THESE are the Moans of a Prophet, in the midst of a Captive People, remote from their Country, and panting after Liberty. What a Force was not this able to give to Prayer, by representing to God the Services of David, of Jacob and Abraham, and by striving to draw down his Compassion upon the Children, by the Remembrance of their Forefathers? To these vain Sub­jects of Presumption, rather then Confidence, Daniel clos'd his Eyes. He found a surer Support in the meer Mercy of God, then in all the Vertues of Men; and without losing any thing of that Zeal which enclin'd him to Prayer, and of that Hope which [Page 2]ought to uphold Prayer, he Pray'd, he Hop'd, but still his Prayers and his Hopes were grounded upon the Mercies of God.

What are we now come to doe, my Beloved, in the Presence of the same God? Come we to bewail the Dead in vain, where it becomes us only to shed the Tears of Repentance? Come we here to vaunt their Victories, and Heroick Labours? 'Tis only to the Saints, the Vanquishers of Sin, that Religion permits us to pay Duties of this Nature, to Honour their Tombs, and to Extoll their Vertues in Hymns and Songs, ev'n to the Footsteps of the Throne of God; because they reign with Glorious Him, in the same Glory. But as for Princes and Hero's, whose Ver­tues, frequently Humane, were no other, for the greatest part, then Passions disguis'd under specious Names and Veils, when You are call'd to their Interments; 'tis to set before Your Eyes, Grandees of the World, a Moving Spectacle of that Inevitable End which you never think of. 'Tis to set before your Eyes that Death, which you look upon with Disdain in the bloody and precipitated Heat and furious Motion of Combat, but which you can hardly look in the Face, when Cool and Serious, expos'd to your Reflexions in this Funeral Pomp, which forces you to Lessons of Repentance. In short; If at any time, by a Custom establish'd in the First Ages of the Church, we presume to interrupt the Holy Mysteries with an Elogy of their Actions, 'tis not with a Pharisaical Pride, that vaunted before God the Justice of their Works, Not for our Righteousness: 'tis with the Mo­desty of the Publican, who begg'd for Mercy only, but for thy great Mercies. The sad Recitals of so many Exploits, that exalt the great Names and Fame of Mortals, were never made to move God's Compassion, but to touch the Hearts of Men. And it is with this Intention, my Beloved, that I undertake this day, the Elogy of the Most High and Most Potent Lord, FRANCIS HENRY of MONTMORANCY, PEER and MAR­SHAL of FRANCE, KNIGHT and COMMANDER of the KING's ORDERS, GOVERNOR of NORMANDY, CAP­TAIN of the GUARDS of the KING's BODY, and GE­NERAL of His ARMIES.

Upon the only Pronouncing of this Name, what a Croud of Things present themselves to our Minds? What Wonders, what Courage, what Resolution, what Justice also, in the Opinion of Men! [Page 3]But in the Sight of God, all this is nothing; Not for our Righteousness 'Tis for You, my Beloved, and for all France, who have reap'd all the Fruit of his Great Actions, to find therein the Motives of Acknowledgment, and by consequence a Zeal to Pray for him. But in these same Actions, and in all the Events of so Turmoyl'd a Life, how many signal Traces of a particular Mercy apply'd to his Salvation! 'Tis there that we are to fix our Hope, and to seek the Support of our Prayers which we pour forth before God; But for his manifold Mercies.

Reducing my self therefore to the Intention of the Church, and the Simplicity of the Text which I have chosen, I shall only shew to all the Faithful whom Piety concerns in his Salvation, in the Two Parts of this Discourse,

• I. The Obligations that France has to Pray.
• II. The Reasons that she has to Hope.

Her Obligations to Pray, from what he has done for France. The Reasons she has to Hope, from what God has done for Him. But, Lord, what has he done for Thee, and for his Salvation? For this is that which makes the Personal Merit; and weighs down in the Decisive Ballance of Eternity. We shall find it included in these Two Points, which will fill our Minds with this comfortable Idea, That this God, who only crowns his Gifts, when he crowns our Merits; and who making the Vertues of Saints Meritorious, is pleas'd to make the Tears of Sinners also Meritorious, will have found in this Great Man whom we la­ment, what is sufficient to procure him that last Mercy which he bestows upon whom he pleases, and which no Man can deserve.

St. Paul, instructing the Faithful in their Duty toward Great Men, proposes to 'em, among other Motives of Respect, the Authority which they have receiv'd from God, to protect the Good, and suppress and punish the Wicked. For (says he) they bear not the Sword in vain. And upon this establishing the Right not only of Kings, but of all Persons advanc'd in Dignity, he requires that those Honours and Tributes should be pay'd 'em that are their due; Tribute to whom Tribute, Honour to whom Honour is due. But besides these Tributes settl'd by Humane Laws, the Apostle, in favour of Great Personages, imposes upon Us another far differently Precious Tribute, Entreaties, Prayers and Petitions. [Page 4]And the Reason which he gives, is, Because that under their Authority, we live secure in Peace and Piety.

Now, if there be any one in the Degrees inferiour to Sove­reigns, to whom this Tribute is due from all among us that are True Frenchmen, and True Christians, is it not to this Famous and Warlike Champion, from whom the Kingdom and the Church have receiv'd such successful Services? And to search for the Foundations of his Merit in the Deserts of his Ancestors, is there any Descent, among those whose Names and Renown we Honour, of which it may be more justly said, in the words of St. Paul, They have not borne the Sword in vain? And how long since, my Lords? The Crown has not been more an­cient upon the Head of our Kings, then the Nobility of the Blood of these Hero's. The Faith of Jesus Christ ascended the Throne with Clovis, but it enter'd into the Court with a Mont­morancy. Whence that singular Title of First Christian Baron, which is Hereditary to 'em, and which equally denotes, as well their Antiquity, their Nobility, as their Descent. Let us leave these. Times of Obscurity. Are Seven hunder'd Years, I will not say, of Distinction, but of Constant Advancement, enough to merit our Esteem? We no sooner behold their Name issu­ing forth from the Darkness of Antiquity, but immediately we see it cloath'd with the Lustre of the Highest Dignities, and more-especially Military Employments. The Name of Constable never began to appear in the World, at least in our Histories, till they wore it. Ever since, those Transcending Dignities have been as it were perpetuated to their Family. Seven Constables, Seven Marshals, Four Admirals, Great Officers of the Crown, Governors of Provinces, Generals of Armies, almost without number, and at all times. Never was the Kingdom or our Re­ligion in any Glorious or Dangerous Condition, but Providence, still careful of our Affairs, has supply'd us out of this Noble Fa­mily most extraordinary Succours either of Wisdom or Valour. Consequently, how greatly is the Church and State oblig'd to pay with a zealous Fervency this Tribute of their Prayers to all those that bear this Name, seeing we have prov'd, that for so long a time, they have not borne the Sword in vain.

