longue haleine), is distinct and clear in tone, with a vibration and accent very suitable to mark the generous or ironical meaning of his speeches. The son of an English mother, he has in his voice, through its sweetness, a certain rise and fall of accentuation which answers his purpose well, which lets certain words drop from a greater height and resound further than others. I ask pardon for insisting upon these particulars; but the ancients, our masters in everything, and particularly in eloquence, gave a minute attention to them.'

It was Berryer who said: 'A man has always the voice of his mind. A mind clear, distinct, firm, generous, a little dis-. dainful, displays all these sentiments in its voice.' An example of each of Montalembert's merits might be supplied from his speech on the Liberty of the Church (16th April, 1844), in which he proudly vindicated the position of the small minority whom he represented in the Chamber:

"Allow me to tell you, gentlemen, there has arisen amongst you a generation of men whom you know not. Call them néo-Catholiques, Sacristans, Ultramontanes, as you like: the name is nothing to the purpose: the thing exists. This generation would willingly take for device the words with which the manifesto of the generous Poles who resisted Catherine II. in the last century began: We who love liberty more than everything in the world, and the Catholic religion still more than liberty.'

"We are neither conspirators nor flatterers: we are found neither in street tumults nor in antechambers: we are strangers to all your coalitions, to all your recriminations, to all your struggles of cabinet, of parties: we have been neither to Ghent nor to Belgrave Square.* We have made no pilgrimages except to the tombs of apostles, of Pontiffs, and of martyrs: we have there learned, with Christian and legitimate respect for established powers, how they are resisted when they fail in their duties, and how they are survived!

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In this France, which has been wont to produce only men of heart and spirit, we alone, we Catholics-should we consent to be but fools and cowards? Are we to acknowledge ourselves such bastards, so degenerated from the condition of our fathers, that we must give up our reason to rationalism, deliver our conscience to the university, our dignity and our freedom into the hands of law-makers whose hatred for the freedom of the Church is equalled only by their profound ignorance of her rights and her doctrines? What! because we are of those who confess, do they suppose that we rise from the feet of our priests ready to hold out our own wrists to the handcuffs of anti-constitutional legalism? What! because the sentiment of faith reigns in our hearts, do they suppose that honor and courage have

*M. Guizot joined Louis XVIII. at Ghent during the Hundred Days; and the Legitimists had recently been crossing the Channel in great numbeis to do homage to Henry V. whilst occupying a house in Belgrave Square.

perished there? Ah, let them undeceive them. selves. You are told: Be implacable.* Well, be so; do all you will and all you can. The Church answers you by the mouth of Tertullian and the gentle Fénelon, 'You have nothing to fear from us; but we do not fear you.' And for me, I add in the name of Catholic laymen like myself, Catholics of the nineteenth century-We will not be helots in the midst of a free people. We are the successors of the martyrs, and we do not tremble before the successors of Julian the Apostate. We are the sons of the Crusaders, and we will not fall back before the sons of Voltaire !"

Estimated by its electrical effects on the audience-the best test of eloquence— his speech on the affairs of Switzerland must be regarded as his masterpiece. A league of cantons, the Sonderbund, formed to resist the Federal Diet, had been put down by an armed force, much as the Southern Confederacy was put down in the United States. It was practically the triumph of the radicals over the conservatives and Catholics, so that all Montalembert's warmest sympathies were enlisted for the Sonderbund. The conquerors, moreover, had been guilty of great excesses, and the religious orders had been the chief sufferers. The question arose as one of foreign policy in the debate on the Address, January 11th, 1848, and its real importance lay in its connection with the doctrines which revolutionised the greater part of Europe within the year. This was the aspect in which Montalembert presented it :

"Believe me, gentlemen, I do not come here Catholicism has been wounded in Switzerland, as to expose a religious or Catholic grievance. Yes, all the world knows; but all the world knows also that the wounds and the defeats of religion are not incurable or irreparable wounds; that at bottom it is her vocation to be wounded, persecuted, oppressed. She suffers from it, but only for a time. She is cured of it, she recovers, she comes out of these trials more radiant and more strong. But do you know what does not recover so easily, what cannot with impunity be exposed to such attacks? It is order, it is peace; it is above all, liberty, and this is the cause which I come to plead before you, it is this which I come to deplore and vindicate with you.'

