"

of the temple, to which the disciples exultingly invited His attention, and which now towered before him in pomp and splendour: its walls of pure and resplendent marble, its gates of brass, and pinnacles of gold, kindling into one blaze of dazzling glory, as lit up by the warm and glittering rays of an eastern sun: and as He pointed, for the last time, to that temple, which was the pride of the Jew; the envy of the Gentile; once the chosen dwelling place of Jehovah ; and still a wonder of the world; He said to His disciples, "See ye not all these things? Verily, I say unto you, There shall not be left here one stone upon another which shall not be cast down! I have often thought that this astounding prediction, even if it stood alone, as an evidence, were an ample vindication of our Lord's claim to equality with His Heavenly Father. Nay, its boldness, and unpopularity; the nearness of the predicted event; and utter improbability of its fulfilment, protected as that temple was by its colossal stature; animated by the living spirit of national policy and religion ; and environed by a host of national prejudices, and old associations; prove, for its author, the consciousness of an Omniscient Mind, antecedent to any consideration of the miraculous coincidence, in its minutest literal details, between the extraordinary event and the still more extraordinary prediction of it. The world now reposed in a deep calm: the temple of Janus was now shut: yet our Lord already heard those coming "wars, and rumours of wars," which, like the gusty moaning of the oppressed and labouring atmosphere, or the faint rumbling of the far distant thunder, announced, and ushered in, the tempest which was to ravage Jerusalem. He already saw "nation rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; and famines, and pestilences, and earthquakes, in divers places;" and He forewarned them that "all these were but the beginning of sorrows." He saw already gathering that portentous cloud of "great tribulation, such as was not from the beginning of the world to this time, no, nor ever shall be," charged with those thunders which were to desolate this devoted land. He already saw "Jerusalem compassed with armies ; and the abomination of desolation, spoken of by Daniel the prophet, standing in the holy place :" and the Roman eagles gathering around, and hovering over, the carcase of that unhappy people, and that devoted temple, from which the life and Spirit of God had finally departed. In a word, he saw, literally and accurately fulfilled, all those tremendous judgments, which Moses, fifteen hundred years before, predicted as the inevitable consequence of an apostacy from God; and recorded, in the twenty-eighth chapter of Deuteronomy, in language which, though written more than three thousand years ago, might be adopted as a faithful history of the fate of this unhappy people from the destruction of Jerusalem to the present day. Such was the sight of misery and horror which met the Omniscient Eye, as it looked into the future, and there read the destiny of this devoted people: and which, observe, for this is the principle which I desire to inculcate, could not stay the righteous arm of Divine vengeance, though it swept every chord of tenderness and compassion in the Divine bosom. J. M. H.

7

1

BAXTER'S DEFENCE OF OBLATIONS AT THE LORD'S-SUPPER.

To the Editor of the Christian Observer.

I SENT you, last month, the venerable Richard Baxter's apology for the twenty-ninth Canon; permit me to add his defence of the practice of presenting "alms and oblations" at the holy communion. The passage is also further useful in shewing what is meant by "oblations," which some would interpret superstitiously. In his "Christian Directory," Part iii., question 98, he says:

" Is it lawful or a duty to join oblations to the Sacrament, and how? "Answer 1. There is no question but a Christian must give up himself soul and body, with all that he hath, to God for his service; and this oblation is Christianity itself.

"2. It is undoubted that the Lord's-day is a fit time for our depositing what we have to spare, for charitable and pious uses, and this is partly of Divine appointment. 1 Cor. xvi. 1, 2.

"3. No doubt but what we give to the poor, should be for God's sake, and from our love to God; and therefore must first be devoted or given up to God, and but secondarily to the poor.

" 4. It is certain that the Lord's Supper is as fit a season as any part of that day, for such oblations and collections. The ancient Christians did therefore call it the Communion, because in it they shewed their love and communion, and feasted in common to that end. There are two several sorts of oblations which may lawfully be made (and fitly) at the communion. 1. The creatures of bread and wine should be offered or presented before God, as acknowledging him to be the creator and giver of all, and to desire his acceptance and benediction of them for that holy use. 2. Our alms, or charitable contribution, may be then fitly offered to God, that he may first accept it, and so it may be communicated to the Church and poor. When we receive from God the most obliging benefits; when we return our greatest thanks; when we resign ourselves and all to God; it is then sure a seasonable time to express all by the oblation of our benevolence. That hypocrites may not pretend that they are charitable in secret, but the Church may have due notice of it, and the pastors be duly entrusted with it."

