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same doctrine, nay, and carried it higher than the archbishop of Cambray; yet they were left unmolested, while he was persecuted on this account, with the greatest bitterness.* The author's good intention would not excuse him; his integrity, his humility, and submission, and all his other virtues, were not sufficient to stem the torrent breaking in upon him. The people were exasperated against him: the ideas of perfection which he endeavoured to raise in the minds of mankind, were, according to his enemies, nothing but heresies and chimeras; his name, in the writings of the bishop of Meaux, never went without the most odious epithets; and as his conduct had nothing in it that could be taken hold of, he was put upon the same footing with madam Guion; and a man of the archbishop's wisdom was charged with being in the interests of an extravagant woman. He was become the Montanus of the new Priscilla! In short, no means were left untried to ruin him; while he continued calm and serene, amidst the obloquy and insults thrown upon him; and at length received with the utmost meekness and the most perfect submission, the sentence of the pope, by which his book was condemned, and himself banished from court, into his diocese.

The archbishop received the sentence, with an uncomplaining deference to the author of it; and immediately published a mandate to his diocese, in which he declared, that as he himself sincerely submitted to the pope's judgment and condemnation, so he hoped that his flock would do the same. A more striking instance of undissembled humility cannot easily be produced.t We

great friend of the bishop of Meaux, declared, when he read it in MS. before publication, that it was all gold. The archbishop of Chietti, one of the examiners, openly declared, that they must either burn all the books of St. Francis de Sales, or admit that of the archbishop of Cambray.-And a catholick writer of his life remarks, that "he had advanced nothing, but upon the credit of the most approved mystical theologists: and among others of St. Francis de Sales, St. Theresa, the celebrated John de la Croix, Balthazar Alvarez, &c.: yet his enemies would not let him and the others take their fate together, (though he was much more moderate than they were,) but resolved that his doctrine should stand good in those author's writings, though it must be condemned in his."

A writer of our nation, upon this head, observes, that "the Church of Rome is to far from being jealous of mere enthusiasm, or the extatick manner of devotion, that they allow their mysticks to write and preach in the most rapturous and se raphick strains. They suffer them, in a manner, to supersede all external worship, and triumph over outward forms: till the refined religionists proceed so far, as either expressly or seemingly to dissuade the practice of the vulgar and established ceremonial duties. And then, indeed, they check the supposed exorbitant enthusiasm, which would prove dangerous to their hierarchical state:-witness the case of Moli20s, and Fenelon, &c.

The information of the pope's brief was communicated to Fenelon when in the pulpit, and about to address his congregation, among whom the news was quickly eirculated. In this interesting moment of his life, it is not a little pleasing and instructive to contemplate the conduct of the good archbishop, and to behold with what serenity he could practise upon himself the reflection "Shall I receive good at the hand of God, and shall I not receive evil?" "Fenelon," says his biographer, "recollected himself, paused for a few minutes, and then, changing the plan of his sermon, preached on the duty of obedience to the church. The subject of his dis

read," says a writer of his life, "of several great prelates, and even saints, that have fallen into errours; but we read of none, that have showed so perfect a submission; nay, nor of any one, that defended himself with so much strength and so much moderation."

The bishop of Meaux, in the judgment of all mankind, ought to have rested here. And indeed if all which that prelate laboured for, was the advantage and interest of the Church, he had gained his point. Rome had decided: all things gave way; his antagonist acquiesced. Charity then obliged him to forget what was past, and to give the highest commendation to the conduct of so prudent an enemy, if he deserves the name of an enemy, who only searches after truth. But this notwithstanding, the bishop of Meaux again attacked him, and revived the affair in the assembly of the French clergy. But the publick interposed: and it would have been for the credit of that bishop, to have joined with the rest of the world, in admiring the wisdom of so submissive a prelate, who acquired more reputation by his misfortunes, than his antagonist did, by his victory.