But Oh, the Depth of God's Designs and Judgments! That this Grandeur, so Ancient, so stedfastly fix'd upon such Solid, and such Just Foundations, supported by so many Arms, Allianc'd [Page 5]to all the Thrones of Christendom, should be now upon the Brink of being Extinguish'd! That the Principal Pillars of this so Potent Family should now be Tottering! Alas! and under those Fatal Strokes, the sole Remembrance of which makes us Tremble. That their Honours and their Merits should be so near Extinction: shall I say, their Glory with their Merits? One only Child, born in Tears, an Orphan before he came into the World, scarce able to make his Way into the Seats of Day-light, in the Midst of the Ruins of his Family, is destin'd to re advance the Fortune of his House, and to recall to the Elder, that Ho­nour and Grandeur which for Two hunder'd Years together the Younger have acquir'd. And this same Infant, so dear to Pro­vidence, is the Great General for whom we Pray.

Let us pass over the First Years of his Life, and the First Exer­cises of his Valour. 'Twas not He alone that needed this In­dulgence; 'tis due to the Misfortune of those Times. He was envelop'd in 'em, less by his own Choice, then by the Condi­tion of his Fortune. What Illustrious Exploits, which we dare not remember, and which we cannot forget.

What Use did he make afterwards of that lucky Habit! Shall we enumerate the Particulars of Thirty Years Labours, if I may not rather call 'em Successes? Nor think, my Lords, that I go about to degrade any one of our Hero's by Comparisons, always rash and odious. There are so many Ways that lead to Honour, and so many different Traces of Merit and Valour, that they may severally serve for Objects of Publick Admiration, without defacing or resembling each other. But it is enough to say in Praise of Monsieur de Luxemburgh, That there have been few of our Great Generals, his Contemporaries, who have prov'd more Formidable to their Enemies, better Belov'd of the Soldiers, or more Daring and Resolute in Enterprizes. The Qualities of a Perfect Soldier, which Solomon paints forth in his Book of Wisdom, Terrible Kings shall fear me: I shall be able to lead a multitude, and stout in Battel.

But when, to the end I may display what is included in these Three Qualities, I have made it manifest, that there were few who were oppos'd by more Puissant Enemies, and who kept himself still more then Superior; few that govern'd more nu­merous Armies; and govern'd 'em with more Ease; few that sustain'd more doubtful and hazardous Enterprizes, and sustain'd [Page 6]'em with more Resolution and Undauntedness: what Rank will you allow him among those our Generals which you most esteem? Now, 'tis this Superiority, this Facility of Genius, this Reso­lution and Undauntedness, that form the Character of Him we now lament.

'Tis no new thing for France to see all her Neighbours become her Enemies. The Novelty is this, to see all her Enemies united against her, by one and the same Tye; not only a Tye of Pas­sions and Interests, but a stronger Tye; 'tis the Ascendant of of one Captain over all the Members of the League. In all other Leagues this Union being wanting till now, France had always in the Union of her Chieftain, and the Union of her Forces, a Puissance easily superiour to the Number and Efforts of her most Potent Enemies. But they have at length found out a Genius proper to re-unite all their Hatred against us. To give more Force to the Instrument of their Passions, they have helpt him to dethrone Vertue it self. To make an Enemy sufficient to find us Work, they have set up a Master over themselves. And who is this, my Lords? The same, upon whom some look'd as the Hereditary Guardian of their Liberty; who was by others call'd in to defend their new Laws against the false Terrors of Arbitrary Power, and whom others fear'd as the Natural Enemy of their Religion: That same Holland, so jealous of the Free­dom of her Trade: That same England, that doates so much upon the pretended Privileges of her Parlament: That same Germany, so accustom'd to share in Sovereign Supremacy: That same Austria, so intoxicated with her Notions of Universal Mo­narchy: That same Spain, so zealous for the Purity of her Faith: Lastly, That same Italy, so passionately desirous of her Repose, have rooted out of their Hearts all these so Ancient and Natural Sentiments, that they might make it their Common In­terest to advance one Prince, whose Grandeur can never hurt us, but by overwhelming 'em with their own Weight. A Foreigner, and Absent, he is the Soul of their Counsels, the Head that governs 'em.

One would think that those Sovereign Princes, in yielding him the Title of King, had pay'd him the Homage of their Crowns, and that Lewis is only now become the Object of their Jealousie, and their Hatred, for no other Reason but because he has taken upon himself alone to defend against 'em all the Rights [Page 7]of Royal Majesty; and he do's uphold 'em, and Triumphs in de­spite of all his Enemies. They are not become so potent by their Union, as by being more sensible before him of their real Weak­ness. Their Efforts have nothing diminish'd of the Grandeur of his Empire, nor of that of his Soul. More wise and prudent then ever; if Heaven from time to time deprive him of the Ministers of his Designs, it leaves him still his Prudence and his Fortune. This Monarch imparts it to those whom he honours with his Choice; and that which rears up great Captains among us, is the exact observance of his Orders.

What Instrument more safe and tractable in his Hands, to uphold against so many Enemies the Honour and Prosperity of his Arms, then the Duke of Luxemburgh? What an Ascendant had he over that famous Prince who got the start of so many others. Accustom'd in the Dutch War to fly the Shadow only of the King, he began to turn head in the presence of Luxem­burgh. He thought that the Cities of Zwoll, Deventer, the Groll, and Coewerden, which this General had taken, at the head of the Troops of Munster, had render'd him Illustrious enough to make him his chief Rival. He would therefore measure himself with him; but his Chief Master-piece was a Defeat. Nor was he more happy at Bodengrave, where the frozen Morasses could not protect his Army from the impetuous Ardour of the French. These two unfortunate Essays, from that time forward, fill'd the Prince with such an Idea of his Vanquisher, that he durst no more contend with him; but only by calling to his Succour, Treachery and Surprize. This made him so bold at the Battle of St. Denis, at what time the two Camps ought to have been calm and se­cure upon the News of the sign'd Peace. However, in that, as well as in all other Places, he found by the slaughter of his Men, that Stratagem as little avail'd as Open Force, against the Cou­rage of a General always present with himself in Combat. In short, 'tis one of the Wonders of Providence, that whatever Precautions his noble Adversary made use of, he never engag'd in any Battel, wherein he did not find Luxemburgh an Obstacle to his compleat Victory. He met with him in the Right Wing at the famous Battle of Seneff, and rendring to the Prince of Conde the Fruit of his Glorious Lessons, which he had receiv'd from him in his Youth. He met him commanding the Right Wing at Gasal; where France acknowledg'd in the Brother of her King, [Page 8]that the Princes of the Blood had no need of any Master to teach 'em the Art of giving or winning Battels.