TRUTH AND CANDOUR.

THE THANKSGIVING FOR THE LATE HARVEST.

To the Editor of the Christian Observer.

It was gratifying to every pious and thankful mind to be invited to
the delightful duty of uniting in an act of national thanksgiving to the
Father of mercies for the late abundant harvest; and I only regret
that the observance was confined to one day, instead of being re-
peated during a whole month. But my object in taking up my pen
on the subject, is to express a wish that we had a standing form
which might be used year by year when appropriate. Some clergy-
men employed the form in the Book of Common Prayer, as also the
thanksgiving for fair weather at the time of the harvest; but the lan-
guage was not quite suitable; for we had not been visited by a
"plague of immoderate rain and waters," or by decided "dearth and
scarcity;" nor did the late harvest operate in a very marked manner
to produce immediate " cheapness." A form more correctly worded
to the occasion was requisite. There was a similar objection, during
the late extensive and alarming riots, to using the prayer " in time of
war and tumults," some parts of the prayer not being suitable. In-
deed the whole of these occasional prayers and thanksgivings seem
designed for stronger occasions than some which come within their
title.
J. T.

DR. TRONCHIN'S INEDITED CORROBORATION OF THE HORRORS OF VOLTAIRE'S LAST DAYS.

For the Christian Observer.

A CORRESPONDENT having alluded, in the first page of our present Number, to the awful death-beds of Paine, Voltaire, and other infidels and blasphemers, we are reminded to lay before our readers a remarkable letter, respecting the last days of Voltaire, from Dr. Tronchin to M. Bonnet; which had continued in manuscript till the recent publication at Lausanne of an "Essai sur la Vie de Tissot, contenant des lettres inédites du Tronchin, Voltaire, Haller, Zimmerman, Rousseau, Bonnet, Stanislaus, Auguste ii., Napoleon Bonaparte, etc., par Ch. Eynard." Several accounts were given to the world, shortly after Voltaire's death, of his closing days; and some of them quite contradictory; for Diderot, D'Alembert, and others of his infidel friends, asserted that he died as he had lived; that is, that he was to the last a hardened infidel, betraying neither terror nor remorse. The lapse of sixty-four years has so far cleared up the facts, which cotemporary partizanship endeavoured, for the credit of infidelity, to conceal, that few persons, we presume, would now be found to maintain that the last days of this wretched man were not full of bitterness and despair; displaying the most awful contrast to the faith, peace, hope, and joy, of the expiring believer, who, like St. Paul, can say, when his eye is closing upon all earthly scenes, "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." To such "to live is Christ, and to die is gain;" but how miserable beyond description must be the dying moments of one who entertains no hope beyond the grave; who looks back with remorse on the past, and forward with terror to the future; and if told of a Saviour, thinks of him but as having hated and blasphemed him, and as dreading to appear before his tribunal. Chesterfield wished only to "sleep out the remainder of the journey in the carriage;" but the last days of Voltaire exhibit a terrific proof that infidelity affords no downy pillow for the slumbers of a dying man. Among the inedited correspondence now published by M. Eynard, is the letter to which we have alluded, from Dr. Tronchin, one of Voltaire's physicians, to M. Bonnet at Geneva, and which strongly corroborates the statement published by the Abbé Barruel, in his "History of Jacobinism." The occurrence in that letter of the comparison of Voltaire to Orestes tormented by Furies, shews that Barruel, or whoever first published Tronquin's remark, must have had it either from his own lips, or from this identical letter.

As Barruel's narrative is necessary for comparison, and as some of our readers may not be able promptly to refer to it, we will transcribe it.

"It was during Voltaire's last visit to Paris, when his triumph was complete, and he had even feared that he should die with glory, amidst the acclamations of an infatuated theatre, that he was struck by the hand of Providence, and fated to make a very different termination of his career.

