OHN-BAPTISTE MASSILLON was

born in Provence in the

year 1663. His father was a poor citizen of that inconfiderable place. The obscurity of his birth, which gives so much luftre to the splendor of his personal merit, should make a chief feature in his panegyric; and it may be faid of him as was faid of that illustrious Roman who owed nothing to his ancestors; Videtur ex fe natus ; he seemed to have produced himself. But his humble origin does not merely dignify his ownperson; it does honour to the wisdom of that government which discovered him in the midst of the people, and placed him at the head of one of the greatest Bishopricks in the kingdom, disdaining to adopt the idea, common enough, even in our days, that Providence has not destined to high offices the man it has allowed to be born in a humble station. If the dispensers of ecclefiaftical dignities had not possessed the wisdom, the courage, or the good fortune sometimes to forget that apophthegm of human vanity, the clergy of France would never have had the diftinguished honour of numbering the eloquent Massillon among their Bishops.

His philological studies being completed, he entered the Oratory at the age of seventeen. Determined to dedicate his labours to the church, he preferred to the indissoluble ties imposed by any of our numerous religious orders, the free engagements contracted in a congregation where, according to the great Boffuet, all obey and yet none command. Maffil'on preserved to the end of his life, the tenderest and most affectionate remembrance of the lessons, and of the principles he had imbibed in that truly respectable society, the members of which have always practifed reli

gion without meanness, and preached

it without fanaticism.

The fuperiors of Massillon soon faw the fame he would bring to their congregation. They destined him to the pulpit; but it was from a principle of obedience alone that he consented to second their views; he was the only one who did not forsee that future celebrity by which his humility and his modesty were to be rewarded. There aremen who, confident of their talents, recognize, as it were by instinct, the object for which nature intended them, who pursue and seize it with vigour: there are others who need to be informed of their own powers, and who, from their native timidity, become so much the more intitled to our regard, more worthy of being drawn from their modeft obscurity, and presented with a view of the fame that awaits them.

The young Massillon did every thing in his power to avoid that fame. He had already, while in the country, by order of his fuperiors, pronounced the funeral orations of two Archbishops. These discourses, which were indeed nothing but the attempts of a youth, but of a youth who shewed what he would one day be, had the most brilliant success. The humble orator, alarmed at his growing reputation, and dreading, as he said, the demon of pride, refolved to escape him for ever by secluding himself in the most obfcure retreat. He repaired to the Abbey of Septfons, where the same difcipline is observed as at la Trappe; and there he took the habit. During his Noviciate, the Cardinal de Noailles addressed to the Abbé of Septfons, whose virtue he respected, a charge which he had just published. The Abbe, more religious than eloquent, but preserving still, at least for those of his communion, fome fome remains of self love, wished to return an answer to the Cardinal, worthy of the charge he had received. This office he entrusted to Massillon, who performed it with as much readiness as fuccefs. The Cardinal aftonished at receiving from that quarter a piece so well written, was not afraid of wounding the vanity of the Abbe of Septfons, by asking who was the author of it: upon the Abbe's mentioning Maffillon, the Prelate immediately replied, that such talents were not, in the language of scripture, to remain hid under a bushel. He obliged the novice to quit the habit and refume that of the Oratory. He placed him in the feminary of Saint Magloire at Paris, exorting him to cultivate the eloquence of the pulpit, and promifing to make his fortune, which the young orator confined to that of an Apostle, that is, to the mere necessaries of life, accompanied with the most exemplary fimplicity.

His first fermons produced the effect which his superiors, and the Cardinal de Noailles had foreseen. Scarcely had he shewn himselfinthechurches of Paris, than he eclipsed almost all those who had shone in the same sphere. He had declared that he would not preach like them; not from any presumptuous sentiment of fuperiority, but from the just and rational idea he had formed of Christian eloquence. He was perfuaded that, if a minister of the gospel degrades himself by circulating known truths in vulgar language, he fails, on the other hand, in thinking to reclaim, by profound argumentation, a multitude of hear ers, who are by no means able to comprehend him; that, though all who hear him may not have the advantage of education, yet all of them have a heart at which the preacher should aim; that, in the pulpit, man should be exhibited to himself, not to frighten him by the horror of the picture, but to afflict him by its resemblance; and that, if it is sometimes

useful to terrify and to alarm him, it is oftener profitable to draw forth those exstatic tears, that are more efficacious than those of despair.