Instructed by so long and so fatal an Experience, Durst that same daring Prince sustain the sight of him before Charleroy, though surrounded with an Army of Fifty thousand Men? Durst he attempt the so much vaunted Sieges of Maubege and Dinant, in view of him for a whole Campaign together? Durst he sit down before any one Fortress? And shall we believe his own Testimony? For we surpriz'd his Letters, wherein imparting in writing the Condition of his Affairs to a famous General of the Emperor's Forces, he acknowledges, That the Duke, who had always the good Luck to match him, had worsted him again at Ner­winde.

But could he make a more solemn Confession to all Europe, in respect of his Genius to that of Luxemburgh's, then by the course which he took upon the Banks of the Mehaign? The main Busi­ness was to succour Namur. He found himself oblig'd thereto by the importance of the Place, which the Confederates look'd upon as their common Bulwark; and which he seem'd to have made choice of for the centre of his new Dominion in the Spanish Low-Countries, by the addition of new Works to those that ren­der'd it almost impregnable before, and by honouring those Works with his own Name. That Name, which in the opinion of the Confederates was enough to have secur'd Namur from all At­tempts, serv'd only as a Bait for the Zeal of Lewis the Great, to go and revenge the Injury done Religion by the false Politicks of the Spaniards, in trusting the Walls and Citadels of their Cities to the Enemies of their Altars. At the very Name of the King, who was present in Person at that Siege, and to whom the Dif­ficulty of the Enterprize was a Pledge of the Success; upon the Approach of Luxemburgh, whom the King had order'd to ad­vance toward the Mehaign, the Prince was soon sensible of the pressing danger of the Place, and of his own Reputation. A Victory had sav'd the Town: Nay, instead of a Victory, of which the past Events were but bad Prognosticks, a withdrawn Battel had been sufficient to have sav'd his Honour. He appear'd in Battel Array on the other side of the River; he cover'd it with Bridges; he thought the King would have disputed the Pas­sage with him, and that after some Efforts the Honour of which would have been divided between both Armies, he should have [Page 9]carry'd off at least the Reputation of the Fight. The King be­ing inform'd of all these Motions by the Duke of Luxemburgh, read all the Enemies Designs in the Recesses of his Soul; and to ranverse 'em, What Resolution, think ye, did he take? He gave him all the Liberty to pass over, and left him Ground suf­ficient to embattel his Army; that he might reduce him, by that means, either to expose himself to the Hazard of a decisive Bat­tel, or renounce the Honour of the Passage, which he feign'd himself so desirous to attempt. Then was it the first time that Luxembourgh was seen to recoil with his Arms in his Hands before the Prince of Orange; but to the Vexation of the Prince himself, who seem'd to wait for that Signal only to surrender up Namur to her Destiny, or rather to that of the Conque­ror.

What will Posterity say of this magnanimous Confidence? I find in sacred Antiquity, an innumerable Army of Infidels, de­fended and secur'd by a Torrent, cry out, being strook with Terror at the Approach of Judas Maccabeus, If he comes over to us, we are undone, we cannot withstand him. Our General, on the other side, inspir'd with a just Confidence in view of the E­nemy, cries out, If he comes over to us, he's Ruin'd; he cannot escape us. What a Grandeur of Soul is requir'd to take such Re­solutions? What a Superiority of Courage? Thus hast thou ordain'd it, Lord of Hosts. Few Enemies more Potent then those whom thou hast rais'd up against us. But what General ever render'd himself more formidable to such a Potent Adversa­ry? If that famous Maccabean, out of a Pious Tenderness, e­qual to the Resolution of his Heart, thought it an incumbent Duty to offer Sacrifices to God, for the Souls of his Soldiers, that fell in Battel by the Swords of their Enemies; 'tis the least Duty we can pay our General, to offer up the Sacrifice of our Tears, and the immortal Victim of our Altars, to a Warriour always Victorious, and who has render'd us formidable to our most terrible Enemies. Terrible Kings shall fear me.

A second Advantage, altogether particular to Him, is this; That he had under his Command, the greatest Bodies of Armies, that ever France brought into the Field; which was an Effect of the Conjuncture of the Times. With what easiness did he give all the Motion requisite for the Success of Great Designs to those vast Bodies comps'd of so many different Parts. I say Ea­siness, [Page 10]my Lords. I could have said, Prudence and Wisdom, had I been to paint forth one of those profound Souls, whose Conduct is the Fruit of a painful and laborious Application, and who suffer the Importance of their Projects to be read in their Countenances. But to have his Designs always settl'd in good Order, to foresee those of the Enemy with a Penetration almost certain, to find in himself the Remedies always ready at Hand, upon any suddain Counter-Events, and to cover all this with a sedateness, with an equal Temper, and to make it his continual Sport, as I may so say, These are Excellencies which make us call to mind that eternal Wisdom, of which Solomon thought he gave no mean Idea, when, to express the exaltation of her Con­duct, and at the same time, how easily she executes all her great Designs, he tells us, That she makes the Government of the World her sport. Would it be an Injury to the Wisdom of Men, to set forth, by the same Expression, the sedate and easie Activity of a Mind, superiour to whatever it undertakes? Such was this great General in the Conduct of his Armies.

There was no need of gaudy Pomp, or Haughtiness, to pro­cure Respect and Reverence to his Person. There was no Ne­cessity for him to make use of Rigour or Severity, for the main­taining of good Discipline; nor to employ Force or Authority to engage his Soldiers to undertake the most difficult Enterpri­zes. All the Qualities requisite for Command were enclos'd in an Air of Noble and Military Popularity, which was natural to him. By that means, my Lords, he was so well enter'd into their Hearts, that with an obliging and familiar Word, he in­fus'd in a moment into theirs, the Courage and Confidence that abounded in his own Heart. So soon as he shew'd himself, the Dangers of Assault, the Difficulties of Battel, the Pains and Trouble of hasty Marches, all vanish'd. They knew, that whatever the Labour was, or where ever they march'd, he led 'em to Honour, and they were never deceiv'd.

Can that March be forgot, prodigious for an Army, of above Thirty Leagues in Three Days, which so absolutely disappointed all the Enemies Prudence, and crown'd all the Actions of the Duke of Luxembourgh? The Confederates had spent the Cam­paign in vainly blocking up our Quarters at Vignamont, in hopes to force us either to re-pass the Meuse, or else to expose our Flank to their Batteries, while we march'd back to Namur. Constrain'd [Page 11]themselves to give way to the Victorious Constancy of Monsieur, who by his Presence added new weight to the Authority of the General, and new Fires to the Armies Zeal, they sought to repair the Shame of their Retreat by some Signal Act toward the Sea-Coasts. They promis'd themselves at least to surprize at their Pleasure the Strongest of our Towns. Great Preparations; a Threatning Fleet ready to favour their Design; the way open, without any Obstacle, in the midst of their Country; Camps ready mark'd out to fly about from the Parts adjoyning to the Meuse, to the Banks of the Lis, and Scheld. 'Twas for us to fly after them; and what must we do to get before 'em?

