My brethren, can we maintain with any 
 degree of probability, that the promise would have been of 
 any advantage to him, if to calm his mind and dispel his 
 fears, it had said, my grace is . sufficient for thee, with the 
 
THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 46 1 
 
 design of signifying by these words nothing else but, I give 
 thee a grace which shall render thee victorious over Satan, 
 if thou hast address enough to employ it properly, and if, 
 instead of leaving thyself to be surprised by his temptations, 
 thou wilt always repel them to a distance by a vigorous 
 opposition. Truly, how could a grace so feeble and so 
 uncertain in its effects, be capable of producing in his 
 soul that firm and unshaken confidence which he dis- 
 covers in his writings, in which, persuaded fully of his 
 eternal salvation, he assures us that nothing in the world 
 should separate him from the love of God. This con- 
 sideration, instead of affording rest to his mind, would 
 rather have increased his anxiety, under the apprehension 
 that his will might not always continue so firmly attached 
 to good, and determined towards it, and that by a vain 
 caprice it might suddenly go astray, as his inconstancy and 
 natural corruption too much inclined to such a mode of 
 conduct. 
 
 We then assert, my brethren, that grace cannot be 
 sufficient, if, at the same time, it is not efficacious in its 
 nature. We assert that it is not enough for grace to leave 
 the will undetermined between good and evil, but that it 
 must penetrate into all our faculties, to subject them abso- 
 lutely to its celestial and divine controul, as St, Paul has 
 taught us in that fine passage, it is God that worketh in us to 
 mil and to do of his own good pleasure. The original word 
 means to work efficaciously, an incontestable proof that the 
 operations of grace are so powerful that it infallibly over- 
 comes all the resistance of the will of man, giving him not 
 only the beginnings of sanctification, which the apostle calls 
 to will, but also the gift of perseverance, signified by an 
 ability to do, which shall conduct him to his final per- 
 fection, and to the height of the full and entire possession of 
 salvation, never ceasing in its operations till it has brought 
 him to the end of his high vocation : and that no one may 
 have any reason for doubt upon this article, you perceive 
 in another place that this same apostle employs all his 
 
46 L 2 THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 
 
 ingenuity to heap up expressions which may enhance (he 
 worth of this grace, as if he apprehended that lie had not 
 yet said enough to give us the most exalted idea of it; hence 
 he prays to God for the Ephesians, that the eyes of their 
 understanding may be enlightened, that ye may know, lie 
 adds, what is the hope of his calling, and what the riches 
 of' the glory of his inheritance in the saints, and what is the 
 exceeding greatness of his power to us-ward w'ho believe, 
 according to the working of his mighty power, which he 
 wrought in Christ, w/ieu he raised him from the dead. Here 
 it appears that the apostle attributes to grace not only 
 power, but a mighty power; not only a mighty power, 
 but a greatness of power ; and this is not enough, but he 
 likewise adds, an exceeding greatness of power ; and to 
 shew that it is not without cause that he speaks in such 
 exalted terms respecting this power, he compares it to that 
 which God displayed in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. 
 For as our natural state is a state of death, so when God 
 converts us, the scripture says that he raises and quickens 
 us. It even compares that happy change which grace 
 produces in us, to the creation of the world, because the 
 difficulty is not greater to create all things from nothing, 
 than to rescue a sinner from the nothingness of his cor- 
 ruption and guilt, and to call him into a stnte of marvellous 
 light; for it is absolutely necessary that infinite power 
 should discover itself in this last creation, as well as in the 
 first. There is no necessity to suppose that grace uses any 
 violence over our wills, or that it acts upon us like inanimate 
 stones which have no consciousness of their movement. 
 While the word of the gospel enforces our duty, grace 
 makes us find pleasure in doing it; it does not leave our 
 will in a state of indifference, but it is far from constraining 
 it. Its energy is tempered with an admirable and engaging 
 sweetness, but this sweetness is accompanied with an in- 
 vincible force, which converts unwilling and rebellious 
 souls into souls perfectly willing and obedient to the 
 commands of God; so that its operation in our souls is 
 
TJIE SUFFICIENCY OF, GRACE. 4*63 
 
 equally gentle and powerful. It is gentle, since it induces 
 to obey the divine call without reluctance : but it is 
 also powerful, as it infallibly pulls down all the strong 
 holds that exalt themselves against the knowledge of God. 
 It is gentle, for it makes itself to be loved ; but it is pow- 
 erful, since from the greatest sinner it can in a moment 
 produce a great saint. It is gentle, as its chains are 
 agreeable to those who carry them ; but it is powerful, since 
 the precious chains with which it loads them necessarily 
 draw them whither it pleases. It is sweet, as it engages us 
 to nothing to which our wills do not consent; but it is 
 powerful, since it has a virtue to convert us into new 
 creatures, producing in us so mighty a change that it 
 is scarcely possible to remark any of those qualities by 
 which we were before distinguished. 
 
 We must not then doubt, my brethren, but that this grace 
 which converts us will be sufficient for our sanctificatton. 
 Scarcely does it exert itself to enter that heart which now 
 finds little inclination to resist it. It beats down sin and all 
 the impure desires which reign there, just as Dagon fell 
 before the ark. What though this heart be rebellious, 
 it subjects it to its laws; or ferocious, it tames it; or hard 
 and inflexible, it softens it ; or unruly, it makes it receive 
 the yoke ; or proud and self-willed, it humbles it. Though 
 it be more impenetrable and more insensible than a rock, it 
 is able by one of the most surprising miracles, even of these 
 stones to raise up children unto Abraham. When the Lord 
 pleases, there is no abyss of corruption which it cannot fill 
 up, no pride which it cannot confound, no coldness which 
 in cannot warm, no obliquity which it cannot make straight, 
 no perversity which it cannot determine to good; It was to 
 teach us this truth that the Lord said to the persecutor 
 Saul on his way to Damascus, it is hard for thee to kick 
 against the pricks; a comparison taken from restive beasts 
 which are obliged to be goaded to the quick to make them 
 advance, and which after their resistance are at length 
 constrained to go on, and in despite of themselves to follow 
 
4f)4 THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 
 
 the pleasure of those who conduct them ; and hence the Son 
 of God would convince that enemy to his glory, that it was 
 in vain that he attempted to resist him ; that his victorious 
 grace, like a piercing goad, would easily subject him to his 
 government; and, that it should enter into his heart with 
 such efficacy that he should at last be obliged to throw 
 down his arms, and humbly receive its saving impressions. 
 And this was indeed so accomplished in the person of the 
 holy apostle, as plainly to shew how powerful and invin- 
 cible is the operation of grace. For, was there ever a 
 conversion more powerful and more prompt than his ? 
 He advanced towards Damascus with a heart full of rage 
 against the faithful disciples of Jesus Christ, and a mouth 
 full of menaces and blasphemies against the truth of the 
 gospel. Urged on by this wicked design, he hastened with 
 his satellites towards that innocent prey which he promised 
 himself that he would swallow up without opposition. But 
 the Lord, who appears to him in the heavens, changes all 
 his thoughts in a moment : a light, brighter than that of the 
 sun, blinds his eyes ; and this light, which darkens the eyes 
 of his body, illumines those of his soul, and discovers to him 
 the mysteries of salvation in full splendour. He falls to the 
 ground, and that fall casts down with it, all his hatred and 
 animosity. He falls a persecutor, he rises a believer; 
 he falls an enemy of Jesus, he rises his disciple. He falls 
 with arms in his hand, he rises with the confession of his sin 
 in his mouth ; a plain proof that one moment is sufficient for 
 grace to accomplish the most difficult conversions. No 
 sooner does it appear than it is victorious; it triumphs, 
 it tramples its capital and irreconcilable enemy sin under its 
 feet ; and if a great captain formerly assumed those words 
 for his device, " I came, I saw, I conquered," we can justly 
 ascribe the same glory to grace, since one of its favourable 
 regards is sufficient to subdue our fiercest passions under its 
 yoke. Who hath resisted the will of God ? says the apostle; 
 we say the same; who can resist saving grace, and where is 
 he who is able to prevent its effects? In vain docs Elymas 
 
THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 465 
 
 the sorcerer, use every means to turn awny the deputy 
 Sergius Paulus from the faith ; grace more powerful than all 
 the enchantments of this magician happily attains the end 
 of its design, and there is no believer who feeling in himself 
 good inclinations and holy dispositions, cannot say with the 
 apostle, yet not /, but the grace of God which is zvith me. 
 
 But if grace has so much virtue to subdue the sin which 
 dwells in us, it has not less efficacy to console us, -however 
 sad and deplorable our condition may be in this world ; and 
 in this respect also we may say, that grace is sufficient for 
 us. And it is likewise with this view that the Redeemer 
 speaks this language to the apostle. He was, as we have 
 already seen, greatly cast down at the sight of that messenger 
 of Satan who buffet ted him without giving him any rest or 
 leisure to recover strength. In this trouble of mind he 
 humbly made application to God, and intreated him to 
 deliver him from a persecution which was so troublesome 
 and so grievous to him ; but he had no other reply to make 
 to his demand than these words, my grace is sufficient for 
 thee. Do not afflict thyself, said the Saviour to him, if I 
 do not grant thee the deliverance which thou impiorest 
 with so much ardour. Whatever happens, be assured thai 
 I will never forsake thee. Thou desirest that I should 
 remove far from thee that angel of darkness whose continual 
 insults weary thee. But if I do not grant thy wishes, I 
 will answer thee in another manner ; only take courage and 
 be strengthened, my grace is sufficient for thee, and thou 
 needest not doubt that its help, which shall be always 
 present with thee, will be capable of sustaining thee with 
 success, under these painful trials. It is with this sweet 
 assurance that Jesus Christ consoles him, and it is this same 
 truth which must assist us in the midst of those afflictions 
 to which divine Providence may think fit to subject us. 
 However thorny and oppressive they may be, yet let us not 
 be distressed ; the grace of God, which is promised to us as 
 it was to St. Paul, is sufficient to give to our temptations a 
 glorious issue, and to furnish us with the means of coming 
 
466 THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 
 
 oft* victorious, to the joy and consolation of our souls. 
 Indeed we cannot better represent grace than under the 
 symbol of that miraculous wood which was cast by Moses 
 into the waters of Mara to sweeten them. Their unpleasant 
 bitterness did not prevent the child Fen of Israel from 
 drinking of them, for they were in danger of speedily dying 
 for thirst in those vast deserts ; but by the powerful virtue 
 of this miraculous wood, they instantly lost their bitterness 
 and became sweet, so that all this numerous people drank 
 of them at pleasure. In the same manner, the afflictions of 
 the present life, which in their own nature are bitter, become 
 sweet in a moment by the aids of grace, which make all 
 things work together for good to them that love God. By this 
 means, like Samson of old, we find honey in the carcass of 
 the lion; that is to say, inexpressible sweetness in things 
 which seem the most unlikely, and innocent pleasures 
 in the midst of evils, by which we imagined that, according 
 to all appearances, we should be swallowed up. By this 
 we have the advantage of finding tranquillity in trouble, 
 peace amidst the agitations of war, confidence in danger, 
 joy in sorrow, profit in losses., riches in poverty, health in 
 sickness, glory in shame, life in death. By this the weak 
 are strengthened, the fearful encouraged, the wavering' 
 confirmed, and there is no affliction, how distressing soever 
 it may be, in which its divine virtue does not burst forth in 
 splendour. Often do we see timid and feeble women, even 
 tender and delicate children, endure with constancy, or 
 rather with inconceivable transports of joy, the most cruel 
 tortures, and glory in their afflictions, as St. Paul expresses 
 it, through the miraculous influence of this grace of our 
 Lord, which animates them in these conflicts, and which 
 renders them invulnerable to the most violent attacks of the 
 enemies of their salvation. We ought not to think this 
 strange, my brethren, it cannot be otherwise: for, on the 
 one hand, this benign and charitable grace assures us 
 internally of our peace and reconciliation with God. It 
 -shews us heaven appeased, the justice of the Sovereign 
 
THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 467 
 
 Judge disarmed, and (he thunder falling from bis hands, 
 which are the things that fill the soul of the believer with 
 a joy unspeakable and full of glory , and which make 
 him taste in his conscience the exquisite sweets of that 
 celestial and divine peace which passeth all understanding. 
 Then when we are once persuaded of the fuil and entire 
 remission of the sins which we have committed, there are 
 no evils, however smarting, nor temptations, however ter- 
 rible, which can alarm us. Let persecution, like a furious 
 storm, fall impetuously upon us; let it cast us upon the 
 brink of a precipice, though deprived of all protection 
 and support from earth, we will not fear in the assurance 
 that God is a propitious Father to us : for if God be for us, 
 who can be against us ? And it is on these occasions that we 
 see believers courageously defying all their spiritual enemies, 
 and full of a firm confidence, saying, as St. Paul, who shall 
 separate us from the love of Christ ? Shall tribulation, or 
 distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or 
 szeord $ — Nay, in all these things we are more than con- 
 querors, through him that loved us. 
 
 Besides, this grace, after having comforted our souls by 
 the sweet assurances which it gives of our reconciliation ; 
 at the same time opens our eyes, the eyes of our faith, to 
 contemplate the blessedness and glory which God destines 
 to his children in heaven ; and that inestimable glory, 
 ravishing our hearts by its majesty and splendour, absorbs 
 all our sufferings. It so occupies our minds with the con- 
 sideration of future good, that it does not permit them to 
 stop at present afflictions. If they are great and oppressive, 
 yet they are not painful, supported by the virtue of grace 3 
 and enlightened by its cheering rays to behold the truth 
 which the apostle Paul teaches us, that the sufferings of this 
 present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory 
 which shall be revealed in us ; and we rejoice in the hope 
 that our light affliction, which is but for moment, worketh for 
 us afar more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. Are we 
 driven from our country for the cause of truth, as is indeed 
 
 | 
 
468 THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 
 
 the condition of many of us? This grace, by its infinite 
 virtue, transports our hearts from earth to heaven. It 
 assures us that that glorious dwelling is our true country, 
 where God destines for us an inheritance incorruptible, 
 which is beyond all price, and to which in his great mercy 
 he promises to bring us, that where he is, there we may 
 be also. 
 
 Are we for the sake of the Lord Jesus, and for the pro- 
 fession of his gospel, despoiled of our goods, and of our 
 temporal conveniences, as is now the case with so great a 
 number of believers, whom the fury of persecution has 
 reduced to this Lamentable state, 3 This grace immediately 
 presents us with other blessings to console us under our 
 losses, — blessings which are eternal, which eye hath not 
 seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of 
 man to conceive. It presents to our eyes those rich trea- 
 sures which neither moth nor rust can corrupt, nor thieves 
 break through nor steal, the possession of which is assured 
 to the children of God, since he who has promised them is 
 faithful. Are we shut up in prisons, and fettered with 
 heavy chains for the testimony of the Saviour, as alas 
 many of our brethren uow are in these sad extremities ? 
 This grace coming to our help assures us, that in this state 
 we shall not fail to possess the true liberty of the children 
 of God, and that when we leave our prisons and dungeons, 
 we shall be gathered into a glorious palace of light, and 
 sit upon splendid and dazzling thrones, to reign eternally 
 with God. Are we pursued by dreadful enemies who rise 
 up against us with one consent, and whose fatal entcrprizes 
 have no other end than to destroy us, which we cannot 
 doubt is the present condition of the church ? It is true, 
 that we have not ourselves any strength to resist so many 
 enemies; but the grace of God is sufficient for us, and 
 through this we can say, fortified with Christian assurance, 
 J will not be afraid of ten thousands of people that have set 
 themselves against me round about; I will trust in the Lord, 
 whose grace Is a powerful bulwark against the machinations 
 
THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 469 
 
 of men, and an inviolable asylum which their most terrible 
 assaults can never force. Have we, in fine, to wrestle 
 against Satan, that formidable adversary, who, es a roaring 
 lion, incessantly environs the children of God, seeking whom 
 he may devour? It is here, my brethren, it is here especially, 
 that we may say, that grace is sufficient for us; because, 
 like faith, it is an impenetrable buckler with which we 
 are able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked. If he 
 assails us by promises, shewing us all the kingdoms of the 
 world, and the glory of them, as he did the Saviour, with 
 the assurance that he will give them to us, if we will fall 
 down and worship him : this grace teaches us that we have 
 in heaven a better and an enduring substance, which God 
 there reserves for us, a kingdom which cannot be moved ; and 
 in this firm expectation, we do not hesitate immediately to 
 say to the enemy of our salvation, thy money perish with 
 thee; get thee behind me, Satan. If to make a more 
 powerful impression upon our minds, he adds thrcatenings 
 to his promises, the grace of Jesus Christ is still sufficient 
 to make us elespise them. It teaches us that we have in 
 heaven a more powerful protector than all the devils con- 
 spired together, which can never pluck any of those out of 
 his divine hands, who belong to him, and whom he has 
 chosen in his Son, before all worlds. Let God arise, says 
 the Psalmist, let his enemies be scattered ; whieh we may 
 justly apply to grace. As soon as it appears, and dis- 
 plays its power in us, all adversaries are constrained to 
 take flight, covered with shame and confusion. Before 
 this grace, Satan cannot stand a moment. Jt is an 
 invincible and powerful angel, like that described in the 
 apocalypse, combating against the dragon, which carries 
 victory with it ; and if it was said of the first Christian 
 emperor, Constanline the Great, that God shewed him a 
 luminous cross in the air, upon which those remarkable 
 words were inscribed, by this sign thou conquerest, we may, 
 with much more reason, say this of grace ; for if we fight 
 under its standard and ensigns, victory must decide loudly 
 
 2 i 
 
4/0 THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 
 
 in our favour, and we shall repulse our spiritual enemies, 
 without their having power to hurt us. But it is not 
 enough to say, that this makes us conquerors. We do not 
 fear to add, with St. Paul, that by it, we are more than 
 conquerors. Not only do we conquer by resisting the 
 attacks and temptations of Satan, but also by the pro- 
 tection and escort of grace, we are more than conquerors ; 
 because it fills our souls with peace and joy, even in the 
 midst of suffering, and gives us occasion to glory as in the 
 highest honour which we ever received ; so that, without 
 hesitation, we ought to esteem ourselves happy, if our hearts 
 are filled with the grace of the Lord Jesus, which alone is 
 sufficient for all our wants, and the strength of which, as 
 St. Paul testifies, is made perfect in the weaknesses of his 
 creatures. It is the true panacea adapted to heal all the 
 weaknesses and diseases of our natures. Possessing this, 
 we can want nothing, for it is- sufficient for all our various 
 necessities; and, as when the Israelites were wandering in 
 the desert, destitute of every kind of subsistence > God inter- 
 posed to supply them in a wonderful manner; they wanted 
 bread, and he poured it down from heaven every morning; 
 they had no meat, and he commanded the winds to carry 
 them quails ; they were dying for thirst, and he drew inex- 
 haustible sources of water from the arid bosom of the rocks ; 
 their clothes were liable to wear out, without any means of 
 replacing them, and he preserved them entire, without grow- 
 ing old or being rent ; so we may say, my brethren, that 
 grace is now sufficient for us, in the same manner as the pro- 
 tection of God was sufficient for the ancient Israel, during all 
 the time of their sojourning in the deserts of Arabia. With 
 this grace we can never perish. If hunger press us, we have 
 in this meat to eat which the world know not oj\ a grateful 
 food which affords ineffable delight to those who are careful 
 to satisfy their souls with it. If we are naked, this grace is 
 a fine and shining robe, with which being covered and 
 adorned, we become perfectly agreeable in the eyes of our 
 keavenly Father, If we are in penury, this grace is om 
 
v 
 
 THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 471 
 
 treasure, as it is also our light in darkness, our consolation 
 in the midst of our sorrows, our retreat when we are me- 
 naced with any danger, becoming all things to «//, that it 
 may be sufficient for the salvation and wants of every 
 believer. 
 
 Let us learn then, my dear brethren, what ought to be the 
 principal end of our desires, — not the perishable possessions 
 of the earth, not the honours or the conveniences of the 
 world ; for all these worldly advantages have not virtue 
 enough to make us happy, as those who possess them are 
 well convinced, being forced to own that they cannot pro- 
 cure an entire satisfaction for their minds; hence they 
 never have enough to assuage their desires. But what we 
 ought earnestly to ask of God is his grace, that by means 
 of this we may obtain the remission of our sins, the sancti- 
 fication of our souls, and the kind aids of his holy Spirit, to 
 support us unci.- r our trials ; for we have proved to you that 
 it is more than sufficient in all these respects. Do you find, 
 O man, that you are a great sinner ; and do the countless 
 number of your rebellions disturb your repose, and cause 
 you bitter agonies, in the apprehension of the just judgment 
 of God, which has drawn upon you indignation and wrath ? 
 Have recourse to the grace of Jesus, which is sufficient to 
 cleanse you from your stains : and not only you, but also 
 all those who embrace his righteousness by a true faith. 
 For if the offence of Adam has been sufficient to draw 
 down condemnation upon all his race, with much greater 
 reason, the grace and merit of the second Adam, Jesus 
 Christ our Lord, ought to suffice to procure righteousness 
 and eternal salvation to those true believers who are his 
 spiritual posterity. Do you still observe, with extreme 
 sorrow, that sin has always too much vigour in your mem- 
 bers to hurry you on to rebellion against God your sove- 
 reign Lord ? Implore the grace of the Redeemer, which is 
 sufficient to vanquish your criminal passions ; and humbly 
 confessing that in yourselves you are not capable of a 
 single good thought, but that all your sufficiency is of God; 
 
472 THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACP;. 
 
 beseech him to give you his sanctifying grace, which* 
 taking away the evil of your hearts, may replace it with 
 good; and say to him under these circumstances, as the 
 spouse in the Canticles, Draw us, O God, we will run after 
 thee. Are you pressed with a number of violent temptations 
 which make you sigh bitterly; and do you fear lest, being 
 abandoned to your own weakness, you shall at length fall 
 under their weight? It is here, more especially, that it 
 is necessary for you to have recourse to grace, and it is 
 this bountiful and helpful grace which you ought to desire, 
 with an holy ardour to be by its aid fortified amidst the 
 overwhelming evils which surround you. Perhaps you 
 have often asked of God that he would deliver you from 
 them, but he has not yet thought proper to grant you your 
 desires, as he would not hear St. Paul, who conjured him 
 with ardent prayers to remove far from him tlie messenger 
 of Satan which so cruelly troubled him. Be not surprised, 
 Christians, at this part of the divine procedure. Know that 
 afflictions are necessary to believers in the present life, and 
 if they are grievous and inconvenient to the flesh, which is 
 naturally impatient, ihey arc nevertheless of great and 
 wonderful utility in advancing their sanctification. They 
 are like goads, the wholesome thrusts of which awaken us 
 from our carnal sloth. They are the efficacious means in the 
 hand of God, of exciting our faith ; of animating our zeal; 
 of detaching us from the world ; of producing a spirit of 
 humility, by making us know our nothingness; of pre- 
 venting us from entertaining too high an opinion of our- 
 selves; of obliging us, in fine, to have diligent recourse to 
 prayer, which we must consider as our only and true refuge 
 in our troubles. 
 
 Ifj then, it sometimes happens that God refuses us when 
 we beseech him to preserve us from trials, we ought not to 
 be astonished, since he refuses his apostle in the same way, 
 when he intreats him to deliver him from the thorn in his 
 flesh. There was apparently nothing but what was right 
 and proper in this wish of the apostle. Yet this prayer of 
 
THE SUFFICIENCY OF CRACE. 473 
 
 St. Paul is not heard ; because, however reasonable it may 
 seem to us, it may yet be prejudicial to his salvation, this 
 trial being necessary to prevent his exaltation above mea- 
 sure, on account of the glorious gifts with which the Lord 
 had liberally endowed him. Let us not, then, be dis- 
 couraged, my brethren, though our desires be not always 
 heard. Instead of being troubled and vexed, we ought 
 rather to thank the Lord for this refusal, and to adore his 
 wisdom with profound humility. Let us say that he is a 
 Father full of tenderness, who knows better than we what is 
 fit and proper for us. If, on these occasions, he were to 
 grant us to the letter, and without trial, whatever we ask of 
 him, we might justly doubt the affection which he has for us. 
 But in refusing us as he does, we have a sure mark that he 
 is interested more in our salvation than we are careful 
 of ourselves. But we ought chiefly to console ourselves 
 with this consideration, that if he refuses us in one respect, 
 he always grants us much more than we ask in another. 
 St. Paul desired that the messenger of Satan might depart 
 from him ; but, behold, instead of this favour, Jesus com- 
 municates his grace, to support him under the assaults of 
 this enemy in a profitable manner, which may serve to 
 discover the ardour of his zeal and the firmness of his faith. 
 This gentle and beneficent Saviour also often acts towards 
 us in the same manner. He permits us to be exposed to 
 various temptations, and if he does not always deliver us as 
 we wish, he recompenses us by enriching us with his grace, 
 the victorious power of which never appears to greater 
 advantage than in our greatest trials. For as the stars shine 
 brightest in the firmament on a dark night, so when we are 
 buried in the deep shades of adversity, we may most admire 
 the value of his grace in our hearts; and the furnace of 
 temptation serves no less to purify us, than the tire to 
 purify the gold, which having passed through the crucible 
 of the goldsmith, comes out from it purer than it was 
 before. What we are then obliged especially to ask from 
 God is, his grace. If we have the happiness to be filled 
 
4/4 THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 
 
 with it, it is sufficient. Though we be engaged in dangers 
 which seem inevitable, though we see all creatures leagued 
 together, and conspiring our ruin with one consent, though 
 the mountains shall depart and the hills be removed, with 
 this grace we need apprehend nothing, since under the 
 shadow of its wings we shall be in perfect safety against all 
 the enterprizes of men and devils. Philip said to the 
 Saviour of the world, from a desire to see the eternal Father, 
 Lord, shew us the Father, and it sufficeth us. But we who 
 are believers ought to use other language in addressing the 
 Son of God ; Lord, give us thy grace, and it sufficeth us. 
 We do not ask of thee to grant us temporal wealth ; this 
 is the passion of worldly men, who stop only at sensible and 
 perishing things. But our most ardent wish is to possess 
 thy grace, which is infinitely more valuable than all the 
 riches of the miser, than all the vain glory of the ambitious, 
 than all the immoderate pleasures of the libertine and 
 profane. For, indeed, a man who enjoys grace, and who 
 experiences its saving virtue in his heart, must be contented 
 and satisfied beyond all conception. Though he should 
 find himself reduced to the last extremity, and deprived of 
 every necessary for present subsistence, he must be per- 
 suaded that this can suffice for all, and that it will 
 supply the place of treasures, dignities, pleasures, and 
 delights, while death itself can never deprive him of this 
 inestimable good. 
 
 Would we then, my dear brethren,— would we enjoy 
 this grace, the effects of which are so saving and so 
 precious : let us conform ourselves with care to its 
 teachings; and, far from endeavouring to resist it, let 
 us rather allow ourselves to be guided by its celestial 
 inspirations. Far from us be those profane souls who say 
 in a libertine and impious spirit, let us sin, that grace 
 may abound. These can never be partakers of this grace, 
 while they remain in this criminal condition. It never 
 dwells in hearts where it is so insulted and treated so 
 unworthily. Since they have the insolence to declare war 
 
THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 475 
 
 against if, how can it present to tbem the olive-branch, by 
 rejoicing them with the sweet assurance of their recon- 
 ciliation to God ? It would pluck them from hell, but 
 they will not depart from vice. It would exalt them 
 to heaven, but they turn their backs upon it by their 
 insurmountable hardness. It would present itself to them 
 to wash them from their sins, but they return to plunge 
 themselves without remorse into the foul and rank mire of 
 their impure desires. No, my brethren, as there is no 
 peace for rebellious and impenitent sinners, let us also add, 
 that there is no grace for them. If this grace brmgeth 
 salvation to all men, as St. Paul teaches us, yet it only 
 saves those who are obedient, and who labour to regulate 
 their lives according to its divine lessons. It wills that we 
 should be sober with regard to ourselves, just with regard 
 to our neighbours, and religious with regard to God. Let 
 us conscientiously acquit ourselves of these three essential 
 parts of piety, which are so closely united, that they can 
 never be separated. Let all our conduct bo regulated 
 by a wise and honest temperance, v\ Iiich will give us 
 a distaste and hatred of the pleasures of the world, which 
 form the delight of worldlings. Let all our actions be 
 accompanied with equity and justice, so that we may not 
 merely content ourselves with rendering to our neighbours 
 those things which are their due, but may do them all the 
 kind offices in our power. Let all our life be animated by 
 a holy zeal for the glory of God, so that we may breathe 
 only for his service, and employ ourselves in nothing with 
 greater ardour than the advancement of his kingdom in the 
 earth. Let us still endeavour to unite in our persons all 
 the fine and amiable qualities of this grace. It is so meek 
 and so gentle, that it willeth not the death of sinners. Let 
 us then renounce every desire of vengeance, not rendering 
 evil for evil, nor injury for injury. Above all things, it 
 loves humility : for it is said, that God resisteth the proud, 
 but giveth^ grace unto the humble. Let us then be on 
 our guard against being elated by pride, and humble 
 
476 THE SUFFICIENCY OF GRACE. 
 
 ourselves more deeply in the presence of God, under a 
 consideration of our nothingness, remembering with the 
 prophet, that righteousness belongeth unto the Lord, but unto 
 us confusion of face. This grace is peaceable : it takes no 
 pleasure in trouble and strife, but in concord and union. 
 In order to the enjoyment of its blessings, let us then 
 put far from our minds all bitterness, hatred, and variance ; 
 let our speech be alzcay with grace seasoned zcith salt, "without 
 mixing with it the pride and acidity of our passions. If we 
 thus live, let us not doubt but that grace will make us 
 happiiy experience that it is sufficient for us in every way. 
 Are we afflicted ? it will console us, by inspiring our souls 
 with the spirit of adoption, which shall bear witness with 
 our spirits, that we are the children of God. Are we 
 attacked by powerful enemies who employ every means to 
 ruin the church ? this grace will defend us against their 
 most malignant efforts, and, blasting all their projects, it 
 will make the church completely victorious. In a word, 
 it will be an allay for our sorrows, a support for our weak- 
 ness, a counsellor for our doubts, a refuge for our fears, and 
 a guide in death, which will then take us by the hand to 
 introduce us to that glorious abode which God has chosen 
 for his dwelling, and where, when we have the happiness to 
 be once admitted, we shall no more need grace ; glory will 
 then follow and will occupy its place, to raise our bodies 
 and souls to that sovereign felicity which shall never end. 
 
CLAUDE. 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE. 
 
 Jean Claude was one of the most distinguished ministers of th« 
 French reformed chureh. His life, with many interesting particu- 
 lars, is to be found in Bayle's Dictionary, in Robinson's translation of 
 the Essay on the Composition of a Sermon, and in Townsend's 
 edition of the Defence of the Reformation. But as these works 
 may not be in the hands of many readers of this volume, the 
 biographical notice of this illustrious man must not be omitted. 
 
 He was born in the year 1619, at La Sauvetal, in Agenois. His 
 father, the Rev. Francis Claude, was at that time pastor in that 
 place, and afterwards at Montbaziliac and Cours. He was " an 
 expert scholar, a genuine Christian, and a well-instructed scribe in 
 the things of God." 
 
 The worthy father trained up his son with pious care, and the 
 disposition and talents of the latter well repaid the labours which 
 were expended upon him. " Being fully prepared for the university, 
 he was sent to Montauban, and there went through a regular course 
 of philosophy and divinity." 
 
 When he had attained his twenty-sixth year, having been examined 
 and approved by the Synod of Upper Languedoc, his father was 
 appointed to ordain him over the church at La Treyne. The good 
 old man had now reached the summit of his wishes, and died soon 
 after, in the seventy-fourth year of his age. 
 
 The son remained only a year at La Treyne. His ministry at that 
 place was indeed very acceptable; but the Synod having appointed 
 him to the church at St. Afrique, he acquiesced in their decision. 
 
 After labouring eight years at St. Afrique, he removed to Nismes. 
 The church of Nismes being one of the most conspicuous in France, 
 and a very important station, Mr. Claude was induced to accept of it, 
 and in this large field of labour his diligence and talents were 
 
47S CLAUDE. 
 
 peculiarly displayed. " The service of this church was very great. 
 Preaching every day,* visiting a great number of sick people, 
 attending consistories, and church business, required much labour: 
 but Mr. Claude loved this kind of employment, and so discharged his 
 office as to give the highest satisfaction to his flock. He found time, 
 moreover, to give divinity lectures to a great number of students, 
 Who were admitted to make probationary sermons ; and from this 
 private school proceeded disciples of great merit, who accredited the 
 master from whom they received their instructions." 
 
 While engaged in his pastoral work at Nismes, Claude Mas chosen 
 moderator of the Synod of the Lower Languedoc, an office for which 
 he possessed the most ample qualifications. 
 
 Here the distinguished talents and undaunted courage of this 
 worthy man were called into exercise in the field of controvers}'. 
 Artful attempts were made by the Catholics to destroy the reformed 
 religion in France, by means of a coalition, which the penetrating eye 
 of Claude soon discovered as a measure of policy tending only 
 " to seduce, divide, and weaken the Protestants;" he therefore 
 frustrated, the whole plan, and this conduct tended much to secure the 
 stability of the Protestant ministers and churches in France. 
 
 Foiled in their efforts, the enemies of the Reformed procured the 
 removal of Claude from his station ; and, by a decree of council, he 
 Was prohibited from exercising his ministry in any part of Lower 
 Languedoc. 
 
 Being removed from his beloved station, he hastened to Paris, 
 and endeavoured to procure a repeal of the decree, but his efforts 
 were unsuccessful. He was, however, usefully employed during 
 the suspension of his labours. A Dr. Arnaud having written a book, 
 entitled, The Perpetuity of the Faith, by which the Marechal 
 Tnrenne had pretended to have become a convert to the Catholic 
 faith, Claude wrote a spirited reply, which was published without 
 his name. To use Robinson's words, " He traced the sophister through 
 all his doublings, — and vigorously pursued the fox till he seemed 
 to expire upon the spot." The Catholics were mad with rage, and 
 Claude would probably have paid dearly for his arguments, but the 
 author remained safely concealed. 
 
 * Robinson, from whom the above extract is made, was wrong in 
 supposing that Claude preached every day. There were several other 
 pastors at Nismes, and without doubt the work was divided between 
 them. " It ought not to be understood," says Bayle, " as if Mr. Claude 
 had preached every day. 'Tis only said, in the Abridgment of his Life, that 
 there was a sermon preached every day at Nismes, But that church had 
 three or four ministers at least." 
 
CLAUDE, 479 
 
 Not being able to get his prohibition taken of, Claude left Paris, 
 and repaired to Montauban, where he was unanimously chosen 
 pastor, aud where he often said he spent the four happiest years of 
 his life. " He loved Montauban ; it was the place of his education. 
 He lived in the most perfect union with his colleagues. There was a 
 mutual esteem between himself and the whole church;" and here, 
 had it been the will of Providence, he would gladly have spent the 
 residue of his days. 
 
 The Marechal Turenne, by his wavering conduct, obliged Claude 
 to re-enter the lists with the Catholics. He pretended at first to be 
 suti.- tied with the Answer to The Perpetuity ; but after three years, 
 the prospect of a blue riband afforded so powerful a reply to Claude, 
 that the Marechal's doubts began again to prevail. The Catholics 
 once more filled Trance with shouts of victory. As Claude feared 
 that the Protestant interest might be injured by this popular 
 clamour, he renewed his attack. " The episcopal party," says 
 Robinson, " understood that some reformed minister was preparing 
 au answer; they endeavoured to find out whence this news came, 
 and who he was that durst tarnish the glory of those who were iu 
 vogue for the most learned and polite writers in Trance. At length 
 it was supposed the hardy animal lived at Montauban, and the old 
 setter, the bishop, was employed to find him out. This prelate 
 affected great esteem for M. Claude, and endeavoured by familiar 
 interviews to diminish the distance that seemed to be between the 
 episcopal crosier and the pastoral staff. He wanted to know whether 
 M. Claude intended to answer Dr. Arnaud; and he wished to be 
 indulged with a sight of the copy, if, as report said, there was such a 
 thing. M. Claude, superior to concealment, shewed him a part oi 
 the copy; and although he despised the man for imagining he could 
 impose on him, yet he informed him that the other part of the copy 
 was printing at Paris." The issue of this affair was, that the bishop 
 having speedily transmitted to Paris the information which he 
 thought that he had so cleverly obtained, an order in council was 
 published to prohibit Claude from any longer officiating at Montauban, 
 and his work was suppressed. 
 
 In obedience to the mandate of the civil powers, Claude again 
 repaired to Paris to get his prohibition taken off. 
 
 After nine months employed in vain to procure his return to 
 Montauban, the reformed church of Bourdeaux, and that of Paris, 
 which assembled at Charenton, both solicited his services. He 
 accepted of the latter. It was a bold attempt to settle a preacher 
 so near the metropolis, who could not be borne with in the distant 
 provinces ; but the Reformed at Paris had great influence at Court, 
 and they saw the importance of having such a man among them as 
 
480 CLAUDE. 
 
 Claude, whose talents might bo brought into action in the most 
 serviceable way, when placed in the very heart of the kingdom. 
 Here Claude remained till the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, 
 and enjoyed for his colleagues, L'Angle, Daille, and Allix, all men 
 of eminent talents and distinguished piety. 
 
 The crafty plans of Claude's enemies were here completely de- 
 feated. By this new station he was able to do them more mischief 
 than ever. He was now placed on the very pinnacle of the reformed 
 church of France, and from this commanding- eminence could watch 
 every movement of the enemy, and defend himself with the greatest 
 advantage. Even his Answer, which was suppressed, found its way 
 into the world by a singular circumstance ; for the Jesuits and the 
 Janseuists having had a quarrel, the former, to provoke their oppo- 
 nents, actually procured an imprimatur for Claude's book, on which 
 Robinson justly remarks, " How happy for good men that bad ones 
 sometimes fall out." 
 
 The worthy champion of the Protestant cause had not been long 
 at Paris before he was called into a third contest. Father Nouet, 
 a Jesuit, wrote a book which it was necessary to answer. Claude's 
 reply to this work was his favourite production. All the Reformed 
 were delighted with it, and especially with the preface to it. As the 
 Jesuits and Janseuists were still wrangling, Claude escaped any 
 unpleasant consequences on this occasion, and remained quietly to 
 enjoy his triumph on the scene of action.. 
 
 Dr. Arnaud was not yet content, and again attacked Claude on the 
 old affair, Perpetuity, and pretended to produce proofs that the 
 Greek church always believed in transubstantiation. Ambassadors, 
 consuls, missionaries, all were employed to procure all the evidence 
 possible from the Greek Papas on this subject. Claude had no 
 such means to retaliate upon his opponent ; but his laborious 
 researches and acute understanding supplied every deficiency, 
 and, at the expence of immense labour, he again silenced his 
 adversary. 
 
