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DIVINITY SCHOOL
TROWBRIDGE LIBRARY

CHRISTIAN BIOGRAPHIES

H. L. SIDNEY LEAR

FENELON

CHRISTIAN BIOGRAPHIES
BY
H. L. SIDNEY LEAR.
New and Uniform Editions. Crown Svo. 3s. 6d. each.
Madame Louise de France, Daughter of Louis XV.,
known also as the Mother Terese de S. Augustin.
A Dominican Artist ; a Sketch of the Life of the
Rev. Pere Besson, of the Order of St. Dominic.
Henri Perreyve. By A. Gratry, Pretre de l'Oratoire,
Professeur de Morale Evangelique a la Sorbonne, et Membre
de 1' Academie Francaise. Translated, by special permission.
With Portrait.
S. Francis de Sales, Bishop and Prince of Geneva.
The Revival of Priestly Life in the Seven
teenth Century in France. Charles de Condren — S.
Philip Neri and Cardinal de Berulle— S. Vincent
de Paul — Saint Sulpice and Jean Jacques Olier.
A Christian Painter of the Nineteenth Cen
tury ; being the life of Hippolyte Flandrin.
Bossuet and his Contemporaries.
Fenelon, Archbishop of Cambrai.
Henri Dominique Lacordaire. A Biographical
Sketch. With Frontispiece.

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
LONDON, NEW YORK, AND BOMBAY

FENELON 3rcI)6isf)op of Camfirai
A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

By H. L. SIDNEY LEAR
Author of ' Bossuet and his Contemporaries,'
" Life of S. Francis de Sales,' etc. etc.

LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
LONDON, NEW YORK, AND BOM&JS
1896
[New Edition1]

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P33-3 Xi4T

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£

Preface
TT has not been possible, in writing this Life of
Fenelon, to steer clear of the repetition of certain
matters dwelt on in the Life of Bossuet ; while, on the
other hand, some subjects have been rather glanced
at than dwelt upon, because they have been already
handled in connection with the Bishop of Meaux.
The immense amount of correspondence and of
M'emoires, or contemporary records, is a veritable em-
barras des richesses in writing on this period of Church
History, and I feel that this sketch, written amid
much interruption and hindrance, is most imperfect
and unworthy of its great subject. It may, however,
prove suggestive, and lead English people to draw for
themselves from that deep well of interesting matter
whence my small buckets have come up. The Pere
Querbceuf's Life of Fenelon, De Ramsai's quaint
a 2

vi PREFACE.
little old book, Cardinal de Bausset's Histoire, Saint
Simon's and de la Baumelle's voluminous Me" moires,
D'Aguesseau's works, together with Fenelon's own
enormous correspondence and Bossuet's, are the chief
authorities I have consulted. Fenelon's letters are of
various kinds, — political, social, controversial, spiri
tual. Of these latter a volume is in the press, con
taining such as were addressed to men only, to be
followed by another written to the women under his
direction, chiefly to ladies living at Court or in high
worldly position. His letters are the fullest, almost
necessary supplement to his Life, being, as they are,
so full of the inmost character of the writer.
October, 1876.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I. PAGB
Birth — Antoine de Fenelon— Saint Sulpice — Tronson —
Parochial Work — Proposed Mission to Greece — Bishop
of Sarlat's Opposition — Nouvelles Catholiques — De
Harlay's Spite — Priory of Carenac — Letters to Mme.
de Laval — Death of the Marquis de Fenelon — De
Beauvilliers' Family — Traits de l'Education des Filles —
Otlier Works — Missions of Poitou and Saintonge —
Letters to the Marquis de Seignelai — To Bossuet —
Proposed Preferment — De Harlay frustrates it .1

CHAPTER II.
The Due de Bonrgogne — Due de Beauvilliers Governor —
Fenelon appointed Preceptor — Letters from Bossuet
and Tronson — Colleagues — Saint Simon's Description
of Fenelon, and D'Aguesseau's — Character of the Due
de Bonrgogne — Fenelon's Treatment of him — Le Fan-
tasque — A Medal — Literary Education — The Abbe
Fleury — The Duke's Fiery Temper — Religious Im-

CONTENTS.

PAGE
pressions — Dialogues des Morts — Fenelon's Restricted
Means— Mme. de Maintenon — Correspondence with
her . ....... 31

CHAPTER III.
Molinos and Quietism — Mme. Guyon — Pere la Combe —
Moyen Court — Fenelon's Introduction to Mme. Guyon —
Abbe Godet-des-Marais — Mme. de Maisonfort — Letter
from Bourdaloue — Increasing Perplexities about Mme.
Guyon — Bossuet consulted — Conference of Issy — Fene
lon appointed Archbishop of Cambrai — Resigns the
Abbey of St. Valery — His Consecration — Death of de
Harlay — De Noailles Archbishop of Paris — Arrest of
Mme. Guyon — Letter from Fenelon to Tronson — From
de Beauvilliers to Tronson — Fenelon to Mme. de
Maintenon — Mme. Guyon signs an Act of Submission —
Is sent to the Bastille — Release and Death at Blois . 86

CHAPTER IV.
Bossuet's Attacks on Mysticism — Maximes des Saints —
Letter from Fenelon to the Archbishop of Paris — The
Maximes submitted to Dr. Pirot and others — Corre
spondence^ — The King's Prejudice — Fire at Cambrai —
Letter from de Brisacier — From de Chanterac — De
Ranee — Letter from de Noailles to Mme. de Maintenon
— Perplexities — Cabals at Court — Saint Cyr — Appeal to

CONTENTS.

PAGH
the Pope — F&elon's Letter to Innocent XII. — Distur
bance at Home — Bossuet's Antagonism — Fenelon's
Letter to de Noailles — Proposed Conference — Fene
lon's Conditions — Asks Leave to go to Rome himself
— The King refuses — Banished to Cambrai — Letter to
Mme. de Maintenon — Farewell to Tronson — Letter to de
Brisacier — Party against Fenelon — Due de Bourgogne's
Affection — Attack upon de Beauvilliers — Letters to
him from Fenelon — To Mme. de Gamaches — Work at
Cambrai — D'Aguesseau's Account of the Contest — The
Pope's Comments — De Chanterac appointed as
Fenelon's Representative at Rome — Cardinal de
Bouillon — The Abbe Bossuet — Correspondence from
Rome — De Chanterac to de Langeron — Declaration of
the Opposing Prelates — Various Opinions concerning
F&elon's Book — Due de Bourgogne's Marriage — De
Noailles' Pastoral Instruction — Louis XIV. dismisses all
Fenelon's Friends — Letters to de Chanteraq — Examina
tion of the Maximes — Relation sur le Quietisme —
Intrigues at Rome — Fenelon's Answer — Excitement in
Rome — Sympathy of the Pope — De Chanterac's Letters
— Counter Efforts in Paris — The Abbe Bossuet — Refer
ence to the Sacred College — Letter from Fenelon to
Mme. de Maintenon — Doctors of Sorbonne — Fenelon's
Name erased from the Royal Household — Pressure put
upon the Pope — The Cardinals in Conclave — Extraordi
nary Congregation — Cardinal Casanata — Efforts of the
Pope on behalf of Fenelon — Final Decree — De Chante
rac's announcement of it to Fenelon — The Tidings reach
Cambrai — Fenelon's Reception thereof — His Letters —
Fenelon's Mandement — The King's Conduct — D'Agues
seau's Criticisms — Feeling at Rome — Papal Brief —

CONTENTS.

PAGE
Metropolitan Assemblies in France — Assembly of
Paris — Bishop of Saint Omer's Offensive Conduct —
D'Aguesseau's Discours — Private Letters from Fenelon
— Question of Reconciliation with Bossuet . . .133

CHAPTER V.
Court of France — Fenelon's Enemies and Friends — Mme.
de Maintenon — Cardinal Archbishop — Bishop of
Chartres — Telemaque — MS. stolen and published —
The King's Displeasure — Correspondence with the Due
de Bourgogne — Spiritual Counsel to him — The1 Example
of Saint Louis — Respect shown to Fenelon by the Allies,
Prince Eugene, etc. — Strangers attracted to Cambrai
— Fenelon in the Hospitals, etc. — Manner of Daily Life
— Abbe Le-Dieu's Visit to Cambrai, and Details of the
Archbishop's Life there — The Palace — Seminary —
Fenelon's Personal Intercourse with his Clergy —
Religious Houses — Unremitting Labour — Preaching —
Dialogues sur L'Eloquence — Correspondence — Letters
to de Beauvilliers and de Chevreuse — Visit of the Due
de Bourgogne to Cambrai — Campaign in Flanders — A
Second Meeting — Fenelon's Anxiety about the Due de
Bourgogne — Advice to him — Letters from and to him —
Due de Vend6me — Battle of Oudenarde — Cabal against
de Bourgogne — The Duke and the Army — Letters-
True Popularity — Difficulties at Court — Discretion in
Strictness— Theatres— The Duke'of Marlborough's Gene
rosity— Fenelon's Letters to his Nephew the Marquis de
Fenelon— To the Abbe" de Beaumont— To the Abbe de

CONTENTS.

Salignac — Visit to the Camp — Mme. de Chevreuse — The
Elector of Cologne — Lobos and Alexis — Accusations of
Quietism — Correspondence  253

CHAPTER VT.
Death of the Emperor Joseph — And of the Dauphin — Suc
cession of the Due de Bourgogne — Counsel to him —
Change of Court Feeling — Letters to de Beauvilliers —
Prospects for the Future — Projet pour le Present — Ill
ness and Death of the Dauphine — Death of the Dauphin
— Of the Due de Bretagne — Fenelon's Letters — His In
tense Grief— The Dauphin's Papers — Directions pour la
Conscience d'un Roi — Letter to the Pere Martineau —
The Due d'Orleans — De Ramsai — Correspondence —
Bull Vineam Domini — Death of de Langeron — Of de
Chevreuse — Letters to the Due de Chaulnes — Characters
of his Children — Death of de Beauvilliers — Letters to
the Duchesse — Fenelon's Failing Health — Letter to the
Secretary of State — Question of a Coadjutor — Assembly
of Clergy — A Carriage Accident — Last Letters —
F&ielon taken 111 — Dying Hours — Last Sacraments —
Letter to the King's Confessor — The Last Night-
Death— Fenelon's Will — Regrets at Rome— The King
—Burial— Fenelon's Tomb  396

CHAPTER I.
FRANCOIS DE SALIGNAC DE LAMOTHE
FENELON, — perhaps the most attractive and
loveable (and if not the most saintly, he was certainly
inferior to none in the beauty of holiness) among the
many stars which shone in the Church's sky during
the seventeenth century, — is one of those rare persons
of whom it is difficult to speak without falling into
what seems unworthy of him — mere panegyric. His
great gifts and exceeding graciousness and charm
meet one at every turn, and in very truth his faults
are not easy to discover, even to the eye of criticism.
But nothing in the way of biography is so offensive to
the reader and so degrading to his subject as flattery
and laudation ; let us therefore look in simple truth
at the facts of the great Archbishop's life, to be fol
lowed in contemporaneous history, and in his own
writings, and leave the lights and shadows alike to-
come forth in all truthfulness and simplicity.
The man whose name was to become so lovingly.

f£nelon.