Such was the plan that Massillon propofed to follow, and which he executed like a man who had conceived it, that is, like a man of fuperior genius. He excells in that property of an orator, which can alone supply all the rest; in that eloquence which goes directly to the soul, which agitates without convulfing, which alarms without appalling, which penetrates without rending the heart. He searches out those hidden folds, in which the paffions lie enveloped, those secret sophifms which blind and feduce. To combat and todestroythosesophifms, he has in general only to unfold them; this he does with an unction so affectionate and so tender, that he allures us rather than compells, and even when he shews us the picture of our vices, he interests and delights us the most. His diction, always smooth, and elegant, and pure, is every where marked with that noble fimplicity, without which, there is neither good taste nor true eloquence; a fimplicity which, being united in Massillon with the fweetest and most bewitching harmony, borrowed from this latter additional graces; but what compleats the charm of this enchanting stile, is our conviction, that so many beauties spring from an exuberant fource, and are produced without effort or pain. It sometimes happens indeed, that a few inaccuracies escape him, either in the expression, in the turn of the phrase, or in the affecting melody of his style; fuch inaccuracies, however, may be called happy ones, for they compleatly prevent us from perceiving, or even from fufpecting, the leaft degree of labour in his compofition. It was, by this happy negligence, that Maffillon gained as many friends as auditors; he knew that the more an Orator is intent upon gaining admiration, the less those who hear him are disposed to grant it; and that this ambition is the rock on which fo many preachers have split, who being intrusted, if one may dare thus to express it, with the interests of the deity, with to mingle with them the infignificant interests of their own vanity. On the contrary, Maf fillon thought it a very empty pleafure to have to do, according to the expreffion of Montaigne, with people who are always ready to express their admiration of us, especially in those moments when it is so delightful to forget ourselves, to be occupied folely with the weak and unhappy, whom it is our duty to instruct and to confole. He compared the studied eloquence of learned preachers to those flowers which grow so luxuriantly amongst the corn, that are lovely to the view, but noxious to the crop.

It was thought wonderful how a man, condemned by his situation to a life of retirement, could be so well acquainted with human nature, as to draw fuch faithful pictures of the paffions, especially of felf-love. "It is " by searching my own heart, said he candidly, that I have learnt to "draw fuch pictures." This he proved in a manner as energetic as ingenuous, by the confeffion he made to one of his brethren, who was congratulating him on the fuccefs of his fermons. "The devil, replied he, has already faid as much to me, and " has fa'd it more eloquently than you

"have done."

Masillon reaped another advantage from that heart-affecting eloquence which he made so happy an use of. As he spoke the language of all conditions, because he spoke to the heart, all defcriptions of men flocked to his fermons; even unbelievers were eager to hear him; they often found inftruction when they expected only amusement, and returned sometimes converted, when they thought they. were only bestowing or withho'ding their praife. Maffillon could defcend

to the language which alone they would listen to, that of a philofophy apparently human, but which finding every avenue to the heart laid open, allowed the orator to approach without effort and without refistance, and made him conqueror even before he had engaged.

His action perfectly corresponded with the kind of eloquence he had cultivated. The moment he entered the pulpit, he seemed deeply imprefsed with the great truths he was about to declare; with eyes caft down, a modeft and collected air, without any violent motions, with few or no gestures, but animating all by an affecting and impreslive voice, he communicated to his hearers the religious fentiment which his external aprearance announced; he commanded that profound filence which is a higher compliment to eloqence than the most tumultuous plaudits. He appeared on that great and dangerous theatre, equally devoid of pride as of fear; his first attempt was uncommonly brilliant, and the exordium of his first discourse is one of the maller-pieces of modern eloquence. Louis XIV.. was then in the zenith of his power and of his glory, he had been aorious in every part of Europe, he was adored by his fubj as, intoxicated with fame, and furfeited with adulation. Maffillon chote for his text that passage of fcripture which seemed the least adapted to fuch a prince: Bloffed are they who weep; and from that text he conveyed a compliment the more new, and artful, and flattering, as it appeared to be dictated by the gospel itself, and fuch as an apoftle might have paid. " Sire, faid he, ad"dreffing the king, if the world were to fpeak to your Majesty from this place, it would not fay, Blefed are they "who wrep. Happy, would it fay, the t prince who has never fought but to conquer; who bath filled the un'"verfe with his fame; who, in the "course of a long and profperous

66

66

reign, has enjoyed all that men ad" mire, the splendor 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 language of the "world." The audience of Verfailles, accustomed as it was to Bourdaloues and Bossuets, had never witneffed an eloquence at once, fo deli cate and fo noble; and accordingly, it excited in the congregation an involuntary movement of admiration. There wanted nothing to make the impression of this discourse still more affecting, but its being delivered in the midst of the diftresses which fucceeded our triumphs, when the fame monarch who, for fifty years had known nothing but victory, now met with nothing but defcat. If ever Louis XIV. heard a more eloquent exordium, it was, perhaps, that of a Mifionary who, appearing for the first time before him, thus began his difcourse; "Sire, I will not pay your Majefty any compliments; I find "none in the bible."

