XXIV.

BIOGRAPHICAL ACCOUNT OF BOSSUET.

THE same motives, which induced the Reminiscent to compile his Historical Memoirs of the Church of France, induced him also to publish his "Biographical Accounts of Bossuet, Fénelon, "the Abbot de Rancé, Thomas à Kempis, St. "Vincent of Paul, and Henri-Marie de Boudon," -the literary occupation, from which he has derived most pleasure. Nothing is more pleasing than to contemplate characters in which there is so much to admire and to love; and in which, if there be any thing to blame, there is nothing that disgusts.

As to Bossuet, erudition, eloquence and powers of reasoning were so united in him, that, to discover another person, in whom all should be found united in the same high degree, both ancient and modern times might, perhaps, be ransacked in vain.

We have mentioned Mr. Burke's endless corrections of his compositions; Bossuet, by the account of his benedictine editors, was equally laborious; but in this they differed: that Burke appears to have been satisfied with his original conceptions, and to have been fastidious only in respect to words and phrases; Bossuet seems to have been equally dissatisfied with his first thoughts and his first words. The inequality

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between those works of Bossuet, which the benedictine editors published from the drafts of them, and those published by himself, is utterly inconceivable ;-it is a literary phenomenon: it might be considered impossible that both should proceed from the same pen, or be the thoughts or words of the same person.

Rousseau himself has informed us, that between his first committing of a sentence to paper and his final settlement of it, his obliterations and alterations were countless. That this should have been the case of such writers as Robertson or Gibbon, is not surprising; their eternal batteries and counter-batteries of words seem to be the effect of much reflection and many second thoughts; but that it should have been the case with writers like Bossuet, Burke, and Rousseau, who appear to pour streams equally copious and rapid, of unpremeditated eloquence, appears extraordinary it justifies the common remark, that we seldom read with pleasure, what has not been composed with labour. The molle atque facetum, which Horace ascribes to Virgil, indicates a composition which taste has inspired, but which doings and iterated doings have worked into softness. Such are the pages of Addison, such the Offices of Cicero, such also, but in a superlative degree, are many passages of Milton: Akenside, his imitator, with all his genius, taste, and labour, never attained it; he does not exhibit a single instance of this perfect composition but we often find it in Gray.

The sermons of Bossuet place him incontestibly, in the first line of preachers; and even leave it open to argument, whether he be not the first in that line. Bourdaloue and Massillon alone can dispute his pre-eminence. Nothing in the sermons of either equals, in splendour or sublimity, a multitude of passages, which may be produced from the sermons of Bossuet; and he has little of Massillon's too frequent monotony, or of the cold dialectic, which occasionally retards the beautiful march of Bourdaloue. On the other hand, Bossuet has not the continued elegance and grace of Massillon; and an advocate of Bourdaloue might contend, that, if Bourdaloue appear to yield to Bossuet in sublimity, it is only because the sublimity of Bourdaloue is more familiar, and therefore less imposing.

Those, who wish to see a discussion, by two most able adversaries, of the fundamental point of difference between catholics and protestants,the authority of the church in matters of religion, -should peruse the accounts published by Bossuet and Claude, of their conference upon it. A succinct view of this conference is given in the Reminiscent's Life of Bossuet: each conducted himself in it as a scholar and a gentleman.

In delivering their sermons, Bourdaloue used no action, Bossuet and Massillon used much 1; the action of the last was particularly admired. It produced an extraordinary effect, when he pronounced his funeral oration upon Lewis XIV.

The church was hung with black, a magnificent mausoleum was raised over the bier, the edifice was filled with trophies and other memorials of the monarch's past glories, day-light was excluded, but innumerable tapers supplied its place, and the ceremony was attended by the most illustrious persons in the kingdom. Massillon ascended the pulpit, contemplated, for some moments, the scene before him, then raised his arms to heaven, looked down on the scene beneath, and, after a short pause, slowly said, in a solemn subdued tone, "Mes frères, Dieu seul est "grand!" "God only is great!" With one impulse, all the auditory rose fromtheir seats, turned to the altar, and slowly and reverently bowed.

It seems to be admitted, that the sermons of Massillon, the tragedies of Euripides and Racine, the Georgics of Virgil, and Tully's Offices, are the most perfect of human compositions. Those, therefore, who read sermons merely for their literary merit, will generally prefer the sermons of Massillon to those of Bourdaloue and Bossuet. On the other hand, the profound theology of the sermons of Bossuet, and the countless passages in them of true sublimity and exquisite pathos*, will lead

* 'They never occur more frequently than in his funeral orations. One of the finest of them, is the funeral oration on the death of Henrietta Ann, the daughter of our Charles the first, and wife of the duke of Orleans. On the 29th of June 1670, after drinking a glass of cold water, in her apartment of St. Cloud, she was seized with a shivering, succeeded by a burning heat, which threw her into the most excruciating

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many to give him a decided preference over both his rivals. But those who read sermons

torments. She cried out that she was poisoned: the physicians were sent for; when they saw her, they were struck with horror, at her livid appearance,-pronounced her beyond medical aid, and advised her to receive, without delay, the last sacraments of the church. The princess heard them pronounce her fate with firmness; and, recollecting the manner in which Bossuet had attended her mother, the queendowager of England, she desired that an instant should not be lost in sending for him.-Three couriers were successively dispatched to him; and he arrived between eleven and twelve at night at St. Cloud.

In the interval, she suffered the most dreadful pains, and, her immediate dissolution being apprehended, she made a general confession of her sins to the abbé Feuillét, a person generally esteemed, but of a harsh character. When her confession was finished, her attendants were called in: the whole scene was afflicting and horrible.

The account, which we have of the conduct of the confessor makes us, perhaps unreasonably, blame his merciless austerity. Her lamentable shrieks he treated as acts of rebellion against the divine will, and told her, that her sins were not punished as they deserved. In the midst of her convulsions, she received his reproofs with mildness, but often inquired of madame de la Fayette, who was at her bedside, if Bossuet were not yet come. Before he came, she received extreme unction from the abbé Feuillet. Having exclaimed in an agony of pain," Will these torments never "end?"-"Don't forget yourself in this manner," said the austere abbé, "you ought to be better disposed for suffering; "but I must tell you, that your torments will soon end."

At length, Bossuet arrived:-As soon as the princess saw him, she made him promise not to quit her till she breathed her last; he knelt down, dissolved in tears, leaning on her bed, and holding a crucifix in his hand. With a tremulous voice, often interrupted by his own feelings, he invited her to