Nothing, but observe Your Countenance, and follow Your Steps, GREAT PRINCE, the Happy Son of a Victorious KING, for ever Famous, still more by the Rapidity of his Conquests, then by their Number or their Grandeur. But what a Consolation was it to You, in the height of Your Zeal to imi­tate the Rapidness of that Monarch, unimitable to any other but your self; what a joy was it to You, to find a General at Hand so expert and quick to second Your Designs! Upon the First Orders given for the March, such a Fervency seiz'd the whole Army, that they never scrupl'd any longer either the Length of the Leagues, the Number of Days, nor the Difficult Passages o're the Rivers. Every one found in his Courage, and the Hopes of coming to a Battel, wherewith to harden himself against the Cries of Drowth and Hunger. We admire those brave Israelites, who prest by Thirst, in their March against Midian, under the Leading of Gideon, durst not stop a Minute to draw Water, but still marching forward, contented them­selves with sucking in the Water which they took up in the Hallow of their Hands. We see an Army altogether forgetful of their Repose, and their Necessity, and Refusing the Succour and Refreshments which the Zeal of the People, and the Fore­sight of the Officers had got ready upon the High Ways. They were running, said they, to Victory, and wanted nothing but the Enemy. They found him at length, but Surpriz'd and Con­sternated at their Diligence, and confounded to see the Banks of the Scheld all crouded with Squadrons, Monsieur at their Head, and Luxemburg next Him. They had not the Pleasure of a Battel; but they had the Satisfaction to vanquish, and by [Page 12]their appearance to stifle and disappoint the Boldness, and all the Designs of the Enemy.

If after so many Demonstrations of Consummate Ability, and Gallantry, we refuse this General the Applauses that are due to Him, shall we not have our Enemies themselves upbraiding us in his behalf? But he has no need of our Elogies, he has more need of our Prayers. Let us leave the Care of applauding him to Foreign Nations: As for Us, who have felt the Effects of his Happy Conduct, let us take care to discharge that Duty which he expects from us. Let us cry to God, Lord, this is he who went in and out before us, when we fought for thy Cause; Save Him, who sav'd all Israel.

But whence the Source, my Lords, of those two Wonders, his Superiority over our Enemies, and his Easiness, in govern­ing our Armies? It was at the Bottom of his Heart, from that Resolution, from that Undauntedness, which produc'd that high Reputation, so formidable to the One, and so obliging to the Other: in bello Fortis.

It would be a dishonour to him, to say, that Fear never ap­pear'd in his Countenance. But let us say, that Trouble and Disorder never shew'd themselves there. He never beheld Dan­ger, but with Contempt. He beheld at Lleurus the danger of Forcing the Passage of the Sambre in view of the Enemy, and of going to shut up himself to fight 'em between the River and Them. He forc'd the Passage, fought 'em, and vanquish'd. At Leuse, he saw the Danger of meeting with Eighteen Batta­lions, all the Enemies Cavalry, consisting of Seventy two Squa­drons. But he fac'd and defeated 'em. But that we may the better understand him, it behoves us to look into the two last Battels, of which the One was the Reflexion, and as it were the Image of the Other. At Nerwinde he repay'd the Blow, which they endeavour'd in vain to have given him at Steenkirk. They would have surpriz'd him; he was resolv'd to surprize in his turn. But with what Success! however with what Efforts!

Assail'd at Steenkirk, in the midst of a Camp without defence, he kept his Ground there, as if he had been in a fortify'd Place; without any other Advantage over the Enemy, then the Reso­lution of his Heart, the Confidence of his Men, and the Va­lour [Page 13]of those Princes, who then secur'd his Victory by their Example, and honour'd it with their Blood. At Nerwinde he was the Aggressor; but he assail'd a Camp defended by Art and Nature, surrounded with Batteries, and secur'd by Entrench­ments. Call to mind, my Lords, the Butchery of that Day, wherein the Resistance of the Enemy almost Equal to our Va­lour, made appear in all its Lustre that invincible Obstinacy which fix'd our General to the pursuit of his Designs, and pro­mis'd him the Success when every thing seem'd Desperate. There it was, if ever, that he stood in need of it. For let us talk no more of those easie Victories, those General Routs, that in a Day change the Fortune of Kingdoms. Tho' we had not for our Enemies the Bravest People in the World, yet they have been exercising themselves so long time against Us, that 'twould be a wonder if they should not have learnt by this to make a stout Defence. It ought to be for our Honour, that They who surmount us, blush not at their Defeat, and that all Europe gives this Testimony of our Nation, that they know how to triumph over Valour it self. We saw the Proofs of it then in our Army, seconded by the Choice of three warlike Nations, faithful Sub­jects to a King, who deserves to reign over no other then such Subjects. We saw our Army attacking so many Nations in Con­federacy against us, in the midst of their Lines and Entrench­ments, with as much Courage as if it had been in the Plain Field; a Battel chang'd into a Siege: Officers and Soldiers, not in the least discourag'd, returning four or five times to the Assault; the Small and Great Shot rendred ineffectual by the downright Hacking and Hewing of the Sword: the General Present every where, giving Orders, and putting 'em in Execution himself in the midst of the Medley, as if it had been in the midst of his Friends: the Enemies forc'd on every side: happy in their Flight, that two Rivers hindred the Victors Pursuit. Then we saw the Truth of those Expressions that are lookt upon as fabu­lous, The Field cover'd with Heaps of the Slain, Rivers chang'd into Blood, and Stopp'd in their Course. We saw renew'd in those famous Fields the Descriptions which the Prophet Eze­kiel makes of those Bloody Defeats of the Enemies of God. There, says he, The Princes of the North trembling, and asham'd of their Might, and confounded in their Strength. There the Prince surrounded with the Sepulchers of his Souldiers, in the Place it self, [Page 14]where he expected to triumph: All run through, adds he in the same Place, all run through and slain by the Sword. Lord, one Battel more; one Year more, Lord, might have compleated the Work, and recall'd that Peace which has been so long Ba­nish'd. And why may we not say, while we are sighing o're his Tomb, what the Prophet Elisha said to that Warlike Prince, who had withstood all the Efforts of Syria, Smite the Earth, said he to the King. He smote it with his Javelin; but stopping too soon, Oh! cry'd the Prophet, full of Sorrow, Hadst thou smit­ten five times, thou hadst smitten Syria till thou hadst consumed it. That Generous Arm, now Dust and Ashes, struck the Earth four times. The Blows of his Four Battels were heard into all the Parts of Europe. One Victory more, Lord, a Fifth Victory, had compleated our Conquest, restor'd Peace to the World, and rear'd up thy Religion upon the Ruins of its Enemies: Si percussisses quinquies. Thou hast refus'd to hear our Prayers and our Tears: perhaps by reason of our Sins; perhaps, by reason of the Sins of this Great Warriour, who fighting at the same time for his Prince and his God, study'd less to please his God, then he ap­ply'd himself to please his Prince; and minded more the Frail Laurels of a Victorious General, then the Crowns of Eternity.

