of the world, his grace hath only succeeded in making a timid disciple of the Gospel. That grand air of confidence and of intrepidity with which you formerly apologised for the passions, has forsaken you ever since you have undertaken the defence of the interests of virtue: that audacity which once imposed silence on truth, is now itself mute in the presence of error; and truth, which, as St. Augustine says, gives confidence and intrepidity to all who have it on their side, has rendered you only weak and timid.
I admit, that there is a time to be silent as well as a time to speak; and that the zeal of truth hath its rules and measures; but I would not that the souls, who know God and serve him continually, hear the maxims of religion subverted, the reputation of their brethren attacked, the most criminal abuses of the world justified, without having the courage to adopt the cause of that truth which they dishonour. I would not that the world have its avowed partisans, and that Jesus Christ hath no one to stand up for him. I would not that the pious and good, through a mistaken idea of good-breeding, dissemble upon those irregularities of sinners which they are daily witnessing; while sinners, on the contrary, consider it as giving themselves an important and fashionable air, to defend and to maintain them in their presence. I would that a faithful soul comprehend that he is responsible to the truth alone; that he is upon the earth solely to render glory to the truth: I would that he bear upon his countenance that noble and, I may say, lofty dignity, which grace inspires; that heroical candour which contempt of the world and all its glory produces: that generous and Christian liberty, which expects only eternal riches, which has no hope but in God, which dreads nothing but the internal judge, which pays court to, and spares nothing but the interests of righteousness and of charity, and which has no wish of making itself agreeable but by the truth. I would that the sole presence of a righteous soul impose silence on the enemies of virtue; that they respect that character of truth which he should bear engraven on his forehead; that they crouch under his holy greatness of soul, and that they render homage, at least by their silence and their confusion, to that virtue which they inwardly despise. Thus, the Israelites, taken up with their dances, their profane rejoicings, and their foolish and impious shouts around the golden calf, stop all in a moment, and keep a profound silence on the sole appearance of Moses, who comes down from the mountain, armed with the law of the Lord and with his eternal truth. First dissimulation of the truth, — a dissimulation of silence.
The second manner in which it is dissembled, is that of softening it by modifications, and by condescensions which injure it. The magi, no doubt, could not be ignorant that the intelligence which they came to announce to Jerusalem would be highly displeasing to Herod. That foreigner, through his artifices, had seated himself on the throne of David; he did not so peaceably enjoy the fruit of his usurpation, but that he constantly had a dread lest
