But do we forget that disgrace is ever at the heels of greatness? Let us not be too eager to lament; when we shall see him combating with misfortune, we shall have another motive to love and admire him..

A religion which at once elevates and softens; the only one which teaches us to know and to love God, which sufficiently attests that it alone emanates from him, naturally begets a holy enthusiasm in ardent minds and warm imaginations; hence have arisen those numerous prodigies of zeal, of constancy, and courage, which have appeared in those hermits, martyrs, and missionaries, who have been all equally animated with the generous desire of procuring to others that happiness which it was the business of their lives to estimate, and to preach to mankind. But all things, however pure or excellent they may be, are capable of being abused. Innovators are generally led astray by their pride; Fenelon, at least, could not err but by the impulse of his sensibility. It was his object that men should love God, as he is loved by the angels; and he seems to have forgotten, in the amiable spirituality of his character, that which is promised to us in an the recompense eternal world, cannot be enjoyed in that temporal state in which we live here below.— This was doubtless an error which he himself afterwards acknowledged; an error which he repaired by his submission, and could proceed only from an excess of spiritual love. That was the essence of Fenelon. His religion was love and friendship itself, all charming and beautiful as it is, when combined with virtue, not being able to satisfy his inexhaustible sensibility, it sought an immortal object, and these divine contemplations formed a continual desire to anticipate that future state where he might love God, without interest and without fear. Such was his error which carries its excuse along with it, and, from his edifying submission became a new triumph to him,

Read in Telemachus his description of the Elysian fields, and it will appear with what facility he transports himself into a new order of things. It is the master-piece of an einpassioned imagination. The expressions of it seem to be superior to the language of man: it is a picture of happiness which does not belong to an inhabitant of the earth, and which cannot be conceived or felt but by an immortal nature. In reading it we are borne aloft to the heavens, and breathe, as it were, the air of immortality. Those who have observed, that every one has succeeded in painting hell, and that no one has succceded in representing heaven, have only to look en the Elysium of Telemachus, and they will at least find one exception.

His memory is also rendered interesting as

well as our admiration excited by the contrast of his conduct with that of many of his adversaries. In the memoirs of the age in which we live, we perceive the champions of Port Royal, tired out with the long and painful contest, in which they revenged themselves by the fame of their writings, or the Anathemas of Rome and the animadversions of Government, artfully contrive to retire from the lists, to alarm religion and the court with a growing heresy, which most certainly did not resemble theirs. They armed the secret jealousy of all those who repined at the elevation of the Archbishop of Mme. de Maintenon was influencCambray; ed on the occasion, who certainly ought not to have engaged in discussions of theology. This cunning favourite, possessing a delicate mind, but a feeble character; who had more vanity than ambition, and more ambition than sensibility; who could neither be happy at court, nor venture to quit it; more jealous of governing the king than the state; this woman whose destiny was very reinarkable, without leaving a brilliant name, had loved Fenelon as she had loved Racine, and abandoned them both. Nay, she did more, for she supported those who solicited at Rome the condemnation of the Archbishop: perhaps she was inortified at not having acquired all the ascendency over his mind and opinion which she had pretended to possess; or she had not sufficient resolution to oppose Louis XIV, who was then guided by Bossuet, the Bishop of Meaux. At that respected name, at that name which cannot be confounded with the throng of Fenelon's enemies, let us cast aside the injurious ideas, which in our days, could alone proceed from the hatred of religion, when his inflexible zeal for the purity of its doctrine, has been misrepresented as proceeding from a violent spirit both in his writing, and his conduct. Is it permitted to ransack the heart of a great man, in the hope of finding sentiments there, which would tarnish his memory, by belying his life and his principles? No, it is not in Bossuct that genius can become the persecutor of virtue: he could only be the enemy of error. No, Bossuet who had seen the young Fenelon rise into distinction, and had beheld the advancement of his fortune and his fame; who had himself ordained him to the episcopal dignity, could not view him with the eves of a rival, after he had so long regarded him with the eyes of a father. He might be, as he ought to have been, alarmed at the danand of a Fenelon: but he could feel n› alarm gerous illusions of a minister of the church, at his success and his renown. We should remember that he ranked too high as an orator and a writer to descend so far as to suffer any impressions of jealousy. If he sought the condemnation of those errors into which