Truth, even when the delivers the meffage of God, ought to knock at the door of kings, not to force it open. Maffillon, convinced of the truth of this maxim, did not imitate fome of his predeceffors, who, either in order to display their zeal, or to make it remarkable, had preached the Chrif tain doctrines in the habitations of fin, with a harsiness capable of making them odious, and of expofing religion to the resentment of power, haughty, and offended. Our orator was always Erm, but always respectful, while he announced to Eis fovereign the will of him who is the judge of kings; he fulfilled the duty of his ministry, but he never exceeded it; and the monarch who perhaps retired from his chapel dissatisfied with some other preachis, never left the fermons of Maffillon without being diffatisfied with himfelf. This the prince was honest enough to confess to Mafillon; the

greatest compliment he could pay him. but a compliment which many others before and after Maffillon never wished to obtain, being more anxious to fend a way ahearer enraptured, than a finner converted.

Such multiplied and fuccessful attempts had their usual effect, they procured Massillon a number of implacable enemies, especially among those who confidered themselves as his rivals, and who, enraged that the gospel should be announced at Court by any but theniselves, seemed to think it no part of their duty to preach against envy. Their only refource was to shut, if poffible, the mouth of this formidable competitor; but in this they could not succeed, except by impugning his doctrines, and on this delicate point Maffillon did not allow the smallest pretext to their charitable difpositions. He was indeed a member of a congregation whose opinions were at that time very much attacked; and many of his brethern had been, from this pious motive, very dextroufly kept at a diftance from the pulpit of Verfailles. But the fentiments of Maffillon, exposed every day to the criticifms of an attentive and scrupulous court, did not present the shadow of offence to the most penetrating eyes of hatred, and his irreproachable orthodoxy drove his enemies to despair. Already the church and the nation had deftined him to the mitre; envy, almost always blind to its true interests, might have viewed this dignity as an honourable way of burying the talents of Maffillon by retoving him to the diftance of an hundred leagues from Paris and from the Court; but it did not carry fo far its dangerous penetration, and faw nothing in the office of bishop but a brilliant recompenfe, of which it was necessary if poffible to deprive the orator who was so worthy of it. In this it made a last effort to fucceed and enjoyed the melancholy advantage of obtaining at least a temporary success; it calumniated the mos rals tals of Maffillon, and easily found according to custom, ears ready to listen, and minds ready to believe: even the sovereign (so apt is falsehood to infinuate itself with the best of kings) was, if not convinced, at least staggered.

Louis XIV. died; and the regent who honoured the talents of Massillon, and despised his enemies, named him to the Bishopric of Clermont, he wanted moreover that the Court should hear him once more, and engaged him to preach some lent fermons before the king then of the age of nine

years.

These fermons composed in less than three months are known by the name of Petit Careme. Though they are not in the highest degree finished, they are a true model of pulpit eloquence. The great fermons of the fame author may possess more pathos and vehemence; but the eloquence of these is more infinuating and delicate, and the charm resulting from them is enhanced by the importance of the subject, by the inestimable value of those simple affecting lessons, which, being fitted to penetrate as agreeably as forcibly the heart of the young monarch, seem calculated to procure the happiness of millions by acquainting the prince with what was expected of him. It is in these sermons, that the orator sets before the eyes of sovereigns, the evils and the dangers of fupreme rank; shews them truth flying from thrones, and hiding itself even from princes that fearch after it; the presumptuous confidence they are apt to acquire from praises, even the most deserved; the danger they are exposed to from weakness that cannot take counsel, and from pride that listens only to its own; the fatal power of their vices to corrupt, degrade and ruin a nation; the detestable glory of warlike princes, so cruelly won with so much blood, and so many tears; and lastly, he exhibits to them the supreme being, plased between kings, the oppressors, and

the people oppressed, to terrify the one and to avenge the other. Such is the object of the Petit Careme worthy of being learnt by heart by all who are destined to reign, and to be meditated on by all who have a share in the government of the world. Some severe censors have, nevertheless, reproached these excellent difcourses, with a degree of uniformity and monotony. They contain little, it is faid, but a truth to which the orator attaches himself and repeats for ever, the beneficence and goodness which the great and powerful of the age owe to the poor and the weak, to those whom nature has made their equals, whom humanity has made their brethren, and whom fate has made unfortunate. But without examining the justice of this reproach, the truth of the doctrine is so consolatory for men who groan and who suffer, so momentous in the education of a young prince, and in particular so necessary to draw the attention of the callous ears of the Court, that humanity ought to bless the orator who has pleaded its cause with fo much perseverance and zeal. Can children complain that any one talks too long to their father of the need they have of him, and of the duty which he is under by Nature to love them!

The fame year in which these difcourses were pronounced, Maffillon was admitted into the French academy. The Abbé Fleury, who received him in quality of director, a mong other eulogiums bestowed on him, mentioned that of his having been able to accommodate himself to the capacity of the young king in the instructions he had given him. "would feem, faid he, that you meant " to imitate the prophet who, in or"der to refuscitate the son of the "Shunamite, diminished himself as it

"It

were, putting his mouth to the " mouth, his eyes to the eyes, and " and his hands to the hands of the "child;