familiar to the whole Church henceforward sprang
from a noble family in France. Salignac (or Salagnac)
was one of the first ch&tellenies of Perigord, and created
a Barony in 1460, before which date the name was
already distinguished. A de Salagnac was Bishop of
Comminges in 1300, and two Archbishops of Bordeaux
sprang from the same family in 1296 and 1361. Later
on, six Bishops of Sarlat were de Salignacs; while in the
world the name was no less well known. Raymond de
Salagnac, Seigneur de Lamothe Fenelon, the Seneschal
of Quercy and Perigord, and Lieutenant-Governor of
Guyenne, fought for the Dauphin, afterwards Charles
VII. : his son was Governor of Perigord and Limousin
under Jean d'Albret, King of Navarre ; and a certain
Geraud de Salignac was one of Henri IV.'s governors.
Bertrand de Salignac, great-great-uncle to the Arch
bishop of Cambrai, was among the defenders of Metz
when it was besieged by the Emperor Charles V.,
and many other of his warrior ancestors might be
enumerated. The pedigree of Lamothe Fe'nelon con
tains many of the best names in France : — Talleyrand-
Chalais, de la Tremouille, de Gontaut-Biron, de
Durfort, de Buffiere, de Caumont, de la Roche-Aymon,
de Cardaillac, de Montausier, de Coussal, D'Aubus-
sori, de Montheron, de Montmorenci-Laval, etc. etc.
Pons de Salignac, father of the future Archbishop
of Cambrai, was first married to Isabelle d'Esparbes

BIRTH. 3
de Lussan, a daughter of the Marechal d'Aubeterre,
and his sons by this marriage had already joined the
army when he married a second wife — Louise de la
Cropte de Saint-Abre, who gave birth to Francois,
August 6, 165 1, at the Chateau de Fe'nelon, about
three miles from Sarlat in Perigord. He was a
delicate child, of a fragile and sensitive temperament,
and the idol of his old father, who kept him at home
till he was twelve years old, giving him "a simple
Christian education, devoid of anything remarkable,
and probably all the better for that," as one of his
biographers1 remarks. However, the foundation of
Fenelon's future exquisite style and finished classical
acquirements seems to have been laid in the course of
this simple home education ; for, after being a short
time at the College of Cahors, his uncle, the Marquis
Antoine de Fe'nelon,. found him so advanced in his
education as to make a removal to Paris desirable.
Apparently the old Count Pons de Salignac must
have died about this time, as henceforth we hear
nothing of him, but find the Marquis Antoine taking
the part of father towards his nephew, whom he
removed to the College du Plessis, then under the
rule of M. Gobinet, a first-rate Principal. There
Francois speedily distinguished himself as a scholar,
and also as possessing the gift of eloquence for which
1 Pire Querbeuf.

4 F&NELON.
he became so conspicuous later. Like Bossuet, he
was put forward at fifteen to preach to an admiring
audience; and very soon his personal attractions,
captivating manner, and advanced scholarship, made
the Marquis de Fe'nelon anxious lest his young
nephew should be spoiled by the flattery and adora
tion of a world with which he was well acquainted,
and knew how to gauge.
This uncle was a sufficiently remarkable person to
require some few words of description. The Grand
Conde" described him once as being "equally at home
in society, war, and the council chamber;" — and
he had distinguished himself in the service so con
spicuously, that he dared to take a step which would
have sunk many men irreparably in the world's esteem
at that period. It came about thus. The Marquis,
becoming deeply impressed with the truths and
realities of Christianity, put himself under the spiritual
guidance of M. Olier, the celebrated founder of Saint
Sulpice. M. Olier was at that time earnestly trying
to check the practice of duelling, which had been
repressed for a while by the strong hand of Cardinal
Richelieu, but which had broken out anew with a sort
of extravagant frenzy since the death of that minister.
M. Olier wanted to form an association of gentle
men whose courage was past impeachment, and who
should bind themselves by oath neither to accept any

ANTOINE DE FENELON.

challenge nor to act the part of second in any duel ;
and he could- think of no one whose reputation was
more firmly established both in court and camp than
the Marquis de Fenelon, who accordingly undertook
the post of President of the association. No one was
to be admitted into it at first whose military repute
did not stand high; for they well knew how strong the
force of prejudice was : in proof of which — soon after
a company of brave soldiers had solemnly signed
their agreement in the chapel of the Seminary of Saint
Sulpice, before a large assembly of noble witnesses
(Whit Suntide, 165 1) — the Grand Conde" himself could
not help saying to the Marquis, that but for his
personal knowledge of that officer's valour, he should
have been frightened to see him " break such a glass."'
* The declaration signed by these officers was worded as
follows : — "Les soussignes font par le present ecrit declaration
publique et protestation solennelle de refuser toutes sortes
d'appel, et de ne se battre jamais en duel pour quelque cause que
ce puisse etre, et de rendre toute sorte de temoignages de ]a
detestation qu'ils font du duel, comme d'une chose tout-a-fait
contraire a. la raison, au bien, et aux lois de l'etat, et incom
patible avec le salut et la religion chretienne ; sans pourtant
renoncer au droit de repousser par toutes les voies legitimes les
injures qui leur seront faites, autant que leur profession et leur
naissance les y obligent : etant aussi toujours pr£ts de leur part
d'eclairer de bonne foi ccux qui croiroient avoir lieu de ressenti-
ment contre eux, et de n'en donner sujet a personne. " This act,
when signed, was authorised and registered by the Tribunal
des Marechaux des France.

FENELON.

The Marquis de Fe'nelon was certainly no flatterer,
if we may judge by a saying of his to M. de Harlay,
the fashionable and profligate Archbishop of Paris, on
his appointment: — "It is well, Monseigneur," the
soldier remarked by way of congratulation, "to re
member the difference between the day when all
France is complimenting you on your nomination
and the day of your death, when you will have to
give account to God for the way in which you
have used it!" He always held the like straightfor
ward language to all connected with him; and was
wont to tell his only son — like himself a soldier —
that life and death did not depend upon the enemy,
but upon Him Who rules both ; adding, that there
was no better manner of death than to die for his
King.- The Marquis lost this only son, who was killed at
the siege of Candia in 1669 ; and from that time he
was devoted to his only daughter (who married the
Marquis de Montmorenci-Laval) and to his nephew
Francois. The latter he moved, seemingly about this
time, to the Seminary of Saint Sulpice, then governed
by the saintly Tronson, who thenceforward was always
Fenelon's dearest, friend and counsellor. Part of a
manuscript letter from the student to his uncle shows
* Voltaire, quoting these words, remarks, that it must be con
fessed an army of likeminded men would be invincible.

SAINT SULPICE.

what was the character of that friendship from the
beginning : —
' "I very earnestly wish," he says, "that I could
give you a detailed account of what passes between
M. Tronson and me, but, indeed, I hardly know what
to tell ; for, great as is my freedom and open-hearted-
ness with you, I must confess, without any fear of
making you jealous, that I am still more unreserved
with M. Tronson, and that I could not easily describe
the close way in which I feel bound to him. Assuredly,
if you could hear our conversations, and the ease with
which I lay bare my heart to him, and with which he
teaches me to know God, you would not know your
pupil, and you would see that God has very mar
vellously helped on the work which you began. My
health does not improve, which would be a great trial
to me if I were not learning how to comfort my
self.'" The Congregation of Saint Sulpice had at this time
a large missionary establishment in Canada, to which
sundry students from the Seminary had gone ; and it
seems that Francois desired to follow in their steps,
and become a missionary. Another of his uncles, the
Bishop of Sarlat, was very much opposed to this step,
as we may gather from the following letters addressed
to him by the venerable Director of the Seminary: —
* Fenelon, Correspondence, edit. Le Clerc, vol. ii. p. 4.

FE'NELON.

To the Bishop of Sarlat. "February 1667. v
" Monseigneur, — I have no doubt but that your
nephew's intentions were a great surprise to you.
Your claims of all kinds upon him, and the very
reasonable and pious wishes you feel on behalf of
your diocese, most naturally excite your regrets con
cerning him. I can assure you, Monseigneur, that I
could most heartily have wished that he should con
form to your intentions, and that I should gladly have
seen him devote himself to prepare to serve under a
prelate to whose service I should rejoice to give
myself, were it possible. But his resolution is of that
kind, that I do not know what more I can do, after
what I said to him before he left me. I believe that
your brother the Marquis knows how little share we
have had in his plans. I have always endeavoured
to dissuade him from them, and have urged him
repeatedly to do nothing in a hurry: I have told him
plainly that, if he can calm his longings and be quiet,
he might, by going on with his studies and spiritual
training, become more fit to work usefully hereafter
for the Church. In short, Monseigneur, I have
tested his resolutions by putting everything before
him which I thought most likely to move him; but
finding, after all. that his mind was equally set, and

TRONSON.

his intentions equally unselfish, I could do no more;
both because persuasion seemed useless, and because
I did not feel justified in doing violence to his strong
feelings. This, Monseigneur, is what I feel bound to
tell you concerning a matter in which you can speak
with authority, but in which I perceive too confirmed
a resolution to have much hope of change. I only
say this in order to explain his conduct and mine, to
comply with the wishes expressed in your letter, and
to assure you that I am now and ever, Monseigneur,
your humble and obedient servant, "Louis Tronson.1
"F.S. — One word more as to our silence concern
ing this matter, which I have learnt, since writing the
above, has appeared wrong to you.
" First, I must observe that we are not in the habit
of speaking about those whom we direct or confess; —
we simply give advice on the subjects they lay before
us, and it is through no want of respect to those
under whose authority they are if we are silent about
matters which we have no right to publish. We take
it for granted that they will not fail in their duty to
such persons.
"Secondly, Monseigneur, I must say that I did
not feel bound to write to you on this subject, having
entered into a full explanation of my mind concern-
1 Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 287.

F&NELON.

ing it with your nephew in the presence of your brother
the Marquis. As he knew my whole opinion, I could
not doubt but that he would give you full information,
and I believed that there was no surer or safer way of
putting you in possession of everything.
"Such, Monseigneur, were the chief reasons for my
silence concerning your nephew's proposed journey.
Now that he has spoken for himself, you will judge
for yourself of his vocation. His strong persisting
inclination, the firmness of his resolution, and the
purity of his intentions, have made me feel that
they deserved attention, and lead me to give you as
exact a report as may be of our action in the matter."
Fe'nelon went, as Tronson's letter states, to see his
uncle and plead his own cause; but in vain. The
Bishop looked upon his nephew's delicacy as an in
superable difficulty, and was glad, evidently, to have
so good a reason to give for retaining him in France.
The gentle spirit of obedience, which was to be so
remarkably displayed later on by the Archbishop of
Cambrai, was shown on this occasion; and, though
disappointed, Francois returned to Saint Sulpice, and
devoted himself perseveringly to study, until he was
ordained. After receiving Holy Orders, he continued
to work in the parish of Saint Sulpice, attached to
the Congregation founded by M. Olier, — a good

PAROCHIAL WORK.

school for parochial work and for apostolic self-
denial. The miserable, depraved state of that part of
Paris has been already described,* and the admirable
system introduced by M. Olier for at once relieving
that and training his associates in the exercise of
their ministerial functions. M. Languet was the
Cure" at the time of Fenelon's ordination, — he was
said to distribute more than a million in alms yearly,
while his own room was furnished with nothing more
than a coarse bed and two straw chairs, — and under
his guidance Fe'nelon became acquainted with the
needs and sufferings of the poor, the sick and the
sinful, — a knowledge of infinite value to him through
out his future life, although it left, not unnaturally,
a somewhat mournful impression upon a mind so
sensitive as his was. He was also trained at Saint
Sulpice as a preacher, and his simple, earnest manner
was very attractive among his poor listeners.
In 1674, the Bishop of Sarlat summoned his nephew
to that diocese, and probably intended to keep him
there, but the missionary spirit was by no means
quenched in Fe'nelon, and he soon turned his thoughts
again to mission work, though no longer to America.
This time it was
"Immortal Greece, dear land of glorious lays,"
i "Saint Sidpice and Jean Jacques Olier," Priestly Life in
France, p. 288.

f£nelon.

which attracted him; and a manuscript letter, dated
Sarlat, Oct. 9, 1675, and apparently addressed to the
Due de Beauvilliers, tells the history of the period : —
" Various trifling occurrences have hitherto delayed
my return to Paris, but at last, Monseigneur, I
am about to start, and I shall make good speed!
But I am meditating a more distant journey. The
whole of Greece lies open before me ; — the Sultan is
drawing back, Peloponnesus already breathes freely,
and the Church of Corinth will revive and once more
hear the Apostle's voice. I fancy myself transported
to those glorious scenes, amid those precious ruins,
gathering up the very spirit of antiquity from their
venerable remains. I long to seek out that Areo
pagus whence S. Paul proclaimed the Unknown God
to heathen sages. Then, after what is sacred, come
profaner memories, and I do not disdain to descend
to the Piraeus, and Socrates planning his Republic.
I ascend the twin summits of Parnassus, I gather the
Delphic laurels, and revel in the charms of Tempe".
When will Turkish and Persian blood mingle on the
plains of Marathon, and leave Greece to religion,
philosophy, and art, whose true home she is ?
. . . ' Arva beata
Petamus arva, divites et insulas.' *
Neither will I forget thee, O island consecrated by
' Hor. Epod. xvi. 41, 42.