 Dr. Nicolle now wrote a work, entitled, Well-grounded Prejudices 
 against the Calvinists. The grand design of this book was to excite a spirit 
 of persecution. This produced Claude's Defence of the Reformation. 
 " Allowed by all," says Robinson, " to be a master-piece, the best 
 defence of our separation from Rome, that either he, or any other 
 Protestant minister, had ever published."* 
 
 Claude's next work was The Parable of the Wedding Feast. It 
 consists of five sermons, preached at Charenton in 1G75, on 
 
 * A new edition of this work is lately published by the Rev. J. Townsend, 
 in (wo volumes octavo. 
 
tLAVDE. 48 1 
 
 Matt. xxii. 1. Respecting this volume, Robinson remarks, " This 
 work at this time proved that our pastor was not so intent on 
 defending the outworks of religion, as to forget the interior glory of 
 it, for the sake of which the outworks stand." 
 
 Every minister has his trials. Claude now seemed to he freed 
 from the malice of his foes, but he had causes of grief in the bosom 
 of his own church. His zealous heart was pained on beholding the 
 apostacy of many members, whom the smiles of a court had seduced 
 from their attachment to the reformed cause, and what argument 
 could not do, artifice was rapidly effecting. Among others. 
 Mademoiselle de Duras, a member of the church at Charenton, pre- 
 tended doubts respecting the Eucharist, and asked Claude's advice. 
 She then expressed her wish to hear the matter discussed between 
 him and some distinguished man of the church of Rome, that she 
 might fairly decide. Claude saw through the whoie business, but 
 be would not desert his colours; and, after some hesitation, he 
 entered upon a personal encounter. His opponent was Bossuet. 
 It is needless to say that the bishop was victorious; for Claude 
 knew tiiat the conscientious lady was converted before he met the 
 crosier, with his pastoral staff. Bossuet gloried in this affair, as a fine 
 proof of his talents and the excellency of his faith ; but he did Claude 
 the justice to sa} r ; that he said the most and the best that could be said 
 for a bad cause. The bishop, however, included a compliment for 
 himself in this commendation. 
 
 Shortly after, a strong effort was made to gain over the Reformed by 
 means of circular letters of the Assembly of the Clergy of France. These 
 were dispersed all over the kingdom; and while the Catholics were 
 harassing the Reformed to death by their cruelties, they were auda- 
 cious enough to invite them " as dearly beloved brethren," and 
 " strayed sheep of Christ," to leave the pretended reformed religion, 
 and to enter into the bosom of a church which breathed nothing, 
 against them but threatenings and slaughter. 
 
 Claude, ever at his post, like a vigilant centinel, did not allow 
 these attempts to escape unnoticed, and most effectually exposed 
 the iniquity of the circular letters, by publishing a small piece, 
 entitled, Considerations on the Circular Letters of the Assembly of the 
 Clergy of France of the year 1682. " This anonymous book was 
 known to be his, and did him great honour." 
 
 As these efforts proved useless, the bishops were resolved to 
 adopt another plan. " The intendaut of each province had orders 
 to convene the Protestant consistories, to take with him the bishop's 
 vicar, and some other attendants, and to go in person and read 
 the circular letter to each consistory." All eyes were directed 
 towards Claude, to see hew he weuld act, with a design to folios 
 
48'5 CLAUDE. 
 
 his example. Chareutou was the first cousistory that wa* sjam- 
 moned, and Claude was appointed to answer. The consistory met. 
 Claude was chairman. He owned the august character of the in- 
 tendant, expressed great respect for the magistracy, and for the 
 bishops as men of rank, argued the obedience of the Reformed from 
 their willingness even to listen to such afflicting neics; but avowed 
 that neither he nor his church could in conscience acknowledge 
 the authority of the deputation as an ecclesiastical tribunal. The 
 answer was printed and circulated, and served as a model for all the 
 other consistories in the kingdom. 
 
 Claude next published a small practical book on the Lord's 
 Supper, of which Robinson gives this character. " In this ad- 
 mired piece, the author developes- the human heart, follows the 
 sinner through all his windings, takes off his mask, shews his 
 misery, and conducts him to our Lord Jesus Christ as his sovereign 
 good. This book had a most rapid sale. The people would have 
 exploded transubstantiation, had not the king and the prelates for- 
 bidden them." 
 
 " About this time the university of Groningen invited Mr. Claude 
 to accept of a professorship of divinity there ;" but though the most 
 tempting offers were made, nothing could induce this faithful pastor 
 to desert his post, when his flock were evidently approaching the 
 most imminent danger. 
 
 As the calamities of the Protestants increased, Claude increased in 
 diligence. In preaching and writing he was indefatigable. To use 
 the words of Robinson, " His church was now a noble sight ; the 
 countenances and the tears of his crowded auditories produced ten- 
 derness and zeal in occasional preachers, and excited the idea of a 
 shipwrecked people, climbing up a rock of hope. Sleep and 
 whispering, and compliments, and all the disgraces of Christian 
 worship, were banished these assemblies, while all acts of piety 
 and benevolence supplied their place." 
 
 And now the fatal epoch arrived, when the plan to extirpate the 
 Protestant faith in Trance was brought to perfection. The church 
 at Charenton spent its time in fasting, praying, hearing the word, 
 and deliberating whether to brave the storm, or to adopt the. 
 command of the Lord, — " when they persecute you in this city, flee 
 ye to another." At length the fatal edict was published, which 
 revoked the edict of Nantes. The ministers were allowed fifteen 
 days to depart the kingdom ; but Claude, being an object of peculiar 
 yengeance, was only allowed twenty-four hours, and one of the 
 king's footmen was appointed to attend him to the frontiers of 
 .France. He, in consequence, immediately took coach at Paris for 
 .Brussels. The footman behaved to him with much civility, and at 
 
CLAUDE. 4S3 
 
 every stage he was complimented by persons of distinction. At 
 Cambrai he was very hospitably treated by the father rector of the 
 Jesuits, who did him the honour to pay him a visit. At last he 
 arrived at the Hague, where he paid his respects to the Prince and 
 Princess of Orange, and other great persons belonging to the state. 
 His reception made him forget his sorrows, and he contemplated 
 with delight a country where the great could become men and 
 citizens ; a sight with which he had never been gratified in the con- 
 temptible court of France, where pride of ancestry, long since a prey 
 to worms, and the pedantry of courtiers, must always have presented 
 a disgusting sight to the Christian and the friend of man. 
 
 While Claude was pastor of St. Afrique, he married an amiable 
 young lady of Castres, a Miss Elizabeth de Mulecare, whose father 
 was an advocate in Parliament. By her he had one son, Isaac. 
 This son had now for some time been pastor of the Walloon 
 church at the Hague, and the intercourse of this man of God with 
 his family relieved him from half the pains of his banishment. 
 
 The Elector of Brandenburg would lain have enjoyed his services, 
 but the Prince of Orange gave him a pension, and the states at the 
 Hague provided for him in such a manner as proved that they knew 
 his worth. His house was the asylum of Ihe refugees, and he 
 constantly acted the part of a good physician, in administering the 
 balm of consolation to their afflicted hearts. It was at this place 
 that he collected materials for his last work, The Complaints of the 
 Protectants of France. 
 
 "Mr, Claude's course of life at the Hague was in general this. 
 He rose early, worshipped God in private, and afterwards with his 
 family. The forenoon he spent in study, afternoons he devoted to 
 visitors: for the people who sought to converse with him were 
 innumerable: he ate a light and early supper, and received after it 
 his intimate friends. ' Here," says one of them, ' in those hours of 
 freedom, in those easy conversations, we saw the very Mr. Claude. 
 His serious openness of heart, his wise and affable conversation, his 
 penetrating genius and sweet temper, afforded us the highest delight. 
 These conversations always ended with the usual exercises of piety 
 in his family. The company departed, and he retired to bed/ " 
 
 Claude died January 13, 1687. Some of his dying sayings have 
 been carefully preserved. These are all very expressive. Two or 
 three only must be mentioned in this place. To his wife he said, 
 I am going to my God, and I leave you in his hands in a free 
 country. What can I desire more, either for you or myself P My 
 uife, I have always tenderly loved you. Be not afflicted at my death* 
 The death of the saints is precious in the sight of God. In you I have 
 *jr#/i a sincere piety, J bless G»d for it. Be constant in serving him 
 
48# CLAUDE. 
 
 with your whole heavi. He will bless you. I recommend my son and 
 his family to you, and I beseech the Lord to bless you. To his son: 
 Son, ^ou hare chosen the good part. Perform your office as a good 
 pastor-, and God will bless you. Love and respect your mother. Be 
 mindftd of this domestic, (alluding to an old servant who was kneeling 
 by his mother;) take care she want nothing as long as she lives. I 
 give you all my blessing. To a friend : 1 Imotv in whom I have 
 believed, and I am persuaded he is able to keep that which I have com- 
 mitted unto him against that day. At another time he said to his 
 son, Son, our Lord Jesus Christ is my only righteousness ; J need no 
 ether. He is all-sufficient. 
 
 " Thus lived and thus died the inestimable John Claude, Forty- 
 two years he served the church of God with all humility of mind, 
 and with many tears, and temptations, which befel him by the lying 
 in wait of men worse than Jews, though called Christians. In France 
 lie was in the highest reputation. His friends loved him, and his 
 adversaries feared him. His banishment completed his credit abroad* 
 His name has passed with lustre into other countries; and he yet 
 lives and speaks among us by his excellent works." These were 
 published by his son after his death. 
 
 Claude's voice was much against him as a preacher; so that when 
 he preached, prior to his settling with the church of Charenton, 
 Mr. Morus wittily observed after the sermon, " every voice will be for 
 him except his own." 
 
 Bayle speaks of his sermons in very high terms. He says, *' they 
 contained all that the Hugouots desired; a great order, a profound 
 divinity, a great sublimity, and a great deal of eloquence and 
 solidity." 
 
 "Wherever Claude preached, the populaec followed him, r>nd listened 
 to his addresses with delight. The great were no less charmed with 
 him. In the palace at Cleve he preached before the Elector of Bran- 
 denburg on these words, If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature. 
 His Highness was highly gratified, and expressed his satisfaction in 
 the warmest manner. The Princo and Princess of Orauge were also 
 often requiring his services, and heard him with equal satisfaction^ 
 This should encourage those young ministers to whom nature ha* 
 denied the advantage of a good voice. The tinkling cymbal of 
 human eloquence maj r indeed please the ears of a gaping crowd, who 
 ■are caught by sound, and love, like EzekieTs hearers, to listen to 
 one that possesses " a pleasant voice ;" but sterling piety and good 
 sense will never be deserted, and will always meet with the divine 
 approbation in the ultimate success of the preacher's labours. 
 
 This memoir shall be closed with the Rev. John Towns4nd's 
 remarks on the ministerial character of tins great man. 
 
CLAUDE. 485 
 
 " The true ground of Claude's eminence as a minister among the 
 Protestants, was this: he discharged the duties of his office in a 
 manner, and with a spirit, which mane it evident he was not tiie 
 time-serving teacher — not one that sought his own honour or 
 interest, but a genuine pastor, who felt his responsibility to Jesus 
 Christ, and studied those impressive charges given to pastors and 
 teachers in the 3d and 33d chapters of Ezekiel's Prophecies, by 
 Jesus Christ to his disciples, Matt. x. and by the great apostle of 
 the Gentiles to Timothy and Titus; he made 'full proof of his 
 ministry;' he laboured ' in season and out of seas-m;' he discharged 
 most punctually the duties of a watchman on the walls of our 
 Protestant Zion. As a spiritual shepherd, he watched well over 
 the flock; nor did he suffer any ravening wolves, although habited in 
 sheep's clothing, either to enter the fold, or hover round its precincts, 
 without giving the alarm. In his hand the trumpet of the gospel 
 gave a loud and a certain sound: and he might justly have applied 
 to himself that appropriate declaration of the apostle Paul, in which, 
 characterizing liis own ministry, he said, ' I am set for the defence 
 of the gospel.' Indeed, in many things, Claude resembled that 
 great servant of Jesus Christ; especially in his resolute aud per- 
 severing opposition to superstition and idolatry, and in the perse- 
 cutions and reproaches which he had to endure from bigotted 
 and intolerant priests." — -May France yet be blessed with many mors 
 such as Jean Claude ! 
 
SERMON XV. 
 
 THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 CLAUDE. 
 
 X£phes. iv. 30. — And grieve not the Holy Spirit of God, whereby ye 
 are scaled unto the day of redemption. 
 
 My Brethren, — One of the greatest advantages enjoyed 
 by believers under the light of the gospel, and which almost 
 raises them to the felicity of heaven, is to be able to say, 
 God dwelleth in us; or, as St. Paul speaks, God worketh 
 in us to will and to do of his own good pleasure. When 
 Moses wishes to set forth the glory of the Israelites above 
 all other people in the world, lie only says,,God is nigh 
 unto us. For what nation is there so great, who hath God 
 so nigh unto them, as the Lord our God is in all things that 
 we call upon him for. He meant to say, that God was 
 nearer to them, by the providential care which he exercised 
 over them, by his laws and oracles, by his cloud and 
 tabernacle, by the water of the rock, and by the manna j 
 by the types and promises ; and in a word, by whatever he 
 did in the order of that dispensation, to dispose them one 
 day to receive the greatest blessings. When the Son of 
 God descended from heaven to earth, the church saw hit 
 glory increase; for it could not only say God is nigh unto 
 us, but God is with us, agreeably to the prophecy of Isaiah ; 
 Behold a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a 
 Son, and they shall call his name Immanuel, which, being 
 interpreted, is God with us. This is the great mystery of 
 godliness which St. Paul preaches, God zvas manifest in the 
 
THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 487 
 
 flesh, and which St. John so loudly proclaims, The word 
 was made flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld his 
 glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full 
 of grace and truth. God was then with us by the com- 
 munion of the same nature, by which he conversed familiarly 
 with men, exposed to the same accidents, the same miseries 
 with them, though he often displayed the miracles of his 
 power, and incessantly instructed them with the lessons of 
 his lips. This blessing was followed by one yet greater, 
 when this eternal Son condescended to die for our salvation. 
 For then it might be said, in full confidence, God is for us. 
 And, says St. Paul, If God be for us, who can be against us? 
 He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us 
 all, how shall he not with him also, freely give us all things f 
 It was then, in effect, that God gave his peace and his 
 covenant to the earth. God teas in Christ, reconciling the 
 world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them. 
 For however great the advantages of the church, something 
 was yet requisite to complete its felicity, since its desires 
 would never be perfectly satisfied till it could say, God is 
 for us. This happy increase of honour and blessing was 
 also received, my brethren, after the ascension of Jesus 
 Christ into heaven ; for when, in a certain sense, the church 
 had ceased to say, God is with us, having lost the sight of 
 his person and the enjoyment of his familiar conversation, 
 it then began to be the temple of the Holy Ghost; and that 
 glorious person whom we adore in the divinity, began to dwell 
 in us, and to shed abroad his consolations and the eternal 
 riches of his grace, until we should finally obtain those of 
 his glory. This is a truth which St. Paul teaches us in 
 many places of his divine epistles, but he has exhibited it 
 more clearly in the words which I have just read, and 
 which I have chosen for the subject of this discourse. Tt is 
 true, that as our happiness is great, he designs also that our 
 duty should bear some proportion to our blessings. So 
 glorious a host demands from us infinite respect, and if the 
 rights of hospitality are inviolable with regard to men, 
 
488 THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT, 
 
 who are sometimes inferior to ourselves; liow much more 
 should they be held sacred with regard to the holy Spirit, 
 an adorable and divine person, who has deigned to choose 
 his dwelling in our hearts, to seal there the most important 
 promises of our salvation. This is the design to which the 
 exhortation in the text tends, Grieve not the holy Spirit of 
 God, whereby ye are seeded unto the day of redemption. 
 
 St. Paul has employed a part of this chapter to propose 
 to us the important doctrines of religion, that is to say, the 
 humiliation of Jesus Christ, and his exaltation to glory; 
 the orders which he has given to establish the gospel 
 ministry, and the end of those great offices, which is the 
 edification of the body of Christ, and the union of the 
 saints; and then he turns his attention to the holiness of 
 their lives. Falsehood, anger, dishonesty, filthy and im- 
 modest discourse, malice and slander, are particular vices 
 against which he gives us some precepts ; and among these 
 particular precepts he mixes that which is general, and 
 which includes many things in a few words, I mean to say 7 
 grieve not the holy Spirit of God, whereby ye are sealed unto 
 the day of redemption. Then you perceive, my brethren, 
 there are three principal parts in these words. That which 
 we must first examine is one of our dearest hopes, the day 
 of our redemption ; the second is the richest of the favours 
 which God bestows upon us, we are sealed by the holy 
 Spirit of God unto this day of our redemption ; and the last 
 is the most forcible of our obligations, we ought to take care 
 not to grieve this holy Spirit of God. 
 
 With respect to the first of these points, the day of our 
 redemption is the day of our blessed resurrection ; and 
 St. Paul clearly explains it in this sense, in the eighth 
 chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, where he says, that we 
 which have the first fruits of the Spirit, even zee ourselves, 
 groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, 
 the redemption of our body. And if you ask why he 
 rather employs the term redemption than resurrection, 
 which is commonly used in other parts of the New Tes^ 
 
THE SEALING OP THE SPIRIT. 489 
 
 lament, it will not be difficult to satisfy you. For, first the 
 holy Spirit frequently makes use of this expression to 
 represent; a great deliverance, as in Psalm cvii, where he 
 speaks of the redeemed of the Lord whom he hath redeemed 
 from the hand of the enemy^ and in the 63d of Isaiah, 
 where it is said, that God redeemed the Israelites in his love. 
 It is then evident that St. Paul adopted it not without 
 reason, the more strongly to express the greatest of all 
 deliverances, the great object of our desires, and the eternal 
 matter of our gratitude. 
 
 But it is clear, that when this term is taken in this sense, 
 it ordinarily imports two things ; the one, that the de- 
 liverance to which it refers is effected by a great effort of 
 power, and in a splendid and glorious manner ; and the 
 other, that it is a complete deliverance, which places us 
 above all danger ; on account of which St. Stephen, in the 
 7th chapter of the Acts, says, that Moses was sent to be a 
 ruler and a deliverer , or redeemer, by the hand of the angel 
 which appeared to him in the bush. He calls him a redeemer, 
 because his deliverance had the two qualities which I have 
 just mentioned ; for first, he effected it with a strong hand, 
 to use the expression of scripture ; and secondly, it was so 
 complete, that the tyranny of the Egyptians could never 
 destroy it. And on ihis principle you already perceive, 
 that there is no work which better merits the title of 
 redemption than that of the restoration of our bodies, which 
 will be the most illustrious effect of the infinite power 
 of God. An effect which is beyond the power, not only 
 of all men, but even of all the angels. It is true, that 
 one single angel was able to destroy in one night an 
 hundred and eighty-five thousand men of the army of 
 Sennacherib; but it is equally true, that all the angels 
 together could never raise a single man. This is the work 
 of the Lord of nature, of him who holds in his hands the 
 keys of death and of hell. It is only his light which 
 can dissipate the darkness of our tombs. It is only his 
 hand and his voice which can break their seals and their 
 
490 THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 silence ; hence St. Paul does not hesitate to ascribe, irt 
 the strongest terms, the resurrection of the same Lord Jesus, 
 to the zvorking of his mighty power, which, says he, he wrought 
 in Christ, when he raised him from the dead. Besides, 
 our last deliverance will be so perfect, that it is impossible to 
 conceive of any thing more complete, since we shall 
 not only be restored to our first life, but the state to 
 which we shall be raised, will be that of immortality. 
 Death, says St. Paul, will be swallowed up in victory ; 
 that is to say, we shall obtain over it, through Jesus Christ, 
 a victory which shall swallow it up. Conquerors may 
 obtain two kinds of victory over their enemies; the one 
 we call a partial victory, which makes the enemy fly, 
 which snatches from him a part of his forces, but which 
 does not prevent him from re-establishing himself, and 
 from again returning to dispute the field of battle, and 
 exposing the conqueror to the hazard of losing what he has 
 gained : to the other we give the name of a complete 
 victory, which so entirely extinguishes the power of the 
 enemy, that it can never recover. In the same manner, 
 there are tw okinds of resurrections; the one like that 
 of Lazarus, where death was conquered, but where he 
 was not swallowed up, since Lazarus died again ; the 
 other, which will be ours in the last day, where death 
 -will not only be conquered, but swallowed up in victory, 
 beaten down and exterminated for ever. We must then 
 simply call the first a resurrection : but to represent the 
 second in suitable terms, we must say, that it is a re- 
 demption. 
 
 I add further, that St. Paul, in employing this term, had 
 respect to the redemption which Jesus Christ has procured 
 for us by the infinite price of his blood ; for although this 
 price was fully paid on the day of his death, yet two things 
 are nevertheless certain : the one, that our resurrection will 
 only take place in virtue of that price, and by the immortal 
 efficacy of that blood which has acquired life and felicity 
 for us ; the other, that the redemption of the cross and the 
 
THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 491 
 
 last resurrection, are not two different works, but one only, 
 considered in various respects and at different times, the 
 redemption of the cross being our legal resurrection, and 
 the resurrection our actual redemption ; hence they are 
 only one and the same salvation, in its commencement and 
 completion, which renders the expression of St. Paul very 
 just, and his idea very intelligible. 
 
 But it is proper also to consider (hat he says, the day of 
 redemption^ and not merely the redemption ; for it seems to 
 me that this term day furnishes many devout meditations to 
 our minds. The first is the advantage of grace over 
 nature, and of the second world over the first. When God 
 created the universe, he made light and darkness, day and 
 night ; our time rolls along in the succession of these two 
 parts, which alternately follow each other : thus the first 
 man, who was produced in the glorious day of innocence 
 and happiness, soon after fell into the sorrowful night of 
 his crime and misery. But it will not be so in the second 
 creation, in which there will be only one perpetual day of 
 life without death, of holiness without sin, of glory without 
 ignominy, of joy without sorrow, and of blessedness without 
 misery. Further, I consider this day opposed to two other 
 solemn days which are very celebrated in scripture : the one 
 is the day of Sinai, the other is that of Pentecost, but this 
 is the day of redemption. The first was the day of the 
 Father, in which the first person appeared in all his majesty ; 
 the mountain was covered with his fire, the flashing light- 
 nings proceeded from his eyes, and the clouds were formed 
 by the breath of his nostrils ; his voice sounded from the 
 midst of the flames, and all the host of Israel, prostrated in 
 the plain, could not support his beams. The second was 
 the day of the holy Spirit, in which the third person ap- 
 peared likewise in his glory. And suddenly there came a 
 sound from heaven as of a mighty rushing zeind, and it filed 
 all the house inhere they were sitting. And there appeared 
 unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon 
 each of them : And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, 
 
49 c 2 THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them 
 utterance. The third will be the day of Jesus Christ; 
 when the Son of God coming in the clouds of heaven with 
 the glory of his Father, and the power of his holy angels, 
 will appear upon his throne in the air, and calling his 
 elect from the four winds with the voice of the archangel, he 
 will draw them from the dust, and raise them to the glory 
 of his kingdom. The first of these days was that of the 
 publication of the law, the second was that of the publi- 
 cation of grace, and the third will be that of the publication 
 of glory. In the third place, we must consider this day in 
 opposition to the many nights through which we shall have 
 passed, and from which we shall be delivered, to enter into 
 that glorious day, — the night of our sins and of the dis- 
 orders of our consciences; the night of the wrath of God, 
 and of the fear of hell; the night of the miseries of nature; 
 the night of the afflictions of the church : the great night of 
 death, in which our bodies shall have so long slept. These 
 are the nights which when we awake we shall regard as 
 past; and, emancipated from the horror of their darkness, 
 we shall rejoice in the light of that cheerful day. In the 
 fourth place, we must examine this day of our redemption, 
 by its opposite result with regard to the wicked, for it will 
 be the day of their desolation and of their final ruin, in 
 which they shall say to the mountains, fall on us> and hide 
 us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, and from 
 the wrath of the Lamb : for the great day of his wrath is 
 come, and who shall be able to stand. But as it respects us, 
 it will be a day of triumph and joy, a day of revival, and 
 in one word, the day of our redemption. Finally, we must 
 take this day of redemption in another sense, that is to say, 
 for the time in which our redemption shall be brought to 
 light. For it is certain, that till then it will remain entirely 
 concealed, and covered under a veil. When the Son of 
 God effects this redemption, we may say that he effects it 
 rather in the night than in the day, for he effects it amidst 
 the shadows of his humiliation and his death; the trans- 
 
THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 493 
 
 action passes between the Father and bim, without men 
 seeing any thing, and we can apply to this secret that 
 mysterious darkness which surrounded his cross from six 
 o'clock till nine. When the Father had fixed upon him, 
 be fixed upon him, in himself, in the obscurity of his 
 decrees. When he had formed the plan of them, and 
 made the preparations in his law, he covered his design 
 with the shadow of the ceremonies; and when the preaching 
 of the apostles was manifested in the world, it is true, 
 indeed, that then it might be said, in the language of St. 
 Paul, in the second Epistle to Timothy, He hath brought 
 life and immortality to light through the gospel ; but it is to 
 the light of faith, and not to that of sense ; to the light of 
 the promise and of hope, and not to that of the accomplish- 
 ment and of the possession : and it always belongs to us to 
 say, with St. John and St. Paul, It doth not yet appear 
 what we shall he ; for our life is hid with Christ in God; 
 but when Christ, who is our life, shall appear, we shall also 
 appear with him in glory. That will indeed be the day of 
 our redemption ; the wicked and the good shall equally see 
 it : for it will fully be brought to light, without being 
 obscured either by the veil of God's decrees, or the veil of 
 Christ's sufferings, or the veil of the law, or the veil of the 
 church's afflictions, or the veil of human blindness, or the 
 veil of death. Our bodies will then quit the sepulchre, 
 bearing upon them the marks of the blood of Christ, and 
 the characters of its efficacy. Rejoice then, O flesh and 
 blood, you are but a little heap of living dust, a handful of 
 earth kneaded with Avater, and tinged with colour; but 
 you shall one day be a partaker of the incorruption and 
 immortality of heaven ; and that you may not doubt it, 
 God has from this time given you his sacred seal, ye are 
 sealed by the holy Spirit of God unto the day of redemption. 
 This is the second part which we have to examine. 
 
 That we may proceed with caution, it is necessary to 
 observe one thing, which you must readily perceive, that 
 is, that the expression here used is metaphorical, and 
 
494 THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 borrowed by St. Paul from the ordinary practice of me* 
 who are accustomed to print their seals upon material 
 subjects : he would then first say that God has marked us 
 by his holy Spirit, to distinguish us from the rest of men; 
 for it is especially for this purpose that we employ seals or 
 signets, that we may put a difference between things, and 
 render the distinction more easy. I admit that God has 
 marked us from eternity in his book of life, and that it is in 
 virtue of this mark that he knows us, and that we receive 
 his benedictions. The foundation of God, says St. Paul, 
 standeth sure, having this seal, the Lord knoweth them that 
 are his; but this mark being known only to himself in the 
 secret of election, he has been pleased to give us another for 
 our own guidance, by which we may plainly be distin- 
 guished from the children of this world. And as we do 
 not usually put our seal but upon things that belong to us, 
 the apostle suggests by this expression that we belong to 
 God, that we are his heritage, his wealth, his domain, or, as 
 he himself speaks, his most precious jewels. Which induces 
 us to meditate on the tenderness of his infinite love towards 
 us : for a man loves nothing so much as that which he can 
 call his own; the palaces of kings are not so valuable to 
 him as his little dwelling. He looks upon other things with 
 a degree of indifference; but his own property, however 
 contemptible it may be, affords him a certain kind of 
 pleasure. When then we learn that God has marked us 
 as his property, that is, as if he would say, that he loves us 
 with an ineffable love more than all the things in the world, 
 and that the heaven and the earth are nothing to him com- 
 pared with the price at which he values his church, how- 
 ever mean and despised it may be. But the apostle does 
 not say that we have been marked, he says that we have 
 been sealed ; this term imports much more than any other, 
 for though every seal is properly a mark, every mark is not 
 a seal. Seals are marks which bear the arms of those to 
 whom they belong, and very often they bear their image, 
 as do the seals of princes. Now you know that the prin- 
 
THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 495 
 
 cipal design of the holy Spirit is to engrave these three 
 virtues in our hearts — faith, hope, and charity; which I 
 ma j with great propriety call the arms of God, that is, the 
 tokens of his covenant with us, and to impress his image 
 there, whicli consists in righteousness, in peace, and in 
 holiness. As the seals of kings are sacred and inviolable, 
 it is so with this divine seal, which is not only august in 
 itself, and worthy of our most profound respects, but which 
 moreover renders our persons sacred, and our consciences 
 inviolable against all the efforts of temptation. As we 
 impress our seals not on air or on water, but on matter 
 capable of receiving them, and of retaining their impression, 
 so the holy Spirit of God only bestows himself on those 
 truly faithful souls that are fitted to receive him and to pre^ 
 serve his image. As the matter to which we apply the seal 
 contributes nothing towards the formation of the characters 
 which it receives, but it has only to obey and to receive the 
 impression from the application of the seal : in like manner, 
 our hearts are not operative, and bring nothing but their 
 obedience to receive the holy image of God, the lineaments of 
 which originate in his holy Spirit, and depend absolutely 
 upon his efficacy. As seals render the pleasure of kings 
 authentic, confirm the sincerity of their words, and assure 
 us of the performance of what they have promised to us, 
 so this celestial seal powerfully establishes the declaration 
 of divine mercy with respect to us, and renders it valid : 
 it confirms our faith in the doctrine and mysteries of the 
 gospel, and it establishes our hope in the accomplishment of 
 the promises which the new covenant makes us. But I 
 must nevertheless remark three considerable distinctions ; 
 one is, that seals only bear the images of king?, and that 
 what they communicate to matter is but a second image, 
 less perfect than the first, because it is farther from its 
 original ; while the holy Spirit possesses even the very 
 nature and essence of God himself: so that his impression 
 on our hearts gives us a first image, which, immediately 
 approaching its original, is consequently more perfect. The 
 
496 THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 second is, that our seals do not change the matter, and that 
 they have not the virtue to render it fit to receive the im- 
 pression ; they suppose the matter to be suitable, but they 
 operate or do not operate upon it, according to its capacity, 
 while this glorious seal of God forms its own matter; and if 
 it finds it naturally unsuitable, it renders it proper and 
 flexible, and, to use the scripture phrase, changes the heart 
 of stone into a heart of flesh. The third is, that our seals 
 do not always remain upon the matter ; we remove them 
 after the first impression, and hence it happens that the 
 impressions which they have given do not last, they grow 
 old, and become gradually effaced ; hence, in the end, you 
 no longer recognize their traits ; but the holy Spirit rests 
 always upon our hearts, so that the image which he com- 
 municates can never perish. 
 
 But we must remark, that St. Paul does not simply say, 
 that we are sealed by the holy Spirit of God, but he asserts, 
 that we are sealed unto the day of redemption, that is to say, 
 that this seal is given to us in reference to a blessed resur- 
 rection. I will not say, that at the last day this holy Spirit 
 will be the mark by which the Lord Jesus our great Judge 
 will distinguish between the righteous and the wicked, 
 raising the one from the grave to the resurrection of life, and 
 the other to the resurrection of damnation. Nor will I say, 
 that it is the holy Spirit who forms in us the desires and 
 hopes of that future redemption, our souls not having any 
 good motion of which he is not the author; these two things 
 are true and certain, but I do not think that the principal 
 intention of Paul in this place is to teach them. He means, 
 in my opinion, that the assurance which we have of our 
 resurrection, and the expectation in which we are of that 
 great day, is founded upon that holy Spirit who is the seal 
 of it to us, or who is, as he speaks elsewhere, an earnest of 
 our inheritance. In fact, whatever can inviolably establish 
 the certainty of this hope, is found in the holy Spirit. 
 There is, first, too much glory and majesty in him to per- 
 suade us that he will eternally leave our bodies in the 
 
THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 497 
 
 dust, which have had the honour to be his teraples. This 
 is the reasoning of St. Paul in the eighth of the Romans, 
 //", says he, the Spirit of him that raised up Jesus from the 
 dead, dwell in you, he that raised up Christ from the dead 
 shall also quicken your mortal bodies by his Spirit that 
 dwellelh in you. Besides, this Spirit confirms in our hearts 
 all the things on which the hope of our resurrection de- 
 pends. It depends upon knowing in truth that Jesus Christ 
 died for us, and this Spirit is an unexceptionable witness of 
 it to us. It depends upon knowing that Jesus in dying has 
 conquered death, and is gloriously raised to restore to us 
 the life that we have lost; and this is a truth of which the holy 
 Spirit assures us, since he is the Spirit of Christ, emanating 
 from the power of his resurrection. It depends upon 
 knowing that Jesus Christ is in heaven, reigning at the 
 right hand of the Father, and that all power is given unto 
 him, that he may give eternal life unto his people : and this 
 Spirit loudly witnesses this glory, since he is the fruit and 
 effect of it : it is said in St. John, the Holy Ghost was not yet 
 given ; because that Jesus was not yet glorified. And he 
 himself says, when the comforter is come, whom I will send 
 unto you from the Father, even the Spirit of Truth, which 
 proceedeth from the Father, he shall testify of me; which 
 St. Peter well explains in the second chapter of the Acts, in 
 these words : This Jesus hath God raised up, whereof ice 
 are all witnesses. Therefore, being by the right hand of 
 God exalted, and having received of the Father the promise 
 of the Holy Ghost, he hath shed forth this which ye note 
 see and hear: as if he had said, that this fine effusion of 
 the holy Spirit is in effect, and by consequence, a mark of 
 the glory of Jesus Christ. It depends upon the truth of 
 our adoption, and you know that St. Paul calls this Spirit 
 the Spirit of adoption, w hereby we cry, Abba 7 Father, and 
 zcho beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children 
 of God. Finally, I say that this Spirit seals us unto the 
 day of redemption, because we only need to throw our eyes 
 upon him j and to feel him in our hearts, in order to repel 
 
498 THE SEALING OF THli SPIRIT. 
 
 all the doubts which arise in our minds against the hope of 
 our resurrection. If we fear our sins, which are the true 
 cause of our death, he assures us of their remission ; the 
 body indeed, says St. Paul, is dead because of sin, but the 
 Spirit is life because of righteousness. If we dread the wrath 
 of God, this Spirit is an earnest to us of his reconciliation 
 and his love ; the love of God, says the apostle, is shed 
 abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost, If we doubt 
 that our flesh is capable of receiving immortality, is 
 not this vain difficulty dissipated in the view of that Spirit, 
 since already the incorruptible is joined with the cor- 
 ruptible, and the purest light of heaven with the darkness of 
 our earth ? If philosophy should tell us that the laws of nature 
 do not recognize the resurrection, this Spirit of which we 
 have already felt ihe power will answer, that his operations 
 are not subject to the laws of nature ; and those great effects, 
 which he has produced in our regeneration, are not less 
 than those which we expect in our resurrection. If he has 
 had power to rescue our souls from hell, cannot he rescue 
 our bodies from the grave ? and is a greater power neces- 
 sary to release the flesh from the bands of death, than was 
 necessary to release the spirit from the chains of corruption 
 and of sin ? This then is the way in which we are sealed 
 by the holy Spirit of God unto the day of redemption. 
 
 But we must not leave this second part, without deducing 
 from it two most important doctrines, which I think are 
 here very clearly taught us; the one is the perseverance 
 of the saints, the other the knowledge which believers 
 have of their own condition, and consequently, the certainty 
 which they possess of their own salvation. With regard to 
 the first, it is evident ; for since God gives his holy Spirit to 
 his children to seal them unto the day of redemption^ 
 it is clear that the cares of his providence continue to 
 the end, and that he does not withdraw his good hand from 
 them until he has conducted them to the possession of his 
 glory ; and as to the second, it is certain that the holy Spirit, 
 being given to us as a seal to confirm us in the hope of the 
 
THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 49£ 
 
 resurrection, he could not produce this effect if we did not 
 feel these movements in ourselves; and consequently, if 
 we could not distinctly know both our calling and election. 
 In fact, it would be a strange thing if Gocl, who has been 
 pleased to form in us a spiritual life, more noble and 
 more elevated than the rational, had notwithstanding de- 
 prived it of the rights granted to the sensitive life, and that 
 he should have reduced it in this respect to the rank of 
 vegetable life; for even the animals who live, know that 
 they live, and it is only the plants which live without 
 being conscious of it. Could it be possible for us to live 
 the life of grace like trees and plants, without having any 
 knowledge of our condition ? No, my brethren, assuredly 
 the Spirit of God makes himself felt by his operations. 
 But some will say, by what light can we know this holy 
 Spirit ? I answer, by the light of this holy Spirit himself, and 
 it is an error to suppose that this is a deception. For it is 
 certain that all the powers which are capable of what 
 we call reflection do not know themselves but by themselves. 
 How do I know that I have an understanding ? by my 
 understanding. How do I know that I have the light 
 of reason ? by the light of my reason. There is no decep- 
 tion in this. Neither is there in saying that I know that I 
 have the holy Spirit, by the light of the holy Spirit, for 
 that which is light with regard to other objects in the 
 act which we call direct, becomes an object with regard to 
 itself in the act which we call reflection. We can then 
 know that we have the holy Spirit, and by this knowledge 
 be assured of our salvation. 
 
 It is true that we ought never to abuse this certitude, nor 
 to convert it into a profane security ; on the contrary, the 
 more we are assured of the indwelling of the holy Spirit in 
 us, the more ought we to take care and preserve so precious 
 an advantage, and for this reason, he desires that we 
 do nothing which may grieve him. Grieve not the holy 
 Spirit of God. You plainly perceive that this is the third 
 part of this discourse. And it appears strange at the first* 
 
500 THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 that St. Paul does not continue the metaphor which he uses 
 as the foundation of his discourse, and that he says, Grieve 
 not the holy Spirit, zvherebj/ ye are sealed unto the day 
 of redemption ; instead of sayirtg, according to the rules 
 of human language, break not, or efface not this seal of 
 God. It is, my brethren, to prevent us from understanding 
 this holy Spirit of God to be only a simple impression, or a 
 created grace in us, but that he is a divine person, the third 
 person whom we adore in the divinity, and on this account 
 he makes use of a term which does not appear to have much 
 agreement with that of a seal, and which is usually attri- 
 buted only to persons ; he says, do not grieve him. Yet let 
 it not be supposed that this term must be understood 
 strictly and to the letter, as though the person of the holy 
 Spirit were capable of grief. No, the divine nature is 
 incapable of our passions, it is unsusceptible of our joys and 
 our sorrows ; and as those who are on the mount Olympus 
 see the clouds assemble under their i'eet, and the hail 
 and the thunder fall rattling in the plain, while they_enjoy 
 the pure light of the sun, so the divine essence beholds the 
 troubles and agitations of his creatures passing by, and yet 
 perpetually dwells in his own peace and tranquillity. This 
 is then a term borrowed from the human affections, and 
 employed to represent what happens with respect to us in the 
 holy Spirit's operations in our hearts. For when God 
 does what man does when he loves, or when he hates, or 
 when he is touched with mercy, or affected with wrath, 
 you know that the scripture attributes to him love, hatred, 
 wrath, or mercy. When then the holy Spirit does in us. 
 what nature does when we are afflicted with sorrow, this 
 'scripture says that the holy Spirit is grieved. 
 