Fenelon had fallen, it was with the spirit of an apostle, and not with the animosity of a rival; and when he demanded pardon of Louis XIV, for not having sooner disclosed to him an heresy more dangerous even than Calvinism, he was influenced by the pious fears of a Christian and a Bishop, and not by the ambition of a courtier. Nor ought we to attribute to him the secret dispositions of the monarch, who, having no judgment in matters of this nature, was probably less of fended by the Maxims of the Saints,* than the maxims of Telemachus, many of which might appear as reproaches to him: but of which he himself, in his last hours, confessed the truth.

But if we are compelled to esteem in Bossuet that pious ardour, that inexorable zeal, which predominated so powerfully in his character; we must at the same time cherish in Fenelon, the moderation of his defence, the sincerity of his submission and the humility of his defeat. At the sa ne time that he persevered in disavowing the consequences that were supposed to result from his principles; while he persisted in the refusal of a recantation which would prevent his disgrace, he declared, that, though he did not think it his duty to yield to his enemies, who appeared to him incapable of interpreting his thoughts, he should not resist the authority of the Holy See, which possessed the right to judge them. For that judgment he waited with a profound resignation: he neither complained of the invectives that were blended with the refutations of his opponents, nor of the stratagems that were employed to effect his ruin: for all his antagonists were not as pure in their views as Bossuet; and did not confine themselves to the legitimate arms which he used. As for himself he never enlisted the passions in his service while he prohibited his agent at the court of Rome from availing himself of any discoveries he might have made of the intrigues of his enemies, or above all, of employing the same means. He writes to Beauvilliers," If the Pope condemns me, I shall "be undeceived: if he does not condemn

me, I shall endeavour, by my silence and my respect, to appease those of my brethren, who are exasperated against me."At length Louis XIV. let loose his anger, the services of Fenelon were forgotten, and he received orders to quit the court and retire to Cambray. His friends were exiled and his relations deprived of their employments. The sentence of condemnation against him was urged at Rome with uncomnion zeal; but it was obtained with great difficulty, and the judges pronounced it with equal regret, and with some exceptions that were favourable to him so that his enemies did not appear to

A theological work of Fenelon.

think their triumph compleat. They did not then know that they were preparing one for him that they might envy, and to which nothing but imitators was wanting. At a time when a spirit of discord and of resistance prevailed in the church; when on all sides were seen examples of revolt and none of obedience, Fenelon ascended the pulpit, announced that he was condemned, and that he submitted, and invited all the people of his diocese to follow the example of his submission. He then published that mandatory letter, which has been preserved to us, as a model of impressive cloquence and evangelic simplicity. This act of resignation consisting of a few lines, and contained in one page, has well deserved to escape that oblivion which has overwhelmed those innumerable volumes, the monuments of controversy and polemic rage, which have done so much injury to religion, without a casual atom of real good; whereas, it may be said with truth, that if it pleased God to employ a miracle to bring to the faith all the rest of the earth; if we may presume to use the expression, let him be graciously pleased, frequently to renew the example and the virtues of Fenelon.

Bossuet, after his victory, passed for the most learned and the most orthodox Bishop of the Roman Catholic church; Fenelon, after his defeat, for the most unpresuming and amiable of men. Bossuet continued to be admired at court; Fenelon to be adored at Cambray, and throughout Europe. Perhaps this is the proper place to make a comparison between the talents and the reputation of two men equally celebrated and equally immortal. It may be said that both of them were endued with superior genius; but that the one had more of that grandeur which elevates, and of that strength which overpowers; while the other possessed more of that softness which penetrates, and that charm which conciliates. One was the oracle of established doctrines, the other that of christian ethics: but it appears that Bossuet, in conquering for the faith, in thundering againt heresy, was not less occupied with his own personal triumphs than those of christianity; while it appears, on the contrary, that Fenelon spoke of virtue as we speak of what we love; embellishing it without the least consciousness of what he had effected, and always forgetting himself, without any impression of his having made a sacrifice. Their labours, also, were as different as their characters. Bossuet born for the combats of the mind and the victories of the understanding, preserved even in his writings of a different kind, that bold and nervous expression, that vigorous argument, that rapidity of ideas, those strong and ardent figures, which are the arms of language. Fe nelon, formed to love peace and to inspire it, preserved his gentle nature, even in contro