The archbishop, according to his sentence, retired to Cambray, where he led an exemplary and divine life: and discharged, with the most religious punctuality, all the duties of his high station. He himself examined, as the chevalier Ramsay informs us, all those, who were to be admitted into holy orders, and would have them propose to him the difficulties and objections they had to offer against the doctrines of religion: he used to hear them with the utmost patience, and to answer them with a fatherly kindness. He visited his diocese very diligently, and preached in all the Churches of it. In his publick instructions he suited his discourses to every capacity; speaking to the weak in an easy and familiar manner; whilst he raised his style for those, who had a more elevated genius. His sermons flowed from his heart, he hardly meditated them beforehand, and never wrote them down. His only view was to speak like a good father, to comfort, to relieve, and to instruct his flock. He was of a disposition remarkably meek and modest; humane and charitable, and ever desirous to show his benevolence, and to do acts of kindness to all men. He was particularly tender to the French protestant ministers; and in all respects showed his candour and humanity; a proof of which is the following letter to one of his friends, on account of the misfortunes of cardinal Noailles, whom he had been obliged to oppose."Most people," says he, " may be apt to imagine, that I secretly and wickedly rejoice at what happens; but I should think myself a Devil, if I were capable of such an abominable joy, and if I did not really grieve for what is so detrimental to the Church. I must

course, the sentiments it expressed, the religious calm with which it was delivered, the solemn engagement he contracted by it to practise on that trying occasion the submission which he preached, drew tears of sorrow, respect, and admiration from the whole audience."

even tell you sincerely, what others beside yourself will hardly be lieve, that I am heartily sorry for cardinal Noailles' misfortunes. I easily imagine all the vexations he suffers: I feel them for him: I do not call to mind what is past, but in order to remember the favour he has honoured me with, for so many years. All the rest, God be praised, is worn out of my heart. Nothing is changed in it. I only consider the hand of God, who was pleased to humble me out of his infinite mercy. God himself is a witness of the sense of duty and zeal, with which he fills me for this cardinal. The piety, which I have observed in him, makes me hope, he will vanquish himself, in order to restore the tranquillity of the Church, and to satisfy all the enemies of religion. His example would immediately reclaim the most obstinate and passionate men; which would be an uncommon glory to him in all ages. I pray for him daily at the altar, with the same zeal I had twenty years ago."-One private letter, written to a friend, unreserved and free, discovers often the true picture of a man's mind, more than many actions. We have therefore inserted this, which we think gives us so good a prospect of our archbishop's mind.

His works abundantly demonstrate his extensive learning, great genius, exquisite taste, and unfeigned love of virtue and piety. The Adventures of Telemachus, which he composed for the benefit of the young princes under his care, is too well known, and esteemed, to need either mention or encomium here.* The excellent sentiments, and enlarged notions, (some so contrary to the French mode of thinking,) which are every where conspicuous in this excellent work, were the chief occasion, as some have suggested, of the disgrace of the archbishop; at least the following verses, translated from some French ones, handed about at Paris, seem to express this.

De Meaux falls foul on Cambray, tooth and nail;

Is all this noise about an ass's tail?

Was it the Maxims of the saints
Rais'd all these loud complaints?
And made the court fume thus?

No; 'twas the maxims of Telemachus!

Justice however is done the archbishop, by that universal applause which is now given to this work, and that universal satisfaction which the perusal of it affords.

There is a work entitled the " Characters of Charity," which is ascribed to him. It is a practical comment upon the 13th chap

See the chevalier Ramsay's Discourse upon Epick Poetry, prefixed to the editions of Telemachus. He observes of this poem, that "its author joins together great instructions and heroical examples; the morality of Homer, and the manners of Virgil. His morality however has three qualities, which are wanting to that of the ancient, both poets and philosophers. It is sublime in its principles, noble in its motives, universal in its uses."

'ter of St. Paul's first epistle to the Corinthians; has appeared in an English translation, and contains many important observations, which will well repay the serious reader's most attentive perusal. All his spiritual works were collected and printed in 2 vols. folio, and in 4to, by a bookseller of Rotterdam. Amongst these we must not omit one work, which he published hin.self in the year 1713, called, "A Demonstration of the Being of God, grounded on the knowledge of Nature, and suited to the meanest capacity." It is one of the best books upon that subject in the French tongue: and for the advantage of those who do not understand that language, may be read in English. One of the most elegant of our countrymen, speaking of this work and its author, observes, "that this great author, in his writings, has manifested a heart full of virtuous sentiments, great benevolence to mankind, as well as a sincere and fervent piety to his Creator. His talents and parts are a very great good to the world, and it is a pleasing thing to behold the polite arts subservient to religion, and recommending it from its natural beauty." And again, "A man of his talents viewed all things in a light different from that in which ordinary men see them; and the devout disposition of his soul, turned all these talents to the improvement of the pleasures of a good life. His devotion has a sublimity in it befitting his character, and the emotions of his heart flow from wisdom and knowledge."