 But you will say, how can it be that this Spirit, who is 
 given to us for the joy and consolation of our hearts, 
 can suffer himself to be grieved in any manner whatever ? 
 My brethren, I confess that it is not very easy to explain this 
 to you, and did I perfectly understand it, I am not sure 
 that I could perfectly describe it. I must then here solicit 
 
THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 501 
 
 your very serious attention, while I exert all the powers of 
 my mind to sound the depths of your sin ; for the heart of 
 man has its mysteries, as God has his. But to begin this 
 explanation we must first remark, that there are four different 
 expressions upon this subject which are found in the holy 
 scripture: the first is, to quench the Spirit; the second, 
 to resist the Spirit; the third, to sin against the holy Spirit, or, 
 as St. Paul expresses it, to do despite to the Spirit ; and the 
 fourth, to grieve the holy Spirit. After this remark we must 
 distinguish five sorts of operations of the holy Spirit, which, 
 that we may better understand the subject, we will call five 
 sorts of Spirit. There is one which consists in extraordinary 
 gifts, such as those which accompanied the first preaching 
 of the gospel ; as, the gift of working miracles, that of 
 speaking foreign languages, that o! interpreting those lan- 
 guages, and that of prophesying. The second Spirit is 
 that which beams forth in the doctrines of the gospel, and 
 above all in the holy scripture ; for that divine hook is 
 a throne where the holy Spirit reigns, and from whence he 
 emits a thousand rays; nor is it possible to open it in 
 any place without being dazzled with its light. The third 
 is a Spirit which prepares men for the communion of Jt sus 
 Christ, forming in them all the necessary dispositions to 
 enter into his covenant, without at the same time giving 
 them the true form of regeneration. The fourth is that 
 which actually places us in a state of communion with the 
 Saviour, absolutely changing our hearts, and establishing 
 there the reign of God, and of his Christ. The filth 
 is a Spirit which emanates from communion with the Lord 
 Jesus, and which does not communicate itself but to those 
 who are true members of his mystical body. On this 
 principle I say, that when a man who has received this 
 first Spirit, which consists in extraordinary gifts, neglects 
 or despises it, being carried away by the occupations or 
 objects of the world, the scripture calls this crim^ quenching 
 the Spirit; and it is very evident that tin's is the meaning 
 of St. Paul when he uses those words in the fifth chapter of 
 
 2l 
 
502 THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT, 
 
 the first epistle to tbe Thessalonians, Quench not the Spirit; 
 for be adds immediately after, by way of explanation 
 Despise not prophesy in gs. The term quenching is very suitable 
 to this subject, since this Spirit, properly speaking, consists 
 Only in light, in tbe gift of prophecy, in tbe gift of tongues, 
 or in the gift of interpretation. I say, in the second place, 
 that when by incredulity of mind and hardness. of heart, we 
 set ourselves against the word of the gospel, which calls us 
 to believe, this, in the style of scripture, is resisting the holy 
 Spirit ; because this Spirit, which operates in the external 
 preaching of the word, urges and solicits men to conversion : 
 and it is in this sense that St. Stephen, in the seventh 
 chapter of the Acts, after having shewn the Jews that all the 
 ministry of the prophets led to Christ; and fully persuaded 
 besides, that they were yvt opposed to the clear preaching 
 of the gospel, having been betrayers and murderers of the 
 Lord Jesus, expresses himself in this language, — Ye stiff- 
 necked and uncircumcised in heart and ears, ye do always 
 resist the Holy Ghost. In tbe third place, I say, that when 
 a man has received this Spirit, which inwardly disposes the 
 soul to enter into communion with the Saviour, and, to use 
 the language of St. Paul, when he has been once enlightened, 
 and has tasted of the heavenly gift, and been made a 
 partaker of the Holy Ghost, and has tasted the good word of 
 God, and the powers of the world to come; in a word, when 
 be has approached as far as the last preparation for receiving 
 true faith, if, by the force of vice or temptation, he should 
 renounce Jesus Christ from the heart, and resolutely say 
 within himself, I will neither have heaven nor salvation, 
 •ince it will be at the expence of my ease, my wealth, and 
 all the pleasures of my life, this crime is called in scrip- 
 ture, to sin against the Holy Ghost, or to do despite to the 
 Spirit of grace, as St. Paul expresses it in the tenth chapter 
 of the Hebrews. And this is that great, that capital crime, 
 for which there is no pardon, and from which it is impos- 
 sible to return again to repentance; as the same apostle 
 teaches us in the sixth chapter of the same epistle. I say 5 in 
 
THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 503 
 
 the fourth place, with regard to that Spirit -which actually 
 dwells in us in communion with the Lord Jesus, no ex- 
 pression in scripture marks any fault which we can commit 
 against him ; and the reason of it is sufficiently evident, 
 because the Spirit which is given to us in this way, obtains 
 a full victory over us, and continues absolute master of our 
 hearts. This is a Spirit that brings all our thoughts into 
 captivity to the obedience of Christ. This, says St. Paul, is 
 the exceeding greatness of his power to us-zcard who believe, 
 according to the working of his mighty power; this is a 
 Spirit that cannot fail to triumph over us, since he swallows 
 up all the resistance of the soul, to establish, there the reign 
 of our Saviour. But finally, I say, that when we have 
 entered into covenant with Jesus Christ, and have received 
 that fifth Spirit which emanates from communion with him, 
 and which he bestows only upon true believers, there are 
 certain faults which we can commit, and even enormous 
 sins into which we can fall, which the scripture calls by a 
 particular term, Grieving the holy Spirit. Let us more 
 particularly examine what these are. 
 
 The Spirit which proceeds from communion with the 
 Saviour, is given to us for four purposes; for the plenitude 
 of faith, for perseverance, for sanctification, and for con- 
 solation. I say first, for the plenitude of faith ; for I 
 distinguish between faith and its plenitude, as we distinguish 
 between life and the perfection of life ; an infant lives, 
 a sick man lives, but a person who is in the prime of life 
 and in perfect health, does not only live, but he lives in 
 full v:gour, nature uninterruptedly performing in him 
 all its functions and operations. In like manner, a weak 
 and ignorant person, whom God has honoured with his 
 calling, will be faithful; but he will neither have that 
 extent of light, nor that eminent knowledge, nor that firm 
 confidence, which is found in those whom St. Paul calls 
 perfect, which I call the plenitude of faith. Now it is the 
 Spirit of Je^us Christ which produces this perfection in us, 
 for Jesus is our teacher and our prophet, who inwardly 
 
504 THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 instructs all believers. Secondly, lie gives us his holy Spirit 
 to make us persevere, for lie has received us under his care. 
 And this is the Father's will which hath sent him, that of all 
 which he hath given him, he should lose nothing, but should 
 raise it up again at the last day, as he himself declares in the 
 sixth of St. John. In the third place, it is his Spirit that 
 sanctifies us, and that forms in ns the habits of virtue, that 
 we may bring forth the fruits of righteousness which our 
 vocatioa demands. Abide in me and I in you, said he to his 
 disciples ; As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except 
 it abide in the vine ; no more can ye, except ye abide in me. 
 I am the vine, ye are the branches: he that abideth in me, 
 and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for 
 without me ye can do nothing. Finally, his Spirit is given 
 unto us for the joy and peace of our souls ; for it is on the 
 communion of our Redeemer that those ineffable consolations 
 depend in which believers rejoice, — Peace 1 leave with you, 
 my peace I give unto you : not as the world giveth, give 1 
 vnto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be 
 afraid; and because he has given us this peace by means of 
 his Spirit, his Spirit is called the Comforter; I zoill pray the 
 Father, and he shall give you another Comforter. St. Paul 
 embraces these four things in that fine passage in the first 
 epistle to the Corinthians, But of him are ye in Christ Jesus, 
 who of God is made unto us zmsdom, and righteousness, and 
 sanctifcation, and redemption; for wisdom and righteousness 
 are what we call the plenitude of faith, and consolation to 
 thelieart is the formal annunciation of sanctifieation ; and 
 redemption ensures perseverance even to the last day. 
 
 This being premised, my brethren, it will not be very 
 difficult for us to find, what it is to grieve the holy Spirit. 
 Observe what sorrow ordinarily produces when it over- 
 whelms us ; it makes the spirits retire to the heart, and 
 nature, abandoning all its external enjoyments, shuts itself 
 up within its own resources, and no longer performs its 
 ordinary functions. It is so here. It happens sometimes 
 that the believer falls into so awful a neglect of the mysteries 
 
THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 505 
 
 of bis salvation, that scarcely does lie allow himself a 
 moment's leisure ; the objects of the world occupy all his 
 soul, and enchant all his affections; the doctrines of grace 
 give him disgust, their difficulties repel him; he forms 
 doubts in his mind which make him regard the gospel as a 
 dream, and his salvation as a frivolous hope. Then we must 
 not doubt that this Spirit of Christ, which has been given to 
 him for the plenitude of his faith, withdraws his consolations, 
 and that dwelling hid in the bottom of the believer's heart, he 
 abandons his ordinary operations on the understanding, 
 which being no more aided by his vivifying light, as it was 
 before, suffers itself to be miserably seduced by the temp- 
 tations of flesh aiid blood. It will sometimes happen, when 
 God in the wisdom of his providence visits us with some 
 trial which is a little hard to bear, that nature, pressed under 
 a burden of affliction which it can scarcely support, will 
 irritate itself against grace, and in stirring up all the force 
 of its passions to rebel, pity, hope, fear, grief, the love of 
 life, and the horror of death, will form a tumultuous army, 
 which will set, out to attack faith, and the gospel profession 
 that we have embraced : pity will groan, hope will deplore 
 its loss, fear will open abysses under our feet, grief will 
 cry out, the love of life will prevent us from advancing, 
 and the horror of death will make us fall bick. Then it 
 cannot be doubted that the Spirit of Christ, which is given 
 to us to make us persevere, the same Spirit which formerly 
 inspired us with an intrepid courage, and which made us 
 say, who shall separate us from the love Christ ? Shall tribu- 
 lation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or 
 peril, or sword c t — Nay, in all these things zee are more than 
 conquerors through him that loved vs ; — it cannot, I say, be 
 doubted but that the same Spirit withdraws himself as from 
 the bottom of our souls, and that he no longer influences the 
 exterior character of piety, which is in consequence borne 
 away by the violence of temptation. It will sometimes 
 happen that a good man, who has walked uprightly all 
 his days, so as to afford him some pleasure in reflecting 
 
506 THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 upon them, will fall into unhappy circumstances, where, 
 either by the force of objects or by some other principle, be 
 will suddenly behold all the remains of his corruption 
 rising up against him, all his old infirmities, which will 
 make so terrible an effort, that they will overwhelm all 
 his holiness, so to speak, and he will plunge himself into 
 strange crimes, and heap them one upon another, as if 
 he was the most abominable of all men. Then it cannot be 
 doubted that the Spirit of Christ, which was given to him 
 for the sanctification of his heart, will flee from him, if I 
 may use the expression, and will conceal himself in the first 
 principles of piety, without producing the outward evidence. 
 And whether one of those things which I have just mentioned 
 to you may happen, or whether they may all three happen 
 together, as is sometimes the case, we must not suppose 
 that the Spirit who was given to us to shed a thousand 
 consolations and joys into our souls, may not suspend his 
 influences, and leave the conscience in the most lamentable 
 condition that can be imagined. This, brethren, in my 
 opinion, explains what it is to grieve the holy Spirit, it 
 is to repulse him by the darkness and distrust of flesh 
 and blood, when he labours to extend our experience and 
 advance our knowledge; it is to combat him by the love of 
 ourselves, and by our worldly interests, when he inspires us 
 with zeal and firmness in the profession of the gospel ; 
 it is to stir up against him the sedition of the passions, 
 when he is promoting our sanctification, and is tracing the 
 image of divine righteousness in our souls : it is, in fine, to 
 oblige him, by the looseness of our conduct, to take from us 
 peace of conscience, and to leave us to be devoured by our 
 natural inquietudes. 
 
 I admit that this is a crime into which the believer only 
 can fall; for to quench the Spirit, is a sin common to the 
 righteous and to the wicked, as both may receive extraor- 
 dinary gifts; to resist the Spirit, is absolutely the sin of all 
 unbelievers ; to sin against the holy Spirit, is the crime into 
 which none can fall but those who have received what we 
 
THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 507 
 
 call a temporary faitli ; but to grieve the holy Spirit, can 
 only be the sin of a man truly regenerated. Nevertheless, 
 remember that this is at the same time the greatest evil 
 which can happen to a believer, and consequently that the 
 apostle could not give us a more important exhortation than 
 this — grieve not the holy Spirit ; to prove this, hear atten- 
 tively some observations which I am about to make. In the 
 first place, that it is impossible to conceive of any thing 
 more alarming than the state of a man when he is in this 
 condition, since there is nothing to distinguish him from a 
 wicked man and a reprobate, either in his own eyes or in 
 those of others ; the appearances of both are alike ; the 
 movements, the sentiments, the actions, are the same, and 
 it is only God who knows his election, and who per- 
 ceives his little grain of faith, which exists yet in his heart. 
 Look at David, when he had involved his conscience in 
 adultery and murder. What difference do you discover be- 
 tween him and Saul ? Look at Peter, when he had denied 
 his master in the high priest's court; would you not, from 
 all appearances, condemn him for a traitor and an apostate ? 
 It is certain that a good man could not advance farther than 
 he then did, for he went to the very brink of the abyss ; and 
 if God had not held him back, and raised him up by the 
 power of his love, he could not have continued long without 
 perishing. I acknowledge that lie could not perish ; for as 
 a reprobate sometimes walks in the way of salvation so 
 far that he goes even to the gate of heaven, and we may 
 say that he thrusts his head into it, and beholds, as St. 
 Paul expresses it, the powers of the zvorld to come, but 
 never enters there, because the decreed purpose does not 
 give effect to his calling; so an elect soul walks sometimes 
 in the way of damnation even to the very gate of hell, 
 and there beholds the horror of the divine malediction, 
 but falls not into it, because his calling is founded upon 
 the counsel of God, which remains firm, and which watches 
 him from the precipice. But this does not make it improper 
 to say that he could not remain long in that state without 
 
50S THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 perishing ; for it is with him as with a fainting body, death 
 already occupies the greater part of it, the eyes see no 
 more, the mouth breathes no more, the arteries beat no 
 more, the hands and the i'eei have no more motion, nothing 
 remains but a thread of life at the heart ; and if nature 
 does not soon return, and regain its wonted vigour, this 
 body is lost. So, likewise, if a man who has grieved the 
 holy Spirit, could long remain without recovering from 
 this state, it is certain that his regeneration would perish, 
 and the silken thread of faith, which yet remains in the 
 bottom of liis soul, could not continue against so rude an 
 attack. In the third place, I cannot avoid setting before 
 your eyes the most deplorable condition of a conscience in 
 which the holy Spirit suspends his ordinary operations. 
 It no more listens to the voice of God, which says to it, I 
 am thy salvation ; it no more beholds that sweet and 
 paternal countenance which was formerly so familiar to it ; 
 it no more enjoys the sense of divine forgiveness ; it no 
 more sees Paradise opened; it has no more freedom of 
 access to the throne of grace, to obtain mercy and find 
 grace to help in time of need : and as it has formerly known 
 the value of these blessings, the regret at having lost them 
 is much more keen than the grief of those who never pos- 
 sessed them. I will not say that God usually withdraws 
 his children from these wretched circumstances by over- 
 whelming afflictions. I reckon this nothing : for the man 
 is still too blessed whom God rigorously chastises that he 
 may restore him to his service. I will only say, that we 
 Can conceive of nothing more painful, nor more cutting, 
 than the anguish of his repentance when he returns to God. 
 Read the fifty-first Psalm, and you will see a representation 
 of it in the penitence of David. What can be more 
 affecting than these words, My sin is ever before me; and 
 also these, Cast me not away from thy presence ; and take 
 not thy holy Spirit from me. Restore unto me the joy of 
 thy salvation ; and uphold me with thy free Spirit. He 
 only speaks of a broken and wounded heart, and his Ian- 
 
THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 509 
 
 guage every where bears the marks of extreme anguish. In 
 fact, it is not possible to return from such a distance, without 
 an extraordinary effort of grace; and as it is not possible to 
 fall into this state, unless vice has made some diabolical 
 efforts, it is not possible to rise from it, if grace do not make 
 some efforts heroical and divine. But how much does it cost 
 nature for tbes^ last efforts ! how many tears flow from the 
 eyes, how many sighs and groans rise from the bosom, how 
 many broken accents proceed from the lips ! How many 
 times is the heart rent in pieces ! How often is the body 
 prostrate on the earth ! and how frequently are the eyes 
 raised towards heavenl Finally, add to these, the diffi- 
 culties of inducing this Spirit to return when he has been 
 once grieved, of repairing the breaches which crime has 
 made ; for it is true, that after this the disorders of the 
 heart last a long time, and a great and continued labour is 
 requisite to terminate them : just as when a muddy stream 
 has inundated the neighbouring countries, though it may 
 have resumed its accustomed channel, yet they remain 
 covered with its slime, and present but a dreary spectacle to 
 the eyes; so when the human passions have overflowed, 
 and through being excessively swollen, have passed their 
 usual bounds, it is true that the man may return to his 
 right mind, but all the powers of his soul remain corrupted, 
 and it will take a long time to purify them. 
 
 Let us then take care, my brethren, never to grieve this 
 holy Spirit of God that has been given to us ; and for this 
 purpose, never let us trust in ourselves. However evident 
 our regeneration may be, we have always the enemies of 
 our salvation in our bosoms. Our concupiscence is a lion 
 which is sometimes humbled under grace, but which rises 
 up against it on the first occasion, even so as to tear it in 
 pieces if we do not take peculiar care. Let us read the holy 
 scriptures, be frequent in the exercises of devotion, and 
 never grow weary of advancing in the knowledge of the 
 mysteries of heaven ; and let us repulse with zeal and 
 indignation all the doubts which may arise against the truth 
 
510 THE SEALING OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 of the gospel. Let us undauntedly regard all the afflictions 
 which we must suffer for the sake of the Lord Jesus. If 
 nature complains, let us check its complaints by recol- 
 lecting our calling; if the flesh murmurs, let us impose 
 silence upon it, by arguing the honour of suffering for so 
 glorious a cause. Let us be shaken by nothing, neither 
 death, nor life; nor angels, nor men; nor humiliations, 
 nor exaltations ; nor fear, nor hope ; nor the love of our- 
 selves, nor the love of our children, more tender than our- 
 selves. Let us keep the faith : let us fight the good fight ; 
 and let us beware that, in the midst of our race, we do not 
 lose the prize which is proposed to us. Let us practise 
 the works of sanctification ; let us live soberly, righteously, 
 and godly, in this present world. While we are looking 
 for the happy day, and glorious appearing of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ, let us remember that we have been sealed 
 unto that great day of our redemption. Let us live in 
 the enjoyment of the honour of this seal, until at length 
 God pufs us into the enjoyment of the promise which it 
 secures to us. Let us not fear death, since its darkness 
 will be succeeded by so glorious a light, and its night by so 
 bright a day. Let this monster swallow us up, when God 
 pleases, we are confident that he must cast us on shore, 
 and that all his power must yield to that of our deliverer. 
 He will descend from heaven to seek the flesh which he has 
 redeemed ; and, after raising it from the tomb, he will exalt 
 it to the abode of his Spirit. For then the Spirit will no 
 more visit the earth to associate himself with the infirmities 
 of the flesh ; but the flesh will follow the Spirit into the 
 eternal Paradise, and its meanness will be happily lost in 
 the glory of that Spirit, who shall ever continue to be, 
 not die seal of our redemption, but the source of our 
 felicity. To him, with the Father and the Son, be eternal 
 honour and glory. Amen. 
 
A CONCISE ACCOUNT 
 
 DISTINGUISHED ORATORS 
 
 FRENCH PULPIT. 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS 
 
 Adam, Jeax, was born at Limou- 
 sin, and entered amonj the Jesuits 
 in 1622, at fourteen years of age. 
 He was a very famous preacher, 
 and laboured for forty \ears in the 
 provinces and cites of France, and 
 also in the Louvre. He was bold, 
 petulant, and declamatory. The 
 Jansenists found in him a violent 
 enemy; and after preaching some 
 Lent sermon; in St. Paul's church at 
 Paris, in 16.50, so great a clamour 
 wa 5 raised, that he would have been 
 interdicted the pulpit, but powerful 
 friends secured him protection. He 
 was s^nt to preach at Loudun in 
 1659. when the Protestants held a 
 national synod there; and a Mr. 
 Cottebi. a reformed minister of 
 Poitier-, having at that time gone 
 over to the Catholics, led to a 
 dispute in which Father Adam, and 
 Daille, who was moderator of the 
 synod, were opponents. Daille tri- 
 umphed gloriously, over his adver- 
 sary. Adam was finally fixed as 
 superior of the liaison Professe at 
 Bourdeaux, where he died in 1680. 
 He published some sermons on the 
 Euchari t, which was then a very 
 popular topic of discussion. "They 
 are not ill turned,"' sav s Ba\le, 
 " but they look a little too much 
 like a dramatic piece, because Mr. 
 Claude appears sometimes in them 
 as an interlocutor." 
 
 Allix, Petf.k, was a native of 
 Alenc'»n, minister of Rouen, and of 
 Charenton near Pf.ris. He came to 
 
 England at the revocation of the 
 edict of Nantes. He was honoured 
 with the degree of D. D. and pro- 
 moted to the place of treasurer of 
 
 Salisbury. He died in London in 
 IT IT. in his seventy-sixth year. His 
 works are numerous, and fraught 
 with piety and erudition. Tney 
 are all on die logical subjects. His 
 Reflections on the Books of Scrip- 
 ture, 1688, are republished by 
 BUhop Watson in hi= theological 
 tracts. This able and laborious 
 mini-ter was a firm opponent of 
 Bossuet in preventing any conces- 
 sion? to his artful claims. Ci His 
 sermons upon this occasion were 
 afterwards printed in Holland, and 
 met with deserved commendations." 
 
 Amyrat-t, Moses, was born of a 
 very anc;ent family, according to 
 
 some account;, at Bourgueil, a small 
 town of Tourraine, in the year 1596. 
 He first studied the law, but after- 
 wards entered the church. Whea 
 he had completed his theological 
 stud es, he was appointed minister 
 of Saint-Aignan. and shortly after 
 he replaced the celebrated Daille 
 in the church of Saumur, were he 
 was in high repute as Divinity Pro- 
 fessof to the University. In 1631 
 he was deputed by the S\nod of 
 Charenton to present an address to 
 Louis XIII. on account of the 
 violations of his edicts. He con- 
 ducted himself with great wisdom 
 and r >urage, and maintained the 
 ancient right of delivering the peti- 
 tion standing:. On this occasion he 
 attracted the notice of Cardinal 
 Richelieu, who commisiioned the 
 Jesuit Audebert to inform him of 
 his plan for reconciling the Catholic 
 and Protestan: churches. He pro- 
 posed to give up the invocation of 
 the saints, the doctrine of purga- 
 
514 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 Vory, and that of the merit of good 
 works; to give the cup to the 
 laity, and to limit the power of 
 the pope, who, if he would not con- 
 sent to it, should be superseded by 
 a patriarch, if these concessions 
 would but unite the two parties, 
 and restore peace to the country. 
 The plan failed on account of the 
 claims of the Jesuits respecting the 
 Eucharist. Arayraut had an extra- 
 ordinary talent for writing and 
 preaching, in which he discovered 
 equal skill and facility both in 
 French and in Latin, in contro- 
 versial works, and in sermons. He 
 was held in great esteem by persons 
 of the most exalted rank among 
 Catholics and Protestants, and num- 
 bered among his friends, bishops, 
 archbishops, and cardinals of the 
 Roman church, among whom was 
 the Cardinal Mazarine. He died 
 at Saumur in 108-1, leaving behind 
 him the savour of a good name as a 
 humane, virtuous, and charitable 
 man. During the last ten years of 
 his life he gave all the emoluments 
 of his ministry to tbe poor. He 
 distributed his bounties alike to all 
 the necessitous, whether Catholics 
 or Protestants. Dubosc respected 
 him much, and wrote his eulogy in 
 the following distich, under his 
 portrait. 
 
 A Mose ad Mosem pat MosinonfuH alius, 
 Mare, ore, etcalamo, minis ute'rquej'uit.* 
 
 Amyraut had one son, who distin- 
 guished himself as an advocate at 
 Paris, but retired to the Hague, on 
 the revocation of the Edict of 
 Nantes. His theological works are 
 very numerous. Among many other 
 works he published, an Apology 
 for the Protestants; a Treatise on 
 Free Will ; Christian Morals, 6 vols. 
 8vo. ; 2 vols, on the Millennium ; 
 Paraphrases on the Epistle^ and 
 Gospels ; six Sermons on the Nature, 
 Extent, &c. of the Gospel ; eleven 
 Sermons on various Texts, &c. He 
 was a warm supporter of the sen- 
 timent known in France by the 
 
 * These lines are evidently a parody of 
 the Jewish proverh respecting their Rabbi, 
 -Moses iNiaimonides : 
 
 A Mo.se antiquo, ad Mosem nostrum, 
 Nan surrexit major Mose. 
 
 name of universal grace, which Ire 
 had imbibed from his beloved tutor 
 Cameron, and in defence of which 
 he quoted the authority of Calvin. 
 The particular grace party, as they 
 were cailed, opposed him most furi- 
 ously, for publishing a work on 
 this subject; and Du Moulin, uho 
 was Theological Professor at Sedan, 
 especially distinguished himself as 
 his opponent, and accused him of 
 favouring Arminianism. Prejudice 
 ran so high, that many deputies 
 received instructions against him 
 in the national synod of Alencon, 
 which was held in 1637, and some 
 of them would fain have had him 
 deposed. This contest seems to have 
 been similar to that which occurred 
 of late years, between the valuable 
 Andrew Fuller and his opponents. 
 " Do you not perceive, my breth- 
 ren," says Amvraut, in a sermon on 
 Rom. xi. 33. '' that w hen God causes 
 his gospel to be preached among a 
 people who never before heard it, he 
 makes it indeed an act of sovereignty; 
 but this does not prevent him from 
 enforcing the necessity of faith and 
 perseverance. If they shew them- 
 selves unworthy of this grace, God 
 takes away his candlestick and 
 carries it elsewhere; that is to say, 
 he rejects this people, and calls 
 another by the preaching of his 
 gospel. Thus he dealt with the 
 Jews, who were cut off, and thus 
 St. Paul here threatens the Gentiles 
 with being cut off, if they do not 
 persevere through the blessing of 
 the Lord. The first election, then, 
 which this great man calls parti- 
 cular, is an election to feel the 
 calling of the Spirit. The second, 
 which he calls universal, is an elec- 
 tion to receive the external calling 
 of the word, of which before they 
 had no knowledge." Amyraut and 
 his opponents carried their dis- 
 putes to a great length, but by the 
 interposition of some of their breth- 
 ren, they were at last reconciled. — 
 The Paraphrases are published with- 
 out the author's name, lest the Ro- 
 man Catholics should be prevented 
 from reading them. They bear on 
 the title the name of Jean Lesnier 
 the publisher, are printed at Sau- 
 mur, and dated 1645. They are 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 15 
 
 plain and evangelical. The eleven 
 Sermons are on some of the deepest 
 suhjeets of theology, as will appear 
 from the texts. Rev. ii. 17. Ezek. 
 xviii.23. Rom. i. 19,20. 1 Cor. i. 21. 
 2 Cor. iii. 6. Rom. ii. 33. John 
 vi. 45. Philipp. ii. 13. — ii. 12, 13. 
 1 John v.7. — v.§. and on the Cate- 
 chism, touching the efficacy of the 
 Sacraments. These Sermons are dis- 
 tinguished by a close and continued 
 chain of reasoning. The orthogra- 
 phy is very obsolete. Amyraut 
 firmly held the doctrines of passive 
 obedience and non-resistance, and 
 Was of opinion that persecuted Chris- 
 tians should have recourse to no 
 other arms than " patience, tears, 
 and prayers.'''' However, where con- 
 science was concerned, he thought it 
 right to obey God rather than men. 
 On this principle he most strenuously 
 resisted a decree of the council of 
 state, which ordered all Protestants 
 to put out hangings before their 
 houses on Corpus Christi day. The 
 Protestants were warned of the dan- 
 ger of an insurrection of the people 
 if they disobeyed, but Amyraut 
 even exhorted his flock to stand firm, 
 and the consistory met, thanked 
 him for his conduct, and charged 
 the elders to provide no hangings. 
 The order was published by sound 
 of trumpet, but it was of no avail. 
 A tumult was forming, but the lieu- 
 tenant on command refused to give 
 couiiienance to the persecution, and 
 put an end to it. His loyal prin- 
 ciples, however, procured him the 
 favour of Cardinal Mazarine, who 
 greatly distinguished him, and ho- 
 noured him with many interviews to 
 obtain, through his medium, the 
 support of the Protestants. This 
 induced the Count de Comminees, a 
 Catholic gentleman, wittily to re- 
 mark to him, I see, sir, that we 
 shall soon stand in need of y ur 
 intercession with his Eminence, which 
 will prove to you the usefulness of 
 the invocation of saints. Another 
 anecdote is recorded, which proves 
 his talents in argument. When the 
 Cardinal was one day closeted with 
 the Professor, M. de Guitaut, who 
 was captain of the Queen's guard, 
 said to Madame de la Trimouille, 
 in the Queen's presence, Hi* Emi- 
 
 nence is with the Minister Amyraut : 
 they are both clergymen, but I am 
 sure they will not speak of religion, 
 his Eminence will not get any thing 
 by it. — Several of Amy rant's works 
 were republished in his life-time, 
 but they are scarce. 
 
 Arccrixoisr, Davtd, Minister of the 
 Reformed Church at Mentz, was 
 born in that town, March 17, 1717. 
 He studied in the Jesuits College at 
 Mentz, which was the only one in 
 that place where, good literature 
 was taught. He was so indefati- 
 gable in his literary pursuits, that 
 the paternal authority w;is some- 
 times used to interrupt him. The 
 Jesuits would fain have had him of 
 their order, but he vigorously op- 
 posed (hem. He studied theology 
 at Geneva in 1633, under Spanheim, 
 Deodati, and Tronchin. In 1641, 
 he was settled over the church at 
 Meaux, where he was much beloved, 
 and gained a great reputation for 
 learning, eloquence, and virtue. In 
 1653, he removed to Mentz, at 
 which place he continued till the 
 revocation of the Edict of Nanfes. 
 He then settled at Hanau, after- 
 wards he removed to Frankfort, 
 and finally to Berlin. He was every 
 where held in great esfeem. He 
 died at Berlin in his seventy-fifth 
 year. He had one of the finest 
 libraries in the kingdom, which 
 foreigners used to visit as a curio- 
 sity, but of which the Catholic 
 priests plundered him when he fled 
 from Mentz. His life in Bayle is 
 remarkably interesting, but does 
 not claim an important place in this 
 volume, as, though he wrote all his 
 sermons, he never could be per- 
 suaded to print them. The only one 
 that was published was almost for- 
 cibly obtained, by the Consistory; 
 it was a fast sermon, preached in 
 1676, on Philipp. iii. 18, 19. and 
 was entitled St. Paul's Tears. He 
 wrote several excellent works. 
 
 A^selm, Antoine, Abbe of St. 
 Sever, Cape de Gascogne, preacher 
 in ordinary to the French King, 
 of the Royal' Academy of Belles 
 Lettres. This preacher has fur- 
 nished the world with a singular 
 
515 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 mixture of sentiment. Who would 
 expect to find such passages as the 
 following in a Catholic sermon ? 
 
 " What has not human pride 
 done to convince us that the grace 
 of salvation must be given to merit ? 
 But it is so free, that if it depended 
 upon works, it would cease to be of 
 grace. It is powerful and sovereign 
 over hearts, without wounding their 
 liberty. Human reason has in vain 
 disputed against divine justice. It 
 will always be true that wsan can- 
 not resist the will of God, and that 
 God does not constrain the will of 
 man ; and woe to that presumptuous 
 spirit who would find any other 
 answer than that which St. Paul 
 makes to this objection. It is so 
 rich in its gifts, that God has only 
 granted salvation to men to exhibit 
 the superabundance of his grace 
 throughout all ages." 
 
 f We must then confess, from the 
 language and example of this 
 apostle, that grace is not bestowed 
 according to merit, and that we are 
 justified freely by grace. We must 
 confess that this makes the differ- 
 ence between the righteous and 
 sinners, by giving a righteousness to 
 the oue, which justifies the un- 
 godly ; and by leaving the others in 
 their own corruption, which makes 
 them sinners-. 
 
 " This discrimination, my brethren, 
 is the stumbling-block of human 
 pride. It reasons, it schemes, that 
 it may throw the malice of man upon 
 God himself, and impute the evil to 
 him which man draws down upon 
 his own head. But how useless is it 
 to reason about a mystery which 
 surpasses reason ? Of what avail 
 are human suppositions, but to 
 9hew what temerity can do, flat- 
 tered by the charms of dissipation? 
 God owes nothing to his creature. 
 It is of his pure mercy that he 
 draws him from the mass of cor- 
 ruption. It is his justice which 
 abandons him to it. Dare we ac- 
 cuse God of criminality, for being 
 equally just and merciful, and re- 
 gulating his attributes according to 
 the immutable order of his wisdom ? 
 Remember that mercy has no other 
 cause than itself, and that it differs 
 essentially from justice, as this re- 
 
 gulates itself by merit; but the 
 other, so far from being influenced 
 by it, is itself its sole cause." 
 
 " It is true, that the discovery of* 
 our own weakness, and of so many 
 enemies which surround us, might 
 cause us to despair of our salvation, 
 were it committed only to our 
 cares and efforts. But when we 
 consider that we are under the 
 hand of God, whose bounty is in- 
 exhaustible, who loves his elect, 
 who certainly wills their salvation, 
 so many evidences that we are of 
 this happy number, ought to raise 
 our courage. If we are weak as it 
 respects our merits, we are strong 
 as it respects his goodness. ' My 
 merit,' said St. Bernard, * is the 
 mercy of my God ; and never shall 
 I want merit, while my God will 
 never want mercy. Besides, the 
 righteousness of Jesus Christ is 
 mine, since he has graciously willed 
 to make himself my righteousness, 
 and I ought not to fear that it will 
 not be sufficient.' " 
 
 ** It is neither the law, nor human 
 wisdom, which makes the Christian, 
 but living faith, animated by love. 
 And how does faith live, how does 
 it kindle charity in the heart, but 
 by the power of grace ? To prove 
 that it is this alone that produces 
 this good in us, it is what God 
 promised to his chosen people many 
 ages before their conversion. A 
 new heart also will I give you, said 
 he by a prophet, and a new spirit 
 will I put within you, — and cause 
 you to walk in my statutes, and ye 
 shall keep my judgments, and do 
 them. To whom does it belong but 
 to God to make such promises to 
 men, the execution of which de- 
 pends upon the free consent of their 
 will, and to influence their consent? 
 Does it not prove that he is the 
 Lord even of the will that he pre- 
 pares it, that he gives it a bias 
 by a gentle dominion, by a force 
 full of love ? As he has formed its 
 secret springs, he must know how 
 to manage it, without depriving it 
 of its own voluntary motions with 
 which he has endowed it. And 
 how could he constrain it, says St. 
 Paul, since as it is never so free as 
 when his Spirit governs it ; and 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 51? 
 
 still more, as he only governs it by 
 love, that he may constrain it to 
 serve God by love. Where the 
 Spirit of the Lord is, there is 
 liberty." 
 
 " Is it a rational thing that you 
 should make difficulties in religion 
 that you do not make in nature ? 
 You agree that in nature God sup- 
 ports you and preserves you, by a 
 perpetual harmony of operations, 
 without which the food that you 
 take would be useless. But do you 
 bend your mind to examine how it 
 is possible that God preserves you, 
 while you are obliged to labour to 
 preserve yourselves ? Without tor- 
 menting yourselves with this useless 
 inquietude, you know that nourish- 
 ment is necessary for you, and you 
 take that which is proper; and you 
 would prove yourself destitute of 
 common sense, if you neglected 
 this in relying upon divine Pro- 
 vidence. 
 
 " Why do you not act in the same 
 way in religion; and since you 
 agree that it is necessary to exert 
 yourself for your preservation, al- 
 though you may entirely depend 
 upon God as the aurhor of your 
 being, is it less necessary to exert 
 yourself for your salvation, al- 
 though you may be in the same 
 dependance upon God as the author 
 of your new being? It is equally 
 true, that grace must do every thing 
 in you, and that you must do every 
 thing with it. 
 
 " But, say you, how shall we 
 comprehend this harmony of ope- 
 ration? Is it necessary that you 
 should comprehend it? Is it not 
 on the practice, and not on the 
 knowledge of these mysieries, that 
 your salvation depends ? And after 
 all, is it not proper that man should 
 acknowledge his ignorance; and 
 wheie is he more obliged to make 
 this acknowledgment than in what 
 regards the ways of God, which 
 the prophet tells us are more above 
 us, than heaven is above the earth ? 
 To comprehend them, we must 
 either cease to be what we are, or 
 God himself must cease to be what 
 he is.'' — Sermon on the Conversion 
 0/ St. Paul. 
 The whole of the lermon from 
 
 whence these extracts are selected, 
 is well worthy of perusal, and 
 contains many judicious and ad- 
 mirable reflections. Rut it is not 
 destitute of some absurdities, which, 
 like the dead fly, spoil the pot of 
 ointment. One abominable passage 
 must disgust every liberal Christian, 
 who has learnt that the weapons of 
 our warfare are " not carnal but 
 spiritual." 
 
 *' Above all, let us not imitate 
 those who pretend to be persecuted^ 
 when they are only punished, or 
 constrained to do what is their duty; 
 such are our heretics I ' ' From such 
 theology as this, good Lord, de- 
 liver us ! Anselm's sermons are six 
 volumes 8vo. ; and his Panegyrics 
 two volumes. The above extract* 
 are from the latter. The date is 
 1731. 
 
 Atjbertiv, Edmuxd, was born at 
 Chalons sur Marne in 1595. He 
 was a very learned man. He was 
 first given to the church of Chartres 
 in 1618, and afterwards removed to 
 Paris in 1681. He wrote but one 
 book, but it acquired him more 
 celebrity than some great authors 
 have obtained by an hundred vo- 
 lumes. The title was The Eucharist 
 of the Ancient Church. The agents 
 of the clergy complained of him 
 before the king's council, and par- 
 ticularly because he had styled 
 himself pastor, as well as Mes- 
 trezat and Drelincourt, and ob- 
 tained a decree for the imprison- 
 ment of Au>berfin previous to a 
 trial, and a summons to examine 
 the others at the bar. This affair 
 terminated with a decree, that the 
 ministers of the pretended reformed 
 religion should assume no other title 
 than that given them in the edicts. 
 Aubertin's book was revived by 
 Claude, and mentioned by him with 
 great approbation. Daille's son 
 called it " a great and incompa- 
 rable work." It was reprinted in 
 a folio of a thousand pages in double 
 columns. Aubertin died at Paris, 
 1652, aged fifty-seven years. The 
 Catholics disturbed his very lasi 
 hour, by forcing into his house, 
 and demanding a recantation ; but 
 he declared his attachment to the 
 2 M 
 
518 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 Protestant faith with his expiring 
 breath. The translator has a sermon 
 of this divine, preached on the Day 
 of Pentecost. It is in very obsolete 
 French, but " in doctrine shewing 
 uncorruptness." 
 