versy, and appeared to have united, in his style, all the secret powers of persuasion. The claims of Bossuet on posterity, are chiefly derived from his funeral orations and his discourse on history: but Bossuet as an historian and orator, may meet with rivals; while Telemachus stands by itself, and nothing can be brought in competition with it. To the work intitled Les Variations, &c. containing his warfare against heresy, may be opposed the volume, sur l'Existence de Dieu, expressly written to combat atheism, a fatal and destructive doctrine, which tears from misery its consolation, from virtue its immortality; freezes the heart of the good man, by depriving him of his witness and friend; and renders justice only to the wicked, whom it annihilates.

This work on the Existence of God unites all the proofs of it; but the best of them is the author himself. Such a mind is in itself an incontrovertible evidence, that there is something worthy of an eternal existence. It was during the time he resided at Cambray, which was called his exile, as if the seat of our duty could be a place of exile; it was then that he displayed, in a peculiar manner, all those personal qualities, which rendered him truly worthy the title of Shepherd of the People, which was formerly given to Kings. It has been said, indeed, that he regretted the court.-Nor is it improbable, that, tenderly attached as he was to the young prince, as well as to those friends whom he had chosen, and whose regard he so well deserved, he might sometimes regret the charms of their society, as well as the sight of that dear and august youth, whom he had formed for France, and who was always in his heart. But what censor is there so severe, what man is there so obdurate, as to consider sentiments so just and so natural, as deserving of reproach? It is true, that Fenelon had something to lose; we hold to our first affections, to our habitual connections, to our labours, and our hopes. It may be readily believed, that the virtues which remained for him to practise, the only consolations to a man like him, might be more difficult to exercise, than those which had already distinguished his life; but he performed them all. In his diocese, he gave himself up entirely to the functions of his ministry every day and every hour in the day was devoted to them.-Yes, that sublime writer, with all his brilliant and refined powers, condescended to occupy himself in the most trifling duties of ecclesiastical administration, if the performance of a duty, be it what it may, can be called a condescension. He preached in the church of a village with as much satisfaction as in the chapel of Versailles. That voice which had charmed the court of Louis XIV, that genius which

had enlightened Europe, were employed in giving instruction to the mechanic and the herdsman. His possessions were in reality the possessions of the poor. He was naturally of a disinterested character, and when the King gave him the Archbishopric of Cambray, he voluntarily resigned the Abbey of Saint Valery. He distributed his revenues among the ecclesiastics, who were attentive to their duties, and whose incomes were not adequate to their support; to those retreats where the female sex are sheltered from seduction, but which are not always secured from poverty; to those asylums consecrated to the relief of suffering humanity, and which frequently want the necessarics of life; and to those unfortunate persons who would rather suffer in secret, than be exposed to blush at their wants, and who would often perish in obscurity, if there were not minds of a superior mould, who go in search of the distress which hides itself from observation.But we must turn from individual distress to the vast scene of misfortune which offered itself to the sensibility of Fenelon. That year, the most fatal of all the latter years of Louis XIV., when it appeared as if Heaven had determined that France should expiate its vaunted prosperity, and obscure the lustre of the most splendid reign that had distinguished its annals. The earth, barren, from the rivers of blood with which it had been inundated, became as cruel as those who ravaged it. The people overwhelmed, at the same time, by an unfortunate war, by increasing taxes and bitter want, gave themselves up to discouragement and despair.-The small quantity of provisions that had been preserved or gathered in, were so enhanced in the price, as to terrify the indigent, and to distress even the rich. An army, the only defence of the state, looked in vain for its subsistence, to those magazines, which a destructive winter had deprived of their supplies. On this occasion, Fenelon set an example of generosity; he was the first to send them the produce of his farms, and imitating his example, the surrounding country made similar efforts, and a bounteous liberality appeared in the midst of dearth.— Disease, the inevitable consequence of want, soon desolated the army and the country. The invasion of the enemy, added terror and consternation to so many accumulated evils. The country was deserted, and its terrifiel inhabitants fled into the towns, where accommodations could not be provided for the crowd which demanded them. It was then he opened his palace to the sick, to the wounded, to the poor, without exception; and engaged his revenues to procure a recep→ tion for those whom he could not receive himself. He feared not the contagion of disease, nor did he turn aside from the sad scene of human wretchedness which presented

itself before him.-What must be our feelings, when we see a man venerable from his age, his rank and his learning, like an angel of mercy giving help and consolation amidst the blessings of those whom he succoured, and offering the most affecting example of those virtues which he had himself taught.