PROPOSED MISSION TO GREECE. 13
the heavenly visions of the Beloved Disciple ! O
blessed Patmos, I will hasten to kiss the footprints
left on thee by the Apostle, and to imagine Heaven
opened to my gaze ! to burn with indignation at the
false prophet who presumed to interpret the oracles
of the true ; and to bless the Almighty, Who, instead
of casting down the Church, like Babylon, has chained
the dragon, and caused her to be victorious. Already
I see schism healed, East and West reunited, Asia
waking to the light after her long sleep ; the Holy
Land, once trodden by our Saviour's Feet and
watered with His Blood, delivered from profaners
and filled with new glory ; the children of Abraham,
more numerous than the stars, now scattered over
the face of the earth, gathered from all her quarters
to confess the Christ they crucified, and to rise again
with Him. But enough of all this, Monseigneur.
You will be glad to know that this is my last letter,
and the end of my enthusiasm, which may perhaps
be troublesome. Forgive me on the plea of my need
to pour it out to you from afar, until I can do so
by word of mouth." '
Probably the Bishop of Sarlat acted with some
diplomacy in this case, not refusing his consent to
his nephew's departure, but rather working on his
affectionate and grateful nature, which shrank from
1 Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 291.

14 FJENELON.

giving pain to any, especially to an aged and re
spected uncle. So, in spite of his enthusiasm, Fe'nelon
gave up his expedition to the Levant ; and the next
thing we hear of him is his appointment by the
Archbishop of Paris as Superior of the Community
called the Nouvelles CathoUques. This Community
had been founded in 1634 by Archbishop Gondi, as
a protection for women converted from Protestantism,
and as a means of propagating Church teaching among
those yet unconverted. Marshal Turenne had taken
a great interest in this Community, and Louis XIV.
himself looked favourably upon it ; so that, in appoint
ing so young a man as the Abbe" Fe'nelon as its
Superior, Monseigneur de Harlay must have felt that he
was bringing him to the front in a very marked way.
But it was a marked characteristic of Fenelon's never
to show any elation or self-satisfaction in success,
or depression under the heavy reverses which were
heaped upon him later; and now he assumed his
new position quietly enough, leaving Saint Sulpice,
and taking up his abode with his uncle the Marquis
de Fe'nelon in the Abbey of Saint Germain des Pre"s,
and giving himself up as entirely to his work as if he
had not been brought into so much closer proximity
to the Court and the world of Paris. He avoided
general society, only living intimately with some few
chosen friends,' — his beloved director Tronson, the

LIFE IN PARIS. 15
Due de Beauvilliers, Langeron, Fleury, and Bossuet,
with whom he now became acquainted, and with
whom he shared the celebrated gatherings in the
Alle'e des Philosophes at Versailles." At this time
Fe'nelon was a special favourite with de Harlay,
who liked rank, good looks, and brilliant powers, all
of which the young Abbe" possessed ; and he seems to
have intended to use him as a kind of counter
attraction to Bossuet, whose influence both in the
Church and the world was becoming sufficiently pro
nounced to excite considerable jealousy in the am
bitious, secular-minded Archbishop. But Fe'nelon
was not a man to be won by flattery, neither had he
the slightest inclination to set himself up as a leader
in opposition to his elder friend, whose solidity and
deep learning had made a great impression on him :
he frequented Bossuet's society more and more, and
the Archbishop's less, until de Harlay's favour was
turned into a jealous spite, which he did not restrain,
— on one occasion publicly making the severe speech,
" It seems, M. l'Abbe", that you wish to be forgotten,
and you shall be ! "
It was all very well for Monseigneur de Harlay to
vent his wrath thus, but Fe'nelon was a far greater man,
than himself, and it did not rest with him to create
or set aside his reputation. Meanwhile the Arch-
1 See Life of Bossuet, p. 208.

16 FENELON.

bishop carefully refrained from giving him any ap
pointment which would supply him with funds ; and
until 1 68 1 Fenelon continued entirely dependent on
his uncle the Marquis for everything. In this year
the Bishop of Sarlat resigned the Priory of Carenac,
at Quercy on the Dordogne, in favour of his nephew;
and this small benefice, producing between three
and four thousand livres yearly, was the only revenue
Fe'nelon possessed for many years. A playful letter
written to' his cousin, the Marquise de Laval, gives
an account of his entry at Carenac : — "May 22, 1681.
"Verily, Madame, doubt it not, I am a man who is
destined to pomp and magnificence! You remember
what a reception your people gave me at Bellac, and
now I will tell you how I have been honoured here.
The noblesse, represented by M. de Rouffillac, the
clergy by M. Bose* the Curd, the monastic body by
M. Rigaudie the Prior, and the tiers-ttat by all the
farmers round about, came out to Sarlat to pay their
respects. Then I marched majestically, accompanied
by all these deputies, until I arrived at the port of
Carenac, where I found the quay lined with crowds of
people. Two boats filled with the elite of the towns
people approached, and at the same moment I per
ceived that, by a gallant manoeuvre, the stalwart

RECEPTION A T CARE X A C. 1 7

troops of. the district; who. had lain in wait in a corner
of the island, carne forth in battle array to salute roe
with repeated discharges of musketry. The air was
thick with smoke, and one was deafened with reports
of gunpowder. My fiery steed, filled with ardour,
tried to plunge into the water, but I being less ardent,
preferred dismounting. Then the drums added to
the. clatter. I crossed the Dordogne, which was
covered with boats, and on the shore the whole body
. ¦ -- - j - -
of venerable monks were solemnly waiting, for me.
Their harangue was full of sublime laudation; my
reply was at once imposing and tender! The vast
crowd opened to let me pass, all eyes eager to read
in mine what would happen. So I progressed with
slow and measured steps, to indulge the public
curiosity, ,up to the castle, while a confused din of joy
burst from a thqusand throats, every one crying out,
'He will be: the delight of the people!' When, I
reached the gate, the consul's harangue was spoken by
the royal orator. The very name will convey to you
the vision of all that is most pompous and eloquent;
who can-describe the grace of his speech! He com-
paredme to the sun, then soon after I was the moon,
and in course of time all the brightest planets had
the, honour of being likened to me; thence we got on
to the elements and meteors, and made a happy
ending somewhere in the beginning of the world! By

1 8 FiNELON.

that time the sun had set, and in order to preserve
the parallel between it and myself, I went to my room,
and to bed likewise!"1 ,
A few days later we find another cheerful letter
written to Mme. de Laval (who was as his sister — the
only one he ever knew) from Issigeac, his uncle's
country house : —
"It is not every day that one has time and topics
for the sublime! So do not be surprised if you do
not get a fresh series of my adventures every week;
days of pomp and triumph are not always occurring !
My reception at Carenac was not followed by any
memorable event, and my reign has been so peaceful
as to afford no materials for history. I left that place
to join my uncle here, and passed through Sarlat-on
the way, stopping a day to hear a famous cause which
was being argued by the Ciceros of the town. The
pleaders began with the creation of the world, and
went straight on through the deluge to the matter in
question. That question was how to feed some chil
dren who had nothing to eat The orator who had
undertaken to press the calls of their appetite upon
the judges very judiciously mixed these up with the
most stringent laws of the Code, and Ovid's Meta
morphoses with solemn passages of Holy Scripture*
and this most artistic medley was greatly applauded by
* Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 9.

DEATH OF HIS UNCLE. 19
people of good taste. Everybody supposed that the
children would get well fed, and that such eloquence
would insure their dinner for ever. But so capricious
is fortune, that though the lawyer got plenty of praise,
the poor children got no food. The cause was post
poned, — in other words, the unlucky brats were left
fasting, while the judges gravely suspended proceed
ings in order that they might dine; so I too tpok my
departure, and came here to Monseigneur with ypur
letters. I arrived almost incognito, to avoid the cost
of a reception, and took the place by surprise about
seven in the morning, — so I have no ceremonial or
harangue wherewith to edify you."1 ....
These were playtimes. Fe'nelon was not long
absent from Paris, where for ten years he devoted
himself to his work in connection with the Com
munity of which he was Superior, to study, and to the
society of the few learned and pious friends with
whom he chiefly lived. Foremost among these was
his uncle, who however died, October 8, 1683, and it
was as the loss of a father to Fe'nelon. The Due de
Beauvilliers was another intimate friend, and it was at
the request of the Duchess, who had no less than
eight daughters, that the Abbe Fenelon (who had by
this time become a spiritual guide as well as a dear
friend in the family) wrote his first book, which has
1 Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 11. /

20 F&NELON.

been; so 'celebrated ever since — the Traitk de UEduco-
tion des Filles.- This work on education has held Its
high position- among all on the same subject unvary
ingly; it iias been praised and recommended by all
religionists, and quoted incessantly by writers of the
most -different type, and unquestionably it must have
had -great weight in bringing about the appointment of
the writer as- Preceptor to the little Due de Bourgogne.
No one could read these thoughtful,, carefully worked
out pages without feeling that education was . a work
for which he was eminently fitted; and those who
knew Fe'nelon best would be most certain that with
him to know • a- thing was to do it; — he was no mere
inventor of theories. . ¦ . -
The Education des Filles purports, as it title implies,
specially to treat of girls, but the main substance of
the treatise applies as much to boys; for, after all, the
training, religious and intellectual, of little children
must be the same for both, and it is to this founda
tion that the Abbe Fe'nelon devotes most of his pages.
At the same time he does not. fail to anticipate- the
question which occupies so much attention in our day,
of what we call the "rights of women." Fenelon
would give. them their truest, best rights. "The
world," he says, " is no mere phantasmagoria, but an
assemblage of families, and what police .can rule these
with such precision.'as ,women, who/ in addition to

' ' ED UCA TION DESXFILLES. " 21
their natural authority and -position in their, house- ,
holds, have the further advantage of, being- born with(
a disposition to carefulness and detail, who are
industrious, winning, and persuasive. ... :These, t
then, are the rightful occupations of 'women, which,
are no less important to the public than ^those of
men^ — a household to rule,- a husband to bless, chil
dren to bring up well. Add to this, that virtue is set
before women as before men: and, not to speak of
the good or evil they may work for the public,, they
form one half of the human race, bought with the
Blood of Jesus Christ, and destined to eternai
life." >
Fe'nelon would give the young girl useful, solid
tastes, which should fill her mind with real interests
and prevent idle curiosity; and , also avert, the,
danger of romance-reading, which " fqsters unreality,
for the grandiose language of such heroes spoils,
women for their everyday life. All those pompous
sentiments, and exaggerated passions, and., fanciful
adventures, have- little or nothing to do with the,
real actions and motives which govern the world and,
rule; its- affairs ; and the poor child, breathing the.
atmosphere of tenderness and marvel with which her.
books are filled, is amazed not to find the counter
parts" of her heroes in real life, . . . and she is dis-
1 CEuvres, edit. Dufour, vol. xi. p. 114.