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love liberty more than I have done. And here it must be said, I do not accept, either as a reproach or as praise, the opinion expressed of me by the Minister for Foreign Affairs, that I was exclusively devoted to religious liberty. No, no, gentlemen: that to which I am devoted is liberty in itself, the liberty of all and in everything. This I have always defended, always proclaimed: I who have written so much, spoken so much—too much, I acknowledge-I defy any man to find a single word from my pen or from my lips which has not been devoted to the cause of freedom. Freedom: ah! I can say it without phrases (sans phrase). She has been the idol of my soul; if I have any. thing to reproach myself with, it is to have loved her too much, to have loved her as one loves when

one is young, that is, without measure, without limit. But I neither reproach myself for this, nor do I regret it; I will continue to serve Freedom, to love her always, to believe in her always; and it is my belief that I have never loved her more, never served her better than on this day when I am doing my best to unmask her enemies, who deck themselves out in her colors, who usurp her flag to soil it, to dishonor it!"

According to the contemporary reports, the delivery of this speech was repeatedly interrupted by the enthusiasm of the audience. Half the peers rose to their feet: exclamations were heard from every corner of the Chamber. Pasquier left his place to compliment the orator: the ministers hurried up to him for the same purpose. M. Guizot, speaking for his colleagues, said :—

"I do not share all the ideas of the honorable speaker; I do not accept the reproaches he has addressed to the Government. But he has given expression to too many great, good, and useful truths, and he has spoken with a sentiment too sincere and profound to make it possible to raise any debate with him at this moment. I cannot introduce a purely political and still less a personal question, after what he has just said. I have no reply to make to M. de Montalembert."

This completes the parallel with the greatest success ever attained in the English Parliament, Sheridan's Begum speech, when Pitt moved the adjournment of the debate, on the ground taken by M. Guizot. In recording this great event in his journal, Montalembert expresses his ineffable satisfaction at having executed justice on ces scélérats, the Swiss radicals, with whom he classed their patron and prompter (as he designated him), Lord Palmerston.

We have anticipated a little to classify his oratory. A man like Montalembert cannot be happy or content unless his heart is occupied, as well as his imagination and his intellect: he must have an object'o affection as well as of ambition; and even friendship, the truest and warmest, will not

suffice. I have never been able to touch a woman's heart,' is his sorrowful entry in 1834; forgetting to add that he had never tried or never set the right way about it. How could he touch a living woman's heart when his own was with a dead saint? 'Saint Elizabeth,' he rapturously exclaims, 'she is my only friend.' If saints in heaven are permitted to befriend their worshippers on earth, it may have been she who, by some miraculous influence, brought about his sudden and most auspicious attachment to her descendant, the beautiful and accomplished daughter of Count Félix de Merode, whom he met for the first time in the spring of 1836, and married in the following August.*

Immediately after their marriage the young couple started for Italy, by way of Switzerland. They passed the Christmas at Rome, where he had three interviews with the Pope, who quietly talked over the old affair of 'L'Avenir,' and expressed his warm approval of the course which Montalembert had subsequently pursued in religious matters. They are back in Paris in May, 1837, and, according to his biographer, 'there followed a few years of tranquil domestic existence, not without movement and that bruit which, from his earliest days, Montalembert had acknowledged himself to love-but still calm, disturbed by no clamor of perpetual publicity, with time in it for much literary work and much family enjoyment.'

In 1849 he came to England to attend the death bed of his mother, accompanied by his wife and brother-in-law, Count Werner de Merode. The melancholy occasion prevented them from going into society, and we learn from Rio that they accepted only two invitations from London acquaintance-the one being Rogers, with whom they breakfasted; and the other 'a young member of Parliament destined to the greatest political position of our time,' Mr. Gladstone. In February, 1840, he writes to an English friend, Mr. de Lisle Philipps, that his chief occupation and interest since he left England had been the direction and maintenance of the Univers,' the journal which, under M. Veuillot, was eventually

The Belgian family of de Merode is one of the noblest in Europe, and connected with many princely houses. Monsignor de Merode, the honored counsellor of the Pope, is the brother of Madame de Montalembert.