But seeing that God has depriv'd him the Honour of putting an end to the War, and reserv'd it for the Valour of another Arm, in that, my Lords, we must acknowledge the Goodness of God toward him, for having shorten'd his Victories, that he might call him off to the Care of his Conscience, and give him Time to provide for his Salvation. But how much the greater Obligation therefore upon Us to redouble the Fervency of our Prayers for a Christian, perhaps no otherwise a Transgressor, then for having had a greater care of our Temporal Advantages, then for the Inte­rests of his Soul, and whom perhaps the Praises which were daily given to his Valour, might have caus'd him to forget the Duties of Christian Dependance; and who perhaps had not fallen into the Frailties natural to every mortal Man, but because he employ'd all his Strength and Courage in the Service of the Kingdom, which he should have made use of to vanquish his Passions, and to keep up at Court the Honour of the Service of God against all wordly Respects. Let us Pray then, my Lords: our Prayers are owing to Him, since he has done so much for Us. But let us Hope withal: we may so, since God has done so much for Him. This is the Subject of my Second Part.

If the Life of this Great Captain, to whom we are now pay­ing our last Mournful Duties, were only Illustrious by those Par­ticulars which I have hitherto made use of, to make you sensible of his Merit, we might be afraid, that so many profane Exploits and Triumphs, might be only the Reward of those feeble Efforts of Vertue, which sometimes may escape a Sinner, but for which Heaven has no Crowns in store. I should look upon him my self with an Eye of Pity, as one of those Conquerors whom God made use of to magnifie Himself in Isaiah, to subdue Nations, put Kings to flight, and break down the Walls of Cities: and which he abandon'd afterwards to the Merits of their Works, and the Pu­nishments attending their Sins, after he had rewarded their am­biguous Services with the vain Lustre of Worldly Prosperity.

God forbid that our Charity should be cool'd this day by such Sentiments as these. Too many Reasons raise our Hopes, with­out pretending to dispute the Rights of God's Justice: so much Care as he has taken for the Salvation of this Sinner, seems to persuade and convince us, that God has made him an Object of his Eternal Mercy. And here, my Lords, let us leave him, as a Courtier, a Warriour, and a Conqueror. All this was for the Eyes of Men: in the sight of God he is a Sinner, distin­guish'd indeed by all those Titles of Honour which he bore upon Earth; but at the same time expos'd to all those Frailties, and all those Miseries that seem to be fasten'd to these dangerous Titles. Yet in the midst of those Abuses which he might have made of 'em, and what at length might have led him as they have done so many others, to a Forgetfulness of his God, let us admire those singular Tendernesses, or rather Wonders of his Mercy bestow'd upon him. He bestow'd upon him two of the most precious Graces he could have bestow'd upon Sinners; the Grace of Adversity during his Life, and the Grace of Repen­tance at his Death. Let him then eternally sing those words of David, Blessed be the Lord, because he has magnify'd his wonderful mercy upon me.

You believe it not, Grandees of the Earth; and yet you find it by Experience, at least, you make others sensible of it, that nothing more corrupts the Heart, then a long and constant Prosperity; that nothing over-casts the Mind with a thicker Darkness; that generally there is nothing but Adversity that can call back a wandring Mortal to his Reason, to his Conscience, [Page 16]to his Salvation, and his God. You believe it not; and this Er­rour is your Ruin. The Subject of Discourse lay under the same Errour, and was subject to those Deviations which are the usual Consequences of it. He trod the Paths of Ambition for fifty Years together: What a Progress did he make in it! But the farther we advance in that Road, the more, Good God, we go out of our Way. Nevertheless, thou didst follow him step by step; Thou didst wait in expectation of a happy Moment to pour down thy Mercy upon him. [...] up­ [...] [...]eing [...] for a [...] and a [...]ncer. The happy Moment came, and thy Mercy was pour'd down. What a signal Kindness, my Lords, was this for all France! A Man of that Name, that Rank, cloath'd with so many Honours, distinguish'd by so many Services, to be oblig'd to Justifie himself! Upon what account? For that which cannot fall but into the Meanest of Souls; not only without Religion, but without Reason, without Fortune, without Honour. At that very moment he perceives all the Sup­ports of Grandeur failing: Feeble Bulrushes, nodding with ev'ry Tempest, and bowing under the weight of the Tempest. He was not astonish'd to see such a Change of Looks and Hearts. Solomon says, That Slander troubles the Heart of a wise man, and de­stroys the strength of his heart. But never did more Prudence ap­pear in his Heart then at that time; and never did he raise him­self so much above his own Strength, and undaunted Courage. The Sight of the Danger, and the Easiness to avoid it by so many open ways, and offer'd to his Choice: On the other side, the Dread of all things necessary for his Justification, never gave him the least Disturbance. Considering his Innocency, he look'd upon his Liberty as nothing; he sacrific'd it himself; he ran to the Prison with the same speed that the Guilty flie it. There he only minded the saving of his Innocence and his Honour; and there he met the Mercy of God that waited for him.

Yes surely, my Lords, 'tis so; and if what I have said has not proceeded from the Mouth of Fame, yet has it issu'd from the Lips of Truth. In view of this very Church where we are now met together, which was in his way, he made a stop; and at that very moment, notwithstanding the Confusion of Thoughts which turmoil'd his Mind, he acknowledg'd the Hand of God lifted up against him. Far from being consternated like the Heathen Prince at the sight of the Celestial Hand-writing, which wrote his Destiny; but rather full of Considence and Humility at the [Page 17]same time, he enter'd the Church, and pouring forth his Soul at the Feet of this same Altar, he confess'd, that his Sins had been the Source of his Misfortune; he ador'd the Goodness of God, who had made choice of that means, to draw him from the Preci­pice, and set him in the right way of Salvation. And less Touch'd with the Danger his Estate and Reputation were in, then the Peril of his Soul, he renounces (Hearken Christians!) he re­nounces his Justification before Men, if his Justification were oppo­site to his Salvation. This was then the Sense and Spirit of his Prayer. He has often explain'd his Meaning upon it, at a Time when the Confession he made of it ought to be a Reproach to his Conduct. Thou, Lord, who heardest him, and hast pro­mis'd every thing to Prayer, more-especially to that which is put up for Salvation; Thou who hast afforded him this signal Justification in the Eyes of the World, which he implor'd but faintly of Thee, wouldst Thou have resus'd him that Salvation which he su'd for then so earnestly, in the Bitterness of a Soul sincerely humbl'd?

