From that first campaign, after the taking of Thionville, noble fruit of the victory at Rocroy, he passed for a general equally invincible in sieges and battles. But observe in this young Prince what is not less beautiful than victory. The court, which had prepared for him the applause which he merited, was astonished at the manner in which he received it. The queen-regent testified to him that the king was satisfied with his services. In the mouth of the sovereign, that was a recompense worthy of his toils. But if others ventured to praise him, he rejected their praises as offensive. Intractable to flattery, he dreaded its very appearance. Such was the delicacy, or rather such was the good sense of the Prince. His maxim was-and you will please to notice it, for it is the maxim which makes great men- that in great actions our only care ought to be to perform well our part, and let glory follow virtue. This he inspired in others, this he followed himself, so that he was never tempted by false glory; everything in him tended to the true and the great. Whence it followed that he placed his glory in the service of the king and the prosperity of the State. This was the fundamental principle of his life-this engrossed his last and most cherished feelings. The court could scarcely hold him, though he was the object of its admiration. He must show himself everywhere, to Germany as to Flanders, the intrepid defender given us by God. Here direct your special attention. A contest awaits the Prince more formidable than Rocroy: to prove his virtue, war is about to exhaust all its inventions, all its efforts. What object presents itself to my eyes? Not only men to combat, but inaccessible mountains, ravines, and precipices on one side; on the other an impenetrable wood, the bottom of which is a marsh; behind, streams and prodigious intrenchments; everywhere lofty forts, and leveled forests traversed by frightful roads; in the midst Merci with his brave Bavarians, flushed with such distinguished success, and the taking of Fribourg;-Merci, whom the Prince of Condé and the vigilant Turenne had never surprised in an irregular movement, and to whom they rendered the distinguished testimony that he never lost a favorable opportunity, and never failed to foresee their plans, as if he had assisted at their councils. Here, during eight days, and in four different attacks, was seen all that could be endured and undertaken in war. Our troops seemed disheartened as much by the resistance of the enemy as by the frightful disposition of the ground; and the

Prince at times saw himself almost abandoned. But like another Maccabeus, "his own arm never failed him"; and his courage, excited by so many perils, "brought him succor." No sooner was he seen the first to force those inaccessible heights, than his ardor drew all others after him. Merci sees his destruction certain: his best regiments are defeated; the night saves the remains of his army. But what excessive rains also come to the enemy's aid, so that we have at once not only courage and art, but all nature to contend with; what advantage of this is taken by a bold and dexterous enemy, and in what frightful mountain does he anew intrench himself! But, beaten on all sides, he must leave, as booty to the Duke d'Enghien, not only his cannon and baggage, but also all the regions bordering on the Rhine. See how the whole gives way. In ten days Philisbourg is reduced, notwithstanding the approach of winter, Philisbourg, which so long held the Rhine captive under our laws, and whose loss the most illustrious of kings has so gloriously repaired. Worms, Spire, Mayence, Landau, and twenty other places of note open their gates. Merci can not defend them, and no longer appears before his conqueror. But this is not enough; he must fall at his feet, a victim worthy of his valor: Nordlingen shall see his fall; then shall it be decided that their enemies cannot stand before the French, either in Germany or Flanders; and there shall it be seen, that to the Prince all these advantages are due. God, the Protector of France and of a king, whom he has destined for his mighty works, ordains it thus.

By such arrangements, everything appeared safe under the conduct of the Duke d'Enghien; and without wishing to spend the day in recounting his other exploits, you know that among so many places attacked not one escaped his hands; and thus the glory of the Prince continued to rise. Europe, which admired the noble ardor by which he was animated in his battles, was astonished to perceive that he had perfect self-control; and that at the age of twenty-six years, he was as capable of managing his troops as of urging them into perils; of yielding to fortune as of causing it to subserve his designs. In all situations he appears to us one of those extraordinary men who force all obstacles. The promptitude of his action leaves no time for its contravention. Such is the character of conquerors. When David, himself a great warrior, deplored the death of two captains, he gave them this eulogy: "They were swifter than eagles, they

