tiality which tended to indifference, concerning the ancient disputes of the church, and in the end a high degree of toleration in points of religion.

At the commencement of the revolution, when he saw both the monarchy and his own person in danger, he returned to all those reli gious affections which he had formerly entertained. On being com mitted a prisoner to the Thuilleries, he became a kind of illuminé, accelerating the loss of his crown, to preserve inviolate the decisions of Pius VI. respecting the civil constitution of the clergy. It is in this sense, that the priests who are hostile to that system, regard him as the first martyr to their cause, and to the discipline of the Romish church, which Lewis XIV., in his famous propositions relative to the elergy of France, had sacrificed to his policy, and repressed throughout his dominions *.

I have long been employed in studying the character and conduct of this prince: his papers in the castle of Versailles, those which were brought to the committee of safety by the victorious party on the 10th of August, and those found in his apartment at the castle of the Thuilleries, are all analysed in these Memoirs. I owe it to truth and to posterity, to declare, that I have not seen a single paper belonging to this prince, which does not prove his zeal for the inte rest or glory of the nation.'

Of the late unfortunate Queen, the author thus speaks:

The four first years that Maria Antoinetta lived in France are, the only happy years that she passed in that country. The young dauphiness had an angelic figure; the clearness of her complexion was remarkable, the colours were lively and distinct, her features regular, her shape slender; but her eyes, though beautiful, were subject to occasional fluxions. She had the Austrian under-lip. She was of a caressing disposition, cheerful, attentive to please, and well instructed by her mother how to make herself beloved by all at court, had she chosen to follow her lessons. The pulpits, the academies, the most distinguished societies, the journals, the almanacks of the Muses, all lavished upon her their applause. Flattery had as yet retained in France the forms and the tone of the interesting reign of Lewis XIV.'

According to M. Soulavie, in order to seize the reins of government, and to serve her house, Marie Antoinette sought

To secure the attachment of her husband: she knew so well by what means to environ him, to dive into his mind, and discover the foible of his character, that she resolved, in conformity to the instructions of her mother, to exercise over him the whole united influence of her sex and personal charms. Actuated from early youth, with the ambition of one day governing in his name, a caress, a bon

* I have, however, found in his cabinet the book of a German writer, which he ordered to be translated, and which was dedicated to him. This work was an apology for the marriage of priests. . The author's name was Calixtus.'

mot, an affectionate sentiment, happily introduced, were the resources which she employed for obtaining the ascendancy over this young prince. The refusal and the concession of favours, happily timed, were the arts by which she attached him; and we have seen the king in his latter years regard her at once with sentiments of fear, obsequiousness, and affection.'

The present head of the House of Bourbon is thus described

Monsieur, entitled count of Provence, from his birth, called Monsieur, according to etiquette, from the accession of his elder brother to the crown, had discovered at court all the reserve of the presumptive heir of the monarchy. The reign of a brother, who had for many years had no child, had rendered this great circumspection necessary. Monsieur lived commonly very retired, employing himself in literature, and in drawing up historical memoirs of the events at court which fell under his own observation. This prince is the only historian I know of at the court of Lewis XVI. He possessed talents and a great variety of knowledge. He sent privately to different journals, chiefly to that of Paris, some anonymous fugitive productions, with the view of sounding the public on particular subjects of history or literature. Decent in his morals, attached to his spouse, he did not betray, till a late period, the friendship which, however, he was known to entertain for the countess of Balby.'