 Basnage, James, was born at 
 Rouen in 1653. His father was a 
 celebrated advocate in the Parlia- 
 ment of Normandy. He studied at 
 Sauraur under Tanaquil Faber; and, 
 at the age of seventeen, he went 
 to Geneva to devote himself to 
 theological acquirements, which he 
 afterwards completed at Sedan. At 
 the age of twenty -four he was ap- 
 pointed minister at his native city, 
 where he continued till the revo- 
 cation of the edict of Nantes in 
 1683. He then became minister of 
 the French church at Rotterdam, 
 which he held for twenty-four 
 years. The Pensionary Heinsius 
 then obtained for him a share in 
 the ministry of the Walloon church 
 at the Hague. The political talents 
 of this divine were very great ; so 
 that Voltaire said of him, that he 
 was more fit to be a minister of 
 state, than of a parish. Al! hough 
 be was banished from his country, 
 he neither ceased to love it, nor to 
 be useful to it. When in 1716. the 
 Regent Orleans sent the Cardinal 
 Dubois to the Hague to negociate a 
 treaty of alliance between France, 
 England, and Holland, he recom- 
 mended him to apply to M. Bas- 
 nage, and to be governed by his 
 advice; and the exiled Protestant, 
 as a reward for his services, ob- 
 tained the restitution of his con- 
 fiscated property. This illustrious 
 man fell a victim to a complication 
 of disorders in 1723, aged seventy 
 years. As a man, Basnage was 
 much beloved both by Catholics 
 and Protestants: he was humane, 
 affable, candid, and sincere. He cul- 
 tivated friendship with the greatest 
 men in Europe, and his correspon- 
 dence does honour to his head and 
 heart. He -ranks high as an author, 
 and his works are numerous. His 
 History of the Jews, since the time 
 of Christ, fifteen volumes 12mo. is 
 particularly valuable. There are 
 three volumes of his sermons. It 
 
 is said, that many passages front 
 Raimond Gaches are to be dis- 
 covered in them. They are, how- 
 ever, much more refined than those 
 of that obsolete writer, and much 
 less imbued with gospel sentiment, 
 though very excellent. 
 
 Beaulieu, L. le Blanc Siecr df, 
 minister and professor of divinity 
 at Sedan, born at Pleisis Marli, 
 where his father was minister, and 
 died 1675, in the sixty-first year of 
 his age. His widow was remark- 
 able for her heroic defence of her 
 faith in the great persecution. Some 
 of his sermons were printed at 
 Sedan in 1675. Bayle observes, " It 
 is there that the brightest merit of 
 the author is to be looked for; 
 but in his Theses he treats with 
 a wonderful clearness, and great 
 penetration, the most important 
 matters of divinity, and applies 
 them chiefly to remove the misun- 
 derstandings that have so much 
 multiplied controversies." These 
 Theses were very popular in Eng- 
 land, where they were printed, and 
 passed through two editions. 
 
 Beausobre, Isaac de, a learned 
 Protestant minister, born at Niort 
 in 1659. He fled into Holland, and 
 went from thence to Berlin, in con- 
 sequence of a sentence passed upon 
 him to make the amende honorable, 
 for tearing the king's signet from 
 the door of a reformed church 
 which he was forbidden to enter. 
 The King of Prussia esteemed him, 
 and appointed him his chaplain and 
 counsellor of the royal consistory. 
 He died in 1738 / aged seventy-nine 
 years. He w rote several works : A 
 Defence of the Reformation, a 
 Translation of the New Testament, 
 with Notes, &c. ; but his most 
 esteemed production was his His- 
 tory of the Manicheans, 2 volumes, 
 a work praised by Gibbon. His 
 sermons are four volumes 8vo. 
 They have been printed at Berlin 
 and at Geneva. As a man, his cha- 
 racter is very estimable. " His 
 heart," says a Catholic writer, 
 " was humane, and far from every 
 kind of rancour and revenge. He 
 loved religion, and practised its 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 5\9 
 
 duties." As an author, he dis- 
 played much knowledge of eccle- 
 siastical history; he was a judicious 
 critic, but sometimes rather daring 
 in his remarks; he wrote in an 
 agreeable style, but it was not 
 reckoned quite pure, the common 
 fault ascribed to the refugees. He 
 Avas an undaunted champion of the 
 rights of conscience, which he well 
 understood and developed. As a 
 preacher, he discovered much 
 warmth, but not much depth. A 
 French critic, however, allows him 
 to possess what the French call 
 unction. His sermons are not in- 
 ferior in style to any of his time. 
 They are very short. The subjects 
 are chiefly treated by observation, 
 in a remarkably appropriate and 
 judicious manner. They are in- 
 deed brief comments, rather than 
 sermons, — neat outline?, rather than 
 finished discourse?. Many beautiful 
 pieces are to be found dispersed 
 among them. The following is a 
 specimen: " History has trans- 
 mitted to us the names and conver- 
 sations of those men of detestable 
 memory, who conspired the death 
 of the Son of God. Had they wished 
 to immortalize themselves, they 
 could not have done better than to 
 associate their names with that of 
 Jesus Christ. The marbles, the 
 bronzes, the monuments of Egypt, 
 will all |>erish, and bury in their 
 dust the names of the kings who 
 caused them to be erected ; but 
 those of Herod, of Pilate, of 
 Caiaphas, and of Judas, may boast 
 of descending to the latest moment 
 of time; and when the final day 
 of judgment shall come, perhaps 
 those who have borne them will 
 draw upon themselves the regards 
 and the curiosity of the whole 
 world. I will even say more. Not 
 merely is the name of these people 
 immortalized ; their spirit, their 
 maxims, their plots, are still per- 
 petuated ; and as long as Jesus 
 Christ shall live upon the earth, 
 in the person of his members, hell 
 will produce Herods, Caiaphas's, 
 Judas's, and Pilates, who will in- 
 flict upon the mystical body of 
 Jesus Christ those blows which they 
 sannot inflict upon his natural 
 
 body." — Extract from a Sermon en 
 John xi. 49, 50. 
 
 Benoit, Elte, was a minister at 
 Paris, and fled to Holland at the 
 revocation of the edict of Nantes, 
 where he became pastor of Delft. 
 He died 1728, aged eighty-eight. 
 He wrote the History of the Edict 
 of Nantes, five Toiumes 4to. Of 
 the lady whom he married, he has 
 given a most disagreeable picture, 
 representing her as morose and 
 avaricious, and for forty-seven years 
 the disturber of his repose. This 
 perhaps sent him to his study, for 
 his sermons bear the marks of solid 
 thought, as well as sound theology. 
 They are not deficient in spirit, 
 and not nnfiequently display a 
 well-regulated imagination. It is 
 a pity that there are only a few of 
 them that seem to be extant. They 
 are four in number. Three of them 
 are entitled, Jesus Christ, God and 
 Man, Heb. i. 3, 4. ; and the fourth. 
 Legitimate Wishes, on Psalm xix. 
 15 — 17. 
 
 Berthpau, Charles, born at 
 Mootpellicr in 16G0. After having 
 studied both in France and Hol- 
 land, he was made minister of 
 Ivlontpeilier at the age of twenty- 
 two years, from whence he went, 
 notwithstanding his great youth, to 
 the church of Charenion, where he 
 distinguished himself during two 
 years, that is to say, till the epoch of 
 the revocation of the edict of Nantes. 
 He then fled to London, and the fol- 
 lowing year he was appointed mi- 
 nister of the French church, Thread- 
 needle-street, a station which he 
 filled with honour during forty-four 
 years. He died in 1732. Bertheau 
 had so happy a memory, that he 
 forgot nothing that he had read, 
 seen, or heard : to his great me- 
 mory he united an exquisite sense, 
 and a solid judgment, qualities 
 which are all rarely comb ned in 
 the same individual. He has been 
 reproached with having compiled 
 the sermons of Alexander Morus ; 
 but if there are any fragments 
 to be found from that preacher, 
 it is more candid to attribute them 
 rather to a prodigious memory, 
 
520 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 which made every thins: his own, 
 than to plagiarism or imitation. It 
 is certain^ if he has any thoughts of 
 Morus, he knew how to prepare 
 them in a much better manner than 
 he. The grand feature of Bertheau's 
 sermons is clearness; — clearnesi of 
 arrangement, and clearness of defi- 
 nition. In this admirable trait he 
 is not excelled , nor perhaps equalled 
 by any other French preacher. 
 Robinson quotes him several times 
 in his note on Claude, and calls him 
 "an excellent French divine." Ber- 
 theau's sermons are two vols. 8vo. 
 They are frequently io be met with 
 in London. 
 
 Bertravd, J. E. — There is a 
 volume of sermons by this preacher, 
 published at Neufchatel in 17T3. 
 He was member of several univer- 
 sities, Professor of Belles Lettres, 
 and a minister at Neufchatel. He 
 went into retirement for some time 
 before he died, for which it seems 
 that he was blamed by a censorious 
 world, though he assigned as a 
 reason, the probability that his 
 usefulness was at an end. In a vo- 
 lume of three hundred and ninety- 
 two pages, there are eighteen ser- 
 mons. They are mostly on prac- 
 tical subjects, such as industry, 
 education, envy, hatred, &c. Some 
 will not judge very favourably of 
 the theological sentiments of a writer 
 who speaks of " the tears of peni- 
 tents effacing the crimes of the 
 guilty." There are, however, many 
 pleasing and useful reflections in 
 these sermons. 
 
 BlGNE, MARCHERS DE LA, of 
 
 Bayeux, was eminent as a man of 
 letters. He published Bihliotheca 
 Patrum, eight volumes folio, and 
 also Harangues and Sermons. Ue 
 died 1591. 
 
 Bochart, Matthew, was minis- 
 ter at Alencon in the seventeenth 
 century. He published several books 
 against the tenets of the Catholics. 
 One on the Sacrifice of the Mass 
 induced a missionary to enter an 
 action against him in 1G57, deeming 
 this method preferable to that of 
 attempting an answer. This minis- 
 
 ter was cousin of the learned Samae! 
 Bochart. At the head of three 
 valuable sermons by this preacher, 
 on Jacob's Ladder, Faith, and 
 Christ's Yoke, in a volume in the 
 possession of the translator, which 
 also contains single sermons of 
 Amyraut, Sauvage, L'Angle, and 
 Daill6,is the following memorandum. 
 " An invaluable book of Divinity, 
 worth its weight in gold. P. Dod- 
 dridge, Northampton, February 14, 
 1750." 
 
 Bochart, Samuel, minister at 
 Caen, was one of the most learned 
 men in the world. He was born of 
 a good family at Rouen, where his 
 father was pastor, 1599. He was 
 nephew to the famous Du Moulin. 
 His first studies were under Thomas 
 Dempster, a learned Scotchman, 
 from whose instructions he made 
 rapid progress in classical know- 
 ledge. In 1615 he pursued a course 
 of philosophy at Sedan, and ac- 
 quired celebrity by some public 
 theses. It is thought that he stu- 
 died divinity at Saumur, under 
 Cameron, whom he followed in his 
 retreat to London. In 1621 he went 
 to Ley den, and acquired the Arabic, 
 under Erpenius. He accepted the 
 challenge of Father Vtron, who 
 was an authorized controversialist, 
 to enter the lists with him in dis- 
 pute, and for ten days held a de- 
 bate with him at the castle of Caen, 
 till the father was quite defeated. 
 The conferences were afterwards 
 published. His celebrity as a scho- 
 lar, induced the Queen of Sweden 
 to invite him to her court, where 
 he was received in the most flatter- 
 ing manner. He died suddenly 
 when delivering an oration in the 
 academy of Caen, 1667, from which 
 circumstance this elegant epitaph 
 was written by M. Brieux. 
 .Scilicet hac cvique est data sors ccquis- 
 sirna, talis, 
 
 Ut sit mors, qualis vita peractor fuit. 
 Musarum in gremiu, tenerls qui vixit ab 
 annis, 
 
 Musaru./t. i/i gremip debuit iste tnori. 
 
 The world are indebted for his 
 best works to his undertaking a 
 course of sermons on Genesis. He 
 found so much oriental and scien- 
 tific learning necessary to a critical 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 5<2l 
 
 examination of the subject, that he 
 resolved to explore the hidden 
 mine with all his might. Hence, from 
 discussing- the Terrestrial Paradise, 
 arose his Geographia Sacra, a most 
 valuable book. The animals, plants, 
 and precious stones, mentioned in 
 the Bible, also engaged his attention; 
 but be only lived to finish his Trea- 
 tise on the Animals, which was 
 printed in London in 1663, under 
 the title of Hierozoicon. An edi- 
 tion of all his works was printed in 
 Holland in 1692. His sermons on 
 Genesis contain many valuable ob- 
 servations. The three introductory 
 sermons on the authenticity, &c. of 
 Revelation, are admirable; they 
 display much sound argument, spi- 
 rit, and piety. 
 
 Boisoelin, Jean de Dietj Rat- 
 mono de, born nt Reunes in 1732, 
 Bishop of Lavaur in 1765, Arch- 
 bishop of Aix in 1770, received 
 into the French academy in 1776, 
 of the Constituent Assembly in 
 1789, emigrated in 1791, returned to 
 France in 1802, when he was ap- 
 pointed Archbishop of Tours, and 
 some months afterwards promoted 
 to the cardinalship. His discourse 
 at the coronation of Louis XVI. his 
 funeral oration for King Stanislaus, 
 and that of the Dauphin, place him 
 among the number of French ora- 
 tors. The style is pure, and the 
 thoughts fine, but they want more 
 nature and fire. — Bibliutheque Por- 
 tative. 
 
 BOISMONT, NlCIOLAS ThERAL DE, 
 
 Abbe, member of the French aca- 
 demy, preacher to the king, died 
 at Paris in 1786. He is said to 
 have possessed a very superior 
 talent, and to have united the most 
 fruitful imagination with great 
 purity of expression. But the in- 
 numerable beauties which sparkled 
 in his discourses, were much dis- 
 figured by an affectation of style, 
 and emphasis in the thoughts, and a 
 magisierial consequence, as con- 
 trary to true eloquence as to the 
 dignity of a Christian orator. His 
 st\le was often laboured, bombas- 
 tical, and affected, He evidently 
 aimed more to please than to profit. 
 
 He was a favourite of the French 
 academy, and frequently pronounced 
 the funeral discourses which that 
 society were accustomed to appoint 
 on the death of any of the French 
 princes. The beau monde, the Mils 
 of the day, and even the philoso- 
 phers, owned him as their preacher. 
 He obtained a name, and every one 
 followed him. He was the con- 
 temporary of Beauvais, and was 
 considered as a very formidable 
 rival. Nothing has been published 
 of the Abbe Boismont's but a 
 Panegyric on St. Louis, and three 
 Funeral Orations, *' in which," say 
 the editors of the Bibliothique Por- 
 tative, " there is both spirit and 
 elegance, but little of that gran- 
 deur suited to such productions. 
 His ?e?mons, which at tirst gave 
 him so much celebrity, have not 
 been printed ; but it i- generally 
 thought that they would not have 
 increased the reputation of their 
 author." 
 
 Botvs, MoNsrEUR L. de. His ser- 
 mon* on the eighth chapter of the 
 Hebrews, 2 vols. 8vo. are treated 
 practically upon evangelical prin- 
 ciples. They are simple and con 
 ci.-e. Scarce. 
 
 Bosc, Pierre Du, was one of the 
 most distinguished luminaries that 
 ever appeared in the firmament of 
 the French church from the time of 
 the reformation. This eminent ser- 
 vant of God was born at Bayeux in 
 Normandy, February 21, 1623. He 
 was the only son of Guillaume Du 
 Bosc, an advocate in the Parliament 
 of Rouen. His father had thirteen 
 children by two wives. Mr. Du 
 Bosc was the last of the second 
 marriage, and the only one that 
 lived of all the family. But he was 
 better to his father than ten sons, 
 and has immortalized his name in 
 the church. He was a precious 
 pillar in the house of the living 
 God, and one of its firmest props. 
 He not only supported it by his 
 preaching and doctrines, in which 
 nothing is wanting that may con- 
 tribute to* the establishment of the 
 truth ; but he was almost in every 
 case at the head of the deputations 
 
522 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS- 
 
 from the provinces to the court, 
 ■which were sent to oppose the con- 
 spirators against the peace of the 
 reformed church ; and though he 
 was unable to prevent the final 
 blow, by his superior talents and 
 address, he certainly suspended it 
 for a considerable time. He pos- 
 sessed many advantages for such 
 missions. He had a commanding 
 person, a fine stature, a noble de- 
 portment, a sonorous voice, and an 
 eloquent tongue. He was looked 
 upon in his country as a perfect 
 orator. His manners were not 
 less engaging. He knew perfectly 
 the art of pleasing, and gained alike 
 all hearts. His mind was yet more 
 dignified than his body. He had a 
 grand and elevated genius, a happy 
 imagination, a discriminating and 
 solid judgment. In his conduct lie 
 could not justly be impeached. He 
 "was modest and discreet, while his 
 piety was such as to acquire the 
 esteem and approbation of all who 
 knew him. 
 
 It was augured, from his youth, 
 that he would be an extraordinary 
 man, for he distinguished himself 
 both at Montauban and at Saumur. 
 He was eighteen months in the first 
 university, and three years in the 
 second. When he had only at- 
 tained his twenty-third year, he 
 ■was settled over the church at 
 Caen, which was one of the most 
 considerable in the kingdom for 
 numbers, wealth, and talents, and 
 over which the celebrated Bochart 
 "was already fixed, who was then in 
 the zenith of his powers. Yet in 
 this difficult station in a very short 
 time he acquired the reputation of 
 one of the first men of the gown. 
 The church at Charenton sent depu- 
 tations to the church at Caen in 
 1658, and repeated them some time 
 after, to endeavour to obtain his 
 pastoral services ; but he was in- 
 flexibly attached to his flock at 
 Caen, and nothing could persuade 
 him to leave them. 
 
 It was impossible that a man of 
 go much importance to his party, 
 should escape the notice of the 
 enemies of the reformed religion, 
 especially at a time when every 
 effort was making to give it a final 
 
 blow. A sermon, which Du Rose 
 preached on a Fast Day, called 
 St. Peter s Tears, gave great of- 
 fence. The Catholic missionaries 
 found something in it to begin a 
 process against him, and the Due 
 de Longueville was obliged to use 
 his authority to stop the persecution. 
 To this he was urged both by per- 
 sonal esteem for the preacher, and 
 by the solicitation of the Duchess 
 de la Tremouille, at whose desire 
 the sermon had been printed. In 
 the year 1G61, when he preached 
 his sermon on Grace, the Jpsuits 
 accused him of having attributed 
 some opinions to the church of Rome 
 which it did not hold, but this accu- 
 sation was silenced by printing his 
 sermon. In 1664 his enemies were 
 more successful, and surreptitiously 
 obtained a letter from the King that 
 obliged him to quit Caen, and re- 
 main at Chalons till further orders. 
 One Poramier, an apostate of Mont- 
 auban, boasted that he was the 
 cause of this disgrace, and procured 
 it by asserting that Du Bosc had 
 spoken of auricular confession in the 
 most offensive terms, and had com- 
 pared the priest's ears to a common 
 sewer, a sink, and a channel that 
 receives all the filth cf the city. Du 
 Bosc had an interview with the 
 Chancellor Le Tellier as he passed 
 through Paris, and explained his 
 opinions on the subject to the chan- 
 cellor's satisfaction ; but this charge 
 was only an excuse, for the Marquis 
 de Ruvegni wrote to Du Bosc that 
 he believed his merit was his crime. 
 The Marechal Turenne asserted, 
 that all the court were persuaded of 
 his innocence, hut the aim of the 
 Jesuits was to smite the shepherd 
 that they might disperse the flock. 
 Even the King avowed the same 
 opinion respecting the accusation; 
 but this Great Prince, in his royal 
 justice, deemed it meet to keep Du 
 Bosc for some time in his banished 
 itate, that he might appease the ven- 
 geance of his enemies ! After the 
 lapse of many months, the captive 
 minister obtained permission to re- 
 turn to his flock, where he was re- 
 ceived with the greatest joy. It is 
 but just to state, that during his 
 exile, the Bishop of Chalons shewed 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 him every kindness. An eminent 
 gentleman of the Catholic church 
 at Caen, also expressed his congra- 
 tulations on his return in the 
 warmest manner. This gentleman 
 had no particular respect for Du 
 Bosc's religion, but was a great 
 admirer of his talents. " Having 
 a mind to solemnize that day with 
 a drinking bout, he took two Cor- 
 deliers, whom he knew to be good 
 fellows, and made them drink so 
 much, that one of them died on the 
 spot. The next day he went to see 
 Mr. Du Bosc, and told him that 
 he thought it is duty to sacrifice a 
 monk to the public joy. That this 
 sacrifice would have -been more 
 reasonable if it had been a Jesuit, 
 but that his offering ought not to 
 displease him though it was but a 
 Cordelier.' 7 It is almost needless 
 to say that Du Bosc was more 
 affected than delighted with such 
 a sacrifice. 
 
 He had not long returned to his 
 church before new snares were laid 
 for him. Having preached a ser- 
 mon on Prayer, he was accused by 
 a Jesuit of having spoken against 
 the honour of the Virgin, and 
 openly accused in the Cathedral 
 church of Caen. Du Bosc being 
 informed of it, went with Bochart 
 his colleague to the house of the 
 intendant, where the Jesuit was 
 sent for, who was shamed out of his 
 falsehood, so that the affair ter- 
 minated without any bad conse- 
 quences. 
 
 In the year 1665, the prudence 
 and eloquence of Du Bosc were 
 especially brought into exercise. 
 The persecution of the churches of 
 Normandy by the Bishop of Bayeux, 
 called forth his energies in their 
 defence, and particularly in behalf 
 of that of Caen. The King having 
 published a grievous declaration in 
 1666, against those of the reformed 
 religion, all the churches sent a de- 
 putation to Paris to make a most 
 humble remonstrance to his Majesty. 
 The churches of Normandy deputed 
 Du Bosc, who set out from Caen on 
 the 3d of July, 1668. As soon as he 
 came to Paris, the other deputieschose 
 him to draw up several memorials. 
 It being reported that the King w as 
 
 going to suppress some chambers of 
 the edict, all the deputies hastened 
 to Ruvegni, the deputy general, 
 to speak to him on this important 
 matter, and to obtain leave to throw 
 themselves at his Majesty's feet. 
 This permission was granted to Du 
 Bosc only. He saw the King alone 
 in his closet, and so charmed him 
 by his eloquence in a speech deli- 
 vered on the occasion, that his Ma- 
 jesty afterwards observed to the 
 Queen, lie had just heard the most 
 eloquent man in his kingdom. This 
 circumstance raised the fame of 
 Du Bosc throughout the whole 
 court, and for the present dis- 
 armed the rigour of the Catholics. 
 Du Bosc deserved credit for dis- 
 covering the weak side of t he King ; 
 but it is strange how he could re- 
 concile his mind to employ the ful- 
 some language of this speech ; and 
 stranger still, that a man, celebrated 
 like Louis XIV. for the greatness of 
 his mind, could be so weak an idiot 
 as to be overcome by such flattery. 
 Much more praise seems to have 
 been given to this Prince than was 
 his due. After many journies and 
 conferences, something was obtained 
 in 1669 against the declaration of 
 1666. From that time, Du Bosc 
 was frequently called to defend the 
 reformed church, before the minis- 
 ters of state and the intendants, and 
 discovered on every occasion his 
 usual vigour and ability. At length 
 the fatal revocation of the edict of 
 Nantes broke up the reformed 
 churches, and drove him into Hol- 
 land in 1685. The Queen of Denmark 
 offered him a retreat in her domi- 
 nions, and assured him that he should 
 not icani a Jlock, of which she her- 
 self would willingly be a party and. 
 he should have an advantageous set- 
 tlement for his family. But he pre- 
 ferred a residence in Holland, where 
 he was kindly received by the 
 Prince of Orange, afterwards King 
 of England, and his amiable con- 
 sort. Two months after his arrival 
 he was settled over the French 
 church at Rotterdam, where, sur- 
 rounded by many of his refugee 
 friends, he continued till his death, 
 which . happened on the 2d of 
 January, 1692, in the 69th year of 
 
524 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 his age, and in the 47th year of his 
 ministry. When he was told that 
 his hour was come, he said to the 
 bearer of the intelligence, Good 
 news! Sir, you tell me to-day 
 good news! 
 
 Du Bosc was twice married. He 
 espoused his first wife in 1650, and 
 lost her in 1656. She left him a 
 son and a daughter. The son 
 died in the army, the daughter 
 married a pious gentleman of the 
 narneof Neel, who fled into Holland 
 -with the refugees, chusing rather to 
 forsake great riches than to abjure 
 liis religion. Du Bosc married his 
 a-econd wife in 165T, who survived 
 3iim, and by whom he had one 
 daughter, married to Philip Le 
 Gendre, formerly minister of Rouen, 
 and afterwards of Rotterdam. This 
 gentleman was the author of Du 
 JSosc's Life. 
 
 His works are published in eight 
 volumes Svo.; the last includes his life 
 and miscellaneous pieces ; the others 
 are sermons. The three most valu- 
 able of these are on the three first 
 chapters of the Ephesians, and may 
 sometimes be procured separately. 
 The complete set is scarce and 
 Taluable. 
 
 Lempriere pronounces his sermons 
 ** to be masterly pieces." The 
 French critics reckon them very 
 feeble, and attribute their popu- 
 larity to the address of the preacher. 
 A celebrated surgeon in London, as 
 distinguished for his piety as for his 
 professional skill, some years since 
 published Du Bosc's sermon on 
 Grace; but perhaps the ignorance of 
 the public respecting the author, 
 prevented it from obtaining that 
 extensive circulation which it me- 
 rited. This gentleman gives that 
 discourse a character which will 
 justly apply to all the rest. »* The 
 inseparable connection between 
 faith and holiness, and final salva- 
 tion, it was the constant aim of this 
 minister to impress upon his flock." 
 
 One anecdote is recorded by 
 Bayle, which shall conclude this 
 brief memoir. — " When I was at 
 Caen," says Menage, " 1 heard the 
 minister Du Bosc preach. I never 
 heard a minister preach but then. 
 He preached very well; but it 
 
 seemed strange to me, to see a 
 preacher in the pulpit with his hat 
 on his head. Montaigne says, that 
 there is nothing more ridiculous than 
 the square caps of our priests. We 
 are used to it. Mr. Menage," con- 
 tinues Bayle, " would not have gone 
 to hear Mr. Du Bosc's sermon, if 
 he had not been told that he was 
 a very good preacher. His friends, 
 that is to say, the most learned and 
 ingenious persons of that city, were 
 of opinion that he would not knout 
 all that teas remarkable in it, if he 
 had not heard the Hdguknot 
 preacher, whom the Catholics 
 themselves admired*''' 
 
 BotJcnrR, Jfan, a Parisian Doc- 
 tor of the Sorbonne, and Rector of 
 St.Bennet at Paris in the time of the 
 League, was a trumpeter of sedition, 
 and the most mutinousand firry man 
 that was among the Rebels. He 
 published a Treatise on the lawful- 
 ness of deposing Henry 111 ; and 
 even when Henry IV. embraced the 
 Catholic faith, he continued to 
 preach that people ought not to 
 obey him. The following is the 
 title-page of his Sermons: " Some 
 Sermons concerning the feigned con- 
 version and the nullity of the pre- 
 tended absolution of Henry de Bour- 
 bon, Prince of Beam, at St. Dennis 
 in France, Sunday, the25th of July, 
 1593, on the subject of the Gospel 
 for thesameday, ' Attendite a falsis 
 prophetis,' &c. Matth. vii. ; deli- 
 vered in St. Merry's Church in Pa- 
 ris, from the first day of August fol- 
 lowing to the ninth of the said 
 month. By John Boucher, Doctor 
 of Divinity. ' Nonne qui odernnt 
 te Domine oderam, et super inimicos 
 tuos tabescebam ?' Ps. exxxviii." 
 The approbation of the Divines of 
 Paris is annexed. The Spaniards 
 made this man a Canon at Tournai, 
 where he died fifty years after. 
 
 Boullier, David Renatjd, of 
 Utrecht, was Minister of Amster- 
 dam and Leyden. His writings, in 
 French and Latin, are chiefly on 
 theological subjects ; the best known 
 of which are, a Dissertation on the 
 Existence of God, 1716 t Letters on 
 the True Principles of Religion, 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 525 
 
 2 vests. 12mo. 1741, &c. ; his Ser- 
 mons are 4 vols. 8vo. From their 
 general strain, his mind seems to 
 have been cast in a metaphysical 
 mould ; he reasons strongly. A 
 Sermon on Affliction, from 1 Cor. 
 xi. 32, has been accounted a master- 
 piece of reasoning-. 
 
 Boulmer, Jacques Renaud ue, 
 died very lately; he was a cele- 
 brated preacher at the Hague. His 
 Sermons were published by subscrip- 
 tion, in four volumes octavo, and 
 had a most extensive sale. He has 
 been called the French Blair; his 
 compositions, how ever, differ greatly 
 from those of the Scotch Orator 
 whose name has been appiied to him, 
 as they possess more of the proper- 
 ties of discourses for the pulpit, and 
 less of the style of the essay, and 
 have also some advantage over them 
 in divinity. The man of taste will 
 read the productionsof tbispreacher 
 with much pleasure. 
 
 Brousson, Claude, was a cele- 
 brated Protestant Advocate, born at 
 Nfmes in 1647. He pleaded at Tou- 
 louse, with great reputation, till the 
 year 1683, when he received a de- 
 putation of the Reformed Churches 
 at his own house. In this assembly 
 the famous project was devised, of 
 assembling even after the demoli- 
 tion of their temples. Brousson 
 afterwards retired to Ntmes, where, 
 having entered into the ministry, he 
 .preached in the desert, in caverns, 
 and during the night. An amnesty 
 was offered to him and his followers 
 by Louis XfVth ; but they knew 
 that the tender mercies of this mon- 
 ster were cruelty, and, therefore, 
 preferred taking refuge in Geneva, 
 and afterwards at Lausanne. This 
 zealous man every where implored 
 the compassion of strangers upon his 
 suffering brethren, for whom he felt 
 the most lively concern ; and from 
 this time he was continually travel- 
 ling from town to town, and from 
 province to province, in France, 
 Holland, and Germany, circulating 
 writings in favour of the Reforma- 
 tion. Having been sold by an apos- 
 tate Protestant, he was at length ar- 
 rested at Oleron in 1698, and con- 
 
 veyed from thence to Montpeliier, 
 where he was broken alive upon the 
 wheel, in his 5!styear, on pretence 
 of corresponding with the king's 
 enemies. He died wiih great firm- 
 ness. The States of Holland allowed 
 his widow a pension of 600 ilorins, 
 besides the 400 granted to himself. 
 There is a singular anecdote re- 
 corded respecting the efl'ect of hid 
 death upon one of his brethren. 
 M. Peyrol, one of the Ministers of 
 Nimes who had escaped to Geneva, 
 received a letter from that place 
 while he was in the pulpit, inform- 
 ing him of the arrest and punish- 
 ment of Brousson. He read this 
 letter to the congregation, and after 
 having read it, he praised the zeal 
 and courage of Brousson, who had 
 braved all dangers to revisit France, 
 that he might console and strengthen 
 the congregation, which he (Pey- 
 rol) had deserted. He reproached 
 himself in the most affecting man- 
 ner for not having followed his ex- 
 ample; and his grief was so violent, 
 that after he returned home, he went 
 to bed, and rose no more. Brousson 
 was the author of some Tracts in 
 French, in favour of the Protest- 
 ants ; a Translation of the New 
 Testament, &c. ; and some Sermons. 
 He was a bitter foe to the Church 
 of Rome, and his Sermons contain 
 many violent invectives against that 
 community. The style marks the 
 author, full of energy and zeal ; 
 some beautiful passages may be se- 
 lected from these discourses. 
 
 Buovion, Jeav Frederick, was 
 the son of Mr. Salomon Bugnion of 
 Lausanne ; he was bom at Stock- 
 holm, Feb. 14, 1747, and died May 
 29th, 1807. After having studied at 
 Lausanne, he was ordained at that 
 place in the year 1770, and was 
 fixed over the French Church, Soho, 
 London, in 1773, at Bi-rne in 1775, 
 and at Lausanne in 1783, where he 
 became principal pastor in 1799. 
 The disorder which terminated his 
 labours was an apoplexy, under the 
 effects of which he lingered for four 
 years. There is a posthumous vo- 
 lume of this Preacher's Sermons ; — 
 his Editors speak of them in these 
 terms : " In reading them, without 
 
5 C 26 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 doubt, regret will be felt at the loss 
 of that warmth, grace, and dignity 
 with which Mr. Bugnion recited 
 them; but it will be easy to disco- 
 ver that luminous method, that so- 
 lidity of reasoning, that simplicity 
 and force of expression, and that 
 happy application of Scripture pas- 
 sages, which were among the fruits 
 of his study and labour." These 
 Sermons are short, judicious, and 
 pleasing, but the author rather hints 
 at gospel truth, than opens his mouth 
 boldly. 
 
 Butim, P. There are two post- 
 humous volumes of Sermons by this 
 Preacher, published in duodecimo. 
 Thesubjects are chiefly on the duties 
 of religion, handled after the man- 
 ner of an Atterbury or a Tillotson ; 
 their style is exceedingly neat and 
 equal throughout. They may be 
 read with proSt for mere practical 
 purposes. 
 
 Cambaceres, N. was born at 
 Montpellier. His eloquence was 
 much admired at Court, and was re- 
 warded by the Archbishopric of 
 Rouen. He died, at the age of 80, 
 in 1802. His nephew was the se- 
 cond Consul with Buonaparte after 
 the abolition of the Directory. His 
 Sermons are held in some repute. 
 
 *' Cameron, John, was one of the 
 greatest divines among the Protest- 
 ants of France in the 17th century. 
 He was born at Glasgow in Scot- 
 land, where he taught Greek, after 
 he had finished hh humanity studies 
 and his course in philosophy ; in 
 which employment, after he had 
 spent a year, he had a mind to tra- 
 vel into foreign parts, and arrived 
 at Bourdenux in 1600, being then a 
 little more than 20 years of age. 
 The ministers of the place were so 
 charmed w ith his parts, his learning 
 and behaviour, that they made him 
 master <>f the Greek and Lai in lan- 
 guages, in a college founded at Ber- 
 gerac." He spoke Greek extempore 
 with great accuracy. He next re- 
 moved to Sedan, to become philoso- 
 phical professor, v, here he remained 
 two years. In 1604 he paid a visit 
 to Bourdeaux, and that Church re- 
 
 solved to maintain him four years 
 in any place where he chose to study 
 divinity, on condition of serving 
 them at the end of the term. He 
 acquired so much reputation in his 
 charge, that he was soon called to 
 till the theological chair at Saumur, 
 and remained there till the troubles 
 broke out in 1621. He then returned 
 to England, and was appointed by 
 King James divinity professor in 
 Glasgow ; but his love for France 
 caused him to return to Saumur 
 after a year, where he read private 
 lectures, not being allowed to 
 preach in public. He was shortly 
 after called to be a divinity profes- 
 sor at Montauban, but could not 
 agree with the prevailing party. 
 This produced those anxieties which 
 cost him his life in his 46th year. 
 He was twice married, and left two 
 daughters the fruits of his first mar- 
 riage, who were provided for by the 
 National Synod at Castres in 1626. 
 Bay le says, " He was a man of great 
 wit and judgment, of an excellent 
 memory, very learned, a good phi- 
 losopher, good humoured, liberal 
 not only of bis learning, but also of 
 his pur^e, a great talker, a long 
 preacher." His disposition was in- 
 flexible, and he loved to advance 
 singularities. He would rather think 
 than write down his thoughts; and 
 his publications were all drawn 
 from him by the earnest solicitations 
 of his friends. His theological lec- 
 tures on some very important sub- 
 jects were printed at Saumur in 3 
 vols. 4to. He published seven Ser- 
 mons: these, with his Miscellanies, 
 were afterwards printed at Geneva, 
 in one folio volume, under the in- 
 spection of Frederic Spanheim, who 
 accompanied it with a preface. Ca- 
 meron was the tutor of the cele- 
 brated Amyraut. 
 
 Caillard, Caspar. This preacher 
 was a pastor at Dublin. The first 
 volume of his Sermons was printed 
 at Dublin by subscription, in the 
 year 1728 ; and soon obtained the 
 favour of the public, so that the edi- 
 tion was speedily exhausted. Some 
 more Sermons were afterwards add- 
 ed, and published at Amsterdam in 
 .1738. in two volumes 12mo. The 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 507 
 
 whole are distinguished by solid 
 sense and sound reasoning ; and 
 there is a degree of vivarity in the 
 style which renders them the more 
 palatable in the reading. Thesub- 
 jects are mostly practical ; and the 
 leng.h of the discourses wilt not 
 weary in the perusal. They are 
 scarce. 
 
 Chais, Charles, was born at Ge- 
 neva, 1701. He was chosen pastor 
 at the Hague in 1728, where he died 
 in 1786, aged 85. He v. as an ex- 
 emplary character. His Sermons 
 upon various texts of holy Scrip- 
 ture, were published at the Hague 
 in 1787 ; these are scarce. They 
 are exceedingly judicious ; the sub- 
 jects are all treated in a practical 
 manner. Divines may find these 
 Sermons useful, but they are not 
 adapted to readers who are partial 
 to works on experimental religion. 
 Besides the Sprmonsof this preacher, 
 there is a Commentary upon the Bi- 
 ble from !iis pen, in six quarto vo- 
 lumes, which is much esteemed; 
 some Divinity Tracts, &c. 
 
 Chapelain, Charles Jeax Bap- 
 tiste le, was born in 1710, and 
 died in 1780. lie entered among 
 the Jesuits, and there acquired the 
 eloquence of the pulpit, which 
 speedily obtainedfor him the plaudits 
 of the coort. His sermons, collected 
 in nix volumes, are not much read 
 at present, although the style of 
 them is lurid, the reasoning close, 
 and the perorations pathetic. Bib- 
 liotheque Portative. 
 
 Charaud, M. l'Abbe, was a 
 preacher to Louis XV. His Pane- 
 gyrics and other Sermons are very 
 dry morsels either for the man of 
 taste or the christian. 
 