The

to become the bitterest of his assailants and calumniators. The breach between him and the extreme section of the clerical party arose out of the settlement of the education question by the arrangement which he called the Concordat d'Enseignement' and they designated as a base compromise of the best interests of the Church. main object, the liberty of teaching, was undoubtedly attained by it: attained by his unceasing devotion to the cause till it was practically won by effort upon effort, speech upon speech, during the most brilliant phase of his parliamentary career. It was the varied powers he displayed in its advocacy, coupled with the personal sacrifices exacted by it and made without murmuring, that elicited the glowing encomium of Count Molé in 1844: 'What a pity that he has so little ambition! And yet it is fine! If I was but forty, I would desire no other part (role) than that of M. de Montalembert.' He was mortified, no doubt, at the manner in which he was assailed after the passing of the Loi Falloux, which he might be excused for thinking ought to have been the Loi Montalembert; but his sympathising biographer is surely hurried into an unconscious exaggeration when she says:

'He was thus left victorious, yet defeated, upon the ground he had so long and so gallantly held. The victory was won, but the leader was left alone upon the field of battle. Curiously significant, like the dramatic winding up of a tragedy, was this strange success. He won it but in winning it, came not only to the end of his campaign, but to an end of his power; he had succeeded in the object which he had pursued for twenty years; but his political position was gone, and his power over. Never was there a more singular situation. In conquering he fell.'

His power over the ultras of the clerical party was at an end, but his political position, which did not depend upon them at any time, was rather strengthened by their defection. 'Now,' writes Sainte-Beuve in November 1849, he is followed willingly by men of all parties. Not only the eloquence and brilliancy, but the meaning, of his noble speeches is accepted and acknowledged. He has ceased to see everything from one point of view.' The Chamber of Peers had been abolished, and these noble speeches were addressed to popular assemblies, which (adds the same fine observer), so differently composed and so stormy, suited him marvellously. He did not fear interruptions, but liked them :

he found in them (he said) great honor and great pleasure.' In a debate on the Irremovability of the Magistrature, April, 1849, after alluding to the assimilation of religion to justice in the expressions 'temple of the law,' 'sanctuary of justice' priesthood of the magistracy,' he continued:

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"Yes, gentlemen, revolutions have passed over the head of the priest without bending it. I ask you so to act as that they may pass over the head of the judge without striking it. Let the stream of progress-if there is progress-let the destinies of the nation, that which is variable, if you like it better, in the destinies of the nationroll its course between two immovable banks, between the temple of the law and the temple of God -between the sanctuary of justice and the sanctuary of truth-between the priesthood of the priest and the priesthood of the judge.'

In the debate on the Prince President's letter to Edgar Ney, imposing what were deemed insulting conditions on the Pope,

he said :

"You deny it; you deny moral force, you deny faith, you deny the empire of the pontifical authority over souls--that empire which has subdued the proudest emperors. Well; be it so; is the weakness of the Holy See. but there is one thing which you cannot deny, it It is this

weakness, understand, that constitutes its insurmountable strength against you. Yes, truly, for there is not in the history of the world a greater or more consolatory spectacle than the embarrassment of strength in conflict with weakness.

"Permit me a familiar comparison. When a man is condemned to struggle against a woman, if that woman is not the most degraded of beings, she may defy him with impunity. She tells him, 'Strike! but you will disgrace yourself, and you will not conquer me.' Well, the Church is not a woman; she is more than a woman, she is a mother. She is a mother-the mother of Europe, of modern society, of modern humanity. It matters not that one is an unnatural son, a rebellious son, an ungrateful son, one always remains son, and there comes a moment in every struggle against the Church when this parricidal struggle becomes insupportable to the human race, and when he who has maintained it falls overpowered, annihilated, be it by defeat, be it by the unanimous reprobation of humanity!"'