This was not ineffectual; and if I may be permitted to apply to him, what the Scripture speaks of a Just Man persecuted, Wisdom descends with him into the Prison, and forsakes him not in Bonds. He there detested his Vanities; he search'd into the Errors and Disorders of his Life; he solemnly aton'd for 'em by the Use of the Sacraments: nor was he deliver'd from his Captivity, till en­liven'd with more Pious Resolutions. To corroborate him in it, God permitted, that being Justify'd as he was, Free and Trium­phant over Envy, a Retirement of several Months should serve as a Tryal of his Fidelity. Faithful to God all that time, he spent his Leisure in the same Exercises, and continu'd the Purifying of his Heart by frequent Confessions. 'Twas then another Heart, form'd by Adversity, and consecrated by Repentance: the Work of the Grace of God. How long, think ye, should any of you have held out? Answer, you that hear me, and search for the Answer in your own Hearts. After so many Oaths which you have sworn to God, and which you believ'd to be sincere, what would it require to make you forget all? The slightest Occa­sion presented to your Eyes and Hearts, overturns all your De­signs, and makes ye break all your Promises. What Occasions assail'd at first this Heart so chang'd by Adversity! Employ­ments, Commands, Honours, Victories, Applauses; all the whole Train of Prosperity. If his Heart held not out as it [Page 18]ought to have done, against so many violent Assaults, let Us bewail our common Frailty. Condemn Him, but at the same time give Sentence against your Selves: ac­cuse in his behalf, as in your own, the contagious Aire of the World, but more-especially the Aire of the Court where you live. Nevertheless, in all the Relaxations of which he might be guilty since, admire the several Im­pressions of Grace and Vertue which Mercy had still left in his Heart; to shew that he was still her Care, and that the Fugitive should not escape her.

Call to Mind the Scorn and Forgetfulness of Injuries, which was signal in him, ev'n to the Complaint of his Friends; who judging of his Attention to the Services he did 'em, by his Indifferency in reference to ill Offices done him; and of his Gratitude, by his Carelessness in Point of Resentment, made that a Crime in Matter of Friendship, which is a Vertue, in regard to Revenge. Insensible, or rather Deaf to scandalous Reports, Railleries, and ma­licious Stories and Discourses, you should see him admit with a sedate and caressing Aire those of his Inferiours, of whose Ingratitude he had been inform'd. He found 'em more worthy of his Pity, then his Indignation. As he was Easie to return his Friendship to those who had Contemn'd him, he was no less Facile to return his Esteem and good Offices to those who Offended him. Who had ever more Enemies, more manifest Reasons to repell Injury by Injury, more Opportunities and Means to Revenge himself? Upon whom did he ever revenge himself? At what time? and in what manner? Oh, my Lords! after what manner, with what an Aire of Moderation and Humanity did he manage ev'n the Pub­lick Revenge! this Minister of War, which usually in­fuses Cruelty? While the Vanquish'd reveng'd with rigour the Ignominy of their Defeat upon such Officers of Ours that fell into their Hands by the Chance of War, this Victor made it the Pleasure and Honour of his Victo­ries, [Page 19]to treat his Prisoners as he had done his Friends. Did he not restore that Intercourse of Civility and Gene­rosity which always ought to accompany Valour, and which was interrupted by the first Furies of the War?

Did he forget the Duties of Charity? You Praise the Christian who is tender toward the Necessities of the Mi­serable, who is assiduous to Succour the Dying, and zea­lous to Honour the Church. Praise then a General, who coming from the Field of Battel, or'e whelm'd with La­bour, and cover'd with Blood, takes diligent care to have the Living separated from the Dead, to rally the languish­ing Remainders of those Generous Victims to the Honour of the Kingdom; to hasten the Spiritual Consolations of Consecrated Pastors and Ministers, by express Orders issu'd forth to all the Country round about. Praise the General, who in the Devastations of War, applies himself, as much as lies within his Power, to turn the Tempest from the Fields of the poor and defenceless People; and rather, if there be Occasion, to let it fall upon the Pos­sessions and Castles of the Wealthy, ev'n to the neglect of the Suits and Lands of most of his Illustrious Kindred, so that he might spare the Revenues and Estates of the Church. Commend a General, who out of a Spirit of Religion, at his own Expences repairs the Disorders of Impiety; who makes Restitution out of his own Purse, to the Altars de­spoil'd by the Rapines of the Soldier, and restores the Vessels appointed to enclose the Sacred Mysteries. Who, lastly, out of the same Spirit of Piety, and with a Dili­gence altogether singular, keeps off Fire and Sword from the Churches and Places where the Saints are honour'd.

Famous Church, which renders the City of Hall so dear to all Flanders! Ancient Monument of the Devo­tion of those People to the Mother of God! You must be also a Monument of that Veneration which this War­riour pay'd to the Name of the same Holy Virgin: and when Posterity shall behold that City surrounded with the [Page 20]Ruins of her Ramparts, and the Church exalting her Front in the midst of so many Ruins, while they bewail the dire Necessities of the War, can they forbear to re­member with joy the Piety of such a General? He took the same Care, and for the same Reason, when he de­molish'd Braine-le-Compte. He made profession of a par­ticular Veneration for the Mother of Mercy. And his Letters are to be seen to Persons of the highest Quality, wherein he blushes not to declare, That in all his Misfor­tunes he still address'd himself to Her, and had been sensible of the Effects of Her Protection.

All these Actions of his are certain; and I should de­sire, my Lords, no other credit to be given to all these Actions, then what is readily giv'n to Slander and En­vy, when we hear the Reputation of great Personages rent and torn, without any ground or proof, by the fou­lest of Lyes, can that Credit be refus'd me, in this Sacred Place, and this Illustrious Assembly, where I have the Honour to speak; and upon Actions that cannot be que­stion'd by the malignity of human Wit, but only because they are advantageous to the Memory of so great a Man?

All this while, if the Root of Divine Grace and Cha­rity have not conferr'd a Soul and Strength, requisite to produce the Fruit of Salvation, these are no more then unprofitable Leaves that will not save the barren Fig-Tree from the Danger of being cut down. Whatever we expatiate thereupon, would be no more then, as Saint Paul says, the sound of tingling Brass, or a tinkling Cym­bal. 'Tis very true: But this feeble Sound, in the cele­brated Centurion, then out of the Pale of Grace, and the true Faith, fail'd not to reach the Ears of the Al­mighty, who was pleas'd to repay this Sound with the Favour of Conversion. Would it be too much to pre­sume the same in Favour of a Person full of Faith? Would it be too much to presume upon the Mercy of God, which was always so liberal to him, as to look upon the Impres­sions [Page 21]of his Vertue and Piety, as Tyes, which, as weak as they were, were a Help to bring him again to God, and to draw down upon him the Grace of Repentance, which at length put an end to his Life.