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We shall conclude this brief account of his life, with the last chapter of this excellent work, which contains a prayer, that has always been much admired. We observed, that the private letters of great men are the best pictures of their souls; but certainly their private devotions, (as the writer just quoted remarks,) may be still more instructive, and we know not why they should not be as curious and entertaining; we are sure they may be more advantageous.

The concluding Chapter of the Archbishop of Cambray's Demonstration, &c.

Reasons why men do not discover God in the universe, when he exhibits himself to them as in a faithful mèrrour.

THUS have we transiently surveyed the great object of the universe, wherein God, as in a glass, shows himself to human kind. But there were some men, known by the name of philosophers, whose heads were turned with their own thoughts, and who converted every thing to the use and service of their own vanity. By mere dint of subtle reasoning they overshot the mark, and lost sight of an obvious truth. which every man finds naturally and simply in himself, without the aid of philosophy Others, intoxicated by their passions, live in a perpetual distraction and dissipation of thought. In order to perceive God in his works, it is necessary, at least, that we should consider them with attention. But passions blind men to such a degree, no only the wild and savage, but even those nations which seem to be the most civilize and polite, that they do not so much as see the very light that enlightens them. I this respect the Egyptians, the Greeks, and the Romans were not less blind, o less brutal, than the most rude and uncultivated Indians. Like these savages, they

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were wholly sunk and buried in sensible things, without ascending higher. They oultivated their intellectual faculties only to indulge themselves in softer sensations, not regarding the source from whence those enjoyments flowed. It is in this manner that men in general wear away the time they live on earth. If you say nothin. them, they think of nothing, except of such subjects as flatter their vanity, or their gross passions. Their souls grow so heavy and unwieldly, that they cannot elevate themselves to any incorporeal object. Whatever is not palpable, or which cannot be seen, tasted, heard, felt, or related, seems to them altogether chimerical. This weakness of soul, when it improves into infidelity, they consider as strength of mind, and freedom of thought. Their vanity applauds itself for that perverseness, which consists in opposing that which naturally strikes and affects the rest of mankind. In this they have just as much reason as a monster would have, who should pride himself that he was not formed according to the common laws of nature; or a man born blind, who should triumph in his incredulity, with regard to light and colours, which he was assured that other men saw and distinguished.

A Prayer to God.

O my God! if there are so many men, who do not discover thee in this beautiful spectacle, this prospect which thou givest them of universal nature, it is not because thou art far distant from any of us: every one of us doth, as it were, touch thee with his hand: but the senses and passions which they excite, engross all the attention of our minds: thus, O Lord! thy light shineth in darkness, but the darkness comprehendeth it not, so thick and gloomy are its shades. Thou showest thyself every where, and every where inattentive men neglect to perceive thy presence. All nature speaks of thee, and resounds with thy holy name. But she speaks to men that are deaf, and who owe their deafness to the noise and distraction they raise about themselves. Thou art near, thou art even within them. But they wander out of themselves, are fugitives from their own breasts. O thou sweet Light! thou eternal Beauty! thou Ancient of days, yet ever young! thou Fountain of chaste delights! thou pure and happy Life of those who truly live! they would find thee, they could not miss thee, if they did but search for thee within themselves. It is only by losing themselves that the impious lose thee. Alas! thy very gifts, which visibly flow from thy bountiful hand, amuse them to such a degree, that they see not the hand which bestews them. It is from thee they live, and yet they live without thinking of thee; or rather, they die in the midst of life, for want of nourishing themselves with thy presence. For what death can there be more deplorable, than the being ignorant of thee? They fall asleep in thy tender and paternal bosom; and while they are full of the deceitful dreams which agitate them in this state of absence, they are insensible of the powerful hand that supports them. If thou wert a barren, impotent and inanimate body, like a flower that fades away, a river that runs to waste, a house ready to fall with the decays of age, a picture consisting only of a mass of colours to strike the imagination, or a useless piece of metal that only glitters; they would perceive thee, and secretly ascribe to thee the power of giving them true pleasure: though in fact, pleasure, of which thou art the true and only spring, cannot proceed from inanimate things which have it not in themselves. Yes, O Lord! if thou wert but a gross, frail, lifeless being; a lump of matter, without virtue or power, and the mere shadow of existence, thy vain, fantastick nature would employ their vanity, and thou wouldst be an object proportioned to their groveling and brutish thoughts. But because thou art too intimately within them, and they never enter within themselves, thou art to them an unknown God. For while their imagination roves abroad on external objects, the deep recess of their own minds is, of all things, the most remote from their view. That order and beauty which thou spreadest over

VOL. INo. I.

* Aug. Intimior intimo nostro.

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