 Chatelaix, Hexri. Under the 
 portrait of this preacher, prefixed 
 to his sermons, is the following in- 
 scription : " Henri Chatelain, born 
 at Paris in 1684, called to the epis- 
 copal church of St. Martin in Lon- 
 don in 1710. Installed Pastor at 
 the Hague the 27th of April, 1721, 
 and at Amsterdam the 22nd of Fe- 
 
 bruary, 1728. Died the 9th of 
 May, 1743." Tillotson's works lie 
 open at the foot of the portrait, 
 probably to intimate that he was 
 partial to them. His sermons were 
 published by his widow, the year 
 after his death. They are six 
 volumes 8vo. The subjects are 
 general, the mode of treatment more 
 practical than devotional ; the sen- 
 timents scriptural; the style neat; 
 the plans judicious and methodical. 
 Those attached to the sermons of 
 Walker, of Edinburgh, will like 
 Chatelain. These volumes are com- 
 monly to be met with at a mode- 
 rate price. 
 
 Chaufepie, James George, bom 
 at Leenwarde, Nov. 9, 1702; and 
 died July 3d , 1786. He stud ied for 
 the ministry at Franeker, under Pro- 
 fessors Andala, Yiiringa, father and 
 son, and Albert Schulttns, who ho- 
 noured him with distinguished ap- 
 probation. His ministry commenced 
 in the year 1725, at Flessingue, 
 where he remained above eight 
 years. Afterwards he was ten years 
 pastor over the church at Delft; 
 and last of all at Amsterdam, where 
 he spent the remainder of his days. 
 He was the author of many labo- 
 rious works in theology, history, 
 &c. ; but particularly a Supple- 
 mentary Dictionary to Bayle, in 
 four folio volumes, which engaged 
 his literary exertions during seven- 
 teen \ears. Besides these, he trans- 
 lated several works from the Dutch 
 and English. Dr. Peirson says, in 
 his curious Catalogue, entitled Bib- 
 liotheca Peirsoniana, " A transla- 
 tion of these three volumes, which 
 are little, if at all known in this 
 country, would make no [an] inva- 
 luable addition to the sermons of 
 foreign divines, already introduced 
 to the acquaintance of the public." 
 Perhaps the readers of this volume 
 may not be disposed to go all the 
 lengths of the Doctor in his opinion 
 respecting this author ; the most 
 that can be justly said of him as a 
 divine, is, that his sermons are well 
 arranged, that they display eonsi- 
 derablejudgmentand erudition, and 
 that he is a £<>od defender of the out- 
 works of Christianity. These di»- 
 
525 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 courses are contained in three thin 
 octavo volumes. 
 
 Chenar, Laurent, priest and 
 doctor of the Sorbonne. Two small 
 l2mo. volumes of sermons, printed 
 at Paris in 1696, bear the name of 
 this preacher. Penitence, confes- 
 sion, and other peculiarities of the 
 Romish communion, together with 
 some discourses on slander, inebri- 
 ety, &c. make up these volumes. 
 The following story, introduced into 
 a sermon on the small number of 
 the elect, will shew the taste of the 
 preacher, and confirm some remarks 
 made elsewhere on the absurdities 
 introduced into the sermons of that 
 day. 
 
 tt I finish this important matter 
 by an authentic history, which is 
 related by some celebrated authors. 
 We read that at the death of St. 
 Bernard, a holy Anchorite, who 
 was dean of a chapter, a rich man 
 and of great reputation, being seized 
 with fear at a view of the judg- 
 ments of God, and of the small num- 
 ber of the elect, relinquished his 
 benefice and all his wealth, to end 
 his days in solitude : this holy her- 
 mit being dead, appeared to the 
 Bishop of Langres his friend, and 
 told him, that at the same hour in 
 which St. Bernard expired, thirty 
 thousand men had died ; that only 
 St. Bernard and himself had been ad- 
 mitted into heaven, that three others 
 were sent into purgatory, and that 
 all the rest were condemned to 
 burn eternally in hell." 
 
 Clarion, Antoine, was lately 
 pastor of the Walloon church at 
 Haerlem. His sermons are pub- 
 lished in two volumes 8vo. Utrecht, 
 1805. They are plain, intelligent, 
 and agreeable to the calvinistical 
 faith, but like most of those printed 
 in Holland, do not possess the evan- 
 gelical unction of their predecessors 
 in France. 
 
 Claude, Jean Jaques, was born 
 at the Hague, January 16, 16S4. 
 He was grandson of the famous 
 Jean Claude, one of whose sermons 
 is the last in this volume; and with 
 him the sacred office expired in 
 
 the family, which had been held 
 from father to son, for five succes- 
 sive generations. With him also 
 the family became nearly extinct. 
 He was a worthy descendant of 
 these worthy ancestors. His early 
 years were spent at Utrecht, at a 
 school, under the care of Mr. Platel, 
 and Mr. Le Jeune, who published 
 an esteemed translation in French, 
 of Grotiusou the Christian Religion. 
 Claude, whose ialents discovered 
 themselves very early, had been 
 only two years at Utrecht, when he 
 lost his father. He was now left 
 an orphan, in his eleventh year. Mr. 
 Martin, his minister, took him under 
 his special care, and treated him 
 with great kindness and attention. 
 Mr.Le Jeune also distinguished him 
 more than his other scholars, and in 
 his leisure hours favoured him with 
 the conversations of friendship ; but 
 he soon lost this friend, who was 
 taken away by death. At fourteen, 
 Claude went to the academy, and 
 studied the Belles Lettres and Anti- 
 quity, under Professor Burman. For 
 three years he devoted all his powers 
 to this pursuit, and his friends, who 
 wished to see him in the ministry, 
 were alarmed lest his passion for 
 human literature should prevent 
 him from directing his thoughts to 
 more exalted subjects. A circum- 
 stance, however, occurred which de- 
 cided the matter. Mr. Martin fell 
 dangerously ill, and one day when 
 he was committing his family to God, 
 perceiving Mr. Claude near his 
 bed, he suddenly turned and ad- 
 dressed him. Among other things 
 he said, see, my dear child, of what 
 use are the Belles Lettres to a man 
 in my condition. These words were 
 as a thunderbolt to Claude, who 
 understood their meaning and felt 
 their force. From that moment he 
 firmly resolved to study theology, 
 and to make it his principal occupa- 
 tion. After studying theology for 
 three years, during which time hi* 
 health was considerably impaired, 
 and hewas twice laid up with a fever, 
 he presented himself to the Synod, 
 at Deventer, in 1706, who re- 
 ceived him as a minister. He now 
 preached frequently at Utrecht, 
 with much acceptance, but the de- 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 5C9 
 
 iicate state of bis health caused 
 great fears for his life. The church 
 at the Hague, where his father had 
 laboured, and which was one of 
 the first churches in Holland, unani- 
 mously invited him among them. 
 There were three pastors, and he 
 was only to preach once a month. 
 He more than once refused, but 
 having had the most pressing solici- 
 tations, he at last consented to settle 
 there. In the interval he paid a 
 visit to London, in 1710, where the 
 French church, under the care of 
 Mr. Primerose, who was nearly 
 past labour, also invited him unani- 
 mously and earnestly to take that 
 charge. The church at the Hague 
 was alarmed, and redoubled its soli- 
 citations, but Claude, after much 
 hesitation, remained in London, and 
 was installed Feb. 11, nil. His 
 preaching was highly acceptable. 
 He had something exceedingly in- 
 sinuating and tender in his address. 
 Always penetrated with the truths 
 he preached, he was persuasive in 
 addressing others. His sermons were 
 well studied ; his method was clear; 
 his reflections sound and judicious. 
 A sorrowful accident took him fi- 
 nally from his flock and from the 
 world. A beloved brother was 
 attacked by the small pox, which 
 then made dreadful ravages in Eng- 
 land. Despising the danger to which 
 he should expose himself, love for 
 his brother would not allow him to 
 withhold his personal attentions. He 
 hastened into the country to visit 
 him, but was shortly after seized 
 ■with insensibility, and in that state 
 conveyed to London. Here he soon 
 discovered symptoms of the small 
 pox, which ended with a brain 
 fever, and carried him to the grave 
 in a few days, in Feb. 1712, in his 
 twenty-eighth year, having scarcely 
 laboured one yearamong his people, 
 as his official duties had been inter- 
 rupted, by a necessary visit, to set- 
 tle his affairs in Holland. 
 
 The sermons of this lamented 
 young divine, were published after 
 his death, in one volume 8vo. They 
 leave an impression of regret on the 
 mind, that he had not lived to shew 
 what he could have produced in 
 »ore mature years. They possess 
 
 the properties of good sermons, and 
 are fitted for " doctrine, correction, 
 and instruction in righteousness." 
 The volume is generally obtained 
 for about five shillings. 
 
 Clement, M. FAbbe. The ser- 
 mons of this preacher are in nin« 
 volumes 12mo. It is almost impos- 
 sible to say, whether or not he 
 had any brains of his own, for he 
 has been lavish in using those of the 
 fathers. His style is rather abrupt. 
 These sermons were published at 
 Paris in 1770. 
 
 Collet, M. was a priest of the 
 congregation of the mission, and a 
 doctor in theology. His sermons 
 are two volumes 12mo, and are dedi- 
 cated to Pope Clement XII 1. The 
 author recommends them to the rea- 
 der from their being purelyoriginah, 
 but assigns a cause which every 
 author would not like to assign at 
 the front of a volume of sermons, 
 lest his own example should be fol- 
 lowed : *' I have never read," says 
 he, " nor have I ever had time to 
 read any printed sermon." '* We 
 often meet with many things in 
 books foreign to the subject of 
 preaching, which we may profitably 
 employ in a christian discourse." 
 Robinson calls Collet " an ingenious 
 French preacher." There is much 
 sound sense, and many pleasing 
 traits of imagination in his sermons. 
 Here is one short extract. 
 
 " But, it is further objected, 
 either God has predestinated us to 
 glory, or he has resolved to make 
 us vessels of destruction. His de- 
 crees are not yet executed respect- 
 ing us: why then should we tor- 
 ment ourselves so much, since they 
 cannot fail in their accomplishment. 
 — This specious reasoning is neither 
 that of a christian, nor of a true 
 philosopher. "Without troubling 
 ourselves to examine whether our 
 foreseen merits are the cause of our 
 predestination, or whether our pre- 
 destination is not itself the cause 
 and principle of all the good in us ; 
 it is enough to know that purity 
 and integrity are necessary mean* 
 to the attainment of happiness ; 
 
550 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 that God will never crown any but 
 those who shall have legitimately 
 combatted ; that he who has created 
 us without our co-operation, will 
 not save us without it; and that as 
 it is impossible that he should pre- 
 cipitate us to hell after we have 
 walked in the way to heaven, it is 
 equally impossible that we should 
 ever arrive at celestial happiness, 
 unless we walk in the strait way 
 which alone conducts us there. 
 Thus, to believe in the doctrine of 
 predestination, and to rest at ease 
 in consequence, is to pull down 
 with one hand the edifice which we 
 erect with the other. It is to ad- 
 mit that we are strictly engaged to 
 lead a life conformable to that of 
 Jesus Christ, while at the same time 
 we are living the life of the world, 
 which is that of the children of 
 perdition. — Oh, how different is 
 your philosophy every tjme it re- 
 lates to your temporal affairs. 
 When you are sick, you do not say 
 that your days are numbered, and 
 that you cannot pass the term which 
 is prescribed for you : there is no 
 remedy which you do not try, be- 
 cause you know that they are not 
 all equally vain, and that God pur- 
 poses that we should use them for 
 our diseases. When you are going 
 a long voyage, you employ all pos- 
 sible methods to avoid shipwreck, 
 and brave the tempest, because 
 you have always believed that hea- 
 ven only aids those that aid them- 
 selves. It is so in other cases ; and 
 you would treat him as a fool, who 
 under the frivolous pretext that 
 There is a superior providence which 
 governs all things, would lull you 
 asleep in a stupid and dangerous 
 inactivity." These sermons are dated 
 1775. 
 
 Coste, Pierre, the son of a 
 banker; he was born at Breme, July 
 29, 1697, to which town his father 
 and mot her had fled from the perse- 
 cutions in Upper Lan^uedoc. His 
 father removed to Halle in Saxony, 
 where he passed the first years of his 
 youth. After he had gone through 
 his classes at the German college of 
 the reformed, he was sent to the 
 college at Geneva, where he re- 
 
 mained about five years, studying 
 philosophy, mathematics, theology, 
 and pulpit eloquence. From thence 
 he returned to Halle. In 1721 the 
 French church at Leipsic, having 
 lost M. Dumont, invited Coste to 
 succeed him in the pastoral office, 
 which he accepted. Ten years after 
 he married a cousin, but he soon 
 became a widower, and likewise 
 buried a son, the fruit of this mar- 
 riage. Over this church he remained 
 thirty years, till the time of his 
 decease, which happened Nov. 25th, 
 1751. He had long laboured under 
 an asthmatical complaint, which 
 obliged him to stop and recover 
 breath in ascending the stairs, or 
 walking the street. One morning 
 he went to visit a sick person, when 
 he was severely attacked by the 
 disorder on his way; he was carried 
 into his friend's house, made signs to 
 be bled, and exclaiming, " God 
 have mercy upon me," instantly 
 expired. He was in high esteem 
 among all classes in Halle, as a 
 man, a pastor, and an eloquent 
 preacher. The year before his 
 death he published a work on the 
 mathematics, and two years after 
 his decease a posthumous work of 
 his appeared, entitled the Principles 
 and Maxims of Morality. His ser- 
 mons were published after his death 
 by his brother, Mr. John Coste, 
 who was also a minister; they 
 amount to one hundred and eighty, 
 and are contained in four very 
 thick octavo volumes. Those who 
 wish to obtain a complete set of 
 discourses on morals, will here ob- 
 tain what they wish. The first 
 volume is on the existence and per- 
 fections of God. The second treats 
 on the duty of man, with respect to 
 himself. The third is on our sociaj 
 and civil duties towards our neigh- 
 bour; and the fourth on relative 
 duties, and duties towards God. 
 These sermons are short, senten- 
 tious, and their parts are connected 
 by the reasonings of a mathemati- 
 cian. 
 
 Courtonne, Pierre Jaques, wai 
 a pastor of the Walloon church in 
 Amsterdam. His sermons were 
 published after his death, in 1777. 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 531 
 
 They are twelve in number, in one 
 8vo. volume. Three of them are on 
 the immortality of the soul, and 
 one on angels, from Ps. ciii. 20,21, 
 from which the preacher considers 
 their functions. — "Ministers. "Their 
 number. — " Hosts." Their power. — 
 *' Excellent in strength." Their 
 holiness. — " Do his commandments, 
 &c." Their occupation. The pro- 
 phet invites them to bless God, 
 *' Bless the Lord, &c." More than 
 once, in describing the French ser- 
 mons published in Holland within 
 the last fifty years, the writer has 
 found occasion to complain of their 
 deficiency in important truth. These 
 as well as others mentioned in this 
 list, are worthy of a perusal, as 
 discourses that discover much sound 
 sense and judgment ; but the greater 
 part of these divines forget the 
 apostle's maxim, " I am determined 
 to know nothing among you, save 
 Jesus Christ, and him crucified. " 
 Without confining himself expressly 
 to subjects which treat immediately 
 of Christ, the minister of the gos- 
 pel, on whatever topic he treats, 
 should make Him the sun that gilds 
 the whole scene. 
 
 Crousaz. Bishop "Watson men- 
 tions the pulpit productions of this 
 writer as " fine discourses." 
 
 Daille, Jeaiv, was born at Cha- 
 teleraut, in the beginning of the. year 
 1594. His father was a Protestant, 
 and a great sufferer during the civil 
 wars in France. This celebrated di- 
 vine was educated atPoi tiers and Sau- 
 rour, and at the age of eighteen was 
 admitted into the family of Du Plessis 
 Mornay, Governor of the town and 
 castle of Saumur, as tutor to his 
 two grandsons. Here he remained 
 for seven years, and at the feet of 
 his christian Gamaliel, he acquired 
 much more knowledge than he 
 communicated ; for Du Plessis was 
 as distinguished for wisdom and 
 piety, as he was for political and 
 military talents, in which he held a 
 ■very superior rank. During this 
 time he also attended the theologi- 
 cal lectures which were delivered 
 by the distinguished professors, who 
 xhen tilled the theological chair at 
 
 Saumur, and derived great advan- 
 tage from the friendship which he 
 formed with the students, particu- 
 larly Amyraut and L'Angle,who af- 
 terwards became burning aud shin- 
 ing lights in the church. In 1619. 
 he was entrusted with the care of 
 his two pupil- in a tour through 
 Geneva, Piedmont, Lombardy, and 
 Venice, where he was introduced to 
 Father Paul. While at Mantua, 
 one of his pupils was taken ill, and 
 soon after died; and Daille with 
 great danger conveyed the body 
 concealed as a bale of goods, under 
 the care of two servants, to the bu- 
 rial place of his father, lest it 
 should he obstructed by the inquisi- 
 tors, who viewed the Protestants 
 with jealousy. He continued his 
 travels with the other pupil; and 
 after visiting Switzerland, Ger- 
 many, Flanders, Holland, and Eng- 
 land, they returned to France in 
 1621. In 1023, Daille was or- 
 dained, and officiated in the family 
 of the venerable Mornay, who died 
 soon after in his arms. Having 
 received an invitation to succeed 
 Monsieur Durant, as pastor of the 
 church at Charenton, he accepted 
 of it in the year 1626, and here he 
 laboured and enjoyed an uninter- 
 rupted course of health for forty- 
 four years. He died at Paris in 1670. 
 One of his favourite expressions in 
 his dying moments was, " For me 
 to live is Christ, and to die is 
 gain." 
 
 There were generally four mi- 
 nisters at Charenton. That church 
 was favoured at this period with 
 the labours of Drelincourt, Daille, 
 Morns, and Claude. Drelincourt 
 preceded Daille by many years; 
 but there was in other respects a 
 very singular conformity of cir- 
 cumstances in their lives. They 
 were born within a year of each 
 other, remained 44 years fellow 
 labourers in the same church, equally 
 enjoyed uninterrupted health, were 
 taken suddenly ill in a similar way 
 after preaching, and died in the 
 same short space of time of the same 
 disorder, within six months of each 
 otner, Daille having survived his 
 colleague. Thirteen years before, 
 the same church lost Eaucheur and 
 
53 c 2 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 Mestrezat, in the space of three 
 weeks. Daille had one son who was 
 settled as his colleague at Paris, in 
 the place of Mestrezat. 
 
 His works are very numerous, 
 and have been published in twenty- 
 three volumes 12mo. Many of 
 them are sermons and expositions on 
 the epistles. His " Treatise on the 
 use of the Fathers," was written in 
 1628, but was not printed till 1631. 
 These volumes made considerable 
 noise in the world, and raised him 
 very highly in the esteem of the Pro- 
 testants. Lord Falkland and Chil- 
 lingworth began to translate this 
 work, but left it unfinished ; it 
 however appeared in 1651, in an 
 English dress, by Thomas Smith, of 
 Cambridge, and in Latin, by Met- 
 tayer, of St. Quentin. In 1633 
 he published his Apology for the 
 reformed churches. This was also 
 in great repute; and the masterly 
 arguments advanced in these works 
 excited a great outcry among the 
 Catholics. Several of his other pieces 
 are likewise of a controversial na- 
 ture, and equally evince his learn- 
 ing, erudition, and dexterity of ar- 
 gumentation. 
 
 Daille had devoted a long life to 
 hard study. He always obtained 
 five or six hours at an early period 
 in the morning; and when he 
 wished to relax, he generally took 
 a book of lighter reading, so that 
 he was continually furnishing his 
 mind with intellectual improvement. 
 He also made extracts from every 
 thing that he read, which he knew 
 well how to turn to advantage. 
 Indeed, he was so fond of study, 
 that he regretted through the whole 
 of his life that he had lost two 
 years in travelling, instead of spend- 
 ing them in his closet. 
 
 This preacher enjoyed the repu- 
 tation of speaking the best French 
 of any man of his age who wore the 
 gown. Comparing Mestrezat with 
 him, the learned Bayle says, tk His 
 language did not come near the 
 polite and clear style of Mr. Daille. 
 And speaking of Daille's sermons, 
 he has a similar remark : " There 
 is no profound learning in those 
 sermon as in those of Mestrezat, 
 but they are written in a neater 
 
 style, and the matters are better 
 ordered." 
 
 There is much gravity about all 
 Daille's sermons. They are evi- 
 dently the fruit of great labour, 
 and shew an intimate acquaintance 
 with the fathers, from whom he 
 has gleaned whatever seemed to be 
 useful. He excels in exposition, 
 which is predominant in his ser- 
 mons. The observations which he 
 deduces are just, interesting, and 
 devout. In his exposition on Co- 
 lossians he was accused of pla- 
 giarism from our English Dave- 
 nant, and of useless repetitions: 
 he, however, vindicated himself 
 against these charges. 
 
 Daille was in very high esteem 
 among the divines of his own time, 
 both in France and England; and 
 from the numerous quotations which 
 he made from him, his works seem 
 to have been quite the common place 
 book of our Charnock. This one 
 circumstance would recommend him 
 to many. His celebrity indeed 
 arose in part, from the service 
 which he rendered to the Protes- 
 tant cause, by his treatise on the 
 fathers, and perhaps lie was more 
 praised than he deserved. Yet on 
 the other hand, some have too much 
 undervalued him. Though he haa 
 no fancy, he certainly abounds in 
 good sense ; and if he dors not gra- 
 tify our taste, yet it is impossible 
 to read him wiihout interest and 
 profit. A French writer does him 
 injustice when he gives him this 
 character. " There are more than 
 twenty volumes of his sermons, des- 
 titute of warmth, and full of pas- 
 sages of scripture ; there are a few 
 passages which may aftbrd pleasure 
 in the perusal, but we must turn 
 over a great many leaves to find 
 them." A critic of the Catholic 
 communion may indeed be allowed 
 to make such reflections, as it is not 
 customary w ith the ministers of that 
 church to employ many quotations 
 from scripture, or if they do, only 
 to employ them in an unknown 
 tongue; but Daille, in the eves of 
 a Protestant critic, certainly cannot 
 err in his use of scripture, of which 
 he is by no means lavish; and 
 though his style of discussion is. 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 553 
 
 sometimes precise, yet lie is not with- 
 out feeling; and this he almost uni- 
 formly discovers in his conclusions, 
 where, while other preachers fail, 
 he excels ; and while he sums up his 
 discourses with the most judicious 
 inferences, his pathos and energy- 
 surprise and touch us, and come 
 with the greater force after a la- 
 boured discussion. As to the matter 
 of his discourses, it is highly Calvin- 
 istical, embracing all the peculiar 
 doctrines of that system, hut care fully 
 guarding the whole by the most im- 
 portant practical exhortations. He 
 is one of those preachers, a speci- 
 men of whose sermons is here 
 omitted with regret. 
 
 After the above observations were 
 committed to paper, the writer met 
 with Robinson's character of Dailli 
 as a preacher, which he adds with 
 pleasure, as it is in unison with 
 his own opinion. " This famous 
 preacher," says Robinson, " ex- 
 pounds the epistles to the Philip- 
 pians and Colossians in a course of 
 sermons. • He usually takes for 
 texts that number of verses, more or 
 less, which contains the whole 
 subject of which the apostle speaks. 
 He does not trifie with terms: 
 but he takes the subject; and, col- 
 lecting it into two, three, or four 
 propositions, discusses it in a sen- 
 sible and edifying manner." — Ro- 
 binson's Claude's Essay, vol. i. 
 p. 207. 
 
 DouEsrr, Samuel de la, was 
 a pastor of the Walloon church at 
 the Hague, and chaplain to the 
 Prince of Orange. His widow pub- 
 lished an 8vo. volume of his ser- 
 mons in 1752. They contain no- 
 thing to praise and nothing to cen- 
 sure, but, like most of the modern 
 sermons of the French churches in 
 Holland, fall short of the excellency 
 of their predecessors, both in talent 
 and sentiment. 
 
 Drelwcourt, Charles, was born 
 at Sedan in 1595, and educated 
 there and at Saumur. He was 
 active in the Protestant cause, and 
 was employed in various affairs of 
 moment, in which he discovered 
 considerable ability. His virtues 
 
 and talents endeared Lim to all 
 parties ; and he was not only 
 esteemed by his own flock at Cha- 
 rentou, but by all the illustrious 
 members of the Protestant com- 
 munity, and even by the Papists, 
 though he was the most decided 
 enemy to their doctrines. He was 
 indefatigable in visiting; the sick, 
 and in preaching the gospel. Pos- 
 sessed of a -remarkably strong con- 
 stitution, he has been known at an 
 extraordinary juncture to preach 
 seven times a day, nor did he relin- 
 quish the pulpit till the last week 
 of his life. He was also so fond of 
 opposing error by his writings, that 
 it is said his wish was that he 
 might die with his pen in his hand. 
 He married the daughter of a rich 
 merchant at Paris, by whom he had 
 sixteen children. He died at Paris 
 in 1669. Three of his surviving 
 sons were ministers, and were highly 
 distinguished by their merit. In 
 sentiment, Drelincourt was a de- 
 cided Calvinist. He was a col- 
 league with Mestrezat, and some of 
 his sermons were published by his 
 request, which is no small recom- 
 mendation to them. They are very 
 excellent, and savour much of the 
 principles of divine truth, but he 
 often wiredraws his subject; and 
 instead of selecting the most for- 
 cible remarks, says every thing 
 that can be said upon it. This has 
 made his discourses in general long 
 and tedious, with a number of par- 
 ticulars, and very short illustrations ; 
 in some sermons he has upwards of 
 fifty divisions and subdivisions, and 
 approaches thiriiethly under the 
 same head. His work on the Fear 
 of Death has been translated into 
 our language, and has obtained an 
 extensive sale, though perhaps 
 chiefly on account of the absurd 
 story prefixed to it, which is said 
 to have fceeu forged for the book- 
 sellers' advantage. It is, however, 
 almost the only Protestant work 
 that is still known and esteemed by 
 the Protestants in France, and is 
 said to have passed through mora 
 than forty editions in various lan- 
 guages. Many of his writings are 
 controversial. His sermons are three 
 thiek volumes 12mo. 
 2 N 
 
534 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 Dumont, Gabriel. In addition 
 to the testimony quoted from Ro- 
 binson, and prefixed to the translated 
 sermon, that writer also speaks of 
 him in his Claude's Essay, and 
 calls him ** one of the noblest of the 
 French preachers," vol. i. p. 118. 
 
 Durand, David. There were 
 evidently two ministers, at least, 
 of this name, who published ser- 
 mons ; one was a preacher in Hol- 
 land in the beginning of the last 
 century, and the works published 
 by the other bear the date of the 
 early part of the prior century. 
 The former was minisier in the 
 Walloon church at Rotterdam, and 
 afterwards in London. He was 
 accused by his brethren in Hol- 
 land of leaning towards Arme- 
 nian tenets. The affair was re- 
 ferred to the consistory, who re- 
 ferred it to the synod at Brille, 
 where Durand obtained an honour- 
 able acquittal. His sermons, on 
 various texts, were published to 
 justify his character as a Calvinist. 
 His opponents must rather have 
 accused him of concealing his Cal- 
 vinism, than of advancing Armi- 
 nianism. He handles some knotty 
 texts, but the observations he de- 
 duces from them, are rather critical 
 and practical, than of a doctrinal 
 nature. There are fourteen vo- 
 lumes of sermons, by a David 
 Durand, dated 1781 ; probably this 
 was a third divine of the same 
 name. They have not passed under 
 the eye of the writer. 
 
 " Durant, M. was first minister to 
 the Landgrave of Hesse, and after- 
 wards to that excellent Princess 
 Katharine, Duchess of Barr, only 
 sister of Henry the Fourth, and 
 at last pastor of the church at 
 Paris. He was a very holy man 
 of God, a most eloquent and 
 zealous preacher; he was like 
 lightning and thunder in the pulpit. 
 There be three excellent sermons 
 of his in print, upon the nine- 
 teenth verse of the fifth chapler, 
 and first Epistle to the Thessa- 
 lonians." — Quick's Synodicon. 
 
 The title of these sermons desig- 
 nates him as " Samuel Duratit, mi- 
 
 nister of the word of God in the 
 church of Paris." He probably 
 published a volume on the 53d of 
 Isaiah. 
 
 Elisee, Pere, preacher to the 
 French King; born in 1728, died 
 1783. Elisee's Sermons are four vo- 
 lumes 8vo. " According to the 
 judgment of the late Principal Wil- 
 liam Robertson, the celebrated 
 Scotch Historian, Pere Elisee was 
 deemed to be one of the most useful 
 of all the French preachers." His 
 reputation as a preacher was esta- 
 blished at a very early period. The 
 editors of theBibliothe'que Portative 
 write like French critics, and while 
 they allow this preacher to possess 
 some solid qualifications, they are 
 displeased at his deficiency in those 
 that are chiefly artificial. They say 
 of his Sermons, " We find them dis- 
 tinguished by mind ; their style is 
 flowery and ingenious, but too la- 
 boured ; they have striking delinea- 
 tions of truth and details of manners 
 seasonably introduced, and judi- 
 ciously characterized ; but they dis- 
 play none of those qualities which 
 make the great orator : his compo- 
 sition, destitute of warmth of ima- 
 gery and of feeling, fails to touch 
 the soul. His success was only ephe- 
 meral ; he was, however, in some 
 estimation before his death : and the 
 publication of his Sermons, in four 
 volumes, has confirmed the charac- 
 ter they had previously obtained." 
 
 Eschauzier, Samdel, was chap- 
 lain to the Prince of Orange, pastor 
 of the Walloon church at the Hague, 
 member of the Society of Sciences at 
 Flushing, &c. His Sermons, four- 
 teen in number, are published in 
 one octavo volume ; they are post- 
 humous. Their principal recom- 
 mendation is good sense; the strain 
 is mostly practical. A list of 744 
 subscribers is prefixed to this vo- 
 lume ; the date is 1795. 
 
 Eustache, David, minister of the 
 Reformed Church of Montpellier, 
 was a native of Dauphine. He pub- 
 lished some sermons and works of 
 controversy, which acquired him 
 some reputation. He assisted at the 
 
TRENCH PREACHERS, 
 
 535 
 
 National Synod of Loudon, as a de- 
 puty of the Province of Bas-Lan- 
 guedoc, in the year 1659, and was 
 appointed to be the bearer of a let- 
 ter to the King: he addressed the 
 monarch at Toulouse, in a dignified 
 manner,with the Queen-mother, the 
 Due D'Anjou, and the Cardinal Ma- 
 zarine. Nedied someyearsafter,and 
 left two daughters. The translator 
 has only seen a few short extracts 
 from this writer ; the thoughts are 
 pretty, and the style spirited, and 
 rather polished for the age in which 
 Eustache lived. 
 
 Fabri, Monsieur, was pastor of 
 the Reformed Church at Geneva 
 about the year 1700, where he was 
 much beloved by his people, and 
 was considered as a man of a zealous 
 spirit and enlightened mind, while 
 he united purity of life to very dis- 
 tinguished talents, and discharged 
 the pastoral office with much fidelity 
 and success. His Sermons were pub- 
 lished after his death, in two vols. 
 I2mo. and did not receive a finish- 
 ing touch from the author's pen, to 
 prepare them for the press; they 
 were, however, much esteemed by 
 his friends, and considered very ex- 
 cellent. They are orthodox with- 
 out being remarkable for evangeli- 
 cal sentiment, animated without any 
 peculiar brilliancy of imagination, 
 and judicious without any displays 
 of strong reasoning. Hence they do 
 not rise in any respect above medio- 
 crity ; nor do they sink at any time 
 below it. It would be difficult to 
 select any striking passage from all 
 the discourses, yet on the whole 
 they deserve a perusal. The two 
 best sermons are on the birth and 
 character of the Messiah, from Isai. 
 ix. 5. These volumes are scarce. 
 
 Fatjlcon, M. There is a single 
 Sermon by this preacher, on 2 Sam. 
 xxiv. 13, preached on Jan. 30, 1683, 
 in the French Church, London, be- 
 ing a fast -day observed every year, 
 on account of the death of Charles I. 
 It contains a fulsome dedication to 
 the reigning sovereign, on the sub- 
 ject of Charles's execution ; and 
 enforces the doctrine of passive obe- 
 dience to rulers on all subject! ex- 
 
 cepting religion ; where the preacher 
 ingeniously maintains his opinion 
 against the Catholics, on the ground 
 of the anathemas and excommuni- 
 cations pronounced by their Church 
 against all sovereigns departing from 
 their faith, and thus proving them 
 to be guilty of holding the same 
 doctrine, i. e. resistaace on the score 
 of religion. 
 
 Fauchecr, Michael le, from 
 whoseSermonson;has been selected 
 for this volume, " was born of godly 
 parents in the city of Geneva, and 
 received into the holy ministry in 
 the provincial Synod of Vivaretz, 
 and presented by that grave assem- 
 bly to the pastoral office in the 
 church of Annonay, though he was 
 then but eighteen years of age, and 
 Annonay was a church of no mean 
 consideration ; but what he wanted 
 in years he made up in merit. In 
 the year 1612 he was removed to the 
 church of Moutpellier, in which he 
 served full 20 years : he was one of 
 the scribes in the National Synod, 
 held the first lime at Charenton, 
 1623. The parliament of Tholouse 
 having made a decree, that no fo- 
 reigner should be a minister, or 
 preach within their jurisdiction, in 
 the year 1632 he came to Pari?, and 
 solicited the court for his restora- 
 tion : he had in that city a brother, 
 very rich, and one who followed 
 the law. Whilst he resided here, 
 the University of Lausanne in Swit- 
 zerland earnestly invited him to be 
 professor of theology in it; but he 
 very civilly declined that motion, 
 though he was a most accomplished 
 scholar and divine. In the year 
 1636, a Franciscan friar, who was 
 the great favourite of Cardinal 
 Richelieu, and of his cabinet coun- 
 cil, meeting him in an apothecaries* 
 shop in St. James' s-street, demanded 
 his name; and he telling him who 
 he was and the reason for which 
 he was driven away from Montpel- 
 lier, he bespoke him, ' Monsieur 
 Faucheur, do you tarry here, and 
 preach at Charenton ; and I will 
 engage my word for it, that the 
 King shall never trouble you.' He 
 communicating this relation to his 
 brother, his brother communicated 
 
536 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 it unto the elders of the church, who 
 discoursing with him, inlrcated him 
 to preach the next Lord's day in 
 their temple ; which he did, to their 
 and the church's very great satisfac- 
 tion ; and here he continued in their 
 service, preaching and dispensing 
 the word and sacraments among 
 them unto the day of his death." 
 — Quick's Synodicon. Faucheur is 
 called by Bayle, " a most illustrious 
 minister among the Pro'estants- in 
 France;" and he says, 4t hrs chief 
 talent lay in preaching, wherein, 
 indeed, he excelled. His eloquence 
 obtained him his station at Paris. 
 ■ — A Fast Sermon at Montpellier, 
 preached in 1618, was deemed a 
 most solid and pathetic piece, and 
 greatly raised his reputation. It 
 was printed several times." 
 
 Fqrmey, Jean Henri Samuel,. 
 was minister of the French Church 
 at Berlin, and afterwards professor 
 of philosophy, and perpetual secre- 
 tary to the Royal Berlin Academy 
 of Sciences. He died 1797, aged 
 86. He was author of an Abridg- 
 ment of Ecclesiastical Htetoryy^-f' 
 History of Philosophy Abridged, 
 both translated into English ; Re- 
 searches on the Elements of Matter ; 
 Considerations on Cicero's Tuscula- 
 num ; the Christian Philosopher; 
 Pensees Raisonnables ; Anti-Emile, 
 against Rousseau; the Picture of 
 Domestic Happiness ; and Rational 
 and Religious Consolations, and 
 other works. Many of his Sermons 
 were printed separately ; one vo- 
 lume was published in 1739, and 
 two others in 1772 ; the two last 
 are paged as one volume, and are 
 both included in 4S2 pages octavo : 
 they contain 2S Sermons. Many 
 pleasing touches of rhetoric and ten- 
 der thoughts are to be found in these 
 discourses. The Calvinistic reader 
 will not, however, approve of the 
 following sentiment — " I may arise 
 in the morning under the favour of 
 God, and lie down under his indig- 
 nation; I may one moment be in 
 possession of the pearl of great 
 price, and lose it the moment after. 
 Behold, behold what must allow us 
 no moment of real repose, behold 
 the danger which only ceases at the 
 
 instant when we can say, Father? 
 into thy hands I commend my spirit; 
 and in which this Father of Spirits, 
 in receiving ours, renders them par- 
 ticipators of his glory and happi- 
 ness." Formey is among the authors 
 from which Partridge has abridged 
 some discourses for the English pul- 
 pit. The Sermons are, however, 
 all so short, that there seems scarcely 
 any room for abridgment. 
 
 FORNEROD, or FOCRNEROD, DA- 
 VID. He studied in the academy at 
 Sedan. In 1680 he quitted Berlin, 
 where he was pastor of the French 
 church established there in June, 
 1672; the Grand Elector having 
 recommended him to fill the place 
 of doctor, and honorary professor 
 in theology at Lausanne. He pub- 
 lished a Catechism and some Ser- 
 mons. 
 
 Fresne, J. Melchior Du, pastor 
 of the church of Rolle, and of 
 Mont-le-Grand in Switzerland, pub- 
 lished three sermoHs, one upon the 
 Reformation of that Country and 
 its Vicinity, another on a Public 
 Fast, in 1736, and a third on the 
 Utility of Publicly Catechising. 
 The first of these contains a very 
 judicious, and very interesting epi- 
 tome of the Reformation. They 
 make one thin 8vo. volume. 
 
 Gaches, Raimond. The sermons 
 of this writer were published sepa- 
 rately, and form one twelves vo- 
 lume, made up of the separate pub- 
 lications. Caillot says " they are in 
 general purely written, and may be 
 read with pleasure." This commen- 
 dation is not sufficient; they are truly 
 evangelical, and may also be read 
 with profit. They are rich produc- 
 tions both of thought and sentiment, 
 full of energy, and full of devotion. 
 —They are inimitable ! There are 
 only two things to regret respecting 
 them, that they are so /etc, and 
 so scarce. The subjects are, the 
 Triumph of the Gojpel,2Cor. ii. 14. 
 Jesus in the Agony, St. Matt. xxvi. 
 37 and 38. The Comforter pro- 
 mised to the Apostles, John xvi, 7. 
 Thanksgiving for Peace, Ps. exxii. 
 6. Atheism Confounded, Ps. xiv. 1. 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 537 
 
 The Foundation of th- Christian's 
 Hope, Rem. v. 5. Five Sermons 
 upon 2 Pet. i— xv. The translator 
 yet hopes, in another volume, to 
 prove the truth of his commenda- 
 tion, by appealing to the public 
 through one of these sermons at least, 
 in an English dress. All that is 
 known of Gaches is, that he was 
 minister first at Castres, and after- 
 wards at Charenton, where he was a 
 fellow-labourer with Drelincourt. 
 He was likewise deputed, with a Mr. 
 <le Massenes, to invite Du Bosc, 
 then at Caen, to become one of the 
 pastors of Charenton. His first 
 sermon is dated 1652. 
 