FENELON.

g'usted at the descent from such heights to the
necessary details of her home."1
One evil against which Fe'nelon would guard his
pupils is superstition. " Certainly it is to be feared
among women," he says, "but nothing so tends to
avert or cure it as a solid teaching. And this teach
ing, though it should be within due limits, and include
no mere learned study, should be more extended than
people ordinarily think. Many a person thinks him
self well informed who is far otherwise, whose
ignorance indeed is so great that he is not able to
perceive how much he has to learn in order to
understand the principles of Christianity. It should
be a first rule never to admit anything either as a
matter of belief or as a religious exercise which is not
drawn from the Gospel or authorised by the perma
nent sanction of the Church. . . . Accustom your
daughters, who are naturally credulous, not to accept
certain unauthorised narratives, or to adopt certain
devotions which indiscreet zeal has introduced, un
sanctioned by the Church. The best teaching in
such matters is less by means of criticism concerning
things which are often well and piously intended,
than by showing, without passing any condemnation,
that they have no solid basis."3
It is wonderful how much knowledge of detail
1 CEuvres, vol. xi. p. 120. * Ibid. p. 183.

" TRAIT& DU MINISTERS." 23
Fe'nelon shows in this book both of the needs and
characteristics of little children, and of the special
wants and infirmities of women ; and one is tempted
to marvel where, at this period of his life, he could
have gained so much insight into both. His remarks
upon the training which will make a woman a good
economist, yet thoroughly liberal, " not priding her
self on saving a candle, while letting herself be grossly
cheated on a large scale;" and upon the charm of
order, and of knowing where everything is and how
to lay the hand upon it when wanted, might be
written in capitals and hung up in every household
among us !
Education was not the only subject on which
Fe'nelon wrote at th[s time. An elaborate criticism
on Malebranche's Treatise of Nature and Grace, with
marginal note^s by Bossuet, which was not published,
and the Traiti du Ministere des Pasteurs, were both
produced during these comparatively quiet years.
The latter work treats, as its name implies, of the
authority of the Priesthood and its derivation. Its
purport may be gathered from the opening sentence :
"If, as we affirm, and as experience must ever
prove to all humble minds, ordinary men cannot
decide for, themselves as to the detail of dogmas,
could the Divine Wisdom have taken any surer
means of keeping them from error than by giving

24 FENELON.

them an external authority, which, deriving its
origin from Jesus Christ Himself and His Apostles,
should set forth an uninterrupted succession of
pastors?"1 But Fenelon's literary labours were about to be laid
aside for a different kind of work, for which, however,
they had doubtless greatly tended to fit him. In
Oct. 1685, Louis XIV. revoked the Edict of Nantes,
and the religious troubles which disturbed France in
consequence are a matter of history. Bossuet, whose
counsels at this period always leant to the side of
gentleness, suggested the Abbe de Fe'nelon as a suit
able missioner for the districts'of Poitou and Saintonge,
where great confusion arid irritation prevailed, and
where a tender, judicious hand only could Tiope to
guide the reins. In consequence of this suggestion
the King sent for Fe'nelon, and after a conference of
some length, appointed him to the work, not without
a stipulation on the part of the latter that the troops,
together with all that savoured of military terrorism,
should be dismissed before he entered upon what
should be solely a work of peace and mercy. One
other stipulation Fe'nelon made,— that 'he should be
allowed to choose his fellow-workers. BPth of these
points were granted, and Fe'nelon at once selected
the Abbd de Langeron, his lifelong friend ; the Abbe-
* QLuvres, vol. iii. pp. 35, 235.

MISSION OF POITOU. 25;
Fleury (the well-known historian), the Abbe* Bertier.
and the Abbe Milon, who later on became respectively
Bishops of Blois and of Condom. Thus accompanied,
Fe'nelon set out for his new sphere of work, going first
to the Bishop of Rochelle (Henri de Montmorenci.
de Laval) to seek his blessing.
The people of those provinces, which had so long
been the scene of religious strife and war, were at first
amazed to see men of high birth and position leave
the Court and capital to come among them. They
supposed that, at all events, such men would be luxu
rious and haughty, according to the descriptions they
were wont to hear from their ministers of the Great
Babylon and its denizens ; and when, on the contrary,
they saw in the missioners nothing but lowly, self-deny
ing, simple-mannered priests, whose real aim seemed
the welfare, temporal as well as spiritual, of those they
lived among, prejudices began to melt away, and the
Huguenots saw that all they had been told was not
truth. The line of action adopted by Fe'nelon is best
set forth in his own letters. He writes to the Marquis
de Seignelai:1 — "A la Tremblade, Feb. 7, 1686.
" .... If these good beginnings are kept up by
kindly preachers, who know how to join the power of
1 Secretary of State, and brother of the Duchesses de Beau
villiers, Chevreuse, and Mortemart.

z&: FENELON.

winning the. people's confidence to that' of teaching
them, they will be.made. true Catholics. . . . {Feb. 26.)
— Ihithe present condition of men's minds, we could
easily bring themiall to confession and Communion if
we chose to use a little pressure, and so glorify our
mission. But what is the good of bringing men to con
fession who do not yet recognise the Church, nor her
power of remitting sins ? and how can we give Jesus
Christ to those who do not believe that they are
receiving Him? Yet 1 know that in places where
the missionaries and the troops work side by side, new
converts crowd to receive Communion. A very little
pressing causes them to make any number of sacri-
leges; — the work is looked, upon as done when they
communicate; but in truth such men are only goaded to
despair by remorse, or plunged into an indifferentism
and coldness, which is the height of impiety, thereby
propagating a race of scoundrels who will spread
over the country. We should expect to bring a terrible
curse upon our work if we were satisfied with a hasty,
superficial work, all meant for show. We can but mul
tiply our instructions, invite the people to come heartily
to the Sacraments, and give them to those who come
of their own accord to seek them in unreserved
submission. ... I must not forget to add that we
want a great quantity of books, especially New Testa
ments, and translations of the Mass, with explanations."

PERSUASIVE CONTROVERSY. 27
" March 8, 1686.
"... The corn you have sent so cheaply proves
to the people that our charity is practical; it is the
most persuasive kind of controversy. Ours amazes
them, for they see the exact reverse of all that their
ministers had taught them as incontestable truth. . . .
I do not doubt but that there will be a great number
of communions at Easter; too many perhaps. . . .
We need preachers to explain the Gospel every
Sunday with a loving, winning authority ; — people
brought up in dissent are only to be won by the
Word spoken to them. . . . We must give New
Testaments profusely everywhere, but they must be
in large type; the people cannot read small print.
We cannot expect them to buy Catholic books ; it is a
great thing if they will read what costs them nothing :
indeed, the greater proportion cannot afford to buy.
If we take away their books and give them nothing
else, it would seem to confirm the ministers' favourite
fiction, that we will not let them read the Bible, for
fear they should discover the condemnation of our
superstitions and idolatries !"«
At the same date Fe'nelon wrote to Bossuet : " Our
converts get on but very slowly; — it is no trifling
matter to change the opinions of a whole people. . . .
1 Correspondence, vol. i. pp, 5-14.

28 FENELON.

The Huguenots,, when only nominally converted, are
most obstinately attached- to their religion, but
the moment that any suffering is in prospect their
courage fails. Whereas the martyrs were humble,
docile, intrepid, and incapable of falsity, these men
are cowardly, and ready to commit any hypocrisy.
The remnant will- fall into an indifference to all
religious externals which makes one tremble. If one
. . .
wanted to make them abjure Christianity and accept
the Koran one would only have to show them a troop
of dragoons. So long as they meet together by night,
and refuse to listen to instruction, they are satisfied.
It is a dangerous leaven in a nation. They have
violated holy things so constantly by perjury, that
there is great difficulty in distinguishing the really
sincere converts. We can but pray to God for them,
and persevere, without being disheartened, in teaching
them."1 In this same letter to Bossuet, Fenelon playfully
threatens to be guilty of "some grievous heresy, in order
to incur a lucky disgrace which should recall me to
Germigny." Shortly after be was permitted to return
to Paris, where, after certain personal interviews sought
by the King, who desired to hear what had been
going on for himself, Fe'nelon withdrew altogether
from Court for more than two years, occupying himself
1 Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 297.

JEALOUSY OF DE HARLAY. , 29
entirely with his quiet and unconspicuous duties
among the Nouvelles CathoUques. ,
So little did he trouble himself about the affairs of
th&outer world,. that it was merely by accident that
he 'heard of his own appointment to the See of Poitiers,
and of its immediate' revocation. This was a piece of
spit&on the part of. de. Harlay, who was increasingly
jealous -of the Abbe de Fe'nelon, and who, finding
that he could not succeed in making him be forgotten,
as he, had -promised, was at least, determined to keep
him out of the higher, dignities of. the Church, if
possible. The next year the Archbishop was again
successful in his unworthy manoeuvres. The Bishop
of Rochelle had been greatly impressed by the zeal
and gentle wisdom of the young missioner, and he
now came to Paris, without giving Fe'nelon any hint
of his intention, to ask the King to appoint him as
Coadjutor-Bishop of Rochelle. De Harlay did not
hesitate to insinuate to the King that the attraction
between the two men was a mutual leaning to
Jansenism, and as this was always a bite noire to Louis
XIV., he at once refused to make the appointment.
Fe'nelon might easily have refuted these assertions,
which his close friendship with Bossuet, Tronson, etc.,
pretty well answered ; but he did not take the trouble
to do so. He was not ambitious of dignities, and he
was occupied at this moment in publishing his two

30 FENELON

books — on Education and on the Ministry. These
works were eagerly read and appreciated, and , de
Harlay 's opposition fell unnoticed by its , subject.
He was content to look forward to a life spentl.in
teaching God's Truth in a humble sphere, by writing,
preabhing, and ministering. But God in His own
time called His servant forth to a more extensive
scene of labour, although probably he never again
knew so peaceful and unanxious a season as that
which closed with his appointment as Preceptor to
the Due de Bourgogne in August 1689.

COURT APPOINTMENTS.