The name of Fenelon was venerated throughout Europe, and even the enemies of his country felt themselves compelled to respect hini. Eugene and Marlborough, who at that time were desolating France, were anxious to shew him that reverence, which victory and heroism most willingly grant to peaceful talents and the unarmed virtues. Detachments were ordered to guard his estates, and his grain was escorted to the gates of Cambray. All that belonged to him was considered as sacred.—Nay, more than once the archbishop Fenelon was seen with an escort of Austrian hussars, who considered it as a distinction to be permitted to conduct him.

If he possessed such an ascendant over those who knew him only by reputation, what must be the affections of those who were so happy as to approach him. He was of an equal temper, there was an elegant simplicity in his behaviour; and his conversation was, at once, copious and animated. His sleep was short, his repast frugal, and his manners possessed an irreproachable purity. As he knew no listless hours he never applied to play; his only recreation was walking, and he made that subservient to the exercise of his benevolence. When he met the country people he was delighted to converse with them, and has often been scen sitting upon the grass in a circle of them; he would enter their cottages, and receive with pleasure what their hospitable simplicity offered to him.

In the latter part of his life, he was engaged in a kind of philosophic correspondence with the Duke of Orleans, afterwards regent of France, upon those great questions which torture human curiosity, and to which revelation alone can give an answer. this intercourse which produced the Letters on Religion.

It was

It was about this time that an opinion prevailed of his wish to return to court. It was said also that he declared himself against Jansenism, merely to flatter the opinions of Louis XIV., and to revenge himself of Cardinal Noailles who had condemned Quietism. But Fenelon was incapable of revenge, and was formed to love the pious Noailles, though he might not think like him: besides, he had always opposed the doctrines of Port-Royal. After all, could it be in retirement and old age, that this incorruptible man who had never practised flattery even at court, should hearn the art of dissimulation?

His life, which did not exceed the ordinary term of the days of man, as it did not extend beyond sixty years, experienced the sorrow which is reserved for length of days. He lived to see all those die whom he most loved. He wept at the death of Beauvilliers and Chevreuse: and it need not be added with what grief he deplored the fate of the Duke of Burgundy, that object of his paternal affections, and who, in the course of nature, should have long survived him. He soon followed his royal disciple. A violent and painful disease carried him off in six days. He suffered with constancy, and died with the tranquillity of a pure heart, who sees nothing in death, but the instant when virtue draws nigh to the Supreme Being whose work she was. His last words were expressions of respect and love for the King who had disgraced him, and for the Church which had condemned him.

His memory should have the same advantage as his life; that of producing a love of religion. If its doctrine had always been announced by ministers like him, how glorious would it have been for religion itself, how happy would it have been for mankind.-What virtuous man would refuse to be of the religion of Fenelon !

ACCOUNT OF THE ISLAND OF CUBA.

(From the Spanish Universal Traveller.)

Great part of the following observations are the result of a voyage to Cuba, by the editor of the Viagero Universal. For more particular details he is indebted to the in formation of his fellow-traveller Don Buenaventura Ferrer, a native of the island, with whom he embarked for the Havannah.