 Gallatin, Ezechiel, was a pas- 
 tor at Geneva. A volume of his 
 sermons was published by himself, 
 in 1720, which he dedicated to the 
 Earl of Stair, then British ambassa- 
 dor to France. The texts are, 
 2 Cor. ii. 14. Heb. xi. 1. Eccles. 
 viii. 11. Rom. i. 20. Deut. vi. 10. 
 I Cor. x. 14. John xvii. 17. Eph. 
 v. 16. Prov. xxv. 6. Ps. lxix. 10. 
 There is something interesting in 
 these sermons. The sentences are 
 short, and well constructed. The 
 author is fond of throwing them 
 into the interrogatory form. He 
 uses much scripture, which is, 
 however, very apposite to the topic 
 under discussion. He has also a 
 peculiarity for a Protestant divine, 
 which does not much add to the 
 beauty of his discourses; namely, 
 very frequently quoting the fathers 
 Augustin, Chrysostom, &c. and ano- 
 ther which he discovers too often 
 in quoting the profane poets, Ho- 
 race, Ovid, Juvenal, and others. 
 The example of the apostle Paul 
 may be adduced in vindication of 
 the latter practice, but scripture is 
 the best interpreter of scripture, 
 and such freedoms should be used 
 with great moderation. Robinson 
 quotes this preacher with approba- 
 tion in his Claude, vol. i. page 381. 
 
 Garissoles, Antoine, pastor and 
 professor iu divinity at Montauban, 
 his birth-place, was a very eminent 
 divine. He was born about the 
 year 1587, and at the age of tvs-enty- 
 ihree was placed over the congre- 
 
 gation at Pujlaurens. He was 
 made professor 1627, which func- 
 tion he discharged with great cre- 
 dit till 1650, when he died. Many 
 of his works perished in the great 
 persecution. He published a vo- 
 lume of sermons, entitled, La Voye 
 de Saint; the way of Salvation. 
 
 Gibert, Dr. There are three vo- 
 lumes of sermons, which were pub- 
 lished a few years since by this 
 divine, who is a minister at Guern- 
 sey. A strain of piety and simpli- 
 city runs through the whole. The 
 preacher seems to avoid the higher 
 ^joints of doctrine. 
 
 Girotjst, Father. It is in the re- 
 collection of the writer, that he has 
 seen several l2mo. volumes, by this 
 Father, which contained some 
 thoughts worthy of preservation. 
 
 Griffet, Hexrt, preacher in or- 
 dinary to the French King, was 
 born at Moulins, in 1698, and died 
 at Brussels, in 1775. He was a 
 member of the body of the Jesuits, 
 and remained with them till their 
 dispersion. His literary labours 
 were extensive. He published Da- 
 niel's History of France, in which 
 he continued the reign of Louis the 
 X tilth, in seven volumes 4to. ; 
 a Treatise on the different kinds of 
 Proofs which serve to establish 
 the Truth of History, which is 
 deemed a solid and judicious work ; 
 and a popular production called 
 '* The Amusements of the Low 
 Countries," in five volumes 12mo. 
 This preacher was endowed with 
 an happy memory, an ingenious 
 mind, and an industrious disposi- 
 tion, which made him succeed in 
 all his varied labours. His sermons 
 are well arranged, and distinguished 
 by solid reasoning, and great clear- 
 ness of conception, but they have 
 been considered by some as desti- 
 tute of warmth and colouring. 
 There are some of them which cer- 
 tainly cannot be ranked among his 
 cold productions, and perhaps the 
 charge is too unqualified. 
 
 GvTrcHFtuT, J. J. was pastor of 
 the Walioou church at the Hague, 
 
538 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 and chaplain to the Prince of 
 Orange. It is reputable to the 
 memory of the ministers of the 
 Hague, that their people hold them 
 in so much esteem, that they seem 
 always disposed to collect, at least, 
 a volume of their sermons after 
 their death, and that a goodly num- 
 ber of subscribers is generally pre- 
 fixed to it. But this is all the re- 
 commendation that most of these 
 works possess : none of them are 
 above mediocrity in talent, and 
 there is no danger of any of-them 
 soaring too high in sentiment. If 
 they take a subject that refers to 
 Christ, they rather preach about 
 him, than preach him. They touch 
 the gospel with so much caution, 
 that it would seem as if they 
 feared the contamination, of what 
 is vulgarly called, in this country, 
 Methodism. They are quite se- 
 cure against all reproach, for none 
 will ever set down the modern 
 Hague preachers as enthusiasts. 
 These sermons are in one volume 
 8vo. printed at Amsterdam, in 
 1797. 
 
 Guiot, Jean, was born, May 5, 
 1710, in the vallies of Piedmont, 
 and descended from the Vaudois, 
 so famous for their inflexible at- 
 tachment to the primitive simplici- 
 ty of the gospel, in the midst of 
 the most cruel persecutions. His 
 father was a notary, and resided 
 in the valley of Pragelas. This 
 valley was under the dominion of 
 France, in 1685, and its Protestant 
 inhabitants shared the common fate 
 of their brethren, at the revocation 
 of the edict of Nantes. By the 
 peace of Utrecht, it returned, in 
 1713, under the power of the 
 Dukes of Savoy, and for some 
 years enjoyed tranquillity. But, 
 in 1728, the Roman clergy perse- 
 cuted the inhabitants of Pragelas 
 so violently, that in 1730, eight 
 hundred of them emigrated, the 
 one half to Switzerland, and the 
 other half to Holland. Among the 
 latter was the young Guiot. He 
 had already studied five years for 
 the ministry, but he embraced the 
 opportunity to study five more, 
 and was granted a place in the 
 
 college of the States at Lcydea. 
 In 1739, he presented himself to 
 the Synod of Dordrecht, as a can- 
 didate for holy orders, and was 
 accepted with great approbation. 
 He was invited to assist the ministers 
 of Amsterdam and Rotterdam, and 
 though his figure and voice were 
 both unfavourable to his success, 
 his labours were much approved 
 in those churches. His first settle- 
 ment was over the church at Arn- 
 hem, in 1744, not having chosen 
 sooner to take upon him a charge, 
 that he might the better prepare 
 himself for pulpit services. In 
 1747 he was invited to be a co- 
 pastor at Amsterdam, but refused 
 the invitation. M. Dumont having 
 at the same time retired from pub- 
 lic labours, he was solicited to take 
 upon him the charge of the church 
 at Rotterdam, where he settled and 
 remained till his death. In 1777 
 he had the misfortune to fall and 
 wound his right eye, so as to lose 
 the sight of it, and materially to 
 injure the other. This, with an 
 enfeebled constitution, after th<* 
 labours of thirty years, induced 
 him to retire upon a pension. He 
 survived his resignation only a few 
 months. His friends say every 
 thing that is good of his talents 
 and character, which is usually the 
 case in all the memoirs prefixed to 
 the sermons. These are well stu- 
 died, and discover the man of 
 mind, but they do not sufficiently 
 display the spirit which actuated 
 John the Baptist, when he said, 
 " Behold the Lamb of God." 
 
 Hubert, Matthieu, was born 
 at Chatillon-sur-Maine, of parents 
 respectable in character, but moving 
 in the low walks of life, which 
 made it difficult for them to furnish 
 their son with those instructions, 
 which were necessary to prepare 
 him for his office. He entered 
 early into the college of the priests 
 of the oratory of Mans, where he 
 had for one of his tutors the ce- 
 lebrated Mascaron. This great mas- 
 ter of eloquence cherished the most 
 pleasing hopes of the future emi- 
 nence of his pupil, and cordially 
 recommended him to the notice of 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 559 
 
 the superiors of the congregation. 
 After having studied philosophy, 
 he entered into the institution at 
 Paris, in 1661, in the twenty-first 
 year of his age. He afterwards 
 taught the Belles Lettres for some 
 years with much eclat. When he 
 had finished his theological studies, 
 he was employed to preach first in 
 the provinces, then in the metropo- 
 lis, aud then at court. Bourdaloue 
 heard him with the warmest appro- 
 bation, and the public opinion 
 was, that he was inferior to that 
 preacher only. Towards the de- 
 cline of life he had to preach a 
 course of Lent Sermons in the me- 
 tropolis, at the same time that 
 Massillon was rising to the height 
 of his popularity, and in the same 
 vicinity, but his talents were suffi- 
 cient to secure him the most re- 
 spectable auditors to the last. Hu- 
 bert was a very humble and bene- 
 volent man. He died in 1717, aged 
 seventy-seven. He had a fine voice, 
 a lively but well regulated action, 
 and a sufficient degree of animation. 
 His celebrity, perhaps in part, 
 arose from his Ua^ving the advan- 
 tage of treading in the new pa.h, 
 which the genius of Bourdaloue 
 had struck out, instead of the rude 
 course which an ignorant priest- 
 hood had too long trodden. His 
 jermons cannot now certainly be 
 classed above the second order of 
 preachers, many of whose produc- 
 tions much excel them. They are 
 not distinguished by rhetorical 
 beauties, and abound in Catholic 
 morals. They were published in 
 1725, in six volumes 12mo. 
 
 " Jeuxe, Jbav le, was highly 
 esteemed as a preacher and a man. 
 He lost his sight at thirty-five, and 
 twice endured a surgical operation, 
 for another torturing complaint; 
 but he endure' all these sufferings 
 with great resignation. He died 
 in 1672, aged eighty. His sermons, 
 published in ten volumes 8vo. were 
 much esteemed by Massillon, and 
 have been translated into Latin." — 
 There are some bulky volumes of 
 sermons, bearing the name of Le 
 Jeune, from which some extracts 
 have been made in the preface. 
 
 Whether or not this was the same 
 that Massillon esteemed, it is diffi- 
 cult to say ; it is not improbable, 
 from his sermons being exceedingly- 
 numerous ; but if Massillon ap- 
 proved of him, his approval must 
 have been very much qualified, for 
 Massillon could not have counte- 
 nanced the absurdities of this 
 preacher. He bears all the marks 
 of the old school, before the French 
 pulpit was reformed by Bourda- 
 loue. His sermons are of a mode- 
 rate length. Thev abound with 
 superstitious nousense, and are fair 
 specimens of the degraded state of 
 the French pulpit in tiie dark ages. 
 Some passages may, however, be 
 found, which are as a light shining 
 in a dark place, This writer in- 
 troduces a great number of stories 
 into his sermons, which he applies 
 to his subject with considerable 
 dexterity. He is also an adept at 
 falling naturally into his Ave Maria 
 at the close of his introduction, a 
 part of sermonizing to which the 
 Catholic preachers seem to have 
 paid some attention, 
 
 JuvENTix, Jean Jacques, of Ge- 
 neva, was born in the beginning of 
 the year 1741. He entered upon the 
 functions of the ministry in 1764, 
 and was chosen pastor of the church 
 of Cartigny in 1769, and of that of 
 Chesne in 1774, over which lie pre- 
 sided for twenty-seven years, when 
 a feeble constitution obliged him to 
 resign his office. He was endowed 
 with a lively sensibility, a brilliant 
 imagination, a delicate mind, and 
 an elevated soul. His sermons were 
 well delivered, and always left a 
 strong impression upon his auditory. 
 A volume of them was published by 
 his children after his death, in the 
 year 1602. They are like most of 
 the theological productions of Mo- 
 dern Geneva. The doctrines of 
 grace, of the atonement, of justifica- 
 tion by faith in the Redeemer, and 
 the Deity of Jesus Christ, though 
 not opposed, are not to be found in 
 them. The preacher's method is 
 generally expository, or, if the text 
 is short, partakes more of the essay 
 than of the sermon. The style of 
 these sermons is captivating. 
 
540 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 Lafitau, Pierre Francois, was 
 born at Bordeaux in 1685, and died 
 at Chateau de Lurs in 1764- He was 
 admitted at an early period of life 
 among the Jesuits. Being sent to 
 Rome to enter into negotiations 
 on the subject of the quarrels raised 
 in France respecting the Bull uni- 
 genilus, he so attracted Clement IX. 
 with his bon-mots, that his Holiness 
 became quite attached to him. Lafi- 
 tau profited by the Pope's par- 
 tiality, and leaving the Jesuits, was 
 appointed Bishop of Sisieron. He 
 wrote a History of Jansenism, and 
 some sermons. The former is ac- 
 cused of partiality, the latter are 
 considered as of little value. They 
 were announced to the world with 
 some degree of art, which procured 
 them a temporary celebrity, but 
 lost all their value when they 
 were seen in print. The editors of 
 the Bibliotheque Portative say of 
 them, that " they discover an igno- 
 rance of the scriptures, of the 
 fathers, and of sound reasoning, 1 ' 
 and that " all his works are only 
 insignificant sentences, destitute of 
 thought." Such severe censures ex- 
 cite asuspicion that the critics wrote 
 in part under the influence of prejur 
 dice, though it may be supposed 
 that the Pope's Jester was nothing 
 extraordinary as a Preacher. 
 
 L' Angle, Jean Maximilian de, 
 was born at Evreux in 1590, and 
 settled over the reformed church at 
 Rouen in 1615. He discharged all 
 the functions of his ministry for fifty- 
 two years, with great reputation. 
 He was a most eloquent preacher. 
 It pleased God to affect him with a 
 palsy in his tongue for seven years 
 before his death. He died in 1674, 
 aged 84. He left many children 
 behind him, two of whom were 
 ministers. His son Samuel was born 
 in London, but was carried into 
 France when he was a year old. 
 He jointly officiated with his father 
 in the church of Rouen for twenty- 
 three years. He was afterwards 
 invited to Paris, and was honoured 
 with the particular friendship of 
 Claude. At the persecution he fled 
 into England, where he was made 
 D. D. by the University of Oxford, 
 
 and received a Prebend's stall in 
 Westminster. J. M. L' Angle, the 
 father, published two volumes of 
 sermons, one on the 8th chapter of 
 the Romans, and the other on seve- 
 ral texts of scripture. He was a 
 sound divine, and remarkably apt 
 at illustrating his subject by scrip- 
 ture comparisons, which abound in 
 his sermons. Angle's sermons are 
 very obsolete, and very scarce. 
 
 Leger, Antoine, was a pastor 
 and professor of theology at Geneva. 
 He never aimed to be an eloquent 
 preacher, but only to be an useful 
 one. His sermons are three small 
 volumes l2mo. printed at Geneva in 
 1720 ; they are scarce. One on 
 Heb. xi. 1. is much admired. The 
 arrangement and discussion of these 
 sermons discover judgment. The 
 preacher abounds in ideas. His 
 illuitrations are often original, al- 
 ways plain, and simple. The style 
 is neat. The strain is practical, but 
 scriptural. There is a tout ensemble 
 in these volumes which searches, 
 and yet which soothes and fasci- 
 nates. They deserve a respectable 
 place among the French preachers. 
 
 L'Enfant, James, a French Pro- 
 testant divine. He was born at 
 Beausse in 1661, and was for some 
 time minister of the French church 
 at Heidelbourg. In consequence of 
 the Palatinate being invaded by the 
 French, he afterwards retired to 
 Berlin, where he died of a palsy in 
 1728, aged sixty-seven. He was 
 the author of the History of the 
 Council of Constance, of Basil, and 
 of Pisa, each two volumes 4to, 
 which have been always much 
 esteemed, and are greatly distin- 
 guished for their fidelity. He like- 
 wise translated the New Testament 
 into French, with notes, in conjunc- 
 tion with Beausobre. His other 
 works are the History of Pope 
 Joan, Puggeana, &c. and a volume 
 of sermons. Voltaire says that he 
 contributed more than any one to 
 diffuse the beauties and energy of 
 the French language to the extremi- 
 ties of Germany. His sermons con- 
 tain nothing remarkable, but are 
 written with considerable perspi- 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 541 
 
 cuity. No one could ascertain 
 from them that he was a Cal- 
 vinht. 
 
 Lixgendes, Claude de, was "one 
 of the most famous preachers of the 
 eighteenth century. He was born 
 at Moulins in 1591, and became a 
 Jesuit at Lyons in 1607. He 
 taught rhetoric and the liberal arts 
 for some time, but as he bad a won- 
 derful talent for thepulpit,heap'>lied 
 himself mostly to preaching, and got 
 such reputation, that few preachers 
 were thought to equal h : m, but none 
 to excel him. He was rector of the 
 college of Moulins for eleven years, 
 and afterwards provincial of the 
 province of France. He was thrice 
 deputed to Rome to the general as- 
 semblies of the society, and died 
 at Paris, superior of the professed 
 house, the twelfth of April, 1660. 
 His sermons were printed at Paris 
 in two volumes 8vo. 1666." — Baylc. 
 
 This preacher, whose eloquence 
 all France admired, never studied 
 his expressions, but composed in 
 Latin, the sermons he was to 
 preach in French. He considered 
 only the force of reasoning, the ve- 
 hemency of the passions, and the 
 nobleness of his figures; he was of 
 the opinion of that ancient who 
 looked upon a discourse as made, 
 when he had nothing to provide but 
 the words. The sermons of this 
 father were first published in Latin, 
 from his MSS. in 4to, and then 
 translated into the French language, 
 with the addition of those eloquent 
 remarks which flowed from him 
 spontaneously in the delivery. The 
 Latin edition is larger and more 
 methodical than the French, and 
 well adapted for the study; the 
 French one is better for recreation. 
 Ten Sermons by this preacher on 
 the moral law, are also published 
 in French. 
 
 Lixgexdes, Jeax de, a native of 
 Moulins, was cousin to the former, 
 and was also a celebrated preacher, 
 on account of which he rose to the 
 bishopric of Macon. He composed 
 the funeral oration of Louis XIII. 
 at St. Denis, which was printed 
 ihortly after. 
 
 Luixex, Amfdee. This divine 
 studied under Pictet and Turretin, 
 but his divinity does not savour 
 much of their school. His sermons, 
 published 1761, are chiefly on mo- 
 ral subjects, and very uninteresting. 
 They display neither dignity of 
 thought, nor fervour of imagination. 
 He was ordained to the ministry in 
 1718, and was chosen a supernu- 
 merary pastor at Geneva in 1726, 
 where he also filled several offices 
 in the college, especially that of 
 professor of ecclesiastical history. 
 He died September 9th, 1756, aged 
 sixty-one years. 
 
 ?»Iaboll, Jacques, born at Paris, 
 and died in 1723 at Aleth, of which 
 he was Bishop. Although his fu- 
 neral orations can by no means be 
 compared with those of Rossuet and 
 of Flechier, they have nevertheless 
 a character which claims distinc- 
 tion. We there find every where 
 that sweetness of style, that gran- 
 deur of sentiment, that elevation, 
 that unction, that touching simpli- 
 city, that pure taste, which are 
 the evidence of a fine mind, and 
 of a truly great genius. His virtues 
 equalled his taients. He left be- 
 hind him a respectable name when 
 he died. — Bibliothe'que Portative* 
 
 Maitre, Jean Hexri le. There 
 are two distinct volumes of sermons 
 by this preacher. He was chap- 
 lain to his excellency Albert Wolf- 
 gang, the reigning Count of Schaum- 
 bourg, and most of his sermons 
 were preached in the chapel of 
 his Chateau. They in consequence 
 refer to many local circumstances, 
 peculiar to his government or his 
 family. They are of the cast of 
 Tillotson, and are composed in a 
 plain style. Utrecht, 1741. 
 
 Martix, David, one of the most 
 learned Protestant ministers and 
 theologians, was born at Revet, 
 or Revel, in the diocese of Lavaud, 
 in 1639. After the revocation of 
 the edict of Nantes, he quitted the 
 church of Caune, where he was 
 minister; went into Holland, and 
 was pastor at Utrecht, where he 
 
542 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 died, in 1721, aged eighty-two 
 years, leaving three sons and two 
 daughters. There are many of his 
 works extant, of which the prin- 
 cipal ones area history of the Old 
 and New Testament, in two vo- 
 lumes folio, ornamented with four 
 hundred and twenty-four plates, 
 and known under the name of 
 M or tier's Bible, and a Bible printed 
 at Amsterdam, in 1707, in two vo- 
 lumes folios His sermons make 
 three volumes 8vo. Amsterdam, 
 1708 and 1710. Caillot says of 
 them, " the thoughts are in general 
 solid, and the style correct, but 
 deficient in energy." They are, 
 however, not deficient in interest. 
 The subjects are important, and 
 doctrine, experience, and practice, 
 are admirably blended together 
 by " a workman needing not to be 
 ashamed, rightly dividing the word 
 of truth." There is a quarto edi- 
 tion of the New Testament by this 
 divine, which contains many valua- 
 ble notes. 
 
 **■ Mascaron, Jules, was born 
 at Marseilles, in 1634, and died at 
 Agen, in 1T03. He was the son of 
 a celebrated advocate in the Par- 
 liament of Aix, from whom he in- 
 herited nothing but his talents. He 
 entered into the congregation of 
 the oratory at a very early age, 
 where his extraordinary taste for 
 the pulpit soon acquired him a 
 great reputation. After this young 
 orator had preached with eclot in 
 the greatest towns of the province, 
 he appeared in the capital, and 
 afterwards at the court, where his 
 success was not less brilliant. He 
 preached with an evangelical liber- 
 ty : the courtesans endeavoured to 
 injure him in the esteem of the King, 
 but his Majesty replied, He has done 
 his duty, let us do ours. The bishop- 
 ric of Tulle was the reward of his 
 labours, from which he was seven 
 years afterwards translated to that 
 of Agen. He edified these two dio- 
 ceses by his virtues. What reputation 
 soever the funeral orationsof Masca- 
 ron might have obtained during 
 his life, they are certainly much 
 below those of Bossuet and Flechier : 
 he has neither the elevation of the 
 
 first, nor the elegance of the second. 
 Sometimes, says Thomas, his soul 
 rises; but when he aims to be 
 great, he rarely finds the ordinary 
 language of simplicity. His gran- 
 deur is more in words than in 
 ideas. He too often sinks into a 
 train of metaphysical thought, 
 which appears a kind of luxury; 
 but a false luxury, which discovers 
 more of poverty than of riches. 
 We also find in him vague and 
 subtle reasonings, and we know 
 how much these are opposed to 
 true eloquence. His funeral ora- 
 tion for Turenne is his best. Ma- 
 dame Sevigne did not suppose that 
 he was capable of composing it : 
 and, nevertheless, that of Flechier 
 speedily eclipsed it." — Bibliothcque 
 Portative. 
 
 Massillon, Jean Baptiste, was 
 the son of a notary at Hieres in 
 Provence. " He gained the affec- 
 tions of every person in the towns 
 to which he was sent, by the charms 
 of his genius, the liveliness of his 
 character, and by a fund of the 
 most delicate and unaffected po- 
 liteness. 
 
 * When I compose a sermon,' said 
 Massillon, ' I imagine myself con- 
 sulted upon some doubtful piece of 
 business. I give my whole appli- 
 cation to determine the person 
 who has recourse to me, to act the 
 good and proper part. I exhort 
 him, I urge him, and I leave him 
 not till he has yielded to my per- 
 suasions.' 
 
 " We think we see him in our 
 pulpit, (say those who had the 
 pleasure of hearing him,) with the 
 simple air, the modest carriage, the 
 downcast and humble looks, the 
 easy gesture, the affecting tone, and 
 the countenance of a man deeply 
 penetrated with his subject, con- 
 veying the clearest information to 
 the understanding, and raising the 
 most tender emotions in the heart." 
 — Baron, the famous comedian, hav- 
 ing met him one day in a house, 
 which was open for the reception 
 of men of letters, paid him this 
 compliment : "• Continue to deliver 
 as you do. Your manner is pecu- 
 liar to yourself; leave the obser- 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 543 
 
 vance of rules to others." When 
 this famous actor came from hear- 
 ing one of his sermons, truth drew 
 from him the following confession, 
 which is so humiliating to his pro- 
 fession : " Friend, (said he to one 
 of his companions who accompanied 
 him,) here is an orator ; we are 
 only actors. 
 
 When one of his fellows was con- 
 gratulating him upon his preaching 
 admirably, according to custom; 
 " Oh ! give over, Father, (replied 
 he,) the devil has told me so al- 
 ready, much more eloquently than 
 you." 
 
 Petit Careme. — *' These are the 
 chef-d'oeuvre of this orator, and 
 indeed of the oratorical art. They 
 ought continually to be read by 
 preachers as models for the forma- 
 tion of their taste, and by princes 
 as lessons of humanity." 
 
 " His name has become that of elo- 
 quence itself. Nobody ever knew bet- 
 ter how to touch the passions. Pre- 
 ferring sentiment to every thing else, 
 he communicated to the soul that 
 lively and salutary emotion, which 
 excites in us the love of virtue. 
 What pathetic eloquence did his 
 discourses display ! what know- 
 ledge of the human heart! what 
 constant disclosing of a mind deeply 
 affected with his subject! what 
 6traius of truth, philosophy, and 
 humanity ! what imagination, at 
 once the most lively, and guided by 
 the soundest judgment ! Just and 
 delicate thoughts; splendid and 
 lofty ideas; elegant, well chosen, 
 sublime, and harmonious expres- 
 sions ; brilliant and natural images ; 
 true and lively colouring; a clear, 
 neat, swelling and copious style, 
 equally suited to the capacity of 
 the multitude, and fitted to please 
 the man of genius, the philosopher, 
 and the courtier. From the cha- 
 racter of Massillon's eloquence, 
 especially in his Petit Careme^ he 
 could at once think, describe, and 
 feel. It has been justly observed 
 concerning him, that he was to Bour- 
 daloue, what Racine was to Cor- 
 neille : to give the finishing stroke 
 to his eulogium, of all the French 
 orators, he is the most esteemed by 
 foreigners. An excellent edition 
 
 of Massillon's works was published 
 by his nephew at Paris, in 1715 
 and 1746, in fourteen volumes large 
 l2mo. and twelve volumes of a 
 small size. Among them we find, 
 1. Complete Sets of Sermons, for 
 Advent an 1 Lent. It is particu- 
 larly in his moral discourses, such 
 as are almost all those of his 
 sermons for Advent and Lent, that 
 Massillon's genius appears. He 
 excels, says M. D'Alembert, in that 
 species of eloquence, which alone 
 may be preferred to all others, 
 which goes directly to the heart, 
 and which agitates without wound- 
 ing the soul ; he searches the in- 
 most recfsses of the heart, and lays 
 open the secret workings of the 
 passions, with so delicate and ten- 
 der a hand, that we are hurried 
 along rather than overcome. His 
 diction, which is always easy, ele* 
 gant, and pure, every where par- 
 takes of that noble simplicity, 
 without which there can be nei- 
 ther good taste nor true eloquence ; 
 and this simplicity is, in Massillon, 
 joined to the most attractive and 
 the sweetest harmony, from which 
 it likewise borrows new graces. 
 In short, to complete the charm 
 produced by this enchanting style, 
 we perceive that the^e beauties are 
 perfectly natural; that they flovr 
 easily from this source, and that 
 they have occasioned no labour to 
 the composer. There even occur 
 sometimes in the expressions, in the 
 turns, or in the affecting melody 
 of iiis s?\le, instances of negligence, 
 which may be called happy, because 
 they completely remove every ap- 
 pearance of labour. By thus aban- 
 doning himself to the natural cur- 
 rent of thought and expression, 
 Massillon gained as many friends 
 as hearers. He knew, that the 
 more anxious an orator appears 
 to raise admiration, he will find 
 those who hear him the less dis- 
 -posed to bestow if. 2. Several 
 Funeral Orations, Discourses, and 
 Panegj-rics, which had never been 
 published. S. Ten Discourses known 
 by the name of Petit Careme. 
 4. The Conferences Ecclesiastiques, 
 which he delivered in the seminary 
 of St. Magloire upon his arrival 
 
544 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 at Paris; those which he delivered 
 to the curates of his diocese; and 
 the discourses which he pronounced 
 at the head of the Synods, which 
 he assembled every year. 5. Para- 
 phrases on several of the Psalms. 
 The illustrious author of these ex- 
 cellent tracts, wished that they had 
 introduced into France a practice 
 which prevails in England, of 
 reading sermons instead of preach- 
 ing them from memory ; a custom 
 which is very convenient, but by 
 which all the warmth and fervour 
 of eloquence are lost. Hc s as well 
 as two others of his brethren, had 
 stopt short in the pulpit, exactly 
 on the same day. They were all 
 to preach at different hours on Good 
 Friday, and they went to hear one 
 another in succession. The me- 
 mory of the first failed, which so 
 terrified the other two, that N they 
 experienced the same fate. When 
 our illustrious orator was asked, 
 what was his best sermon ? he an- 
 swered, " that which 1 am most 
 master of/' The same reply is 
 ascribed to Bourdaloue. The ce- 
 lebrated P. la Rue was of the 
 opinion of Massillon, that getting 
 by heart was a slavery which de- 
 prived the pulpit of a great many 
 orators, and which was attended 
 with many inconveniences to those 
 who dedicated themselves to it. 
 The Abbe de la Porte has collected 
 into one volume 12mo. the most 
 striking ideas, and the most sublime 
 strokes, which occur in the works 
 of thecelebratedBishop of Clermont. 
 This collection, which is made with 
 great judgment, appeared at Paris 
 in 1748, 12mo, and forms the 
 fifteenth volume of the large edi- 
 tion in !2mo, and the thirteenth of 
 the small in 12mo. It is entitled 
 Pensiie sur differ nt sujets, fyc. — 
 Vide Enclycopccdia Britannica. 
 
 Massillon's works contain so 
 many good sermons, that it is diffi- 
 cult in several instances to say 
 which is the best Hence the most 
 discerning minds have pronounced 
 differently respecting his chef- 
 d'ceuvre. Voltaire approves most of 
 The Small Number of the Saved; 
 Blair of the sermon On Lukewarm- 
 ness. That on The Divinity of 
 
 Christ ranks high in general opi- 
 nion; and in giviug an outline of 
 it, Robinson says, " I transcribe 
 such skeletons with regret ; nor 
 would I attempt to abridge such 
 sermons at all, unless I entertained 
 hopes of stirring up in such as 
 have not seen them a desire to 
 peruse them." But the sermon on 
 " The Death of the Sinner and the 
 Righteous," from Rev. xiv. 13. is ex- 
 tolled in the highest degree by the 
 last mentioned writer. He speaks 
 of it, and quotes it several times. 
 In one place of his Claude, page 
 420, vol. 2, he mentions it in these 
 terms. " That most admired piece 
 of modern eloquence, — Massillon's 
 sermon on the Death of the Sinner, 
 and the Death of the Righteous, said 
 by some good judges to be the finest 
 piece of eloquence that the latter 
 ages have produced." " The whole 
 sermon, except exordium and con- 
 clusion, which are short, consists of 
 two, — what shall I call them ? — 
 pictures or originals. The one is a 
 description of a Dying Saint, the 
 other that of an Expiring Sinner, 
 I dare not attempt to translate 
 them. They are inimitably beauti- 
 ful."— Page 195. Again, page 350, 
 he calls it, " That incomparable 
 sermon," and says, " I could never 
 read his (Massillon's) description of 
 the wicked man's last moments, 
 without a mixture of pity and fear. 
 The passage begins with " Alors le 
 pecheur morant," and ends thus : 
 >* At length, amidst these success- 
 ful efforts, his eyes fix — his features 
 alter — his countenance is disfigured 
 — his livid mouth falls open of itself 
 — his whole frame trembles — and, by 
 a final struggle, his unhappy soul 
 starts with reluctance from its ha- 
 bitation of clay, falls into the hands 
 of God, and finds itself naked at 
 the bar of his formidable tribu- 
 nal. — Thus, my brethren, do they 
 die, who forget God through life! 
 Thus will you die, if your sins 
 accompany you to your death. 
 Every object around you will 
 change, you alone will remain the 
 same — you will die: and you will 
 die wicked, as you have lived j 
 your death will resemble your 
 life O preclude this misery by 
 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 545 
 
 living the life of the righteous. "' 
 D'Alembert was the author of the 
 nnecdo.e mistakenly ascribed to 
 Dickson, page 214. Fide Biogra- 
 phical Notice of Massillon, page211. 
 
 Matthieu, AirrorvE, was born at 
 Lausanne, July 3rd, 1690: his fa- 
 ther was a refugee from Nimes. He 
 studied in Holland, at Franeker and 
 at Geneva; at the last place, the ce- 
 lebrated J. A. Turretin was his tu- 
 tor, and esteemed him very highly. 
 He settled over the church at Frank- 
 fort in 1715, where he celebrated 
 the jubilee of his minisfry after he 
 had laboured fifty years. On this 
 occasion a sermon was preached by 
 M. Armand, pastor at the Hngue ; 
 and some gold and silver medals were 
 struck in commemoration of the 
 event, and as a token of esteem for 
 the pastor. He died May 7, 1765. 
 A selection of his Sermons was after- 
 wards published, in two vols. 12mo. 
 The plans are simple; the style neat 
 end plain; the discussions practical. 
 The first Sermon is on those words, 
 " For we preach not ourselves but 
 Christ Jesus the Lord; and our- 
 selves your servant?, for Jesus' sake." 
 The entrance to the temple promises 
 much ; the inside occasionally dis- 
 covers Christ as an exemplary man, 
 but rarely as an Almighty Saviour. 
 
 Maury, Jeav Scffreiv, born in 
 the Venetian States in 1746. The 
 Abbe Maury had acquired a name 
 by his Panegyrics on St. Augustine 
 and St. Louis, and by other dis- 
 courses which were reckoned equal 
 to Bossuet, when the Revolution 
 opened for him a new career, and 
 raised him to considerable eminence. 
 From the eloquence of a Chrysos- 
 tora, his genius rose to that of a De- 
 mosthenes. It is supposed, that if 
 the influence of his eloquence had 
 been employed in behalf of Louis 
 XVI. he would have saved the mo- 
 narchy. Pius VI. raised him to the 
 Cardinalate. Buonaparte knew how 
 to estimate the worth of his great ta- 
 lents, and wisely employed them in 
 his service. At the restoration of 
 the Bourbons, Maury fell from his 
 eminence; and after some conces- 
 jioDi to the Pope, was permitted to 
 
 live in retirement in the Roman ter- 
 ritories. His last work was on the 
 Eloquence of the French Pulpit, in 
 which he is accused of criticising 
 some English preachers, of whose 
 talents he seemed to be grossly igno- 
 rant. This work is considered in 
 France as discovering no small de- 
 gree of pedantry. 
 
 Mercter, Louis, pastor of the 
 French church in London, published 
 two octavo volumes of Sermons in 
 1S0I, on the subject of Public Wor- 
 ship, in which the arguments of 
 Apeleutherusand Gilbert Wakefield 
 are comhatted with much propriety 
 and good sense. The preacher does 
 not enter into the spiritual part of 
 divine worship. 
 
 Mestrezat, Jean, was born of 
 an eminent family in Geneva, in 
 3592, which were originally seated 
 at Verona, a great and ancient citv 
 in Italy, but forsaken by them for 
 religion. His father was first syn- 
 dic of Geneva, and had another son 
 who was first syndic of the same 
 city ; which is one of the principal 
 offices of that State. He was sent 
 very young to the academy of San- 
 mar, where he gave singular proofs 
 of genius in a public disputation. 
 He was but eighteen years of age 
 when he was offered the chair of a 
 professor in philosophy ; and he was 
 appointed to be minister to the 
 church of Paris as soon as he w;.» 
 admitted into the ministry — a thing, 
 altogether extraordinary. Mr. Du 
 Moulin, who was entrusted to pro- 
 vide a pastor for the church at Or- 
 leans, bad his eyes upon him for th s 
 office ; but when the Consistory of 
 Charenton saw his talents, that 
 church thought fit to retain him. 
 He accepted the invitation, on con- 
 dition that he should return for two 
 years to Saumur, to complete his stu- 
 dies. It had no cause to repent 
 of having called him so early ; f e r 
 his conferences with the Roman Ca- 
 tholics, his deputations, his sermors, 
 and his books, made him appear to 
 be one of the ablest men the Re- 
 formed had in France. One con- 
 ference is particularly mentioned, 
 which took place with the Jesuit 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 Regourd, in the presence of Queen 
 Anne of Austria, but which was ne- 
 ver published, as that princess, re- 
 duced to the greatest confusion by 
 a victory of Mestrezat over a man 
 ■who was deemed invincible in argu- 
 ment, required that the affair should 
 not appear in print, and the Re- 
 formed punctually obeyed. Being 
 on a deputation to Louis XIII. seve- 
 ral questions were put to him by the 
 King, which Cardinal Richelieu had 
 suggested ; and Mestrezat replied to 
 them in such terms, that the Cardi- 
 nal, putting his hand on his shoulder, 
 said, " fieliold the boldest minister 
 in France." His eloquence must 
 have been powerful, as, on a public 
 trial at Paris, the presi::ent i seeing 
 that Mestrezat was not pleased with 
 his counsel's defence, desired him to 
 plead for himself, which he did so 
 effectually, that he gained the day. 
 Mestrezat is deemed by all Calvin- 
 istical theologians acquainted with 
 him, as a sound ami judicious divine. 
 His divinity is" the whole counsel of 
 God," announced with great depth 
 of judgment, and much fidelity. — 
 Buyle gives the following remarks 
 on his writings : *' His language did 
 not come near the polite and clean 
 »tyle of Mr.Daille ; but he preached 
 with greater depth of judgment, 
 strength and reason, and more learn- 
 ing than he did. There are no ser- 
 mons that contain a more sublime 
 theology than those he preached 
 Upon the Epistle to the Hebrews, 
 which were printed in many vo- 
 lumes. 'Tis said, that having met in 
 the street an ecclesiastic of his ac- 
 quaintance, who had preached a 
 whole Lent with applause, and hav- 
 ing congratulated him for it, 'J 
 took,'' answered the other, ' out of 
 your sermons the best things that I 
 said in mine.'' He handled the con- 
 troversy about the authority of the 
 Scripture, and of the Church, with 
 a peculiar strength of reason ; and 
 he refuted upon those important 
 subjects all the subtleties of Father 
 Regourd and Cardinal Du Perron. 
 He showed by these works that he 
 was very well versed in the Fathers, 
 and understood philosophy and the 
 scripture. His Treatise concerning 
 Communion icith Jesus Christ in the 
 
 Sacrament of the Eucharist, is highly 
 esteemed ; his Sermons Upon the 
 Catechism; the Explication of the 
 Epistle of St. Paul to the Galatians, 
 and of some chapters of the Epistle 
 to the Ephesians ; select Sermons 
 upon divine texts, and many Tracts. 
 Note, that he published at Sedan a 
 volume of Sermons in 1625, 8vo. 
 Those which he wrote upon the first 
 Epistle of St. John are in two vo- 
 lumes-." There are also many single 
 Sermons of thisgreat divine. After 
 having served the church of God at 
 Charenton, with much labour and 
 fidelity, forty-two years, he depart- 
 ed this life in 1651, aged 66. He 
 had a nephew, Philip Mestrezat, 
 who was a celebrated professor of 
 divinity at Genera. 
 