3'

CHAPTER II.
THE time had come when the little grandson of
Louis XIV., the hope of France (for his father the
Dauphin was an uninteresting, heavy person, unlikely
ever to be a fitting successor to the Grand Monarque,
and wont to sayhimself that he- was content' to.be the
son and father of kings, without becoming one himself),
required' to. pass from the hands of nurses under a
masculine rule. The King seems to have taken all
arrangements into his own hands, almost without con
sulting the Dauphin, who, if asked, would probably
have- said, "Give- my son just the contrary of all that
was. given to me." -Poor man, he had had a brilliant
and intellectual household enough, but he was too
dull and unimpressionable to care for or benefit much
by that; and the tenderness and elasticity which
might possibly have developed something more, in
him were wanting. The Due de Montausier . and
Bossuet had been selected to bring up the Dauphin, as

32 FENELON.

the greatest and most celebrated men of their day, but
the Duke was a dry, stiff man, whose Cato-like virtues
and ducal robes enfolded a dry, pedantic nature, as
Sainte-Beuve says;1 and Bossuet, though he tried
to be kind and patient with the stupid little boy, had
not Fenelon's intimate acquaintance with child-nature,
and endeavoured to make him good and intellectual
by writing profound treatises and magnificent dis
courses, which failed in their effect upon their original
object, however much they -may ' have benefited the
world at large. Probably the King himself had some
what altered his views about education, and Madame
de Maintenon, whose influence was by this time tell
ing materially upon him, threw its weight into an
altogether different channel. It was most likely that
influence- which led to the appointment of the Due de
Beauvilliers as Governor to the royal grandson.
Paul Due de Beauvilliers had been at Court nearly
all his life, having early succeeded Marshal Villeroy as
head of the Conseildes Finances, and being also First
Gentleman of the Chamber. a He had been Governor
of Havre, and, in 1688, Louis XIV. sent him with the
Dauphin to the siege of Philisburg, practically in
charge of that not very able prince. He was acknow
ledged on all sides as a man of remarkable. piety and
1 Nouveaux Lundis, " Louis XIV. et le Due de Bourgogne."
; ,'* Mimoires de Saint Simon, vol.- i.-p, 168.-

DE BEAUVILLIERS. 33
purity of life, and as a courtier sans reproche1 — no
common thing in those days. Saint Simon enlarges
upon his personal attractions and courtesy, as well as
his goodness, and Madame de Sevigne* remarks that
Saint Louis himself could not have made a wiser
choice." The Duke had married Colbert's second
daughter, her two sisters marrying the Dues de
Chevreuse and Mortemart, men of his own stamp,
and the three families lived in a close union of prin
ciple and action, which gave them great strength amid
a profligate, time-serving Court. Madame de Main
tenon had always been closely allied with them ; they
had steadily refused to bow before Madame de Mon-
tespan in her day of ascendancy, although M. de Mor
temart was her nephew; but they acknowledged and
respected the difference of Madame de Maintenon's
position, and rejoiced in being able to resume their
proper place at Court and about the Monarch when a
more decent state of things was initiated.3 Twice a
week regularly Madame de Maintenon used to dine at
the Hotel de Beauvilliers, where the society was at
once select, intellectual, and devout, and she can
hardly be accused of consulting mere personal friend-
1 Correspondence, vol. xi. p. 200, " Discours sur l'Education-
du Due," etc.
2 Lettres, vol. ix. p. 426.
3 MSmoires de Baumelle, vol. ii. p. 248.
C

34 FENELON.

ship in urging such an appointment upon the King.
It was most unreservedly made; for Louis XIV. left
the selection of all who were to be about the im-
portant child to the absolute discretion of the Duke,
with the one exception of an old servant named
Moreau, who had been his attendant from the time of
his birth.
The Duke had no hesitation as to the best Preceptor
France could produce for the little Prince, and im
mediately named Fe'nelon. Madame de Maintenon
took upon herself some of the credit of this appoint
ment," for Fenelon's goodness and talent, as Well as
the charm of his manners, had impressed her so
favourably during her frequent meetings with him
at the Hotel de Beauvilliers, that she thought of seek
ing him as her permanent director. The Duke, to
his credit be it spoken, never wavered in bis friend
ship for Fe'nelon through evil report and good report,
and to his dying day the latter, whose mind and
intellect, D'Aguesseau says, were infinitely superior to
the Duke's,2 maintained an unbroken influence over
him and his. Fe'nelon was leading his ordinary re
tired life, neither seeking nor expecting Court favour,
and he received the tidings both of his friend's and
¦ Memoircs, vol. vi. p. 196.
* QZuvres du Chancelier D'Aguesseau, edit. Pardessus, vol
xv. p. 34S.

APPOINTED PRECEPTOR. 35
his own appointment by the same letter, to his great
surprise. Bossuet learnt the news at Germigny as soon as
Fe'nelon himself, and — priding himself on having had
some share in bringing so admirable a person to light
— he hastened to write his congratulations to -Madame
de Montmorenci-Laval : — "Aug. 19, 1689.
" Yesterday, Madame, I was absorbed in the good
fortune which has befallen us in Church and State,
to-day I have had leisure to dwell more immediately
upon your joy, which gives me the liveliest satisfac
tion. It brings my admirable and beloved friend,
your late father, very forcibly before me, and I have
been picturing to myself how he would feel on this
occasion, seeing the shining forth of merit which has
concealed itself so long. Enfin, Madame, we shall
not lose the Abbe- Fe'nelon; you will be able to enjoy
him, and, provincial as I am, I shall escape from time
to time to go and embrace him. Accept, I intreat
you, the expression of my joy, and the assurance
of the respect with which I remain, etc.,
J. B£nigne,
Eveque de Meaux." *
Although it has been already partly quoted in the Life
* Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 307.

36 FENELON.

of Bossuet,' it is impossible to write that of Fe'nelon
without giving the letter written to him on this occa
sion by his beloved friend and director Tronson, a
letter so unlike the ordinary congratulations and lavish
admiration which poured in upon the new appoint
ments : — "August 1689.
" You will perhaps be surprised that I have not
already been found amid the crowd of those who are
congratulating you on the honour conferred on you
by his Majesty; but I very humbly beg you not to
judge hardly of my brief delay. I felt that on an
occasion which interests me so deeply, I could not do
better than begin by thanking God for His dealings
with you, and asking Him to continue to bless and
guide you. I have tried to do both to the best of
my ability; and having said this, I may assure you
that I was really delighted to hear that you were
appointed. "The King has given an evidence of his piety, and
a satisfactory proof of his discernment, by this appoint
ment, which in itself is very comforting. The educa
tion now committed to you by his Majesty so closely
concerns the welfare of the State and the good of the
Church, that every good Frenchman must rejoice to
1 Bossuet and his Contemporaries, p. 357.

TRONSON' S LETTER. 37
see it in such hands. But I must tell you honestly
that my joy is mixed with fear when I consider the
perils to which you are exposed; inasmuch as it can
not be denied that, in the ordinary course of things,
ail promotion makes a man's salvation more or less a
work of increased difficulty. It opens the door to
earthly greatness, but you must fear lest it should
close that of the real greatness of Heaven. It is quite
true that you may do very great good in the position
you fill, but you may also be guilty of grievous faults ;
for there is nothing indifferent in such an office; —
your actions, good or bad, must almost inevitably
have infinite results. You are thrown into a region
where the Gospel of Jesus Christ is little known, and
where even those who know it use their knowledge
chiefly as a means to win human respect. You are
about to live among people whose language is alto
gether heathenish, and whose example almost uni
versally tends in a perilous direction. You will find
yourself surrounded by a multitude of objects which
flatter the senses, and are specially calculated to rouse
your most dormant passions ; and you will need a
great grace and a prodigious stedfastness to withstand
impressions at once so vivid and forcible. The horrid
mists which prevail at Court are enough to obscure
the clearest and plainest truths. It does not require
a long familiarity with its tone to make a man look

3? FENELON.

upon precepts which he once appreciated and be
lieved, while meditating at the foot of the Cross to
be unquestionable, as exaggerated and extravagant.
Duties which once seemed imperative insensibly
begin to appear doubtful or impracticable, and a
thousand occasions arise when you will fancy that
prudence and charity itself constrains you to deal
gently with the world. Yet surely it is a strange
position for a Christian, still more for a Priest, to find
himself forced to compound with the enemy of his
salvation ! In truth, dear friend, your post is a
dangerous one ; — confess honestly that it is very diffi
cult not to lose ground in it, and that you need a very
confirmed grace to stand therein. If ever the study
and meditation of Holy Scripture were necessary to
you, now indeed they have become overwhelmingly
indispensable. Hitherto, perhaps, you have needed
them chiefly to fill your mind with good thoughts, and
nourish it with truth; but henceforth you will need
them as a shield from evil and falsehood. Now is
the time for you to remember S. Augustine's words,
'Continuis vigiliis excubare, ne opinio verisimilis fallat;
ne decipiat sermo versutus ; ne se tenebrse alicujus vis
erroris offundant; ne quod bonum est, malum; aut quod
malum est, bonum esse credatur ; ne ab iis quas agenda
sunt metus revocet, aut ne in ea quae agenda non sunt
cupido prsecipitet' Above all, it is of the most infinite

DANGERS OF PROMOTION. 39
importance that you never lose sight of the eventful
hour of death, when all this world's glory will fade
away like a dream, and every earthly stay on which
you may have leant must fail.
" Probably your friends will comfort you by remind
ing you that you did not seek the post, and certainly
that is a real satisfaction, and a great mercy of God ;
but you must not rest overmuch upon it. One often
has more to do with one's own promotion than we
imagine ; it is very rare that any man foresees and yet
sincerely avoids it, — cne does not come across many
who have attained such a height of self-abnegation.
A man may not eagerly seek commonplace means of
advancing himself, but nevertheless he does not fail
to put aside obstacles cleverly : he may not court
those who can advance him, but he is not sorry to let
them casually see his best side ; and it is just to these
little bits of human display that the first steps of his
promotion are to be attributed, so that no one can
say quite confidently that he has had no part in his
own elevation. The display of one's own talents,
which one often makes almost without thinking about
it, is really a very great peril, and it is well always to
strive to neutralize it by the aspirations of a humble
and contrite heart.
" I ain afraid you will think this letter too long and
too unreserved, in fact more like an ill-timed sermon

40 FENELON.

than an acceptable congratulation. I should assuredly
have been briefer and less free-spoken if I cared less
for your soul ; and if there is any lack of respect in
my letter you must attribute it to my heart's love,
which cannot be other than warmly alive to your true
interests. Moreover, all the polished congratulations
you will have received svill make up abundantly for
my rough speech. Believe, I intreat you, that I shall
never cease to pray that God would fill you with the
unchanging spirit of His Love, so that no temptation
may alter or weaken the strength with which it will
inspire you. It is the Church's prayer for her chil
dren. — I am," etc.*
As the Due de Beauvilliers received the King's
absolute confidence, so he gave his own to Fenelon,
who in his turn was left to select those who were to
work under him — a selection carried out in the per
sons of three admirable men, the Abbe" de Langeron
and the Abbe- Fleury, who had already been his fellow-
labourers in Poitou, and whose intellectual qualifica
tions, no less than their moral and religious character,
fitted them thoroughly for their work ; and, lastly,
the Abbe" de Beaumont, a nephew of Fenelon's, who
shared not only his uncle's labours through ten lon<»
years without ever asking or receiving the smallest
Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 307.