There appears then to be in the disposition of Monsieur a variety of sensations, and in his understanding a succession of contradictory, floating, indecisive, and incoherent political ideas, which determine his conduct, and deprive this prince of that stability of principles necessary for the head of a party, to conduct itself with dignity and success; and it is precisely to a prince of this character, that all the parties which have governed France, have refused to entrust their destiny, since the nation has begun to oppose so great firmness to the powers armed against her, and has found the necessity of retrieving herself from the state of humiliation, in which we had been kept by Austria from 1756, by England from 1763, and thirty confederated powers from 1792. The house of Bourbon has been overthrown, when France became ashamed of its treaties and alliances. requisite for a people sensible, high-spirited, ingenious, brave, and surrounded by Englishmen and Austrians, is to maintain its dignity and independence.'-

The first

In his fugitive and wandering life, we behold him fixing on a state held in small estimation in Europe, to fly to some corner still more distant, but always to some subaltern power, when disastrous fate continues to pursue him. To insult in history a prince so illus trious by his misfortunes, would be the height of cruelty and injustice. Monsieur will be cited by posterity as one in the class of those, who are celebrated for the vicissitudes they have experienced.

In 1760, he was the presumptive heir of the first crown in Eu rope; and in the ninth year of the republic, his condition is such, that the power of existing upon the earth is become a favour; which he is obliged to negotiate and obtain after every new victory of our troops, or at each new treaty of the republic.'

• The

The ambition of Monsieur was dark, deeply concealed, indecisive, and fluctuating with every successive event. He seemed little disposed to meddle with the affairs of administration; he intrigued less than the queen, to obtain employments, promote his favourites, or form a party in the state. He never interfered in the choice of ministers; he lamented in silence the misfortunes of the state, and no share of those with which the nation reproached the queen and the count d'Artois was imputed to him. He managed his finances with a spirit of order and moderation. He was inclined to economy and severity, rather than to liberality or diversions, having long entertained the design of establishing an opulent house.

Monsieur seems to become daily less interesting to the nations governed by the princes of his house. In France he is forgotten or abandoned, or at least remembered with indifference, and variously characterised by different parties, according to the degrees of passion which our troubles have developed. This singular situation would be a presage of his destiny, if the French were not liberal in their opinions, and there did not exist wise men and friends of the republic, who, finding in Europe twenty-two princes of the house of Bourbon living in 1801, are persuaded, that it is for the interests and dignity of France to provide for the necessities of the wandering princes of this family, and not suffer that it should be indebted for its existence to powers, jealous of the internal peace and the future prosperity of our country.

England stripped the remains of the house of Stuart, which France and the pope assisted, in its state of misery and dereliction.

France, more delicate and more generous, will never permit, that the elder branch of the Bourbons should subsist by the beneficence of Austria or of England.'

Of Monsieur, ci-devant Count d'Artois, now resident in Great Britain, the author says:

The count d'Artois, second brother of the king, had received from nature a character very different from that of Monsieur. She had given him a temperament inclined to pleasure, and to irregular and premature inclinations, which rendered his youth outrageous. At an early age he afforded subject for scandalous reports, which excited against him the blame of the public. All men of good morals, and who had an attachment to the house of Bourbon, were affected with deep concern, to find that nothing could reclaim this young prince from his disorderly habits.

The count d'Artois was of a character sprightly, cheerful, satirical, daring, and petulant. His private chronicle is neither flattering, nor at all to be compared with the gallantry of the more splendid epochs of the monarchy. He appeared to be every thing which the king was not; and, in the same degree that the young king was reserved, virtuous, and modest in his conduct, the count d'Artois seemed to be audacious and profligate.

A spectator would have said, at the first view of the character of the king and of Monsieur, that those two princes must certainly have fixed on salutary plans of policy.

He

He would have said, on the contrary, of the character of the count d'Artois, that his system of politics must be irresolute and versatile but such was the destiny of this unfortunate house, that the two elder brothers, who manifested to the world the most wisdom and morality in their conduct, exercised a policy perpetually fluctuating; while the youngest of the brothers, immoral, volatile, and presumptuous, displayed definitively, in the last years of the monarchy, the bold inflexibility of the principles of absolute power, and the firmness of opinions which are the basis of it.'

The second volume farther narrates the reinstatement of M. de Maurepas, in the ministry, and the measures adopted by him, the recall of the Parliaments, the private lives of the philosophical Ministers Turgot and Malesherbes, the maxims of their administration, and the very different principles which had guided the ministerial life of the old Courtier La Vrillière, who died about this time.