The waters of the Gulph of Mexico flow into the ocean by two passages. One near St. Augustine's in Florida, the other near the province of Yucatan. In the centre lies Cuba, the largest of the Antilles, in lat. 20° to 30° 15'; long. 288° 3' to 301° 2′. Its length is computed at 235 leagues, its breadth is unequal; at the broadest part it extends 45 leagues; at the narrowest end 14 leagues. The circumference amounts to more than 600 leagues. A general temperature prevails over the island; winter never appears here, and frost and snow are only known by report. It might be asserted that the climate is a perpetual summer. The heat commences in May and continues till October. In November, December, and January, the N. wind prevails, and mitigates the heat in some degree. The whole difference between summer and winter at the Havannah is about 3°. The rains, which are of long continuance, do not sensibly affect the degree of heat. At the Havannah, they generally begin in June, and last till November, accompanied with dreadful storms; and in the

neighbourhood of Santiago slight earthquakes are sometimes felt. June 21, 1791, a deluge of rain for 24 hours caused all the streams to overflow; the river Almendariz, particularly, inundated the surrounding country, drove all the ship-timber collected there against a bridge, which had cost 80,000 piastres in building, carried it off, and formed a new bed for its waters. Nearly 200 men perished. But the tobacco-mills suffered most, as they were partly destroyed, and partly carried to the distance of two miles by the change of the stream.

Cuba is highly gifted by nature; metals and minerals alone are wanting; on the contrary it abounds in other treasures more substantial. There is not one navigable river, only small rivulets and streams, and 148 lakes containing fish. The sea also supplies the inhabitants with various kinds of fish of the best quality. There is a great abundance of turtle, and on festivals no other fish is eaten. All the fine fruits and vegetables peculiar to hot climates are plentifully produced. The pine-apples are preferred to all others. The country is constantly clothed with verdure, and no tree sheds its leaves before others are ready to replace them. Some fruits yield two crops. The chief produce of the island is the sugar-cane. At present they reckon 600 sugar-mills. From these, including what is consumed in the country, more than two millions of arrobs (cwt. each) of sugar was exported to Europe. The profits, likewise, must be considerable to defray the great expenses of a sugar plantation. The duty alone amounts to some thousands of piastres. In the plantation, visited by our author, above 200 negroes were employed. The head overseer commonly receives from 700 to 1,000 piastres annual wages; the inferior officers are paid in proportion.

Tobacco is the next most important produce of the island. It is all cultivated and sold on the King's account. In 1792, 120,000 arrols (cwt. each) were sent to Spain, without reckoning the quantity consumed in the country, or in other parts of America. The export of wax that year amounted to 20,000 arrobs. Bees have only been introduced in Cuba since the year

No part of the island is devoted to the culture of wheat, of the olive, or of the vine. Every article of clothing is brought from Europe, for there is not a single manufacture of any kind. We may easily imagine from this circumstance, to what an extent com merce must be carried at the Havannah. The amount of it in 1792, was reckoned at 25,600,000 piastres: the King's duties were 900,000 piastres. The most lucrative branch is the slave-trade. Natives, as well as foreigners, may participate in it. In 1792, 121 vessels laden with these victims, arrived at the Havannah. A free importation of them was allowed in 1789, and confirmed and extended in 1791. From that period to 1792, 2,217 slaves of both sexes were imported. If we reckon one with another at 200 piastres, the total will be 443,400 piastres.

Cuba abounds with choice woods, such as ebony, cedar, caoba and guayacan, &c. which are exported in great quantities to Spain. The highest mountains are called the Tetas de Manayna. Cattle, horses, and mules, were first introduced by the Spaniards, and they have increased to such an extent, that they reckon at present a thousand nerd of large cattle, 580 horse and sheep stalls, and 300 places for fattening of oxen, which belong to 3,000 farms, and 6,000 country seats.

The Havannah must be considered as the first staple in South America. All the mer chandize of the old and new world, shipped from Europe to America, or from thence to Europe, must there be landed, packed, and entered. This causes a daily increase of population and wealth. The real population of the Havannah is not given by our author. According to Raynal, the whole island, in 1774, contained 171,628 souls, of which 28,766 were slaves. Our author refers to a' later estimate that states the number at 500,000; a population very inconsiderable in comparison of the extent and fertility of the island.

Castle Morro is first seen in making the harbour of the Havannah. It stands on a perpendicular rock, and was built in 1584, by command of Philip II. In 1762, it was taken by the English, after a siege of 64 days. On the 12th of August following the city capitulated. Both were given up at the peace of 1763. The view of the city from the sea is delightful. It stands on a spacious plain, and is surrounded by a chain of strong hill-forts. The houses are mostly low, and' lately the streets have been regularly paved. Between the city and a large suburb lies the Campus Martius.