COLLEAGUES. 41

Court favour, but who also shared his disgrace. It
was not until another reign, when his large-hearted
uncle was in his grave, and the voice of envy and
slander silenced, that, in 17 16, De Beaumont was
appointed Bishop of Saintes. He was second Sous-
precepteur, the Abbe Fleury being first, as was natural,
seeing that he had already conducted the education
of the Prince de Conti and the Comte de Vermandois.
Langeron filled the post of reader to the little Duke.
Fe'nelon was at this time thirty-eight, and the unani
mous testimony of all who have mentioned him in
contemporaneous writings sets him before us as a sin
gularly gifted and attractive man. The Due de Saint
Simon, himself too entirely a man of the world really to
understand any one who was not actuated by a worldly
spirit, and whose satirical, misanthropical character
colours all his impressions, gives a most fascinating
description of Fe'nelon, although he so far misinter
prets the great Archbishop's life as to say, that " no
man ever possessed so inveterate^ a desire to please
every one, from the prince to the peasant ; and no
man ever pursued that desire with a more steady,
continuous, universal persistence ; neither did any one
ever succeed more entirely."1 To the last sentence
we may cordially assent, but those who will patiently
follow the course of Fenelon's life will be ready to
* Mimoires, vol. xxii. p 137.

42 FENELON.

say that, if he possessed so strong a desire to please,
it Was certainly held in very wondrous control by a
Stronger cohscience, which led him to say and do
things most unacceptable to the highest quarters
when duty interfered.
Saint Simon gives a graphic description of Fe'nelon' s
appearance: — "This prelate was a tall, thin man, well
made, pale, with a large nose, eyes whence fire and
talent streamed as from a torrent, and a physiognomy
the like of which I have never seen in any other man,
and which, once seen, one could never forget. It
combined everything, and the greatest contradictions
produced no want of harmony. It united seriousness
and gaiety, gravity and courtesy, the man of learn
ing, the Bishop and the grand seigneur; the pre
vailing characteristics, as in everything about him,
being refinement, intellect, gracefulness, modesty,
and, above all, noblesse. It was difficult to take one's
eyes off him. All his portraits are speaking, and yet
none of them have caught the exquisite harmony
which struck one in the original, or the exceeding
delicacy of every feature. His manners altogether
corresponded to his appearance, his perfect ease
was infectious to others, and his conversation was
stamped with the grace and good taste which are
only acquired by habitual intercourse with the
best society and the great world. He possessed a

PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS. 43
natural eloquence, graceful and finished, and a most
insinuating yet noble and appropriate courtesy ; an
easy, clear, agreeable utterance ; a wonderful power
of explaining the hardest matters in a lucid, distinct
manner. Add to all this, that he was a man who
never sought to seem cleverer than those with whom
he conversed, who brought himself insensibly to their
level, putting them at their ease, and enthralling them
so, that one could neither leave him, nor mistrust
him, nor help seeking him again. It was this rare
gift which he possessed to the utmost degree which
bound all his friends so closely to him all his life, in
spite of his disgrace at Court, and which led them,
when scattered, to gather together to talk of him,
regret him, long after him, cling more and more to
him, like the Jews to Jerusalem, and sigh and hope
for his return, even as that unhappy race waits and
sighs after their Messiah." '
A not less attractive portrait is given us by a very
different stamp of man, the Chancellor D'Aguesseau,
who, in his M'emoires sur les Affaires de I'Eglise de
France, says : " The Abbe" de Fe'nelon was one of those
rare men who are destined to create an epoch in their
times, and to do honour as much to humanity by
their virtues as to letters by their exceeding talent;
easy, brilliant, characterised by a fertile, graceful,
1 Mhnoires, vol. xxii. p. 135.

44 FENELON.
dominant imagination, which yet never made its domi
nation felt. His eloquence was rather winning than
vehement, and he reigned as much through the charm
he had in society as by the superiority of his talents ;
always bringing himself to the level of others, and
never arguing, seeming on the contrary to yield to
others at the very time he was convincing them."
His lips poured forth graciousness, and he seemed to
handle the weightiest matters with perfect ease, while
the veriest trifles assumed dignity beneath his hand,
and he could have brought forth flowers from amid
thorns. His whole bearing was marked with a noble
singularity, and a.Je ne sais quoi of sublime simplicity
gave a sort of prophet-like stamp to his character :
the fresh though unaffected way in which he expressed
1 One of the men who was continually with him, and there
fore saw Fenelon in all circumstances, the Abbe Galet, says, ' ' I
never knew him speak brusquely to any one, nor to the best of
my knowledge did a harsh or contemptuous word ever escape
him." — Recueil, etc. See Corres. vol. xi. p. 149.
And de Ramsai writes : " He had the faculty of putting him
self on a level with all minds, never seeming to feel cleverer than
those with whom he was talking, but rather bringing out their
powers by an unconscious graceful setting aside his own. I
have seen him adapt himself within a short space of time to all
classes — associating with the great, and using their style without
any loss of episcopal dignity, and then turning to the lowly and
young, like a kind father teaching his children. There was no
effort or affectation in his readiness to turn from one to the other,
it seemed as though his mind naturally embraced all varieties." —
Hist, dela Vie, etc., p. 1 68.

THE DUC DE BOURGOGNE. 45
himself made many people fancy that he knew every
thing by inspiration. It seemed almost as if he had
invented rather than acquired the sciences. He was
always original, always creative, imitating no one, and
himself wholly inimitable. His talents, which had
been long hidden in collegiate obscurity, and were
little known at Court even when he went on the
Poitou mission, were at last brought fully forth on
the King's appointing him to educate his grandson."1
Certainly it was a marvellous staff of educators
which was brought to bear upon the prospective King
of France ; and the material to be worked on was of
no ordinary kind. Anything more unlike his heavy,
unintellectual father than this little Due de Bourgogne
could hardly be imagined. He was indeed an enfant
terrible, and that of the most perilous kind.
" Monseigneur was born with a naturel which made
one tremble," Saint Simon wrote, while the Duke was
still living.2 "He was so passionate that he would break
the clocks when they struck the hour which summoned
him to some unwelcome duty, and fly into the wildest
rage with the rain which hindered some pleasure.
Resistance made him perfectly furious. I have often
been a witness to this in his early childhood. Moreover,
a strong inclination attracted him to whatever was for
bidden to body or mind. His satirical power was all
1 QSuvres, vol. viii. p. 195. z Mhioires, vol. xv. p. 79.

46 FENELON.

the more biting that it was clever and pungent, and
he seized promptly on the ridiculous side of things.
All this was sharpened by an elasticity, mental and
bodily, which became impetuosity, and which made
it impossible for him in early days to learn anything
without doing two things at once. He gave himself
up to all that pleased him with violent passion, and
with an amount of pride and hauteur past description;
he was dangerously quick in penetrating both things
and people ; in seeing the weak side, and in reason
ing more powerfully and deeply than his masters.
But, on the other hand, as soon as the storm of pas
sion was over, reason would return and get the upper
hand ; he would see his faults and acknowledge them,
sometimes so regretfully as almost to renew the storm.
His mind was lively, quick, penetrating, resolute to
meet difficulties; literally speaking, transcendent in
every way. The marvel is that in so short a time
devotion and grace should have made an altogether
new being of him, and changed so many redoubtable
faults into the entirely opposite virtues."
We must not anticipate now what the little Duke
became as a man;1 at seven he certainly promised
1 Sainte-Beuve says: "Ce qui est certain, c'est que lorsque
Fenelon recut entre les mains, pour l'elever, ce jeune prince age
die sept ans, il en fut effraye a premiere vue. II reconnut aussitdt
a quel point la mature sur laquelle il allait avoir a travailler e'ait

A DIFFICUL T ED UCA TION. 47
badly. Besides the above description of Saint Simon's,
he tells us in various places that the Due de Bour
gogne was intensely obstinate, desperately fond of
good eating, of hunting, of music and of games, at
which it was dangerous to play with him, as he could
not endure to be beaten ; that he was disposed to be
cruel, and that he looked upon the rest of mankind
as an inferior race with which he had nothing in
common. Even his brothers, who were supposed to
be brought up on precisely the same footing as him
self, he considered as merely a sort of link between
him and the ordinary human race ! Now, indeed,
Fdnelon's studies on Education would be tested, and
the theories he had written must be put into practice.
Yet, perhaps, the wisest point in the whole business
was that, as Cardinal de Bausset says, " he pursued only
one system, which was, to have none I"1 in other words,
he devoted his elastic, fertile mind to meeting the
necessities of the hour as they arose in his volatile,
chameleon-like pupil, instead of subjecting him to a
bouillante et rebelle, d'autant plus dangereuse qu'elle etait pleine
d'esprit et comme petrie de salpetre et de feu. Un Neron, un
Domitien pouvait en sortir aussi bien qu'un Titus, si l'on man-
quait l'ceuvre et si Ton se trompait de moule. Par les ferocites,
le manque d'equilibre et le dechainement des passions brutales
jointes aux vivacites et aux caprices de l'imagination, il y avait
l'etoffe d'un monstre. C'etait une rude affaire que de tirer de la
un roi et un homme." — Nouveaux Lundis, vol. ii. p. 116.
* Histoire de Fenelon, vol. i. p. 103.

48 FENELON.

Procrustean system, which would probably have made
him finally wicked or idiotic ! How generally wise
and tender his notions of the fitting treatment of a
child were may be gathered from his treatise. " Let
the child play," he says, " and mingle instruction with
play; let wisdom only show itself to him occasionally,
and then with a cheerful face ; beware of wearying
him with an indiscreet precision. If he gets a gloomy,
disagreeable impression of goodness, while freedom
and disorder are associated in his mind with what is
pleasant, all is lost. . . . What matters most is for you
to see your own faults as plainly as your pupil will see
them. Very often people excuse nothing in a child,
while they excuse themselves in everything. . . . Try
to make the duties you require him to fulfil acceptable
to him. If you are obliged to put an irksome duty
before him, give him to understand that it will be fol
lowed by some pleasure ; show him the use of what
you teach him. . . . Otherwise study will seem an
abstract, barren, painful toil to him. Children ask
within themselves what is the good of learnino- thino's
which are not mentioned in conversation, and which
have nothing to do with their ordinary life ? Explain
to them that all these bear upon the duties to which
they will hereafter be called, form their judgment
and train them to enter upon the business of life.
Never, without the most urgent necessity, be stern and

FORBEARANCE. 49
dictatorial .... or you will close the children's
hearts against you, and destroy conscience, without
which there is no hope of educating them rightly.
Make them love you, accustom them to be open with
you, and not to be afraid of letting you see their
faults ; and to this end be indulgent to such as they
do not try to conceal. Never seem surprised or vexed
at their naughty ways, but, on the contrary, be pitiful
to their weakness. . . . You must often bear with
things which need correction, waiting till the time
when the child is able to benefit by it. Never reprove
while either you or he are excited. If you do so on
the spur of the moment, he will see that you are act
ing from temper or haste, not from affection and
justly; and you will lose your authority irrecoverably.
And if you reprove him in his own first excitement, he
is not able to acknowledge his fault, to conquer his
passion, or even to feel the importance of what you
say; and he runs the risk of losing his respect for
you. Show him that you always know how to control
yourself; nothing will teach him that so much as your
patience. Watch, if need be even for several days,
for the best moment at which to correct a fault ; and
never tell a child of a fault without suggesting some
encouraging way of conquering it ; and always avoid
the vexation and fret caused by a hard manner of cor
rection. . . . People who never praise children must

