whether the world ever saw. It contains an abundance of excellent things, uncommonly excellent; several things which are utterly false and unscriptural; nay, such as are dangerously false. As to Madame Guion herself, I believe she was not only a good woman, but good in an eminent degree; deeply devoted to God, and often favored with uncommon communications of his Spirit."

The persecutions in which she was thus involved were unremitting and painful. Her doctrines underwent a solemn inquiry at Issy, before three commissioners appointed by Louis XIV. for that purpose: viz. the Bishop, of Meaux, the Bishop of Chartres, (afterwards Cardinal de Noailles,) and M. Tronson, the Superior of the Congregation of St. Sulpice. After a discussion which lasted six months, her writings received a formal condemnation, in which Fénélon refused to concur. By this apparent sanction of her principles, and still more by his celebrated "Maxims of the Saints," in which he incorporated the more spiritual part of her system, he exposed himself to a series of painful reverses. He was banished the court by Louis XIV., who probably never read his book, nor comprehended his principles, but who never forgave the author of Telemachus. By the same authority he was removed from the office of preceptor to the Dukes of Burgundy, Anjou, and Berri; and commanded to retire to Cambray, which he embellished with his exalted

virtues. But a further scene of humiliation awaited him. His powerful opponent, the celebrated Bossuet, not content with attacking his writings, endeavored to procure their condemnation at the Court of Rome, which led to a bon-mot of the Pope, that "Fénélon was in fault for too great love to God, and his enemies equally in fault for too little love of their neighbor." The Brief was at length obtained, though not without considerable delay and reluctance. Fénélon received this act of censure with calm serenity, and in obedience to papal authority, ascended his pulpit at Cambray with his Maxims in one hand and the Brief in the other. He then read the condemnation of his own book, amidst the tears and admiration of his congregation; thus evincing a magnanimity which rendered him greater in his defeat than his enemies appeared in their triumph.

Madame Guion spent ten years in prison, during which she composed many hymns, with poems on various spiritual subjects, filling no less than five octavo volumes. Speaking of the period of her imprisonment at Vincennes, she observes, "I passed my time in great peace, content to spend the rest of my life there, if such were the will of God. I sang songs of joy, which the maid who served me learned by heart, as fast as I made them and we sang together thy praises, O my God! The stones of my prison looked my eyes like rubies. I esteemed them

in

more than all the gaudy brilliancies of a vain world." We cannot state this fact without doing homage to the virtues of Madame Guion. The piety that could convert a prison into a sanctuary, and transform sufferings into an occasion for joy and thanksgiving, must have been elevated and sincere, however mingled with enthusiasm. Her doctrine of profound submission, under circumstances the most adverse, was no speculative thesis; it was evidently carried into the life and practice.

Who is not reminded by this act of what is recorded in the apostolical times? "And at midnight Paul and Silas prayed, and sang praises unto God." The rigor of her persecutions, in our opinion, conveys a strong censure against her zealous but misguided opponents. But the case is by no means solitary. The world is always indulgent to the errors of our practice, but severe to the errors of our creed. True policy and humanity would have suggested a different course. Extravagances, when left to themselves, generally work their own cure; but, when visited with persecution, acquire dignity and importance, and never fail to awaken sympathy for the sufferers.

After her long imprisonment, Madame Guion lived a retired life for more than seven years at Blois, where she died June 9, 1717, in the seventieth year of her age, celebrated for her misfortunes and devotion, though her

principles, which once convulsed France, and awakened the thunders of the Vatican, are now nearly forgotten.

The following selection from her poems, executed by Cowper, is highly devotional, and may be read with interest and edification. It exhibits a happy specimen of her religious views in their best form; and Cowper has given to them the charms of versification, united with a taste and discrimination that ensure their popularity. The poem on the Nativity is a sublime and bold composition, and proves that the piety which warms the heart, seldom fails to enlarge and invigorate the faculties of the mind.

TRANSLATIONS FROM THE FRENCH

OF

MADAME DE LA MOTHE GUION.

THE NATIVITY.

"Tis folly all-let me no more be told
Of Parian porticos, and roofs of gold;
Delightful views of nature, dress'd by art,
Enchant no longer this indifferent heart;
The Lord of all things, in his humble birth,
Makes mean the proud magnificence of earth;
The straw, the manger, and the mouldering wall,
Eclipse its lustre; and I scorn it all.

Canals, and fountains, and delicious vales, Green slopes and plains, whose plenty never fails;

Deep-rooted groves, whose heads sublimely rise,
Earth-born, and yet ambitious of the skies;
The abundant foliage of whose gloomy shades,
Vainly the sun in all its power invades ;
Where warbled airs of sprightly birds resound,
Whose verdure lives while Winter scowls around;
Rocks, lofty mountains, caverns dark and deep,
And torrents raving down the rugged steep;
Smooth downs, whose fragrant herbs the spirits
cheer;

Meads crown'd with flowers; streams musical and clear,