"In the midst of his triumphs, a violent hemorrhage raised apprehensions for his life. D'Alembert, Diderot, and Marmontel hastened to support his resolution in his last moments, but were only witnesses to their mutual ignominy, as well as to his "Here let not the historian fear exaggeration. Rage, remorse, reproach, and blasphemy, all accompany and characterize the long agony of the dying atheist. His death, the most terrible ever recorded to have stricken the impious man, will not be denied by his companions in impiety. Their silence, however much they may wish to deny it, is the least of those corroborative proofs which might be adduced. Not one of the sophisters has ever dared to mention any sign given of resolution or tranquillity, by the premier chief, during the space of three months, which elapsed from the time he was crowned in the theatre, until his decease. Such a silence expresses how great their humiliation was in his death !

"It was in his return from the theatre, and in the midst of the toils he was resuming in order to acquire fresh applause, when Voltaire was warned, that the long career of his impiety was drawing to an end.

He

"In spite of all the sophisters flocking around him in the first days of his illness, he gave signs of wishing to return to God whom he had so often blasphemed. called for the priest who ministered to Him whom he had sworn to crush, under the appellation of the Wretch. His danger increasing, he wrote the following note to the Abbé Gaultier : 'You had promised, sir, to come and hear me. I entreat you would take the trouble of calling as soon as possible.' Signed, Voltaire. Paris, the 26th February, 1778.'

"A few days after this he wrote the following declaration, in the presence of the same Abbé Gaultier, the Abbé Mignot, and the Marquis de Villevieille, copied from the minutes deposited with Mr. Momet, notary, at Paris:

""I, the under-written, declare, that for these four days past, having been afflicted with a vomiting of blood, at the age of eighty-four, and not having been able to drag myself to the church, the Rev. the Rector of St. Sulpice having been pleased to add to his good works that of sending to me the Abbé Gaultier, a priest, I confessed to him! and if it please God to dispose of me, I die in the Holy Catholic Church, in which I was born; hoping that the divine mercy will deign to pardon all my faults. If ever I have scandalized the Church, I ask pardon of God and of the Church. Second of March, 1778.' Signed, Voltaire. In presence of the Abbé Mignot, my nephew, and the Marquis de Villevieille, my friend.'

"After the two witnesses had signed this declaration, Voltaire added these words, copied from the same minutes :- The Abbé Gaultier, my confessor, having apprised me that it was said among a certain set of people, I should protest against every thing I did at my death; I declare I never made such a speech, and that it is an old jest, attributed long since to many of the learned, more enlightened than I am.'

"Was this declaration a fresh instance of his former hypocrisy ? for he had the mean hypocrisy, even in the midst of his efforts against Christianity, to receive the sacrament regularly, and to do other acts of religion, merely to be able to deny his infidelity, if accused of it.

"Unfortunately, after the explanations we have seen him give of his exterior acts of religion, might there not be room for doubt? Be that as it may, there is a public homage paid to that religion in which he declared he meant to die, notwithstanding his having perpetually conspired against it during his life. This declaration is also signed by the same friend and adept, the Marquis de Villevieille, to whom, eleven years before, Voltaire was wont to write, 'Conceal your march from the enemy, in your endeavours to crush the Wretch!'

"Voltaire had permitted this declaration to be carried to the rector of St. Sulpice, and to the archbishop of Paris, to know whether it would be sufficient. When the Abbé Gaultier returned with the answer, it was impossible for him to gain admittance to the patient. The conspirators had strained every nerve to hinder the chief from consummating his recantation; and every avenue was shut to the priest, whom Voltaire himself had sent for. The demons haunted every access; rage succeeds to fury, and fury to rage again, during the remainder of his life.

"Then it was that D'Alembert, Diderot, and about twenty others of the conspirators, who had beset his apartment, never approached him but to witness their own ignominy: and often he would curse them and exclaim, 'Retire, it is you that have brought me to my present state! Begone! I could have done without you all; but you could not exist without me! And what a wretched glory have you procured me!'