50 FENELON.

dishearten them. While praise is to be feared because
of vanity, you. should try to use it as a means of
encouragement without hurting them. S. Paul often
used it to encourage the weak, and make his rebukes
easier to bear. Of course, to be useful, praise must
be free from all exaggeration or flattery, and all good
must be referred to God as its Source."1
The enfant terrible did not become a lamb at once !
We have a picture of him drawn from the life by his
Preceptor, and given to him as a wholesome lesson
in his happier moments, which bears out Saint
Simon's description. Fe'nelon writes the following
paper as a sort of feu-d' esprit, half to amuse nis
pupil, half to rebuke him. It is called " Le Fan-
tasque." " What can have happened to Melanthe? Nothing
from without; everything within. He has all to his
mind, everybody seeks to please him. What then
is the matter ? He is bilious. When he went to bed
last night he was the joy of the whole earth; this
morning one is ashamed of him, — he must be hidden.
When he got up some shoe-string offended him; so
the whole day will be stormy, and everybody will
suffer! He frightens one, — it is deplorable ; he cries
like a child, he roars like a hon. An evil sullen cloud
blackens his mind, as the ink out of his desk blackens
1 CEuvres, vol. xi. pp. 135—157.-

"LE FANTASQUE." 5i
his fingers. Don't talk to him about the things he
liked best a minute ago, — just because he liked them
then, he cannot abide them now. The amusements he
longed for bore him, and must be given up. He con
tradicts, pities himself, annoys others ; he is angry if
they will not be put out. Sometimes he fights with
empty space, like a mad bull tearing at the winds
with its horns. And if he can find no excuse for
attacking others, he turns against himself, blames
himself, thinks himself good for nothing, loses heart,
and is indignant if anybody tries to comfort him. He
wants to be alone, and cannot bear solitude ; he Re
turns to society, and is cross with it. People do not
talk, and such an affectation of silence irritates him i
they speak low, and he fancies they are talking of
him : they speak loud, and he thinks them noisy and
unfeeling becaUse he is sad. They are grave, and he
thinks they are reproaching him; they smile, and he
thinks they are laughing at him. What can be done?
Nothing but to be as firm and patient as he is un
bearable, and wait quietly in hopes that to-morrow he
will be as good ae he was yesterday. These strange
tempers go as they come ; when they seize him, it is
like a machine with a broken spring ; he is like one's
idea of a person possessed, his reason seems upside-
down, he is the embodiment of unreason. If you
urge him on, he will maintain at mid-day that.it is

52 FENELON.

night, — there is neither day nor night for one so up
set with caprice. Sometimes he cannot help being
amused at the vehemence of his own absurdity, and
in spite of his vexation he smiles at the extravagant
things he has uttered ! But how is one to foresee
these storms and avert the tempest? There is no
way; no almanac foretells this bad weather. Beware
of saying, ' To-morrow we will go and amuse ourselves
in such a garden.' Your man of to-day will be quite
another to-morrow; he who promises so much now
will soon disappear: you will not know how to call
his words to his mind: you will find nothing but a
shapeless, nameless something, which you could not
define two minutes running in the same terms. Study
him as much as you please, and then say what you
will of him; it will not be true the next moment.
This/e ne sais quoi wills and will not; he threatens
and trembles; he mixes up the most ridiculous pride
with the most unworthy meanness. He cries and
laughs, he jokes and is furious. In his most comical
and senseless fury he can be witty, eloquent, crafty,
full of ingenious devices, although he has not a grain
of sense left in him ! Take good care to say nothing
fair, exact, and reasonable to him; he will know how
to take advantage of it and turn upon you; he would
forget, his mistake for yours, and become reasonable
solely for the pleasure of proving that you are un-

A PLAYFUL RgBUKE. 53
reasonable. A nothing has sent him up into the skies;
but what has become of that nothing? It has been lost
in the fray, it is forgotten : he does not know what put
him out, he only knows that he is angry, and is deter
mined to be angry, or indeed sometimes he does not
even know that ! Sometimes he imagines that every
one who speaks to him is in a rage, and that he only is
temperate; like a man with the jaundice, who fancies
everybody is yellow, though the colour is only in his
own eyes. At any rate, perhaps, he will spare certain
people to whom he owes more than the rest, or whom
he seems to love better? Not at all; his whims spare no
one; they seize on whatever comes across them, and
expend themselves on the first comer; if once he is
put out, he will abuse everybody. He does not care
for anybody, nobody cares for him, he is persecuted,
betrayed, he owes nothing to anybody whatsoever!
But wait a moment, and the whole scene is changed !
He wants every one, he loves and is loved, he flatters,
wins, enchants the very people who could not endure
him; he confesses how much he was to blame, laughs
at his absurdities, caricatures himself, and that so well
that you would almost think one of his attacks of
rage had returned. After such a comedy, played
at his own cost, you would imagine that at any
rate he would not become a demoniac again. But,
alas! you are mistaken, he will do it again to-

54 FENELON.

night, and ridicule himself to-morrow, without amend
ing!"1 A tolerably strong lesson this, one would think, for
the proud little Prince, who. hardly thought himself
made of the same pate as his fellow mortals! Another
of the same kind is also preserved to us. Fe'nelon
wrote a supposed letter from Bayle to himself, purport
ing to describe a recently discovered medal, — a thing
certain to excite the curiosity and interest of the Due
de Bourgogne, whose literary tastes were precocious.
The description of the medal is read aloud : —
" One side represents a child of noble and beautiful
mien; Pallas holds her shield over him, and the
Qraces strew his path with flowers ; Apollo, followed
by the Muses, offers him his lyre; Venus hovers
above in her chariot, and lets her girdle drop upon
him; Victory points with one hand to a triumphal
car, and with the other offers him a crown. The
legend is taken from Horace, ' Non sine Dis animosus
infans.' "
So far all is very delightful, and probably the little
Duke began to consider the medal very happily
suited to himself! But then there comes a reverse
side : —
" The reverse is altogether different. Evidently it
represents the same child — there is the same figure,
• Q2uvres, vol. xi. p. 295.

A MEDAL. 55

but he is surrounded now with hideous and grotesque
masks, venomous reptiles, snakes, vipers, insects,
owls, filthy harpies, clawing with their hooked nails.
There is a troop of impudent mocking satyrs, assum
ing the most absurd postures, laughing and pointing
to the monstrous fish's tail with which the beautiful
boy's body is completed. And around the legend,
again from Horace, says, ' Turpitur atrum desinit in
piscem.' Our savants are greatly perplexed to dis
cover on what occasion this ancient medal can have
been struck. Some maintain that it represents
Caligula, who, as the son of Germanicus, kindled so
many hopes in childhood, but developed into a
monster. Others again think that it is intended for
Nero, whose beginning was so bright and his end so
horrible. All agree that it represents a brilliant
young prince, whose promise was fair, and yet
deceitful."1 ....
The hidden meaning was assuredly not lost upon
the royal pupil !'
A number of fables, some in French, some
in Latin, and (as we should call them) fairy
tales, written in like manner, to convey some
special lesson to the little Duke, remain among
Fenelon's works, — some poetical and graceful, though
the taste for that style of mythological composition
1 OSuvres, vol. xi. p. 299.

56 FENELON.

has passed away from among us, and their usefulness
would probably be very much less now than at the
time they were written. Thus one day we find the
little Duke's carelessness in his lessons delicately
shown up to himself beneath the fable of young
Bacchus being taught by Silenus beneath a sacred
oak, while a saucy little Faun, listening to the royal
reader, grins and jeers at his false quantities and
mistakes. At last Bacchus, irritated at the criticism,
exclaims angrily, " How dare you ridicule the son of
Jupiter!" and the dauntless Faun replies, " How dare
the son of Jupiter make a slip!" But these fables
were not always armed with a sting; sometimes they
carried a pleasant and complimentary meaning when
the child for whom they were written deserved a
reward; e.g. in Le Rossignol et la Fauvette,1 which is
considered by French critics as "the most ex
quisite " * of Fenelon's writings. Fables seem to have
been very much to the taste of the young Duke, who
had a special predilection for La Fontaine and his
writings. The old poet condescended to write fables
in competition with the Prince, and (here we fear he
must stand convicted of flattery!) to declare himself
conquered ! His reward — for to a courtier it probably
would have been one — was a graceful lament over La
* CEuvres, vol. xi. p. 394.
¦ Sainte-Beuve, N. Lundis, vol. ii. p. 12&

LITERAR Y EDUCA TION. 57
Fontaine's death, written by Fe'nelon and translated
by the little Duke.
The child's literary education was not the burden
some side of Fe'nelon's preceptorship, though he
spared no pains in that, as the remains of his own
papers, gathered together by his nephew de Beaumont,
Bishop of Saintes, prove, besides his published works.
At that time, with the exception of a few elementary
works put forth by the Port Royalists, there were
scarcely any educational books, grammars, or hand
books; and the teacher who wished really to do his part
thoroughly found himself obliged to prepare written
lessons which should supply what now every school
boy finds ready printed in his hand. Thus Fe'nelon
drew out rules, and wrote outlines of themes and
passages for translation ; even putting together a sort
of Latin dictionary, which set forth the precise weight
of words and their parallels in French. But all this
trouble was rewarded by the pupil's interest in his
studies, and his classical taste, which was unnaturally
early in its development. The Abbe Fleury says that
his was a first class mind — his perceptions quick, his
memory clear, his judgment correct, his reasoning
powers accurate, and his imagination lively. He was
not content with superficial knowledge, but liked to
get to the bottom of things, and he was possessed by
a boundless spirit of curiosity ! At ten years old he

58 F&NELQN.
was able to write elegant Latin, and to translate with
a nicety of expression unusual in older people. He
could enter into the beauties of Horace, Virgil, Ovid
and Cicero (so, we are told) ; and a year later he bad
translated Csesar's Commentaries and begun to trans
late Tacitus. He drew freely and with genius ; he was
passionately fond of music and studied it scientifically,
and was wont to go into extasies over all that pleased
him in art or poetry. The Abbe Fleury says that
the little Duke was difficult to teach at first in
spite of all these capacities, because his exceeding
liveliness and impetuosity made it hard for him to
take in rules and details — he liked to carry everything
before him by his quickness of perception, rather
than to plod. Yet he had an innate taste for detail,
against which Fe'nelon in after years struggled with
the keen sense of a large-minded man, that it would
he harmful to him as a ruler. Thus we find Fenelon
writing to the Abbe Fleury,, that the Duke's natural
inclination led him to a childish love of detail in the
fine arts and in agriculture ; and but a short time
before the cherished pupil's death, Fe'nelon writes to
the Due de Chevreuse (as devoted as himself), that
in religious matters the Dauphin still needed to acquire
a habit of steady, consecutive application, in order to
take in all the various sides of a subject, to give
due balance to what was really important, and to

A FIERY TEMPER. 59
shake off difficulties, " otherwise," he says, " he will
be but as an inquisitive butterfly, hovering over all the
weightiest subjects, without ever becoming a good
man of business. He wants nervous force, and
firmness, without which cvanuerunt in cogitationibus
suzs."1 But to return to the Duke's childhood. The real
struggle was with his fiery temperament, already
described, which in its, actual outbreaks was not to
he dealt with by fables or allegories. Patience and
gentleness, together with firmness, were the only means
of meeting these attacks of fury, which had probably
been altogether mismanaged hitherto in nursery
government. When one of the evil moods seized
him, it was an understood thing in the household that
every one relapsed into an unwonted silence — nobody
spoke to him if they could help it; his attendants
waited - upon him with averted eyes, as though
reluctant to witness his degradation through passion.
He was treated with the sort of humiliating compas
sion which might be shown to a madman; — his books
and appliances for study were put aside as useless to
one in such a state, and he was left to his own reflec
tions. Gradually these would bring the passionate
but generous child to a better mind, and then, full of
remorse and penitence, he would come and throw
1 Correspondence, voL i. p. 542.