Oh! what a Favour, my Lords, was this! To how many of his Equals has it been refus'd? From how ma­ny Dangers has he been lifted up by the Hand of God, that he might be reserv'd to that favourable Minute? There have been seen several of the Enemy, who have singl'd themselves from their Squadrons on purpose to give him the fatal Stroak: as it happen'd in the Medley at the Conflict of Leuze. He warded off the Blow; 'twas God that gave him the Address and Strength. But what befel him at Nerwinde? He fought after the man­ner of the ancient Hero's of his Race, that is to say, in the midst of his Children. The youngest, at Seventeen Years of Age, was there the Second time that ever he had been in the Field, and it was the Second Battel wherein his Courage had been try'd. The Third, forcing the Enemies Trenches at the Head of his Brigade, happen'd to receive a dangerous Wound. The Father still advanc'd and driving the Recoilers to a dangerous Post, not regar­ding the Importunities of his Officers, who laid the Danger before him, the eldest Son, the worthy Heir of his Courage and Name, here present, and paying his last Duties to his Memory, running with a design to stop him, receiv'd the Blow that was design'd against his Fa­ther. 'Twas God that watch'd over 'em, and who mea­sur'd their Paces, who by the Danger of the Son, pro­long'd to the Father the Minutes of a Life profitable for his Condition, to conduct him to this Time of Salvation still conceal'd in the Bosome of Previdence.

What a short time was this to Prepare for Salvation! A few Days of Sighs and Tears, after a long Series of Years spent in the Engagements and Passions of this World. I grant, and upon this Subject I know the Re­flexions [Page 22]of the Holy Fathers. I grant that when they admit Sinners to Repentance at the late Hour of Death, they do not assure 'em of their Salvation. I can admit Repentance, but not assure Salvation. But let Charity cause you to distinguish upon whom this Sentence is gi­ven. Upon Sinners, whose Faith is without Light, and whose Religion is without Authority. Upon Sinners, whose Reason is besotted, and whose Hearts are incapa­ble of any steady Resolution: Sinners, who by a long Abuse of Holy Things, are become blind to all the Idea's of God: who neither then submit to the last Duties of Religion, till after they are as it were constrain'd by all that Zeal, Prudence, and the respect of the World is ca­pable to suggest. Sinners, whose Reason, good Sense, Faith, Hope, Confidence, and Fear of God, must be settl'd, before you mention Sorrow and Repentance for Sin. For a Sinner, under this Character, who expects ap­proaching Death, for him to tell us, That he believes, that he hopes, and that he loves God, We grant him, says St. Austin, Repentance; but what Assurance of Repen­tance?

The Case was not the same with our Penitent, whose Salvation is this Day the Subject of our Prayer. Faith, Religion, the Fear of God, a Veneration for Holy Things, Contempt of Death, Indifferency for Life, a lively and display'd Reason, Great and Noble Sentiments: These were the Dispositions of his Soul to Repentance. 'Tis then upon this Occasion, or never, that the Sentence of St. Cyprian ought to be of great Force: That Repentance ne'er comes too late, provided it be true, nor is there any thing but what may be remitted, provided the Repentance be a part of the Heart. Now in regard of our Penitent, every thing demonstrated the visible Marks of a sincere and solid Re­pentance.

Uncapable of Cowardice and Baseness, during the whole course of his Life; accustom'd to raise his Courage [Page 23]proportionably to the Grandeur of the Danger; upon the Approach of the Danger of his Life, which was declar'd to him by his real Friends, or rather at the Approach of the Danger of his Soul, of which he was more sensible then any Body, he follow'd Grace, which rais'd him a­bove every thing, and forming to himself an Idea of God, according to the Attractions of that Grace, and the natural Propensity of his Heart, he measur'd the Ex­tent of his Mercy by the infinite Extent of his Grandeur. Was he deceiv'd? 'Twas the measure which the wise Man took: According to his Greatness, such is the great­ness of his Mercy. No Presumption all this while in this Confidence. It was accompany'd with a Humility, pro­per for a Sinner, asham'd of his Ingratitude, and the long Abuse of God's Gifts. No dissimulation in his Venerati­on of the Holy Mysteries. We found that all he did, when he dispos'd himself to receive 'em, all he said when he receiv'd 'em was the sincere and voluntary Act of a Heart accustom'd, in despite of Mortal Passions, to humble it self before God, to adore, invoke him, and to be sorrowfully sensible of not loving him sufficiently. No honing after the Grandeurs of the Age. With all the Vivacity, and all the presence of Mind that was na­tural to him, he turns away his Eyes from that same glit­tering Fortune which he saw vanishing before him: he thought it not worthy of one single Sigh. If there were any Cares of this World, or any thing of human Thoughts that remain'd behind, 'twas only to accomplish the Duties of Justice. He extended his Cares to his Domesticks; there was not one that had not a share in his Remem­brance according to his Merits and his Services. And who does he choose for the Confident of his last Will? That Son, always by his side in the Confusion of Battel, was still at hand in his late fatal Conflict, to receive and execute his Orders: Alas! not with that joy, as when he obey'd him with his Arms in his Hands. With a trem­bling [Page 24]Hand, and throbbing Heart, he wrote what with a serene Air the dying Father dictated. And there it was that he found himself too unable to imitate him. All his Chil­dern came to his Bed-side, lead in by a Hand which Friendship render'd still more precious; to which we may add the Lustre of Birth, of Merit, and high Digni­ties, both in the Church and Court. In the presence of a Friend of this Importance and Reputation, he scrupl'd not to discover the tenderness of his Heart, and to take his Friend for a Witness and Depositary of his Thoughts. But how far does his Tenderness for his Children extend? To inspire into 'em Sentiments of God above his own, Sentiments for the King equal to his own, and for them­selves Sentiments of Concord and Union worthy of them­selves. With the same Constancy, sensible of the Sor­rows of his Friends, he is touch'd with it without the least weakness, he distinguishes 'em all by particular Marks of Esteem, without partiality. To those also, whom he had no reason to look upon as his Friends, he made it appear, by his Examinations of himself, and made 'em confess by their Tears, that he had always de­serv'd to be so, and that he had always been so.