This impersonation of the Church, which exactly fell in with the feelings of the majority, was followed by a triple salvo of cheers. When he sat down, Berryer hurried up to him and said, 'Your strength lies in this, that you are not absolute but resolute.' Thiers said, 'He is the most eloquent of men, and his speech the finest

'Entre le sacerdoce du prêtre et le sacerdoce du juge.' No speakers or writers of the higher class suffer so much in translation as the French.

I have ever heard. I envy him for it, but I hope the envy is no sin, for I love the beautiful, and I love Montalembert.'

What really lowered his political position, and lessened public confidence in his sagacity, was his conduct in reference to the coup d'état. Two days after its occurrence, December 4, he wrote to M. Fossier, 'Je n'ai su, ni conseillé, ni approuvé ce qui s'est fait.' But he allowed his name to remain on the Consultative Commission for some days, and was cajoled into the semblance of acquiescence till the confiscation of the Orleans property. His reasons were fully stated in his published letter, dated December 12, recommending the re-election of the President. These may be summed up in his dread of Socialism and his gratitude for services rendered to Catholicism: The liberty of instruction guaranteed: the Pope re-established by French arms: the Church restored to its councils, its synods, the plenitude of its dignity: the gradual augmentation of its colleges, its communities, its work of sal7ation and mercy.' He concluded in these words, 'In the mighty struggle between the two powers which divide the world, I believe that, in acting thus, I am as I ever have been, for Catholicism against Revolution.'

The bitter truth soon broke upon him, that he had been acting for Catholicism against liberty; and during the whole remainder of his life he struggled manfully to repair or atone for his mistake. The antiimperial feeling of the Academy made his election to it in 1852 doubly welcome as a tribute to his personal integrity, as well as to his literary and oratorical distinction; and his inaugural address (Feb. 5th) was fully equal to his fame. One of the most telling passages was that in which, after showing to what France had been brought by revolutionary excesses, he said:

Whether in the end we are to be conquered or

conquerors, is the secret of God. The grand point is not to have ourselves prepared the catastrophe to which we succumb, and, after our defeat, not to become the accomplice or the instrument of the victorious foe. I remember, as bearing on this, a fine reply attributed to the most chivalrous of our revolutionists, to M. de la Fayette. He was asked ironically what he had been able to do for the triumph of his liberal doctrines under the First Empire, and he replied, "Je me suis tenu debout." It strikes me, gentlemen, that this proud and haughty expression might serve for the devise and summary of your history. The

In July, 1857, he writes from Vichy that, after twenty-six years of public service, he has been set aside in the recent elections; ' and this, thanks to the Clergy of FrancheComté, half of whom voted against me, and the other half stayed at home; such has been the result of the influence of the "Univers," and of its calumnies and denunciations for the last seven years against me and my friends.' He was defeated by a Government candidate, and he used to relate an incident showing that other causes than clerical animosity were at work. On the day of election a party of gendarmes were marched into the principal town of the department, and drawn up in the square before the polling-place. Why did you not keep your promise?' asked Montalembert of a peasant proprietor, who had promised to vote for him and then voted the other way. Oh, Monsieur le Comte, the gendarmes - Did they say anything?'' No, Monsieur le Comte.'— Did they do anything?'-'No, Monsieur le Comte.'-'Then why did you not vote as you promised ? '—'Oh, Monsieur le Comte, ils étaient toujours là!'

He called a visit to England 'taking a bath of life,' in allusion to the bracing effect of its social and political atmosphere on one who had been breathing the impure and depressing air of despotism. He took one of these baths in 1855, and made the acquaintance of the scélérat Foreign Secretary, of whom he writes, 'I had yesterday a long conversation with Lord Palmerston, and I must acknowledge that, in spite of the repugnance which I have for his political principles, it would be difficult to find a man more agreeable, more spirituel or younger, notwithstanding that he is seventythree.'