[To be continued.]

ART. XII. Sermons preached to a Country Congregation: to which are added a few Hints for Sermons; intended chiefly for the Use of the Younger Clergy. Vol. II. By William Gilpin, Prebendary of Salisbury, and Vicar of Boldre, in New Forest. 8vo. pp. 472. 78. Boards. Cadell jun. and Davies.

TH

*

HE remarks which we have already made concerning the former volume of these discourses fully apply to that which is now added. The sermons are increased to fifty; and the Hints, which were before thirty-seven, are advanced to one hundred. In the first, much useful instruction and excellent advice are imparted; and, as it appears to us, in a manner likely to gain attention from and improve the audience for whom they are principally designed. We avoided quotations in the account already given of this work: but we shall now make an extract or two, by which the reader may form some judgment for himself. One shall be taken from the thirty-sixth discourse, which treats on the different modes of God's speaking to mankind.'

Besides speaking to us in the works of creation, and in the holy Scriptures, there is still another way, in which God speaks to us, and that is by our consciences. Hitherto God speaks to us only by external objects: but conscience speaks from within. We turn away our eyes often from the works of creation: we throw our bibles often behind us; but conscience flies in our face, and will be heard. Heard in some degree it will be always: but we are at option whether we will attend to its remonstrances. There are profligate

See Month. Rev. N. S. vol. xxxii. p. 268.

people

people who harden their consciences by wickedness, till they will remonstrate no longer. Such people, in the high career of vice, will listen to nothing. To them we preach not. It is unavailing.-But when we call conscience the voice of God, we must conceive it to be an informed conscience, An uninformed conscience will only mislead. We are not however speaking of such information as is necessary in distinguishing nice cases; but of such common notices of right and wrong, as every man's conscience, in a Christian country," is able to obtain. Are you meditating some scheme of fraud, or villainy? Listen to the friendly advice of conscience. It will tell you how wickedly you are about to act.-How little you gain-and how much you lose.-Check then the crime in its first conception, and hesitate a while before you complete it with a deed. Are you contriving some scheme of unlawful pleasure? Before you complete your wicked conception with a deed, attend a moment to your con science. It will hold up a glass in which you will see all your expected pleasure inverted; and in its room, disgrace, infamy, and discase. Thus also you may check the oath-the lie-the lewd jestor any other wrongness. There is always time enough between the conception and the utterance to listen to conscience. A moment is sufficient.'

Towards the close of this sermon, the preacher adds;

The last observation I shall make is, that one way still remains -in which God will speak. At that awful time in which he calls us all into judgment, and pronounces sentence on us, he will speak in another manner than he has yet spoken. He will speak in his justice. In this world God speaks to us by his power-his wisdom-and his goodness: but not yet by his final justice.-While we live in this world God allows us a choice. We may listen to his voice or not, as we please: we have our option. But in the next world that option will be over: God will speak; and we must hear!' One farther passage we take from the forty-fourth sermon, on our casting care on God.'

Having shewn you that God careth for us, let us see how we are to cast our care on him.-Nobody can be so absurd as to suppose, that we are to give up all concern about our affairs, when we are ordered to cast all our care on God. We must take the future under our own care. The industry of youth must provide for the infirmities of age. The hand that laboured, cannot always labour; and the thinking mind is often robbed by years of all its powers. So that as life may subsist after the ability of providing for it is gone, God certainly leaves a proper degree of care to rest on ourselves. Even Adam, when placed in Paradise, was ordered to dress it, and to keep it. St. Paul himself, after he was an apostle, wrought at his profession, which was tent-making. Others of the apostles were fishermen, and exercised their calling during their apostleship. What is meant therefore by casting all our care on God, is this: after our own endeavours, we must trust the event of things to God. We must beg God's assistance in forwarding the means; but must not suffer ourREV. JULY, 1802.

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selves