What Thronging! What a Concourse to his Bed-side of all that was great in France, or at the Court! What Surprize and Astonishment at the heavy News of the pressing Danger he was in! How was the King disturb'd for the Loss of such a Subject, who had conquer'd and sav'd so many Provinces! What Lamentations of all the great Princes who had commanded under him! that is to say, of those who had had him for their General, the Companion of their Dangers, and their Guide to Vi­ctory. Honour'd by their Tears, he is as little troubl'd as mollify'd by 'em; nothing mov'd, he shews himself a Spectacle to the Grief of some, and the Pity of others. He calls to their remembrance the vanity of Grandeurs, that have no other Foundation then the Frailty of this [Page 25]Life. He brings into their Minds the Importance of the Journey which he is going to take before 'em, and which they must all prepare for, after him. Penetrated with Sorrow to see himself defective in requisite Purity, to offer up his Soul a sweet Savour to God, he offers it as a Victim to his Supreme Will, and believes that God will vouchsafe him Salvation, seeing that after so many Sins committed, he leaves him still a lively and humble Hope. He accompanies the Sacred Ceremonies with a faithful and reverent Attention; and he is desirous to breathe his last Gasps, embracing the Cross, in Adoration of his Master. Enfeebl'd at length, and feeling the Approaches of Death, he employs the last Efforts of his Speech, to desire the Succour of the Holy Ministers, and his faithful Friends, that with their Voices and their Thoughts they would uphold to the last the Union of his Heart with God.

In these Sentiments of Submission of a Creature to his Master; of the Fear and Humility of an Offender before his Judge; of Religion and Piety of a Christian before his Saviour; of the Confidence and Love of a Prodigal and Penitent Son toward his Father, he expires, he goes to appear before the Sovereign Tribunal: follow'd by his Works, 'tis true; but laden, Lord, with thy great Mer­cies. They would never have accompany'd him so many Years, they would never have been redoubl'd at last with so much splendour, to fail him at the last Mo­ment; that very Moment to which all the Moments and Favours of this Life tend.

This is that which has hitherto upheld his Hope, and which at this day ought also to uphold ours in favour of him. Not for our Righteousness, but for thy great Mercies. Let those that know thee not, O God, blame our Confi­dence. But let those that know thee, by a real Faith, by long Experiences of thy Goodness; those who are en­ter'd into the Treasuries of thy Mercy, who know, That [Page 27]thou hast Pity upon all Men, because thou art Almighty; that thou pardon'st all, because we are all thy Creatures; that for the gaining of their Pardon, thou only demandest we should turn to thee with all our hearts: That thou art the good Shepherd that leavest the whole Flock to look after the stray'd Sheep, and takest her upon thy shoulders with so much the more Charity, as being more feeble, and more in a languishing and dying Condition. Let those who know thee for such a God, Hope in thee, O my God. And let 'em cry aloud with David, Because thou never forsakest those that seek thee, Lord. The Person for whom we implore all this Clemency, was full of these Sentiments. He has never ceas'd to Know Thee. If he went astray, thou soughtest after him, by Adversity, by Repentance. Invited by the Enquiries of thy Grace, he has sought after thee by the Fervency of his Sighs. Lord, thou never forsakest those who know thee, and who seek after thee. We know thee too well, not to depend upon thee. Let 'em Hope in thee, that know thy Name, because thou hast not forsaken those that seek thee, O Lord.

The let us not fall into the Snares of the Enemies of Repentance, as also of Vertue it self. The World is full of Men without Faith, who not being in a Condition to pretend to the Hopes of Future Life, make it their De light to think ill of those that go out of This; and strive (as says St. Jerome) to Comfort themselves with their own Despair, by despairing of the Salvation of all others. They believe it an Ease of their Pain, that no body should be Righ­teous. But let us not afford 'em this false Joy; but let all the truly Faithful reunite themselves, to uphold the merci­ful Strength of the Grace of God, against the false Inflexi­bilities and aflected Zeal of Libertinism.

Let the Children of this Heroe, all so capable to uphold here below the Honour which he has left 'em, never imagin that they have not more for him. Let 'em be mindful of that Glory of happy Eternity, where Repen­tance [Page 26]has a share as well as Innocency; and striving them­selves to attain to the most safe of these two ways, let 'em be convinc'd, that God opens the Other, when, to whom, and after what manner he pleases.

Let Him, among his Illustrious Children, whom Pro­vidence has made Choice of for the Service of his Church, and who was Consecrated to it in his most tender Years, with such happy Dispositions to the most Noble Vertues and most High Dignities of that excellent Condition; Let this Son, I say, so justly sensible of the Loss of such a Fa­ther, apply himself speedily to procure him, by his Piety, the Peace and Glory of the Elect, with as much Fervency, as his other Children by their Valour shall doe Honour to his Memory.

Let that Afflicted Widow, as remote from the Pomp and Corruption of the World, by Choice and Inclination, as she approaches near to what the World accounts most Great, by the Blood of Luxembourg and Clermont, the Splendour of which she has united to the Blood of Mont­morancy, now redouble with more Confidence the Exer­cises of her Charity, which she made her sweetest Em­ployment while he liv'd, for the etetnal Repose of her Husband.

Let that Lady, in the last place, strong above her Sex and her Age, who gave Life to this Heroe, then the Child of her Sorrow, now the Crown of her Old Age, who saw him cover'd with Honour, after she had seen him born in the midst of the Shadow of Death, at this day surviving so many Revolutions, as a publick Witness of the Won­ders of Providence, after Threescore and eight Years of Vertuous Widowhood, equal or superiour to the Wi­dow'd Prophetess, considering the Number of her Years, and her Love for her Country, and like to her in Wis­dom and Piety, consecrate the remainder of her Life, to bless the Mercies which God has exercis'd upon her Son, and to draw 'em down upon the Flourishing [Page 28]Family, of which God was pleas'd that He should be the Chief.

Let Us. My Lords, excited to Pray for Him, by so many Motives of Hope, work out our Salvation with Fear and Trembling, convinc'd of this Truth so brightly shi­ning in St. Paul, That it is God who works in us hoth the Will and the Deed, according to his Good Will. If God has wrought in Him this wonderful Operation, Has he wrought it for all Sinners? If this Penitent shew'd him­self Faithful upon this last Effort of the Goodness of God for Him, Are all others therefore Faithful? If He have had a Time, Shall you have the same? If the Felicity of this End seems to harden ye to Sin, let the Seldomness of the Happiness carry you to Repentance; to this Favourable Death of a Penitent; opposite to so many Violent, Un­expected, Untimely, and many otherwise Fatal Deaths. In the mean time, but for this End so full of Consolation, what would become of all the Wonders of his Life? What Kindness would the Luster of so many Victories doe him before the Tribunal of his God? Nay, What stead would they stand him in, before the Tribunal of the World, and Publick Opinion? Therefore it is by this End that we ought to measure all the Grandeur of this Man. And God (My Lords) and the World will Judge of You by your Ends. May it have been for Him, and may it be for every one of Us, the Beginning of Blessed Eter­nity.