He wished to see Woolwich Arsenal, and went down with a friend. They got there during the dinner hour, and whilst waiting for the reopening of the workshops sat down upon one of a range of cannon, with a conical pile of shells in front. He began to talk of England, her grandeur, her resources, her free institutions; and discoursed so eloquently that his companion earnestly pressed him to give body and durability to

* When Siéyès was asked what he had done during the Reign of Terror, he replied, 'Ce que j'ai fait ? j'ai vécu.' (Mignet.)

his observations by making them the basis of a book. 'Gibbon states that the idea of writing his " Decline and Fall" first started to his mind as he sat musing amidst the ruins of the Capitol. Why should not the first idea of an Essay on the Future of England first start to the mind of an illustrious foreigner sitting on one of the emblems and materials of her naval and military power ?'* He laughed at this grandiloquent parallel, but took the hint and wrote L'Avenir politique de l'Angleterre,' a book in which he indicates with instinctive sagacity the felicitous concurrence of circumstances, habits, and modes of thoughts that have made the British empire what it is. He was bitterly assailed on both sides of the Channel, especially for what he said about the churches; and we have a letter now before us, dated La Roche-en-Breny, January 3rd, 1856, in which he writes, this act has been, and deserves to be, looked upon as an act of foolhardiness. I have to contend both in Europe and America with the whole weight of religious prejudice against Protestant England, and of political prejudice against English freedom or English ambition.'

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What turned out an act of still greater foolhardiness was an article in the Correspondant' of October, 1858 (published separately in England), entitled Un Débat sur l'Inde au Parlement anglais,' which he made the vehicle of such exasperating allusions to the Imperial régime that it provoked a prosecution. He was defended by Berryer, and gave his own evidence as to the exact meaning of the inculpated passages, which no English judge or jury could have held libellous, but he was found guilty and the sentence on him was six months' imprisonment with a fine of 3000 francs: one month's imprisonment and a fine of 1000 francs on the publisher. The sentence, after being confirmed on appeal, was remitted by the Emperor. This article contained an admirable account of the debate in question-the debate on Mr. Cardwell's motion of censure on Lord Ellenborough's proclamation-with sketches of the several speakers, in his best manner.

*It was as I sat musing amidst the ruins of the Capitol, while the barefooted friars were singing vespers in the temple of Jupiter, that the idea of writing the "Decline and Fall" first started to my mind.'-Gibbon's Memoirs.

The two first volumes of his ' Monks of the West' (from St. Benedict to St. Bernard) appeared in 1860; the third, in 1865; the fourth and fifth, in 1867. The subject of the three last is the conversion of England by the monks; which is brought down to the death of the Venerable Bede in 735. This great monument of history, this great work interrupted by death,' says M. Coclin, 'is gigantic as an uncompleted cathedral.' It is certainly a vast conception, a durable, if unfinished, monument of energy, zeal, literary skill, research, learning, eloquence, and (we must add) credulity. His principal authorities are necessarily monkish chronicles, eked out by legends and traditions as fabulous as those of the round table. But he puts implicit faith in all of them: rarely, if at all, applies the test of conflicting evidence or internal improbability: is never staggered by any amount of miracles; and is so ready to give his saints, male and female, credit for supernatural powers that it is fortunate the story of St. Dunstan's conflict with the Devil did not come within. his range, for he would most assuredly have adopted it as a fact. His chapter on 'Les Religieuses anglo-saxonnes' is principally composed of the adventures of Saxon princesses who leave their fathers or husbands and their homes, to lead a kind of life which, without Divine interposition, would be dangerous in the extreme. Thus Frideswilda, founder and patroness of Oxford-'that is to say, of one of the most celebrated seats of learning in the universe'-being out on the ramble, is pursued and on the point of being overtaken by a rude suitor, when she prays to St. Cæcilia, who saves her by striking the brute blind, but restores his sight at the subsequent intercession of the intended. victim when she is safe. Feeling thirsty, she prays for water, and there instantly bubbles up a spring which continued during six centuries to attract crowds by the fame of its healing qualities

'But of all the miracles collected after her death none touches us like that which, related during her life, especially contributed to aggrandise her reputation for sanctity. It chanced one day that an unhappy young man suffering from leprosy met her. As soon as he caught sight of her, he cried out: "I conjure you, Virgin Frideswilda, by the Almighty God, to give me a kiss in the name of Jesus Christ, His only Son." The maiden, subduing the horror inspired by this hideous malady, drew near to him, and after marking him with the sign of the cross, impressed a sisterly