were stronger than lions." Such is the very image of the Prince whom we deplore. Like lightning, he appeared at the same time in different and distant places. He was seen in all attacks, in all quarters. When occupied on one side, he sends to reconnoitre the other; the active officer who conveys his orders is anticipated, and finds all reanimated by the presence of the Prince. He seems to multiply himself in action; neither fire nor steel arrests his progress. No need has he to arm his head exposed to so many perils; God is his assured armor; blows lose their force as they reach him, and leave behind only the tokens of his courage and of the protection of heaven. Tell him not that the life of the first prince of the blood, so necessary to the State, ought to be spared; he answers that such a prince, more interested by his birth in the glory of the king and crown, ought, in the extremity of the State, more readily than all others to devote himself to its recovery. After having made his enemies, during so many years, feel the invincible power of the king, were it asked, What did he do to sustain it at home? I would answer, in a word, he made the regent respected. And since it is proper for me once for all to speak of those things respecting which I desire to be forever silent, it may be stated that up to the time of that unfortunate imprisonment, he had never dreamed that it was possible for him to attempt anything against the State; and to his honor be it said, if he desired to secure a recompense, he desired still more to merit it. It was this which caused him to sayand here I can confidently repeat his words, which I received from his own lips, and which so strikingly indicate his true disposition that "he had entered that prison the most innocent of men, and that he had issued from it the most culpable. Alas!" said he, "I lived only for the service of the king, and the honor of the State." Words which indicate a sincere regret for having been carried so far by his misfortunes. But without excusing what he himself so strongly condemned, let us say, so that it may never again be mentioned, that as in celestial glory the faults of holy penitents, covered by what they have done to repair them, and the infinite compassion of God, never more appear, so in the faults so sincerely acknowledged, and in the end so gloriously repaired by faithful services, nothing ought to be remembered but the penitence of the Prince, and the clemency of his sovereign who has forgotten them.

However much he was involved in those unfortunate wars, he has at least this glory, never to have permitted the grandeur of his house to be tarnished among strangers. Notwithstanding the majesty of the empire, the pride of Austria, and the hereditary crowns attached to that house, particularly in the branch which reigns in Germany, even when a refugee at Namur, and sustained only by his courage and reputation, he urged the claims of a Prince of France and of the first family in the world so far that all that could be obtained from him was his consent to treat upon equality with the archduke, through a brother of the emperor, and the descendant of so many emperors, on condition that the prince in the third degree should wear the honors of the "Low Countries." The same treatment was secured to the Duke d'Enghien; and the house of France maintained its rank over that of Austria even in Brussels. But mark what constitutes true courage. While the Prince bore himself so loftily with the archduke who governed, he rendered to the King of England and the Duke of York, now so great a monarch, but then unfortunate, all the honors which were their due; and finally he taught Spain, too disdainful, what that majesty was which misfortune could not tear from princes. The rest of his conduct was not less distinguished. Amid the difficulties which his interests introduced into the treaty of the Pyrenees, hear what were his orders, and see whether any one ever acted so nobly, with reference to his own interests. He wrote to his agents in the conference, that it was not right that the peace of Christendom should be postponed for his sake; that they might take care of his friends, but must leave him to his fate. Ah, what a noble victim thus sacrificed himself for the public good! But when things changed, and Spain was willing to give him either Cambray and its environs, or Luxembourg in full sovereignty, he declared that to these advantages, and all others, however great, which they could give him, he preferred-what? His duty and the good-will of the king! This formed the ruling passion of his heart. This he was incessantly repeating to the Duke d'Enghien, his son. Thus did he appear

himself! France beheld him, in these last traits, returning to her bosom with a character ennobled by suffering, and more than ever devoted to his king and country. But in those first wars he had but one life to offer; now he has another which is dearer to him than his own. After having, under his father's

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example, nobly finished his studies, the Duke d'Enghien is ready to follow him to the battlefield. Not content with teaching him the art of war by his instructions, he conducts him to living lessons and actual practice. Leave we the passage of the Rhine, the wonder of our age, and the life of Louis the Great. In the field of Senef, although he commanded, as he had already done in other campaigns, he learned war by the side of his father, in the most terrible conflicts. In the midst of so many perils, he sees the Prince thrown down in a trench, under a horse covered with blood. While offering him his own and raising him from the trench, he is wounded in the arms of his affectionate father, but without discontinuing his kind offices, delighted with the opportunity of satisfying at once his filial piety and love of glory. How could the Prince fail to think that nothing was wanting to that noble son but opportunities, to achieve the greatest things. Moreover his tenderness increased with his esteem.

But not only for his son and his family did he cherish such tender sentiments. I have seen him (and do not imagine that I exaggerate here) deeply moved with the perils of his friends; I have seen him, simple and natural, change color at the recital of their misfortunes, entering into their minutest as well as most important affairs, reconciling contending parties, and calming angry spirits with a patience and gentleness which could never have been expected from a temper so sensitive, and a rank so high. Far from us be heroes without humanity! As in the case of all extraordinary things, they might force our respect and seduce our admiration, but they could never win our love. When God formed the heart of man he planted goodness there, as the proper characteristic of the Divine nature, and the mark of that beneficent hand from which we sprang. Goodness, then, ought to be the principal element of our character, and the great means of attracting the affection of others. Greatness, which supervenes upon this, so far from diminishing goodness, ought only to enable it, like a public fountain, to diffuse itself more extensively. This is the price of hearts! For the great whose goodness is not diffusive, as a just punishment of their haughty indifference, remain forever deprived of the greatest good of life, the fellowship of kindred souls. Never did man enjoy this more than the Prince of whom we are speaking. Never did one less fear that familiarity would diminish respect. Is this the man that stormed cities and gained battles? Have I forgotten