 Missy, Cksau de, was one of the 
 French chaplains of his Britannic 
 Majesty at the Chapel Royal of 
 St. James's, at the beginning of the 
 reign of George III. His sermons 
 were published in London, in two 
 8vo.volumes, in the year 1780, after 
 his death. "Whether his hearers 
 complained that he was too lax in 
 his theology, or too severe in his 
 doctrines and morals, it is difficult 
 to ascertain from his sermons ; but 
 it seems that for several years he 
 was in troubled waters. To pre- 
 vent the complaint of being pergon- 
 al, or the possibility of infusing 
 his own feelings into his sermons, 
 he for some time preached those of 
 others, and contrary to his usual 
 custom, read them. This displeased 
 his auditors, who discovered a dif- 
 ference in his style and manner, and 
 he was obliged to have recourse 
 again to his own sermons ; but to 
 avoid the appearance of person- 
 alities, he used to explain some 
 part of the Gospel appointed for the 
 day. These sermons he mostly pre- 
 meditated, but rarely committed to 
 paper. The volumes published are 
 composed of these discourses, which 
 were taken down by some of his ad- 
 mirers. A few fell into the hands 
 of the author, and were revised by 
 him for the press, but he died before 
 he could have an opportunity of 
 revising the whole. The preacher 
 often thunders about' boldness is 
 
FRENCH PREACHEKS. 
 
 54' 
 
 preaching the gospel, but it is the 
 explosion of powder without shot. 
 The existence of some disagreement 
 between him and his hearers is to 
 be discovered in many of his ser- 
 mons, in which he endeavours to 
 enforce unity. 
 
 MoLINIER, JEAN BAPTISTE, W<1S 
 
 born at Aries in 1675, and died at 
 Paris in 1745. Molinier entered into 
 the congregation of the oratory, and 
 gave himself to the work of the minis- 
 try. He preached with applause at 
 Aix, Toulouse, Lyons, Orleans, and 
 Paris. Massillon having heard him, 
 was charmed with the lively and 
 beautiful strokes of his eloquence, 
 and surprised that at the same time 
 he discovered so much inequality ; 
 he then remarked to him, you may 
 either be the preacher of the popu- 
 lace or of the great. In fact, there 
 are in his discourses much energy, 
 dignity, and nature; but in gene- 
 ral little taste, and little choice 
 of expression, which is often dis- 
 figured by low phraseology." — 
 Bibliothe'que Portative. 
 
 Morus, Alexander, was one of 
 the greatest preachers of his age 
 among the reformed. He was born 
 at Castres in 1616. His father was 
 a Scotchman, and was principal of a 
 college which the Calvinists had in 
 that town. He was sent to Geneva, 
 when he was twenty years of age, 
 with a view to continue his studies 
 in theology ; and finding the Greek 
 professor's place l hen vacant, which 
 was to be acquired by a disputation 
 in which strangers were allowed to 
 be competitors, he defeated all his 
 opponent of various professions, 
 though far more advanced in years 
 than he, and obtained the prize. 
 "When Spanheim was called to 
 Leyden, he succeeded him as divi- 
 nity professor in the academy, and 
 minister in the church of Geneva, 
 In 1G49 he was called into Holland, 
 where he was appointed divinity 
 professor at Micldleburg, and pas- 
 tor of that church. Three years 
 afterwards he accepted of the office 
 of professor of history at Amster- 
 dam. In 1655 he went for some 
 time into Italy, during which he 
 
 published a beautiful poem on the 
 defeat of the Turkish fleet by the 
 Venetians. This work procured 
 him a chain of gold, of which the 
 republic of Venice made him a 
 present. He returned for a short 
 time to discharge his office in Hol- 
 land, and from thence he removed 
 to Paris, and exercised his ministry 
 at Charenton. He died at Paris^ 
 at the house of the Duchess de 
 Rohan, in 1670, aged fifty-four 
 years. Morus was always in di- 
 lemmas in the Synods and amGng 
 his brethren. When he was in 
 Holland, he was censured by the 
 synods of Tergou and Nimeguen in 
 1659, and declared incapable of 
 exercising any function of the holy 
 ministry, till by a blameless conver- 
 sation he made reparation for the 
 scandals he had brought upon the 
 church; but having just accepted the 
 invitation to Paris, he narrowly 
 avoided the infliction of this punish- 
 ment. In 1661 he was accused 
 before the consistory at Paris, the 
 consequences of which he endea- 
 voured to avoid by visiting Eng- 
 land; but on his return in 1662 the 
 charges were renewed, and he was 
 suspended for a year. Tiiis preacher 
 had many enemies which he raised 
 against himself as a man. A Catho- 
 lic contemporary said of him, " he 
 has a deal of wit and learning, but 
 little religion or sound judgment. 
 He's indiscreet, ambitious, restless, 
 changeable, bold, presumptuous, 
 and wavering. He understands La- 
 tin, Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic, 
 but does not understand human 
 life." He quarrelled violently with 
 Daille, and had a terrible dispute 
 with John Milton, who felt so 
 goaded by his insults, that he raked 
 up a heap of stories against him 
 enough to blast the character of any 
 man. There is no doubt, to say the 
 least, that Morus was exceedingly 
 indiscreet, and it is probable that 
 he was also contentious. As a 
 preacher, Morus was much admired. 
 It was disputed by critics whether 
 he possessed depth of judgment, or 
 even so much learning as some sup- 
 posed, but he had the happy art 
 of shewing every thing to the best 
 advantage. He never failed to 
 
548 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 touch the passions of his hearers, 
 and his very enemies were ravished 
 by his preaching. He had an air 
 of paradox, and discovered such 
 ingenious sallies, that he surprised 
 his auditors, and constantly capti- 
 vated their attention. Young mi- 
 nisters were so attracted by him, 
 that they made themselves ridicu- 
 lous by striving to become his imi- 
 tators; and the synod of the Isle 
 of France were actually obliged 
 to make an act in 1675, which was 
 read in the pulpit of Charenton and 
 elsewhere, by which all persons 
 were commanded, in expounding 
 the vrord of God, to avoid the 
 sporlingsof fancy, and playing with 
 words. The printed sermons of 
 Morns, contained in one small duo- 
 decimo volume, are evidently poor 
 specimens of the preacher. They 
 want the manner of delivery. They 
 have less of those satirical allusions 
 and bon-mots which delighted the 
 multitude on the one hand, and 
 they have not (he recommendations 
 of the preacher's voice and man- 
 ner, which seemed to have attracted 
 men of taste on the other. They 
 are short, sententious, and familiar. 
 A French critic calls them, " cold 
 and inanimate, and by no means 
 answerable to the reputation of the 
 preacher." With the last censure 
 every one must agree, but the former 
 is not correct. They have not in- 
 deed the burning expressions of 
 many French writers, but they have 
 the warmth of christian experience, 
 •whether genuine or not. Nor are 
 they destitute of imagination, but 
 the plain and homely figures which 
 are often employed, while they 
 partly account for his popularity 
 with the crowd, by no means re- 
 mind us of the poet with the golden 
 chain. The only sermons extant of 
 Morus are posthumous; in conse- 
 quence they appear to a very great 
 disadvantage, not having had the 
 last finish from the hand of the 
 author, and being destitute of the 
 fine touches which he always put in 
 extempore. In sentiment Moras 
 was a warm Calvinist, and a strong 
 opponent to the Catholic church, 
 which he refused to enter when 
 he was much in disgrace among his 
 
 Protestant brethren, and had the 
 most tempting offes to relinquish 
 his faith. He published several 
 Latin poems, a treatise De Gratia et 
 libero arbitri", a Commentary on 
 the 53d of Isaiah, &c. Bayle says, 
 "his death, which was very edifying, 
 and the signs of piety which he 
 shewed in his last sickness, blotted 
 out the remembrance of any irre- 
 gularities in his behaviour." 
 
 Mothe, C. G. de la. (Vide Ad~ 
 denda.) 
 
 Moulin, Peter du. The works 
 of this writer are exceedingly nu- 
 merous, and several of them have 
 been translated into English. Du 
 Moulin was severely persecuted by 
 Louis XIII. who took a great dis- 
 like to him, on account of a letter 
 which he wrote to James I. King 
 of England, to intreat his interposi- 
 tion in behalf of the oppressed 
 Protestants of France. This letter 
 fell into the hands of Louis, and 
 some say was transmitted to him by 
 the Duke of Buckingham. The 
 King issued warrants to arrest the 
 writer, but some friends at court 
 warned him of his danger, and he 
 escaped. He was some time after 
 called to be pastor and professor in 
 the Church and University of Sedan, 
 a little principality, of which the 
 Marshal Duke of Bouillon was So- 
 vereign: and here this worthy mi- 
 nister of Jesus Christ lived the rest 
 of his days, and departed this life in 
 the ninetieth year of his age, 1650. 
 There are several volumes of Du 
 Moulin'ssermons. They contain much 
 excellent matter, but he is often very 
 quaint, and too fond of allegorizing. 
 
 Mussard, M. was a great scho- 
 lar and a most eloquent preach- 
 er. He was a native of Geneva, 
 and afterwards settled at Lyons, 
 where he was ousted by some in- 
 trigues of the Jesuits against him. 
 He was finally settled over a 
 French church in London. His ser- 
 mons are in 4to. Mussard married 
 a grand-daughter of Beza's. 
 
 Nardin, Jfan Frederick, was 
 pastor of the reformed church of 
 Blamont, at the beginning of the 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 549 
 
 last century, and entered upon his 
 charge in the month of July, 1718. 
 His sermons were collected after 
 his death, and published in several 
 volumes 8vo, when they were ea- 
 gerly purchased and soon out of 
 print; a second edition was then 
 printed under the superintendance 
 of Mr. Du Vernoy, who was the 
 very venerable pastor of the Church 
 of Montbeliard, to which was pre- 
 fixed the title of Le Predicateur 
 Evangilique, or, The Evangelical 
 Preacher. This edition was pub- 
 lished in 4to, and all the sermons 
 were crowded together, that they 
 might be obtained at a cheaper 
 rate. A third edition was after- 
 wards issued from the press, in five 
 8vo. volumes, coniaining sixty-five 
 sermons. This last was much im- 
 proved, many corrections were 
 made in the orthography, and many 
 obsolete words expunged and sub- 
 stituted by more modern expres- 
 sions; so that these discourses do 
 not bear the date of the author in 
 their original language. 
 
 Nardin is much esteemed as a 
 sound divine. His discourses are 
 chiefly on parables, and whole pa- 
 ragraphs of New Testament history, 
 and he often treats them with great 
 ingenuity ; but he is not always 
 correct in his rhetorical illustra- 
 tions. He calls tares barren trees, 
 and speaks of the Gospel under the 
 similitude of an arrow piercing the 
 heart to give life ; he has many 
 such instances of confused meta- 
 phors. He also sometimes weakens 
 his addresses by employing too many 
 synonimous terms. Repetitions of 
 the same sentiment are likewise 
 often to he met with in his dis- 
 courses, and some expressions which 
 are rather singular, such as dear 
 souls, in addressing his hearers, thy 
 brother Jesus, in comforting a chris- 
 tian, and thy mother the Holy Spirit, 
 in speaking of that divine person 
 as a source of consolation to the 
 Church. 
 
 Yet after all, Nardin is not valued 
 without reason; he has many origi- 
 nal thoughts, his discourses are very 
 close appeals to the heart, the 
 whole arrangement of them is na- 
 tural, the language in which they 
 
 are conveyed is pleasing and in- 
 structive, and in what is called the 
 unity of a discourse, he is a com- 
 plete model for preachers. 
 
 These sermons are now exceed- 
 ingly scarce and valuable. Those 
 in the possession of the writer were 
 procured at Berlin, after a search 
 for them over a great part of the 
 continent. 
 
 " Neuville, Charles Frey de, 
 was born at Ccutanees in 1693, and 
 died at Saint-Germain-en-laye in 
 1774, in his eighty-first year. Hav- 
 ing entered into the Society of the 
 Jesuits, the Father Neuviile soon 
 distinguished himself by his great 
 talents for the pulpit. During thirty 
 years he preached with much suc- 
 cess both at court and in the capital. 
 After the dissolution of the Jesuits 
 he obtained permission to remain 
 in France, although he had not ful- 
 filled the conditions imposed by the 
 parliament of Paris. He owed this 
 favour to his virtues as much as to 
 his talents. The sermons of Father 
 Neuviile deserve to be distinguished 
 from the crowd of writings of this 
 kind, by the beauty of their plans, 
 the vivacity of their ideas, their 
 skilful application of the holy scrip- 
 ture, the abundance of their imagery, 
 and the originality and warmth of 
 their sentiments. Father Neuviile 
 was only faulty in allowing too 
 much latitude to his eloquence, and 
 not guarding against the stumbling- 
 blocks of a lively imagination, and 
 the affectation of the antithesis. He 
 is, however, one of the first preach- 
 ers of the second order." — Biblio- 
 t he' que Portative. 
 
 OSTERVALD, JEAN FREDERIC, W39 
 
 born at Neufchatel, November 25, 
 1663. He was the only son of 
 Monsieur Jean Rcdolph Ostervald, 
 pastor of the same church. His first 
 studies were at Zurich and Saumur; 
 and his progress was so great, that 
 he was admitted master of arts at 
 the latter university before he was 
 sixteen years of age. He afterwards 
 studied at Orleans and Paris; at 
 the latter place he enjoyed the 
 instructions of the famous Allix, 
 and the intercourse of the celebrated 
 2 O 
 
550 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 Jean Claude. His theological pur- 
 suits were not yet completed ; for, 
 desirous of acquiring every possible 
 attainment, he afterwards studied 
 under the celebrated professors of 
 Geneva, and cultivated an acquaint- 
 ance with all the learned men that 
 came within his reach. In 1699 he 
 was appointed pastor of the church 
 at Neufchatel, and the same year 
 formed an acquaintance with the 
 celebrated Jean Alphonse Turrefcin, 
 of Geneva, and the illustrious Samuel 
 Werenfels of Basil. The union of 
 these three divines, which was called 
 the IViumvirate of the Divines of 
 Switzerland, was dissolved only by 
 death. In 1700 he was raised to 
 the dignity of Dean of the Com- 
 pany of Pastors, which he resigned 
 on account of bodily infirmities in 
 the year 1739. In 1701 he engaged 
 as a theological tutor, and students 
 from all the surrounding places, as 
 •well as from foreign parts, flocked 
 to receive his instructions. These 
 he continued to give without any 
 remuneration till 1746. This worthy 
 pastor was struck with a kind of 
 apoplexy in the pulpit, on Sunday 
 morning, August 24, 1746, while he 
 was preaching on the eight first 
 •verses of the twentieth chapter of 
 St. John. He remained ill for a 
 considerable time, but manifested 
 the most perfect resignation. If 
 any mention was made of the ser- 
 vices he had rendered the church by 
 bis writings and his long labours as a 
 pastor and tutor, he always shewed 
 his disapprobation, and died in de- 
 pendence upon the pure grace and 
 infinite merry of God in Christ 
 Jesus, April 14, 1747, in the eighty- 
 fourth year of his age, and the 
 sixty-first of his ministry. Oster- 
 vald's works were very numerous. 
 His Treatise on the Sources of Cor- 
 ruption, was printed at Neufchatel, 
 Amsterdam, Leyden, Frankfort, 
 Leipsie, and in London, in the 
 various languages of the countries. 
 It was first published in 1700. His 
 Morals, his Theology, and his Trea- 
 tise on the Ministry, were published 
 from the MSS. of his students, and 
 printed in London, at the Hague, 
 Basle, &c. His Catechism on the 
 Truthi and Duties of the Christian 
 
 Religion, which was much admired 
 for its order and clearness, was 
 translated from the French into 
 German, Dutch, and English. The 
 Abridgment of Sacred History, pre- 
 fixed to this Catechism, was trans- 
 lated and printed in Arabic, in order 
 to be sent to the East Indies, by 
 the care of the Society for the Pro- 
 pagation of the Gospel ; and that 
 Society paid him a high compliment 
 by admitting him an honorary mem- 
 ber. This work was indeed held 
 in universal estimation; the illus- 
 trious Catholic Feneion, and Col- 
 bert, Bishop of Montpellier, much 
 valued it, and they ranked bis works 
 among the most precious in their 
 libraries. The Abbe Bignon, li- 
 brarian to the French King, also 
 added them to the royal library at 
 Paris. His Treatise against Impu- 
 rity was likewise translated into 
 various languages, and regarded 
 among all communions as an excel- 
 lent preservative against vice. 
 
 In 1716, the Archbishop of Can- 
 terbury, with whom he was inti- 
 mate, requested a copy of his Re- 
 flections on Scripture, which his 
 Graee submitted to the Society for 
 the Propagation of the Gospel, and 
 it was translated and published by 
 their order. It was afterwards pub- 
 lished in several parts of the Conti- 
 nent. In the year 1744, and in the 
 80th year of his age, he put the 
 finishing stroke to this work, and 
 printed the Bible in folio, under his 
 immediate inspection at Neufchatel. 
 He now revised his Arguments and 
 Reflections; and compared the text 
 with the original, the vulgate, the 
 lxx, and all the French and German 
 versions. The work thus com- 
 pleted, obtained great celebrity 
 among all communities of Chris- 
 tians ; and it is a remarkable fact, 
 that he refused to sell it, or receive 
 any remuneration for his labours, 
 having solely in view the public 
 good. In 1722, M. Ostervald was 
 solicited to publish a volume of 
 sermons. These were printed at 
 Geneva in one volume 8vo, and are 
 twelve in number. They were also 
 translated into German and Flemish. 
 An edition of them was published 
 at Geneva in 1756, in two thi» 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 551 
 
 volumes Svo, with the life of the 
 author. Several works of Oster- 
 vald were surreptitiously obtained, 
 and he used to complain of their 
 inaccuracy, and even absurdities. 
 These were Ethnica Christiana, 
 1727, 8vo, Theologies Compendium, 
 J 739; and TraiU ' de V Exercise du 
 Ministere Sacrt. The first and last 
 were printed in several languages. 
 Notwithstanding the disapprobation 
 of the author, these works are 
 deemed very excellent and useful. 
 As a preacher, Ostervald had a fine 
 delivery, a powerful and sonorous 
 voice, a grave air, a noble action, 
 and always discovered much piety. 
 When the Princes met at Neufchatel 
 in 1707, to decide respecting its 
 future sovereignty, he gained great 
 reputation, and was reputed in fo- 
 reign countries to be one of the 
 greatest preachers in Europe. — The 
 prominent character of his dis- 
 courses is clearness and simplicity. 
 In sentiment he much resembled our 
 Doddridge.— Ostervald left behind 
 him two sons and two daughters. 
 The council of Neufchatel decreed 
 him a handsome tomb and monu- 
 ment in the new church of that 
 city. 
 
 *' Pacaud, Pierre, was born in 
 Brittanny, and died in 1760, at an 
 advanced age. Brought up in the 
 congregation of the oratory, he gave 
 himself to the ministry of the word 
 of God, and acquired some repu- 
 tation. His sermons discover no- 
 thing very striking; however they 
 possess real merit, as they are 
 marked by a noble simplicity." — 
 Bibliotheque Portative. 
 
 " Parisiere, Jean Cesar Rous- 
 seau de la, was born at Poitiers in 
 1667, and died in 1737, at Nismes, 
 of which city he was bishop. Pari- 
 siere was occupied with the Belles- 
 Lettres in his youth, and they 
 sweetened the evils with which he 
 was afflicted to the end of his days. 
 His first productions were some 
 ingenious Poems, if we may judge 
 by the allegorical fable on happi- 
 ness and imagination which Madame 
 Bernard has preserved. The mo- 
 desty or self-love of this prelate 
 
 made him burn them, at an advanced 
 age. Since his death there have 
 been collected and published his 
 harangues, panegyrics, sermons on 
 morals, and notes. The style is 
 cramped and brief; but this brevity, 
 though sometimes a source of obscu- 
 rity, is at other timesa source of great 
 strength." — Bibliotheque Portative. 
 
 " Pictet, Benedict, a cele- 
 brated divine, was born at Geneva 
 in 1655, of a distinguished family, 
 and prosecuted his studies wilh great 
 success. After having travelled into 
 Holland and England, he taught 
 theology in his own country with an 
 extraordinary reputation. The uni- 
 versity of Leyden, after the death 
 of Spantreina, solicited him to come 
 and fill his place; but he thought 
 that his own country had the best 
 right to his services : and for that 
 generosity he received its thanks by 
 the mouth of the members of coun- 
 cil. A languishing disorder, occa- 
 sioned by too much fatigue, has- 
 tened his death : which happened 
 on the 9th of June, 1724, at the age 
 of sixty-nine years. This minister 
 had much sweetness and affability in 
 his manner. The poor found in him 
 a comforter and a father. He pub- 
 lished a great number of works in 
 Latin and French, which are much 
 esteemed in Protestant countries." — 
 Encyclopaedia Britannica. 
 
 Pictet published a vast many 
 works, the principal one of which 
 was a System of Christian Theology 
 in Latin, three volumes 4to, the best 
 edition of which is that of 1721. 
 This was also translated into French, 
 and abridged in two volumes 12mo. 
 in Latin. It is much esteemed. 
 There are likewise some sermons of 
 this divine from 1697 to 1721 ; four 
 volumes in 8vo. All his works are 
 considered as shewing marks of 
 piety and good sense. 
 
 Revbaz, E. S. There are two 
 volumes published in 1801, at Paris, 
 bearing this preacher's name, the 
 title-pages of which inform us, that 
 he was a representative of the Re- 
 public of Geneva to the French Re- 
 public. To each of these sermons 
 is affixed an hymn, adapted to th« 
 
559 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 •ubject, and containing an epitome of 
 the sermon. A letter on the art of 
 preaching is placed in the front of 
 the work. This constitutes its best 
 part, and contains many useful ob- 
 servations on pulpit eloquence. The 
 sermons are composed in a smooth 
 flowing style ; but out of about two 
 hundred which have been perused 
 to form this volume, they are the 
 most exceptionable. The preacher 
 seems studiously to have avoided 
 the very mention of that adorable 
 name, " which is above every other 
 name," except in a sermon, entitled, 
 e * Religious Sensibility, " in which 
 we are told that Jesus v-ept, the 
 text on which his subject is founded. 
 These sermons are a specimen of the 
 modern school at Geneva, where 
 they were preached. O Temp or a ! 
 O Mores ! 
 
 11 Riviere, Matthias Povcet de 
 tA, was born at Paris in 1707, 
 and died at Saint Marcel in 
 1780. This author early discovered 
 much spirit and talent; he devoted 
 himself to the pulpit, and particu- 
 larly succeeded in the funeral ora- 
 tion. Nominated to thp Bishopric 
 of Troyes, he gave much trouble by 
 ardent zeal against the Jansenisis, 
 •o that he was banished from Alsace, 
 and never quitted his exile till he 
 gave up his bishopric. He after- 
 wards led a tranquil life. His fu- 
 neral orations have been printed. 
 They are in esteem, and would be 
 more so, if their author bad laboured 
 less after the antithesis, dazzling 
 expressions, and pointed remarks." 
 Bibliothe'que Portative. 
 
 Romillv, Jean Edme, citizen of 
 Geneva, born at Paris, 1738. He 
 was consecrated to the ministry in 
 1763, and settled first in London, 
 where he was much esteemed as a 
 preacher of talents; and afterwards 
 near and in Geneva, having quitted 
 England on account of his health. 
 He died in October, 1779, aged 
 forty-one, a martyr to the asthma, 
 which had prevented him from na- 
 tural rest, and on account of which 
 he had ne«,er been in bed for the 
 ipace of ten years. Romill>'s ser- 
 mons are two volumes 12mo. or8vo. 
 
 They are marked by strong reason- 
 ing, compact ideas, and a style neat 
 yet animated. They contain some 
 useful observations on the evidences 
 of Revelation, and the moral duties 
 of life. The method of this preacher 
 was to discuss rather the subject 
 than the text. Romilly obtained 
 celebrity by several articles which 
 he wrote in the French Encyclo- 
 paedia. Two of the most esteemed 
 are Tolerance and Virtue. 
 
 Riviere, Jean Brtjtel, de la, 
 
 was born at Montpellier in Langue- 
 doc, AHg. 17, 1669, of a distin- 
 guished family. His father was a 
 King's Counsellor, and Receiver- 
 General of the Excise for the pro- 
 vince of Languedoc. He quitted 
 France at the revocation of the 
 edict of JNantes, and retired to Lau- 
 sanne. Brutel's studies were begun 
 in France, continued in Switzer- 
 land, and completed in Holland, 
 at the Universities of Utrecht and 
 Leyden His ministerial labours 
 were first exerted in Switzerland in 
 1695, afterwards he settled at Rot- 
 terdam, and in 1720 he finally fixed 
 at Ao^sterdam, where he spent 
 twenty-two years of his life. He 
 died Aug. 14, 1742, aged seventy- 
 three years. His style is reckoned 
 masculine and nervous, neat and 
 perspicuous, distinguished by an 
 elegant plainness and a noble sim- 
 plicity. He is said to have laboured 
 much in the correction of his 
 phrases, to improve both the sense 
 and language. His subjects chiefly 
 refer to the persecutions of ihe 
 Church, and are designed to encou- 
 rage it under its sufferings. The 
 preacher generally illustrates his 
 subject by the historical parts of 
 Scripture. 
 
 Roter, Jean, was chaplain to 
 the Prince of Orange, and pastor 
 of the Walloon Church at the 
 Hague. A volume of his sermons 
 was published after his death, in 
 1789. It contains many useful com- 
 mon place remarks on the supe- 
 riority of the christian religion 
 to all others, the utility of afflic- 
 tions, &c. communicated in an easy 
 style, and mingled with a spirit of 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 00 
 
 piety, but the principal doctrines of 
 ■the christian religion are not kept 
 sufficiently in view. 
 
 Sauriiv, Jacques, ranks as a 
 preacher between Bourdaloue and 
 Masillon, and is reckoned the most 
 eloquent of all the Protestant di- 
 vines. He was born at Nismes in 
 1677. When the edict of Nantes 
 was revoked, he quitted France and 
 went to Geneva, where he served as 
 a Cadet in Lord Galloway's regi- 
 ment, in the campaign of 1694. 
 He abandoned the military life for 
 philosophy and divinity, and in 
 1700 passed into Holland and Eng- 
 land. In 1705 he was chosen pas- 
 tor at the rlague, where he obtained 
 great celebrity by his eloquence as 
 a preacher. With fine natural, he 
 combined fine physical powers, and 
 to an exterior appearance highly 
 prepossessing, it is said he added 
 a voice that was full, sonorous, 
 and harmonious in the highest de- 
 gree, so that it seemed like the 
 agreement of several pipes in the 
 most perfect concord. It has how- 
 ever been remarked, that he did 
 not always manage his voice with 
 sufficient skill, for he exhausted 
 himself so much in his prayer, and 
 at the beginning of his sermon, that 
 its tones grew feeble towards the 
 end of the service. In the course 
 of his pulpit career disease assailed 
 this fine organ and destroyed aU 
 its charms; so that if Abbadie had 
 then heard him, he would not have 
 exclaimed, as he did the first time 
 he listened to his eloquence, " Is It 
 the voice of an angel or a man ?" 
 In the beautiful village of the 
 Hague, before mentioned, " the 
 States-General, Ambassadors, and 
 Envoys of the Foreign courts, a 
 great number of nobility, gentry, 
 and French refugees, had their resi- 
 dence. Here also was a spacious 
 palace belonging to the Princes of 
 Orange, the chapel of which was 
 assigned to the refugees for a place 
 of worship;" in this was the prin- 
 cipal spot of Saurin*s labours, and 
 here he finished his career of popu- 
 larity by death, in 1730, aged 53. 
 His greatest and most valuable work 
 is, Discourses, Historical, Critical, 
 
 and Moral, on the most memorable 
 Events in the Old and New Testas 
 ments, six 8vo. volumes. It wa- 
 first printed in two volumes folio, 
 but as it was left incomplete, it was 
 continued by Messrs. Roques and 
 Beausobre. This work was partly 
 translated into English by Chamber- 
 layne shortly after it appeared, and 
 was published in one folio volume. 
 " It is full of learning," says the 
 Encyclopaedia Britannica, " it is 
 indeed a collection of the opinions 
 of the best authors, both christian 
 and heathen ; of the philosophers, 
 historians, and critics, on every 
 subject which the author exam- 
 ines." He wrote also a Treatise on 
 Education, dedicated to the sons of 
 George I. His sermons are twelve 
 volumes 8vo. and 12mo. Five of 
 these volumes were published during 
 his life, the rest were added after 
 his decease. Though Saurin was a 
 Calvinist, his sermons will not suit 
 the taste of those who admire a 
 bold avowal of the sentiments dis- 
 tinguished by the appellation Cal- 
 vinistical, nor of those who admire 
 discourses on religious experience 
 or plaiu practical religion. All 
 this is indeed comprised in the pro- 
 ductions of this preacher, but there 
 is a metaphysical veil frequently 
 thrown over the whole which con- 
 ceals his most striking beauties from 
 common understandings. It was 
 the privilege of Saurin to possess 
 vast intellectual powers, and an 
 imagination which has scarcely been 
 equalled. The preacher's ardent 
 soul is always lost in his subject, 
 but he soars too high for ordinary 
 minds to follow him. His province 
 indeed was to preach to the great, 
 but they must have been the most 
 iiitelligentcongregation in the world, 
 if they were always able to keep 
 pace with their preacher. Dr. Dod- 
 dridge was much pleased with 
 Saurin's sermons, and strongly re- 
 commended them to his pupils. He 
 was of opinion," that Saurin united 
 in himself the several qualities of 
 the scholar, the gentleman, and the 
 divine; and was one of the most 
 distinguished of mankind." Cer- 
 tainly the preacher who imitates 
 Saurin can never be superficial, but 
 
554 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 let him beware how he tries to take 
 hs exalted flights, unless he can 
 also borrow his eagle wings j or he 
 will make himself look contemptible 
 by aiming at that which he can 
 never attain, and will only "darken 
 counsel by words without know- 
 ledge." CeciVs character of this 
 great preacher contains mu turn in 
 parvo. " Saurin felt that he could 
 flourish, lighten, thunder, and en- 
 chant like a magician.'' Dyer, in 
 his Memoirs of Robinson, admits 
 that Saurin possessed brilliant ta- 
 lents, considerable learning, and 
 very commanding powers of elo^- 
 quence:" but he is of opinion that 
 his sermons display frequently,'* an 
 air of literary ostentation," and he 
 jnstly adds, '* that his reasonings 
 are sometimes too metaphysical for 
 a public assembly, and yet his dis- 
 courses not seldom too flashy and 
 declamatory for a professed rea- 
 soner." This opinion accords with 
 Blair's. He observes, " among the 
 French Protestant divines, Saurin is 
 the most distinguished: he is copi- 
 ous, eloquent, and devout, though 
 too ostentatious in his manner." 
 The Encyclopedia Britannica accuses 
 his sermons of inequality, and re- 
 marks that some of them display 
 great genius and eloquence, and 
 others are composed with negli- 
 gence. Voltaire complains of his 
 composition, but admits that it was 
 not the most defective. " He is 
 reproached," observes this critic, 
 " as well as the rest of his brethren, 
 •with what is called the style refu- 
 gie. It is difficult, said he, that 
 those who have sacrificed their coun- 
 try to their religion, should speak 
 their language in its purity, fyc. 
 However, the French was not so 
 corrupted in his time as at the 
 present period." Robert Robinson 
 has immortalized the name of this 
 celebrated man in England, by his 
 translation of his sermons in five 
 8vo. volumes, and along with them 
 he has likewise immortalized his 
 own. Perhaps there never was a 
 translation which more faithfully 
 retained the spirit of the original. 
 The translator has imbibed the very- 
 soul of his author. We may say of 
 this production what may very 
 
 rarely be said of a translation, that 
 it has lost nothing by a change of 
 language. This work has passed 
 through three editions, and a new 
 one is lately published in eight 
 volumes, including three others 
 which have been added ; the first by 
 the Rev. Dr. Hunter, and the two 
 last by the Rev. Joseph Sutciifte. 
 The Doctor's own style was not well 
 adapted to dress the thoughts of 
 Saurin. Hunter was accustomed to 
 tread the flowery lawn, or glide 
 along the gentle stream, but Saurin 
 climbed the fearful precipice, or 
 bra\ed the roaring cataract. Mild- 
 ness marked the one, but energy 
 the other. One was the dove, the 
 other the eagle. It could not then 
 be natural to Hunter to clothe 
 Saurin in an English dress. Yet 
 his performance is more faithful 
 than any one acquainted with his 
 own writings would suppose, and 
 though the volume wants the je ne 
 scai quoi of Robinson, it is not 
 without gout. Sutcliffe approaches 
 nearer Robinson. His translation 
 has spirit. It would have been su- 
 perfluous to introduce a sermon of 
 this divine into the present volume, 
 as he is so generally known, and as 
 so many have already appeared in 
 our language. 
 
 Sauvage, Jean, was the son of 
 Monsieur Sauvage, an advocate in 
 the Parliament of Bourdeaux, to 
 whom he dedicated a Sermon 
 preached at Charenton in 1644, on 
 Johnxiv. 6. " I know well," says 
 the preacher, " that my periods 
 are not polished, that my words are 
 not choice, nor my style flowery, 
 and that my language will bewray 
 me as a Galilean, but that is of no 
 moment ; Jesus Christ crowned with 
 thorns demands not from me any of 
 these flowers. I love rather to touch 
 the heart than to please the ear, to 
 speak plainly than to deny my coun- 
 try j and I would not disguise my- 
 self as a Gibeonite, to make the 
 world suppose that I come from 
 afar." In this sermon the preacher 
 exhibits Christ as " the way, the 
 truth, and the life." Sauvage was 
 minister of Bergerac. 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 S5, 
 
 Seraphim, Father. " The preacher 
 I have ardently wished to see, and 
 whom I had almost despaired of be- 
 holding," says La Bruyere. " has 
 at length made his appearance 
 among us: the courtiers have de- 
 serted the royal chapel, to listen to 
 the word of God announced with a 
 persuasive and apostolic energy." 
 This eulogy is designed for Father 
 Seraphim. A respectable translator 
 of Select Sermons from Bossuet, 
 says, that " the Homilies of this 
 preacher, published in six volumes, 
 do not support the character given 
 of him by the French Theophrastus. 
 They, however, contain several 
 splendid and impassioned pages. 
 Father Seraphim is reported to have 
 had a voice flexible to every tone, 
 and which is, as occasion demands, 
 vehement or gentle, melancholy or 
 joyful, effusive or hesitating, tender 
 or severe; the musical variety of 
 his utterance contributed, no doubt, 
 to that effect which the composition 
 was unequal to produce." 
 
 Segaud, Goillaume, was born at 
 Paris in 1674, and died in that city 
 in 1748. Havingentered among the 
 Jesuits, he became one of the pro- 
 fessors in the college of Louis the 
 Great. He exercised his talents at 
 Rouen, from whence he returned to 
 Paris, and preached before the 
 court. He was 'every where ad- 
 mired. The editors of the Biblio- 
 theque Portative say, "His Sermons 
 contain a great fund of instruction, 
 much elegance and energy ; and, 
 above all^ that unction which pene- 
 trates the soul, and which disposes 
 it to profit by evangelical truth. 
 His virtues were even superior to 
 his talents." It may be added, this 
 preacher adheres closely to the sub- 
 ject on which he professes to treat. 
 He is very skilful in the application 
 of Scripture facts. His discourses 
 may be read with advantage, espe? 
 eially by ministers. 
 
 Selle, Father, a French Domini- 
 can, and a preacher of bombastic 
 nonsense. Vide Robinson's Ciaude, 
 ▼(rf.i.p. 237. 
 
 Sermoxs en the IXih. Xth. and 
 
 Xlth. Chapters of the Epistle to the 
 Romans, which are considered as 
 descriptive of the sovereignty of 
 God, which discovers itself in the 
 choice of his people: with a Pre- 
 face, descriptive of the difficulties 
 in the way of applying this chapter 
 to predestination : Hamburgh, 1735. 
 In the copy of this work which was 
 in the possession of the late Dr. Ed- 
 ward "VViHiams, is the following me- 
 morandum — " E. W. the gift of the 
 Rev. Dr. Erskine, Edinburgh, ac- 
 companied with the following ex- 
 tract: ' The chief design of this is 
 to ask your acceptance of three vo- 
 lumes of Sermons on Romans ix — xi 
 chapters. The author, whose name 
 I know not, though of the Calvinist 
 denomination, is no friend to the 
 doctrine of sovereignty as to indivi- 
 duals. But I thought the work 
 would be better in your hands, who 
 have attended so particularly to that 
 subject, than in most others." 
 
 Spanheoi, Frederic, born at 
 Amberg, in the Upper Palatinate, 
 Jan. 1, 1600. He obtained the 
 Professorship in Philosophy at Ge- 
 neva, in 1626, succeeded Benoit 
 Turretin at the same university, 
 as Professor of Divinity in 1631, 
 and, in 1642 was called to the same 
 station at Leyden. Here he was 
 distinguished as a professor and as 
 a preacher, and died of a disorder 
 brought on by intense study in 
 1649. He left behind him seven 
 children. The extracts which the 
 translator has seen fromthis preacher» 
 are of a very superior cast. 
 
 Spanheim, Ezechifx, was the 
 eldest son of the preceding, and was 
 born at Geneva in 1629. At the 
 age of twenty-five he was appointed 
 tutor to the son of the Elector Pa- 
 latine, an office which he filled with 
 great ability. He was employed, 
 by the Elector as e-nvoy to the 
 Court of Rome, that he might ob- 
 serve the intrigues of the Catholic 
 Electors: here he studied Anti- 
 quities, and became a very great 
 proficient in them. After being 
 engaged in several negotiations in 
 Holland, at Mentz, at the Congress 
 of Breda, and in England, he en- 
 
►56 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 tered into the service of the Elector 
 of Brandenburg, in 1 679, and was 
 sent the following year to Paris, 
 as envoy extraordinary. Ten years 
 after, he returned to Berlin, where 
 the Elector having assumed the title 
 of King, he was created Baron of 
 the Prussian dominions, and made 
 minister of state. At the expira- 
 tion of four years he went into 
 Holland, and then into England, 
 as ambassador to Queen Anne. In 
 this country he breathed his last in 
 1710, aged eighty-one years. He 
 wrote much, and with great success 
 and ability. The best known of 
 his works are, De Praestantia, et 
 usu numismatum antiquorum, two 
 vols, folio — Letters and Dissertations 
 on Medals — Julian's works, edited 
 with notes, folio — besides Notes on 
 Classical Authors, &c. There are 
 two sermons extant by this writer, 
 one upon the Cradle, and the other 
 upon the Cross. They are con- 
 tained in one of his volumes, but 
 being the production of his youth, 
 they are very scarce. They are 
 marked by all the ardour of youth- 
 ful imagination. 
 