"Then would succeed the horrid remembrance of his conspiracy. They could hear him, the prey of anguish and dread, alternately supplicating or blaspheming that God, against whom he had conspired; and in plaintive accents he would cry out, Oh Christ! Oh Jesus Christ!' and then complain that he was abandoned by God and man. The hand, which had traced in ancient writ the sentence of an impious and reviling king, seemed to trace before his eyes, Crush, then, do crush the Wretch!

"In vain he turned his head away; the time was coming apace when he was to appear before the tribunal of him whom he had blasphemed; and his physicians, particularly Mr. Tronchin, calling in to administer relief, thunderstruck, retired, declaring that the death of the impious man was terrible indeed. The pride of these conspirators would willingly have suppressed these declarations, but it was in vain. The Mareschal de Richelieu flies from the bed-side, declaring it to be a sight too terrible to be sustained; and Mr. Tronchin, that the furies of Orestes could give but a faint idea of those of Voltaire."

We shall now exhibit the lurid light shed upon this awful narrative by Dr. Tronchin's letter to M. Bonnet. Of its genuineness there can be no question. M. Eynard, we conclude, found it, or a copy of it, among Tissot's inedited papers, to which he has had access. Dr. Tissot, we need not remind the reader, was an eminent physician at Lausanne, who, during a great number of years, ranked among the highest in his profession, both in his practice and by his writings. He was born in 1728, and died in 1797. His celebrity attracted to Lausanne a large number of patients of wealth and quality, from various parts of Europe;* so that he was thus incidentally, as

* Among the distinguished foreigners whom Tissot's celebrity attracted to Lausanne was the amiable and religious Prince of Wurtemburg, who resided there for a considerable time with his family, and regarded his physician with much esteem and affection. The proximity of Rousseau and Voltaire led to some intercourse between all these parties. Both Tissot and the Prince thought better of Rousseau than he deserved; but Voltaire they regarded with moral abhorrence; though admiring his talents, and not able wholly to extricate them selves from the fumes of that atmosphere of incense which surrounded him. Under these circumstances, we regard the following letter from the Prince to him as a highly interesting composition, for the beauty of its composition, the justness of its strictures, and the dignified spirit in which it is couched. When we remem

ber the time, the place, and the almost idolatrous flattery to which the philosophist of Ferney was accustomed, we shall rather admire that a prince should have addressed him with remonstrances so justly severe, than that, not knowing him then, as he is now known in history, he should have accompanied his censure with personal compliments, and a presumption of good intentions, to which Voltaire's life and writings gave him no claim.

"St. Chabliere, Oct. 6, 1764.

"SIR, I received the letter which you did me the honour to write to me. Permit me, in my turn, to thank you for the kind reception you gave to M. Le Comte de Zinzendorf.

"I read, some time ago, Le Sermon des Cinquante; this pamphlet has

really grieved me. I have just read The Philosophical Dictionary,' which has made the same impression upon my mind.

"It appears to me, Sir, that writings of this character are only calculated to excite and corrupt the mind, consequently they are dangerous; and if dangerous, they are to be condemned. It seems to me, that in opposing fanaticism, they oppose religion itself; all the proofs which they bring against it, feed the monster whom they wish to bring to the ground, a monster nourished by pride, which it would be easier to destroy by want of nourishment than by force. It also seems to me, who am sincerely persuaded of the sanctity of my religion, that this violent effort to sap the sacred foundations of the faith, is at the same time an act of rashness and wickedness on the part of those who formed the design. It is an act of rashness, because the feeble hand of man cannot ever overthrow an edifice raised by the Eternal himself. It is rash; for whatever may be the opinion which we entertain of ourselves, we cannot dare to flatter ourselves with the hope that we should be able to substitute for the morality of the Gospel any morality equally pure and holy. It is wicked, because it is to declare oneself a partizan of error against truth, and to scatter by this means doubt in the minds of the wavering, uneasiness in tender and irresolute consciences; in short, it is the height of wickedness, because these writings break the most sacred bonds of society, and, like those damp winds which bring upon their wings pestilence and death, they bring among us the still more dangerous contagion of vices and crimes.