hat the bloody revolutionists who went to the tombs for metal to furnish
their arsenals, were made, in spite of themselves, to respect the ashes of
one whose counsels of duty heeded would have averted that revolution by a
system of timely concessions and benignant legislation.

Now that we virtually draw near the resting-place of this good man, let it
not be to furnish material for bullets of lead or paper to hurl against
theological antagonists. Appreciating the beauty of his spirit, let us
learn and apply the rebuke and encouragement it affords. A genius so rare
we may not hope to approach or imitate. Graces still more precious and
imitable are associated with that genius and create its highest charm. Our
time has been worse than thrown away, and our study of his works and his
biographies has been in vain, if we are not better, more wise, and
earnest, and gentle for the page of history, the illustration of divine
providence that has now come before us. Placed in the most perplexing
relations, he never lost hold of the calm wisdom that was his chosen
guide. Exposed to the most irritating provocations, he never gave up the
gentle peacefulness of his spirit.

Our age is not peculiarly ecclesiastical, yet we have not done with the
church and its teachers. Many a time of late we have had cause to think
with regret of the persuasive eloquence of the Archbishop of Cambray, of
the sacred Art that could make truth lovely to wayward youth, and religion
beautiful to hard and skeptical manhood. Has it not sometimes seemed as if
ambitious prelacy had forgotten the purer example for the baser, and
copied Bossuet's pride instead of Fenelon's charity? Nay, has not priestly
assumption coveted the talons and forgotten the wings of the Eagle of
Meaux and lost sight wholly of the Dove of Cambray? What government or
ruler in Christendom would not be the better for a counsellor as eloquent
and fearless as he who dared rebuke without reserve the great Louis of
France in words like these:

"You do not love God; you do not even fear him but with a slave's fear; it
is hell and not God whom you fear. Your religion consists but in
superstitions, in petty superficialities. You are like the Jews, of whom
God said: _'Whilst they honor me with their lips, their hearts are far
from me.'_ You are scrupulous upon trifles and hardened upon terrible
evils. You love only your own glory and comfort. You refer everything to
yourself as if you were the God