 SuPERVILLE, DANTEL DE, of Sau- 
 
 mur, became a Protestant minister 
 at the Walloon church of Rotter- 
 dam, and died 1728, aged seventy- 
 one. Besides Sermons, he wrote 
 the Duties of the Afflicted Church, 
 8vo. The Truths and the Duties 
 of Religion, &c. His Sermons are 
 in four 8vo. volumes, one of which 
 is a separate woik. There is also 
 a twelves edition of the three vo- 
 lumes. " Of all the sermons in 
 French which he had then seen, 
 (says Kippis, in speaking of Dod- 
 dridge's early life,) he gave the pre- 
 ference to the discourses of Mr. 
 Superville, the Protestant divine 
 at Rotterdam. ' He especially ex- 
 cels,' said Doddridge, in a letter 
 to an ingenious young friend, 4 in 
 the beauty of his imagery, descrip- 
 tions, and similes ; and some of 
 the most pathetic expostulations I 
 ever saw. In short, I believe he 
 is perfectly to your taste ; only 
 there is one thing, which will dis- 
 please you, as much as it did me, 
 which is, that mauy of the argu- 
 
 ments are very inconclusive, though 
 generally as good as high Calvinism 
 will bear.'" This critique on Su- 
 perville's sentiments is rather harsh 
 for the mild Doddridge. It would 
 be difficult to find out the sermon, 
 which could have induced the Doc- 
 tor to make such a remark. 
 
 Superville, Daniel de, son of 
 the above. His Sermons are three 
 volumes 8vo. Report gives him the 
 advantageof Ins father in eloquence, 
 but perhaps without any just 
 reason. The father rather seemed 
 to possess a richer imagination, and 
 was a deeper theologian. Both 
 father and son are in high estima- 
 tion, and rauk next to Saurin, 
 though preachers of a very different 
 character. 
 
 *' Terrasson, Gaspar, was born 
 at Lyons, in 1680, and died in Paris 
 1752. He entered at eighteen years 
 of age into the oratory, where he 
 early applied himself to the study 
 of the scriptures, and of the fa- 
 thers. After having been Professor 
 of Sciences, and Philosophy, he de- 
 voted himself to preaching, in which 
 he obtained a great name, not by 
 periods destitute of sense, but by 
 the happy application of the fa- 
 thers, and of the holy books. He 
 sought to do good, and not to gain 
 applause. His virtues, which were 
 yet superior to his talents, did not 
 shelter him from the persecution 
 of the outraged constitutionaries. 
 Forced to quit the oratory, he 
 passed the rest of his days in the 
 practice of christian virtues. His 
 sermons ought to be read with 
 attention by all those who are des- 
 tined for the pulpit. This author 
 must not be confounded with An- 
 dre Terrasson, his elder brother, 
 as well as Jean, who has also 
 written some sermons equally wor- 
 thy of public attention." Biblio- 
 thtque Portative. His sermons are 
 four volumes 12mo. 
 
 " Terrasson, Jean, brother of the 
 above, was born at Lyons, in 1670, 
 and died at Paris in 1750. His fa- 
 ther made him enter the congrega- 
 tion of the oratory, which he spce- 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 557 
 
 Aily quitted ; he re-entered, and left 
 it for ever. To punish him for 
 not embracing a condition which 
 he did not approve, his father re- 
 duced him to a very small revenue. 
 He consoled himself by cultivating 
 letters. He obtained an easy live- 
 lihood by a situa'ion in the Academy 
 ef Sciences, and afterwards by the 
 chair of Greek and Latin Philoso- 
 sophy. He enriched himself by 
 the system of law, but this opulence 
 was but transient. His fortune 
 came to him without seeking it, 
 and he relinquished it without 
 dreaming of retaining it. He was 
 all his life a true philosopher." 
 His sermons ;<re noticed in the next 
 article preceding. Besides these he 
 wrote several critical works. 
 
 Totine, L'Abbe. This preacher 
 deserves honourable mention, both 
 on acount of the liberal principles 
 which he dared to maintain while 
 in the bosom of an illiberal church, 
 and on account of the real beauties 
 of thought to be found in his Ser- 
 mons. Robinson quotes him several 
 times, in his Claude, from which 
 work the following extracts are 
 selected, as well worthy of repeti- 
 tion, and as fine samples of tha 
 author. 
 
 On Persecution. — " We do not 
 punish the blind for not chusing the 
 best road. It js the grace of God 
 which illuminates men; let not 
 authority pretend to assist grace. 
 Faith persuades, but it does not 
 command. 
 
 " I do not ordain you, O Kings ! 
 (methinks, God says,) to force those 
 who are out of the church into her 
 bosom ; this belongs to my ministers, 
 and for this purpose 1 command 
 them to employ the holy violence of 
 example, love, zeal, patience, and 
 instruction. Persecutions are only 
 proper to irritate fanaticism, and to 
 expose the truth to hatred. It may 
 be possible for my religion to suffer 
 more by the indiscreet zeal of its 
 defenders, than by the rage of its 
 enemies. 
 
 " If some unruly spirits, trans- 
 ported with false zeal, endeavour 
 to kindle the lightning in your hands, 
 and to arm you against error, tran- 
 
 qu'.l and subject to the laws of the 
 state, answer them, as I answer my 
 discipies, — Be gone, you know not 
 the spirit of your religion : can you 
 be ignorant, that it is a religion of 
 peace, gentleness, an.l love ? Y* 
 know not what manner of spirit ye 
 are of. Ser. de Torne, torn. iii. /• 
 dim. des Rameaux. 
 
 On the Ancient Testimonies to 
 Christ, — '* Jesus Christ, far superior 
 to all human gTory, was known and 
 celebrated long before he came into 
 the world. His magnificence is of 
 all ages. The foundations of his 
 religion were laid with those of the 
 world: and though he was not born 
 till four thousand years after the 
 creation, yet his history begins with 
 
 that of the world. He was first 
 
 preached in Paradise, the subject 
 was continued down to Moses, and 
 revealed still more frequently and 
 more clearly during the reign of the 
 law and the prophets, and his way 
 prepared by the whole chain of 
 political events. Behold, my breth- 
 ren, before his birth, the titles of 
 his grandeur. Jesus, above all, 
 Jesus crucified, throws the brightest 
 light upon the Old Testament. 
 Without him, what can we com- 
 prehend in the multitude of cere- 
 monies and sacrifices of the law ? 
 What images, without him, do the 
 Patriarchs offer ? What can we 
 find in the prophecies but impene- 
 trable enigmas and gross contra- 
 dictions? The law would be a 
 sealed book ; and Judaism a con- 
 fused heap of precepts and ceremo- 
 nies, piled up without meaning. On 
 the contrai) . How beautiful is the 
 history of the people of God and all 
 their worship, when the cross is the 
 key! what order! what design! 
 what plan ! what an admirable 
 economy ! It is one vi hole, the 
 different parts of which relate to the 
 same end. It is an edifice which 
 God himself founded and insensibly 
 raised with a design of placing 
 upon the top, the cross of his Son. 
 It is a long allegory which divine 
 wisdom contrived and conducted 
 during many ages, and of which at 
 length the cross has given the true 
 sense. Serm. pour le jour de I'an- 
 nonc. torn. ii. Torne was in the 
 
55$ 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 height of his celebrity as a preacher 
 about the year 1764. Robinson 
 considers him rather " stiff" in his 
 style." 
 
 Treille, J. Colas de la, was the 
 Son of a distinguished minister, 
 ■whose name would have stood in the 
 list of the pastors of Charenton, but 
 he was prevented from accepting 
 that charge from delicacy of con- 
 stitution. J. Colas de la Treille 
 ■was twenty years of age when per- 
 secution drove him from France, 
 and obliged him to relinquish his 
 »tudie e at Saumur. He fled to the 
 United Provinces, and entered into 
 the University of Utrecht, where 
 he was honourably admitted into the 
 holy ministry, which he exercised 
 during eight years as chaplain of 
 the regiment of Varennes. The 
 peace of Ryswyk caused his removal 
 from this office, and he then settled 
 at Amsterdam, where he was held 
 in high estimation by the magis- 
 trates, and beloved by the church. 
 From Amsterdam he was called to 
 take the charge of the Walloon 
 church in London, but after a little 
 time he returned to Holland, and 
 settled at Delft. Here he remained 
 eight years, and finally being chosen 
 una voce by the church at Rotter- 
 dam, he removed thither, and in 
 that station finished his course. The 
 causes of these removals are not 
 stated. It was very customary among 
 the French pastors to change their 
 stations, and the wisdom of divine 
 Providence is often seen in rendering 
 the labours of his servants efficacious 
 in various spheres of action. It is 
 said of Treille, that " he had so 
 exalted an idea of preaching, that 
 he was of opinion that no one could 
 exert his faculties too much to per- 
 form this great function in a suitable 
 manner; and though he spent forty 
 years in the ministry, his last sermons 
 cost him as much study as the first; 
 perhaps even more, because his de- 
 licacy of mind augmented with age, 
 and only that which most approach- 
 ed towards perfection could satisfy 
 him." The character which is given 
 of this excellent preacher in the 
 preface to his sermons is not too 
 highly coloured. " To acquire clear 
 
 ideas of the subject on which he 
 treated ; to arrange his matter in so 
 natural an order that the hearer 
 might follow the speaker without 
 difficulty, and preserve the chain of 
 his reasoning; to express himself so 
 simply that the meanest capacity 
 might understand him, and in so dig- 
 nified a manner that the most deli- 
 cate ears might be satisfied ; carefully 
 to avoid every thing foreign to his 
 subject; firmly to oppose the temp- 
 tation to a brilliant thought, which 
 a warm imagination unseasonably 
 intrudes upon the mind ; to make a 
 judicious choice of the evidences 
 most proper to convince ; to find 
 out the secret of being at the same 
 time both clear and concise, ani- 
 mated and solid, popular and ar- 
 gumentative ; to trace the human 
 heart through all its varied wind- 
 ings ; to judge of what is most ca- 
 pable of making an impression upon 
 it ; and to discover the springs by 
 which it acts, — all this is requisite, 
 and nothing less, to lead both cap- 
 tive to the obedience of Christ. This 
 was the great and only end which 
 Treille proposed ; and this was the 
 end which he happily accom- 
 plished." Perhaps the writer of 
 this character ascribes too much to 
 the adventitious aids of the speaker ; 
 for much as these are to be valued, 
 it is a fact that must be admitted, 
 that the most eloquent are not al- 
 ways the most useful, and the best 
 discourse, considered per se, has 
 often the least success. But the 
 wise husbandman will not neglect 
 to cultivate his field with diligence, 
 though other parts less cultivated 
 may often better repay his labour. 
 It belongs to him to use the means, 
 the blessing is from God. The 
 above character is honourable to 
 Treille, and justified by his sermoni. 
 To this the synod of the Walloon 
 churches of the United Provinces 
 add their testimony. " He was. 
 sound in his doctrine, irreproach- 
 able in his manners, and full of zeal 
 for the glory of God." *' On ac- 
 count of the propriety of his ideas, 
 the purity of his diction, and 
 that masculine eloquence which 
 reigned uniformly in his discourses., 
 he was always the admiration of all 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 559 
 
 those who heard him. In February, 
 1723, this worthy minister received 
 a paralytic stroke which affected 
 his speech, and deprived him of 
 engaging in his work for nine months, 
 during which time he discovered 
 the greatest resignation of mind. 
 When he was better, he made a 
 voyage to the Isle of Aix, and re- 
 turned able to resume his ministry ; 
 but he had only resumed it two 
 sabbaths, when, while preaching 
 on the second, he received another 
 stroke. With some difficulty he con- 
 eluded the service, was carried home, 
 and expired. The following ex- 
 tract will give some idea of the 
 sentiments of this preacher. It is se- 
 lected from a sermon on Romans 
 viii. 33. and opposes a yet too 
 popular error. " Those whose elec- 
 tion is not yet manifested, who are 
 yet slaves of sin, who know not 
 Jesus Christ, or who do not believe 
 in him, or who, while they make a 
 profession of believing in him, dis- 
 honour that profession by the irre- 
 gularities: of an impure and criminal 
 life; those persons, whatever may 
 be the purposes of God respecting 
 them in election, are by no means 
 in a state of justification : we cannot 
 say of them, who is he that shall 
 condemn them f Far from us be 
 the error, as dangerous as it is 
 absurd, which pretends that the elect, 
 by their election only, are actually 
 justified even before they are born, 
 and that neither the corruption which 
 they may bring into the world, nor 
 the crimes which they may com- 
 mit before their regeneration, shall 
 ever expose them to the condemna- 
 tion of God. Whence then is it 
 that St. Paul, speaking to converted 
 believers, and consequently elect, 
 tells them that in their first estate they 
 were enemies of God, and children of 
 wrath* Whence is it that the scripture, 
 to express the happy change which 
 faith produces in the condition of 
 believers, says, that by it they have 
 passed from death unto life?" Many 
 of the Protestant sermons have the 
 prayers that were offered on the 
 occasion annexed to them. The 
 following is the closing prayer of 
 this discourse, before the adminis- 
 tration of the Lord's supper, and 
 
 shews the spirit by which the 
 preacher was influenced. " O God, 
 thou Father of Mercy, deign to 
 regard this Christian assembly with 
 a propitious and gracious eye. 
 Spirit of holiness, come and purify 
 every heart, and every conscience, 
 from dead works. Spirit of grace, 
 come and accompany the use of 
 these sacred symbols with thine 
 Almighty power, and savingly ap- 
 ply to our souls all the fruits of the 
 death of Jesus Christ, which they 
 represent to us. Spirit of life, come 
 and animate us all with a new and 
 heavenly life. Spirit of adoption, 
 come and bear witness with our 
 spirits, that we are the children of 
 God. O Lord Jesus, who knockest 
 now at the door of our hearts, be- 
 hold we open unto thee ; come, 
 enter in with us, come and sup with 
 us, as we are about to sup with 
 thee. Merciful Redeemer, after 
 having died for our sins, and risen 
 again for our justification, thou 
 who art thyself the resurrection and 
 the life, come and be the soul of 
 our souls; come and live in us 
 thyself, that we may henceforth 
 live no more but for thee, and that 
 we may one day live and reign 
 with thee, through all eternity. 
 Amen." Treille's sermons are not 
 scarce. They are in two volumes 
 8vo. printed at Amsterdam, in 
 1121. 
 
 TuRRF/rrv, Benedict. The Tur- 
 retins were all celebrated men. 
 They descended from an ancient 
 and noble family in Lucca, in Italy, 
 from whence, on account of religion, 
 they emigrated to Antwerp, after- 
 wards they removed to Zurich, and 
 finally to Geneva. Benedict was 
 an illustrious Professor of Divinity 
 in that city, very well known by 
 his writings. He published some 
 French sermons, entitled Profit des 
 Chatimens. He was some time 
 minister of the church at Nismes. 
 
 " Turretiv, Frangis, was a mi- 
 nister and Professor of Divinity 
 at Geneva, his native country. He 
 was born the seventeenth of Octo- 
 ber, 1623. Having studied at Ge- 
 neva, Leyden, Paris, Saumur, Mon- 
 
SQ 
 
 FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 fauban, and Nismes, with great suc- 
 cess, he was admitted to the holy 
 ministry in 1640,. and officiated at 
 the same time in the French and 
 Italian churches at Geneva. Two 
 years after he was offered the Phi- 
 losophy Professorship, which he 
 refused j but he complied with a 
 call to the church at Lyons, He 
 was recalled to Geneva at the 
 year's end, that city wanting him 
 for their theological lectures, on 
 which he entered in the year 1653." 
 He was deputed to Holland in 
 1661, to request pecuniary aid for 
 Geneva, and obtained so much re- 
 putation by the visit, that the Wal- 
 loon churches at the Hague, and 
 Leyden, as well as the university 
 at the latter place, earnestly in- 
 vited him to return. He continued 
 in his office at Geneva till death 
 snatched him from the world, Sept. 
 28, 1687. He died with the most 
 edifying marks of love to God. 
 He was " eloquent, judicious, la- 
 borious, learned, and zealous for 
 orthodoxy." He wrote several 
 works which will immortalize his 
 memory. Institutio Theohgicc Elenc- 
 ticce, 3 vols. 4to. Theses tie Satis- 
 factions Christie against the Soci- 
 nians, and Dt Pfecessaria secessione 
 ab Ecclesia Romana. He also 
 published some sermons dedicated 
 to Madame de Schomberg. 
 
 Turretin, Jean Alphonse, son 
 of the preceding, was born at Ge- 
 neva, in 1671. He was endowed 
 with very extraordinary parts. A 
 professorship in the academy of 
 Geneva was established on his ac- 
 count, which he filled with great 
 credit. After travelling over Hol- 
 land, France, and England, much 
 respected by the learned and the 
 great, he died at Geneva, 1737. He 
 wrote Dissertations, three vols. 4to, 
 an Abridgment of Ecclesiastical 
 History, &c. and some Sermons. 
 There is a sermon by this divine 
 affixed to a volume by Werenfels; 
 and from Turretin's name standing 
 the most prominent on the title- 
 page, it is often in mistake let- 
 tered as such by the binder, and 
 purchased as the work of that cele- 
 brated divine. This sermon was 
 
 preached at Geneva on the cele- 
 bration of the Jubilee at Zurich. 
 The text is John xii. 35, 36. It is 
 treated with that judgment and 
 order which we should expect from 
 a Turretin. 
 
 Vernede, Jean Scipion, was born 
 at Amsterdam, Sept. 14, 1714. He 
 studied at Leyden under the most 
 able professors of his time. In 1737, 
 he took the charge of the Church at 
 Bois le Due, in connection with M. 
 E. de Joncourt, where he remained 
 six years. In 1743 he removed to 
 Maestricht : the years spent at that 
 place he always called the happiest 
 of his life. His influence was great ; 
 and at the siege of that place by the 
 French, he rendered much service to 
 the reformed churches, and to the 
 town itself, as their organ in main- 
 taining their rights at the capitula- 
 tion. In 1761 he removed to Am- 
 sterdam, but not without the most 
 pressing claims from the church. 
 Here he remained till his death, Feb. 
 7, 1778. He published several 
 works. A translation of Dr. Dod- 
 dridge'sRise and Progress of Religion 
 in the Soul; English Thoughts select- 
 ed from Young's Night Thoughts; 
 A Versification of David's Psalms; 
 Three Sermons on Providence, and 
 some minor productions. Four vo- 
 lumes of sermons on our Lord's 
 Sermon on the Mount were printed 
 from his prepared MSS. after his 
 decease, and since their publica- 
 tion a volume of select sermons has 
 appeared. These, as well as those 
 on Providence and his English 
 Thoughts, were translated into the 
 Dutch language. One of his col- 
 leagues, Chaufepie, speaks of him 
 in very high terms : he says that 
 he possessed " a vast, penetrating, 
 and elevated genius; an easy con- 
 ception; a happy and faithful me- 
 mory ; a ready utterance; a great 
 extent of knowledge," Sic. His 
 Sermons on the Mount are recom- 
 mended, as containing an accurate 
 description of the extent, the beau- 
 ty, and the sublimity of Evangelical 
 Morals, and the force of the motives 
 by which they are produced. They 
 contain many useful and piou* 
 observations. 
 
FRENCH PREACHERS. 
 
 561 
 
 Vernede, Jacob Henri, son 
 of the former, was born at Maes- 
 tricht, May 19, 1754. In 1774 he 
 terminated Ills sru ies at the Univer- 
 sity of Leyden. In 1778 he was 
 invited to settle as pastor at Gor- 
 cura, and in 17S0 at the Hague, 
 where the year following he mar- 
 ried a Miss Peyrou. He died of 
 a rheumatic complaint July 9. 1808. 
 He was an active and faithful 
 pastor, and perseveringly devoted 
 a vigorous constitution to the dis- 
 charge of a variety of important 
 duties which devolved upon him. 
 As a preacher he was more solid 
 than dazzling, but his sermons are 
 not destitute of warmth and feeling. 
 They are alternately characterized 
 by simplicity, energy, and pathos. 
 *' Let us not forget to mention to his 
 honour/' says the editor of his Post- 
 humous Sermons, " that he preach- 
 ed only Christ, and Christ Cruci- 
 fied; he was of the number of those 
 faithful servants ef Jesus, who dis- 
 tinguishing themselvps only by the 
 purity and the sincerity of their 
 faith in the great Mystery of Godli- 
 ness, seem as it were to slide im- 
 perceptibly into the fundamental 
 truths of Christianity." This preach- 
 er published several single Sermons 
 preached on particular occasions; 
 Twelve Sermons for the use of Af- 
 flicted Christians, for the benefit of 
 the sufferers at Leyden, in 1807 ; 
 and an improved edition of the 
 Psalms sung by the Reformed 
 Church; besides which, there is the 
 posthumous volume of sermons be- 
 fore mentioned, which are twelve 
 in number. A very large list of 
 subscribers accompanies each vo- 
 lume. None of these sermons are 
 doctrinal, but most of the principal 
 doctrines of the gospel are to be dis- 
 covered in them, though not so 
 frequently as some may desire. Some 
 of the Posthumous Sermons were 
 preached during the reign of Louis 
 Buonaparte, as appears by the fol- 
 lowing petition, incorporated in one 
 of them: " Especially, O Lord, pre- 
 serve thy servant our King Louis 
 Napoleon." 
 
 V ernes, Jacob, born at Geneva, 
 
 May 81, 1723. A volume of his 
 sermons was published at Lausanne 
 in 1790. Fifteen of them are con- 
 tained in 268 pages, printed in 
 a large type, and w ith a broad 
 margin. They are spirited es- 
 says on the higher branches of mo- 
 rality. 
 
 " Werenfels, Samuel, of Basil, 
 filled some professional chairs there 
 with celebrity. He travelled into 
 Holland, Germany, and France, and 
 died at Basil universally respected, 
 1740, aged eighty-three. His works, 
 chiefly on subjects of theology, 
 philosophy, and philology, have 
 appeared in two volumes 4to." His 
 published sermons were preached 
 in the French church at Basle, at 
 the solicitation of the pastors and 
 elders of that church, and he en- 
 gaged in them with some diffi- 
 dence, for the French was not his 
 native language, and at the time of 
 the solicitation he was advanced 
 in years. " I preach, says he in 
 one of his sermons, " in a language 
 to which lam unaccustomed, which 
 is of itself a sufficient apology. 
 Besides, you see me reduced by the 
 feebleness of my memory, to do 
 what you have never seen practised 
 in our temples, which is to avail 
 myself of the aid of u riting to guide 
 me in- my discourse, which pro- 
 duces an impression on the minds 
 of the auditors, little favourable to 
 the preacher, which cannot fail to 
 injure the grace of his action, and 
 must considerably diminish the 
 energy of his discourse." These 
 sermons are in one volume 8vo, 
 accompanied with Consideration- o:i 
 the re-union of the Protestants,, 
 originally written in German, and 
 translated into French by Oster- 
 vald ; and also a sermon by J. A. 
 Turretin, which being announced 
 last on the title-page, has caused 
 many to suppose, from a hasty 
 glance, that the volume was the en- 
 tire work of the latter divine. 
 Werenfels was a divine sound in 
 the Calvin istic creed. His sermons 
 are rather practical. Tbey are 
 solid, but destitute of imagination 
 or energy. 
 
56% 
 
 ADDENDA. 
 
 List of the Sermons of some of those Preachers not 
 noticed in the above Account. 
 
 Begadlt, 4 vols. 1 2rao 1711 
 
 Beza, the celebrated French Reformer, and associate of Calvin, 2 
 
 vols. 1 2mo Geneva, 1793 
 
 Boissiere, 1 vol 12mo. — Catholic * 1730 
 
 Bouvens, Abbe, Funeral Oration for the Abbe Edge worth, 8vo 1807 
 
 Bretonnau, 7 vols. 12mo. — Catholic. 1743 
 
 Bolovde, Pere, 4 vols. 8vo. — Catholic* Liege, 1770 
 
 Breteville, Lent Sermons, 3 vols. 8vo. — Catholic , 1703 
 
 COURTONNB. 
 
 Dufay, 4 vols. !2mo. — Catholic Lyon, 173S 
 
 Dutreuil, 2 vols. l2mo. — Catholic Lyon, 1757 
 
 Fossard, 3 vols. 12ino. — Catholic 1786 
 
 Gautier, Pastor of the French Church, Bristol, several volumes of 
 
 Sermons 1 809 
 
 Geoffroy, 4 vols. 12mo. — Catholic Lyon, 1778 
 
 Gerard, 1 vol. 12mo 1814 
 
 Gery,6vo1s. 12mo.— Catholic 1788 
 
 Laket, 1 vol 8vo. — Protestant 1774 
 
 La Moth e, 1 vol. 8vo. — Protestant Amsterdam, 1715 
 
 This preacher was brought up for the law, but afterwards studied 
 theology at Saumur. He was first settled at Lisy, Isle of France; 
 and after the revocation of the edict of Nantes, at the Savoy, 
 London. His Sermons are valuable as lucid expositions of the 
 passages on which they treat ; but they are certainly deficient in 
 application, which is the soul of preaching. 
 
 Levade, 1 vol. 8vo 1791 
 
 Le Cointe, on divers interesting subjects Geneva, 1783 
 
 Le Itoux upon the Intermediate State, 1 vol. 8vo. — Protestant 
 
 Amsterdam, 1803 
 
 Le Vade, 1 vol. 8vo. — Protestant Lausanne, 1791 
 
 Marolles, 2 vols. 12mo. — Catholic 1786 
 
 Maurice, 1 vol. 12mo. — Protestant Geneva. 
 
 Peixoutier, 2 vols. 12mo. — Protestant Berlin, 1766 
 
 Petit, Pierre, 2 vols. 8vo. — Protestant 1792 
 
 Rochemokd, 1 vol, 8vo. — Protestant Geneva, 1793 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 A 
 
 Rev. R. P. Allen, Exeter. 
 
 Mr. Alexander, Student, Hoxton. 
 
 Rev. James Arrow, Lynn. 
 
 B 
 Rev. W. Ballantine, South-crescent, Bedford-square. 
 Mr. Bassano, Holloway. 
 Rev. G. F. Bates, A. M. Rector of West Mailing, Kent, 
 
 and Chaplain to the Right Hon. the Lord Mayor. 
 Charles Battye, Esq. Kensington Gore. 
 Rev. Joseph Berry, Warminster. 
 Mr. George Bicknell, Harrow-Wield. 
 Rev. Mr. Birdsall, Minister of the Catholic Chapel, 
 
 Cheltenham. 
 Rev. Mr. Brown, Cheltenham. 
 Joseph Brown, Esq. Chelsea. 
 
 Rev. Charles Buck, Primrose-street, Bishopsgate-street. 
 John Buckler, Esq. Warminster. 
 Rev. George Burder, Camberwell. 
 Rev. H. F. Burder, A. M. Hackney, Mathematical and 
 
 Rhetorical Tutor at Hoxton A cademy. 
 Bury St. Edmunds' Reading Society. 
 R. Butcher, Esq. Hayden-square, Minories. 
 
564> XIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 C 
 Rev. Mr. Carter, Braintree. 
 Mrs. Carter, Greenwich. 
 Rev. Mr. Church, Cheltenham. 
 Rev. John Clayton, jun. Hackney. 
 Rev. George Clayton, Walworth. 
 Mr. Clifford, Alpha Cottages, New Road, St. Mary* 
 
 le-bone. 
 Mr. Cobbin, Cheltenham. 
 Mr. H. O. Collard, Wincheap, Canterbury. 
 Rev. George Collison, Tutor of the Academy, Hackney. 
 Rev. W. B. Collyer, D. D. and F. A. S. Blackheath Hill, 
 Rev. Mr. Coombs, Bradford. 
 Mr. John A. Coombs, Student, Hoxton. 
 Rev. Richard Cope, Launceston. 
 Mr. Thomas Cope, John-street, Fitzroy-square. 
 Mr. Thomas Crabb, Hammersmith. 
 Rev. Mr. Craig, Bocking. 
 
 D 
 
 Mr. William Davis, Student, Hoxton. 
 Mr. Davies, Edgeware Road. 
 Rev. James Davison, Chudleigh. 
 Samuel Davy, Esq. Crediton. 
 
 Day, Esq. Richmond. 
 
 Rev. C. Dewhirst, Bury St. Edmunds. 
 
 Rev. A. Douglas, Reading. 
 
 W. B. Drayton, Esq. Cheltenham. 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 Rev. E. A. Dunn, Pimlico. 
 
 E 
 
 Mr. Edmund East, New-street, Covent-garden. 
 
 J. East, Esq. St. Edmund Hall, Oxford. 
 Rev. T. East, Froorne. 
 
 Edkins, Esq. Newbury. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Ely, Rochdale. 
 Rev. R. Evans, Appledore. 
 Miss Evans, Appledore. 
 
 F 
 
 Mr. Fairbrother, Student, Hoxton. 
 
 Rev. W. Farmer, Leeds. 
 
 Mrs. Finden, sen. John-street, Fitzroy-square. 
 
 Mr. Edward Finden. 
 
 Mr. John Finden, Bath. 
 
 Mr. Thomas Finden. 
 
 Mr. William Finden. 
 
 Mr. G. Fletcher, Student, Hoxton. 
 
 Joseph Fox, Esq. Argyle-street. 
 
 W. Fox, Esq. Hackney. 
 
 W. Fulford, Esq. Islington, 6 copies. 
 
 G 
 
 Rev. Mr. Gardener, Barnstaple. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Gay, St. Ives. 
 
 Mrs. Gillman, Bank-buildings. 
 
 Rev. John Gleed, Teignmouth. 
 
 Edmund Gray, Esq. Queen's College, Cambridge. 
 
566 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 James Gray, Esq. Leicester-place. 
 Mrs. Gribble, Appledore. 
 Rev. S. Gurteen, Canterbury. 
 Mr. Gyde, Cheltenham. 
 
 H 
 
 Mr. Harris, Paddington Canal, Harrow Road. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Harrison, Wooburn, Bucks. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Hart, Bodmin. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Hartley, Lutterworth. 
 
 Rev. T. Hasloch, Kentish Town. 
 
 Miss Hayward, Newington Causeway. 
 
 Samuel Hawkes, Esq. Queen's College, Cambridge. 
 
 Mr. Hughes, Shepherd's Market. 
 
 Mr. Hughes, George-street, Portman-square. 
 
 Mr. Holmes, Student, Hoxton. 
 
 Mr. Charles Hook, Oxford-street. 
 
 Mr. Frederick Hook, Bond-street. 
 
 Rev. John Hooper, A. M. Classical Tutor, Hoxton 
 
 Academy. 
 Mr. J. Hunt, Maida Hill. 
 Miss Huntley, Reading. 
 
 I 
 Rev. John limes, Camberwell. 
 
 Rev. William Jay, Bath. 
 
 Rev. T. Jones, A. M. one of the Preachers at the Royal 
 
 Chapel, Whitehall. 
 
 William Jones, Esq. New-street, Bihospsgate-street. 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 567 
 
 K 
 Joseph Kendrick, Esq. Upper Ma ry-le-bone- street. 
 Rev. B. Kent, Trowbridge. 
 Samuel Kent, Esq. London-wall. 
 Rev. W. Kent, Gravesend. 
 W. Kent, Esq. Clapton. 
 Rev. Mr. Keynes, Blandford. 
 
 L 
 
 Mr. Langdon, Prospect-place, Paddington. 
 
 E. Lecomb, Esq. Charles-place, Hoxton-square, 
 
 Rev. J. Liefchild, Kensington. 
 
 Rev. T. Lewis, Islington, 2 copies. 
 
 Miss Sarah Lewis, Queen-street, Berkeley-square. 
 
 Daniel Lister, Esq. Hackney. 
 
 Mr. William Lothian, Student, Hoxton. 
 
 Joseph Luck, Esq. Clapton. 
 
 Miss Luck, Clapton. 
 
 M 
 
 Abraham Mayling, Esq. Bury St. Edmunds. 
 Rev. T. Mitchell, Stoke Newington. 
 Rev. Mr. Morison, Knightsbridge, 2 copies. 
 Thomas Morison, M. D. Cheltenham. 
 
 N 
 Rev. Mr. Newman, Faversham. 
 
 O 
 
 Ogles, Duncan, and Cochran, Holborn, 25 copies. 
 
568 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 P 
 
 Mr. Thomas Palmer, Swallow-street. 
 Rev. Mr. Philp, Liverpool. 
 Rev. Mr. Prankard, Sheerness. 
 Mr. Preston, Bond-street. 
 
 R 
 
 Mr. Radford, Plaistow. 
 
 Rev. T. Raffles, Liverpool. 
 
 Mr. Rawlings, Student, Hackney. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Rayson, Wakefield. 
 
 Rev. Andrew Reed, New Road, St. George's in the East. 
 
 Rev. J. Richards, Stourbridge. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Richardson, Frampton. 
 
 Alexander Riddell, Esq. Queen-street, Cheapside. 
 
 Rev. S. Rooker, Bideford. 
 
 S 
 Mr. Schofield, Kingsland. 
 Rev. R. H. Shepherd, Palace-street, Pimlico. 
 Rev. Robert Simpson, D. D. Theological Tutor, HoxtoR 
 
 Academy. 
 Mr. Robert Simpson, Hoxton. 
 Rev. Mr. Skeen, Hammersmith. 
 Rev. Joseph Slatterie, Chatham. 
 Rev. Mr. Sloper, Honiton. 
 Rev. Mr. Small, Tutor of the Western Academy, 
 
 Axminster. 
 Rev. J. P. Smith, D. D. Divinity Tutor, Homerton 
 
 Academy. 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 569 
 
 Mr. William Snell, Student, Hoxton. 
 
 Rev. Joseph Smith. Manchester. 
 
 Mr. Smith, South Audley-street. 
 
 Mr. William Sparkes, Chiswick. 
 
 Mr. F. Spencer, Solicitor, Northumberland-street, New 
 Road, St. Mary-le-bone. 
 
 Miss Spencer, Richmond. 
 
 Rev. Thomas Stenner, Dartmouth. 
 
 Mr. George Stephenson, Little Portland-street, Cavendish- 
 square. 
 
 Rev. John Styles, D. D. Brighton. 
 
 T 
 
 Rev. John Thomas, Clapham. 
 
 Rev. V. Torriano, A.M. St. Peter's, Colchester. 
 
 Rev. Charles Townley, L L. D. Stoke Newington. 
 
 Rev. Henry Townley. 
 
 Rev. John Townsend, Rotherhithe, 2 copies. 
 
 Rev. S. W. Tracey, Bartlett's-buildings. 
 
 Mr. Trail, Edgeware-road. 
 
 Rev. Joseph Turnbull, A . B. Ottery St. Mary. 
 
 U 
 
 Mr. Upham, Bath, 6 copies. 
 
 Mr. Urwick, Student, Hoxton Academy. 
 
 V 
 Rev. J. Vincent, Deal. 
 Rev. William Vowles, Tiverton. 
 
570 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 W 
 Rev. Mr. Waiford, Classical Tutor, Horaerton xicaderny. 
 T. Walker, Esq. Piccadilly. 
 T. K. Walker, Esq. Hunter- street, Nortb. 
 Stephen W alters, Esq. Alderm anbury. 
 Rev. D. Washbourne, Hammersmith. 
 Rev. Alexander Waugh, D.D. Salisbury-place, New Road, 
 
 St. Mary-le-bone. 
 Rev. Mr. Webb, Islington. 
 John W T eir, M. D. Johivstreet, Fitzroy-square. 
 John Wilks, Esq. Finsbury-place. 
 Rev. Mark Wilks, Goswell-street. 
 Rev. Griffith Williams, Gate-street, Lincoln Vinn-fields. 
 
 Williams, Esq. Kensington. 
 
 J. Wilson, Esq. Pentonville. 
 
 Thomas Wilson, Esq. Islington. 
 
 Rev. Robert Winter, D. D. Great Ormond-street. 
 
 Rev. Basil Wood, A. M. Rector of Drayton Beauchamp, 
 
 and Minister of Bentinck Chapel, Paddington. 
 
 Y 
 
 Rev. T. Young, Margate. 
 
PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR. 
 
 1.— STAGE PLAYING LMMORAL, VAIN, and DAN- 
 GEROUS ia its TENDENCY. A Sermon, 1802. Is. 
 
 2.— An EVANGELICAL VIEW of the MORAL 
 LAW. 6d. 
 
 3— The IMPORTANCE of PERSONAL RELIGION 
 
 in Times of National Calamity, preached on Fast 
 Day, 1808. 
 
 LATELY PUBLISHED. 
 4.— PLAIN REASONS for INFANT BAPTISM. Is. 
 
 In the compression, and in some instances, in the novelty of his 
 arguments, in the vigour of his style, and in the humility and can- 
 dour of his spirit, Mr. C. appears to considerable advantage. In- 
 deed there are but few pamphlets that embrace so much in so 
 short a space on this subject, — Evangelical Revitw. 
 
 This little Treatise is written in a candid and Christian spirit. 
 It brings within a narrow compass the principal arguments in 
 favour of Infant Baptism: it is well calculated for circulation 
 among plain people. — Christian Guardian. 
 
 5.— STATEMENTS of the PERSECUTION of the PRO- 
 TESTANTS in the South of France. 4s. 
 
 The Author shews himself to be a warm friend of religion and 
 civil liberty. — Edinburgh Review. 
 
 Esteeming Mr. C, to have rendered an important service to his 
 country, and to the church of Christ, by bringing this subject 
 before the public, he has our thanks and our esteem. — Bible Review. 
 
 It is our anxious wish that this pamphlet may be generally read 
 by every Protestant in Great Britain. — Christian Guardian. 
 
 We think the public under obligations to Mr. Cobbin for the 
 pains he has taken to collect facts and diffuse information through- 
 out this country respecting the late proceedings on the Con- 
 tinent. — New Evangelical Review. 
 
 6.— The CAUSE of the FRENCH PROTESTANTS 
 DEFENDED against the ATTACKS of the CHRIS- 
 TIAN OBSERVER. Is. 
 
 Mr. C. has defended himself manfully against this scurriloat 
 attack on his statements.— New Evangelical Review,. 
 
 2q 
 
LIST OF WORKS 
 PUBLISHED BY JAMES BLACK, 
 
 YORK-STREET, CO VENT-GARDEN. 
 
 An EXPOSITION of the EPISTLE to the HEBREWS-, 
 
 with the Preliminary Exercitations. By John Owen, D. D. — 
 Revised and abridged, with a full and interesting Life of the Author, 
 a copious Index, &c. by the Rev. Edw. Williams, D. D. A nevt 
 Edition, with Corrections and Improvements. 4 vols. Svo. 21. 2s. 
 
 The LIFE of PRESIDENT EDWARDS. By John 
 
 Hawksley. 12mo. 4s. boards. 
 The WORKS of PRESIDENT EDWARDS, Complete, 
 
 -with occasional Notes on Controverted Subjects, and an accurate, 
 copious Index. — By the Rev. Edw. Williams, D. D. and the Rev. 
 E. Parsons. 8 vols, royal 8vo. 4Z. 4s. 
 
 A DEFENCE of MODERN CALVINISM, in answer 
 to the Bishop of Lincoln. — By the Rev. Edw. Williams, D. D. — 
 8vo. 12s. boards. 
 
 An ESSAY on the Equity of Divine GoTernment and the 
 Sovereignty of Divine Grace. — By the same Author. — Printed uni- 
 formly with the above, 12s. boards. 
 
 A COLLECTION of SIX HUNDRED HYMNS.— By 
 
 the Rev. E. Williams, D. D. and the Rev. James Boden. 18mo. 
 fine paper 6s. 6d. — common, 4s. 6d. bound. 
 
 The PSALMS and HYMNS of Dr. Watts, containing 20 
 
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4 
 

 
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