6o FENFLON.

himself, in the fullest affection and trust, mixed with
childish remorse, upon the never-failing patience and
goodness of the Preceptor, whom he almost worshipped
to his dying day ; — suffering more real pain from that
which he was conscious of having caused to one whom
he loved far better than he could possibly have loved
his father, than from the severest punishment that
could have been inflicted. Gradually he learnt to
assist those who strove to conquer his faults by his
own efforts. A slip of paper is still existing, brought
by the little Duke to Fe'nelon when he was eight
years old, written in his own hand : —
"I promise, foi de prince, to M. l'Abbe" de Fe'nelon,
that I will do at once whatever he bids me, and will
obey him instantly in what he forbids ; and if I break
my word, I will submit to every possible punishment
and dishonour. Given at Versailles, Nov. 29, 1689.
(Signed) Louis."
And again : —
"Louis, who promises anew to keep my promise
better. Sept. 20th. — I beg M. de Fe'nelon to let me
try again."
It was seldom that the impetuous but affectionate
child did not yield speedily to Fe'nelon's wise and
loving discipline. Once, however, there was a serious
scene between them, which appeais to have had a lasting

A STORM. 61

influence upon the Prince. It is his biographer, M.
Proyart, who tells it. Fe'nelon had been obliged to
reprove the Duke with more than usual severity, and
the boy, in his angry pride, had resisted, exclaiming,
"Non, non, Monsieur, je sais qui je suis et qui vous
etes!" Such insubordination was fatal to his autho
rity, of course, if tolerated : but, acting upon his own
maxim, never to administer reproof while either actor
concerned is excited, Fe'nelon made no reply, and
for the remainder of the day preserved a total silence
towards his pupil, who could not fail to perceive by
his manner that the usually indulgent master was both
hurt and displeased. Night came, without any ex
planation; but the next morning, as soon as the
Prince was awake, the Abbe came to his room, and
addressing him in a grave, ceremonious manner, very
unlike the usual easy tone of their intercourse, said,
" I do not know, Monsieur, whether you remember
what you said to me yesterday, that you ' knew what
you are and what I am,' but it is my duty to teach you
your ignorance alike of both. You fancy yourself a
greater personage than I, — some of your servants may
have told you so ; but, since you oblige me to do it, I
must tell you, without hesitation, that I am greater than
you. You must see at once that there can be no
question of birth in the matter. You would consider
him a madman who should take to himself any

62 F£N£LON.

credit because the rains of heaven had watered his
crops, while those of his neighbour withered ; and it
would be no wiser to be vain of your birth, which
adds not one tittle to your personal merit You can
have no doubt but that I am your superior in under
standing and knowledge — you know nothing but
what I have taught you, and that is a mere shadow
compared with what you yet have to leara. As to
authority, you have none over me, whereas I, on the
contrary, have a full and entire authority over you, as
the King and Monseigneur have often told you.
Perhaps you imagine that I think myself fortunate in
holding the office I fill about yourself; but there again
you are mistaken. I undertook it only to obey the
King and please Monseigneur, and in no way for the
irksome privilege of being your Preceptor; and to
convince you of this truth, I am now going to take
you to his Majesty, and beg him to appoint some one
else, whose care of you will, I hope, be more success
ful than mine."
Nuit porte conseil, even to passionate children, and
the little Duke had wakened to a very different esti
mate of himself, his Preceptor, and life in general,
from that which attended his coucher the evening
before. He really loved Fe'nelon, and, small as he
was, he was sensitive to the last degree as to public
opinion and the faintest shadow of disgrace What

A SHARP LESSON. 63
would the world think of the Prince who was so hope
lessly naughty that a. man so universally admired and
respected was forced to give him up ? and what would
become of the poor little boy to whom his nearest
relations were after all only " His Majesty" and
" Monseigneur," if the dear, kind Preceptor who loved
him, and devoted himself to him, were to go away
and leave him ?
Poor little Louis ! the storm broke out anew, but
this time it was all penitence and shame and regret ;
while, with passionate sobs and tears, he cried out,
" Oh, Monsieur, I am so sorry for what I said yester
day ! ... If ycu tell the King, he will not care for
me any more, . . . and what will people think if you
leave me ! I promise, oh, I promise ever so much,
that you shall not have to complain of me, if only you
will promise not to go !"
But Fe'nelon would promise nothing — the lesson
would be lost if it were not sharp, and for a whole day
he allowed the little Duke to undergo the pangs of
anxiety and uncertainty. At last, when Louis' repent
ance seemed unlikely to be soon forgotten, Madame
de Maintenon's intercession was admitted, and the
Preceptor consented to remain. The separation, when
it did come, between the attached master and pupil,
was voluntary on neither side, and nothing ever suc
ceeded in separating their affections.

64 FENELON.

Bossuet had endeavoured to educate this boy's
father with the very highest pressure, and had not suc
ceeded in bringing forth much either of intellect or
feeling. Fe'nelon made a friend and companion of
the son, and while developing his heart, his intellect
(which undoubtedly was greatly superior to that of the
then Dauphin) developed rapidly likewise. The fol
lowing letter, written by Fe'nelon to the Pere Mar-
tineau, gives an attractive picture of the way in which
master and pupil lived together, and the groundwork
of their attachment : —
" In his childhood," the Archbishop writes, Nov.
14, 17 12, "he was sincere and ingenuous, to the
degree that one only needed to question him in order
to know whatever he had done wrong. One day, when
he was very much out of temper, he tried to conceal
some act of disobedience, and I urged him to tell the
truth, remembering that we were in God's Sight. Then
he threw himself into a great passion, and said, ' Why
do you put it in that way ? Well, then, since you ask
me so, I cannot deny that I did,' — whatever it was.
He was beside himself with anger, but still his sense
of religious duty was so strong that it drew forth the
most humiliating acknowledgments. I never corrected
him save where it was really necessary, and then with
great caution. The moment his passion was over, he
would come back, to me and confess himself to blame

PLAN OF EDUCA TION. 65
so that we had to console him, and he was really
grateful to those who corrected him. He used some
times to say to me, ' Now I shall leave the Due de
Bourgogne behind the door, and be only little Louis
with you !' This was when he was nine years old.
" I used to leave off lessons whenever he wanted to
begin a conversation from which he might derive use
ful information ; and this happened rather often : we
got back to our study all in good time, for he had a
liking for it, and I wanted to give him the taste for sen
sible conversation, both to make him sociable and to
accustom him to make acquaintance with those whom
he would meet in society. In such talks as these his
mind made rapid strides in literary, political, and even
metaphysical knowledge, and he went through all the
evidences of religion. His temper was improved by
this sort of intercourse ; he used to become quiet,
pleasant, and lively, so as to be quite delightful. All
his pride melted away, and he enjoyed such times
much more than childish games, which often put him
out of temper. I never knew him care for flattery :
if he was praised he would take no notice at first;
and then, if any further remark was made, he would
say that he knew his own faults too well to like prarse.
He has often told me that he should never forget the
pleasure it was to learn as he did, without any con
straint. I have known him ask to be read to during

66 FENELON.
his meals and while dressing, so eager was he to learn ;
and I never saw any child who so early and so keenly
entered into the refinements of poetry and eloquence,
or who could so soon understand abstract principles.
Directly that he saw me doing any work for him, he
wanted to do the same, and would set to on his own
account. Except in his moments of passion, I never
knew him influenced save by the most straightforward
principles, and most strictly in accordance with the
teaching of the Gospel. He was kind and courteous
to all who had a claim upon him, but he reserved his
confidence wholly for such as he believed to be reli
gious people, and they could tell him nothing about
his faults which he did not acknowledge with grati
tude. I never saw any one whom I should less have
feared to displease, by telling him the harshest truths
concerning himself. I have proved that by some won
derful experiences."1 . . .
The little Duke's education was carefully planned
by Fe'nelon, even when unable himself to carry out
the details. The following is a specimen of instruc
tions written by him, and found among the Abbe*
Fleury's papers : —
t' For the rest of this year I would let the Duke go
on as at present, with his themes and translations, —
the first from Ovid's Metamorphoses. The subjects are
1 Correspondence, vol. iv. p. 169.

EXTENSIVE READING. 67
very varied ; he learns a great many Latin words and
idioms; they amuse him, and as themes are the
hardest part of his work, it is well to make them as
amusing as possible. His translations are alternately
from one of Terence's Comedies and the Odes of
Horace, which he likes very much ; nothing can be
better either as a matter of Latin or taste."
Fe'nelon goes on to suggest various ecclesiastical and
general history, classical authors, and other reading,
remarking that the instructor should watch his pupil's
progress, and vary the study if his interest flags ; petty
detail he would have avoided, and matters of argu
ment should be postponed until with a riper judgment
he can derive more pleasure and profit from them
than were now possible.
He next refers to an abstract of Cordemai's History,
on which the little Duke had been engaged, suggest
ing that it should be varied by one from Roman his
tory, made with careful chronological notes and tables;
as also by Duchesne and English history.
A year later another similar scheme includes Holy
Scripture, select portions of the Fathers, especially' S.
Augustine, Bossuet's Histoire des Variations, various
histories, grammar, rhetoric, etc. ; but these latter
studies are to be carefully employed, and not made
burdensome. It seems needless .to say that, while all points- of

68 FENELON.

secular education were so carefully attended to, the
little Duke's religious instruction was not neglected.
In his treatise on Education, Fe'nelon explains his
ideas as to this, the most important point of all, i.e.
the need of laying a thorough and painstaking founda
tion of sacred history, linking it on to the Christian
dispensation — " Jesus Christ awaited in the Old, reign
ing in the New Testament." This mode of teaching,
he says, requires more time and pains than many are
willing to give ; but then, on the other hand, those
who have thus laid a solid foundation have a firm
grasp of their religion, whereas, very often, people who
have not been well taught have only confused ideas
about our Lord, the Gospel, the Church, her authority,
and the real nature of their obligations as Christians.
Fe'nelon would follow the teaching of Holy Scripture,
and bring vivid pictures of God's dealings with men,
His Power, Judgment, etc., to bear upon the childish
imagination ; and, while avoiding mere philosophic
subtleties, he would lead it to think upon mysteries
and wonders which, though past human comprehen
sion, raise the tone and kindle aspirations. Above
all, he dwells upon the importance of the example set
before a child by his instructors, which will teach far
more than any precepts ; and here, at least, the Due
de Bourgogne was fortunate, for no higher or purer
example of the beauty of a personally devout life

RELIGIOUS EDUCATION. 69
could be given him than that of his beloved Pre
ceptor. The early religious impressions which Fe'nelon gave
him were so firm and deeply rooted that they influenced
his whole life; and though, as might be expected,
there were then, and have been since, men who con
sidered a devout prince as a kind of monster, there is
every reason to believe that the Due de Bourgogne's
life was more useful to his country, and his death
happier for himself, than that of most princes of his
family. Later on we shall find Fe'nelon anxiously
guarding his pupil against falling into any narrow
grooves, or allowing his religious practices to interfere
with his duties, either public or with respect to his
grandfather the King or the Dauphin his father. And
the broad, large-hearted wisdom of his counsels in
later life are sufficient testimony to what his teach
ing of the child was, — probably, indeed, nothing but a
deeply religious training could have overpowered the
strong tendencies to evil which struggled in the Duke
against so much that was noble and good. In his
book on Education, Fe'nelon says, that the period of
First Communion must be long looked for, and the
child taught to feel that he should be really tryii.g to
be good before he is admitted to what he has learnt
to look to as the greatest blessing of this life ; while,
at the same time, he would have the First Communion

7o FENELON.

given as early as may be, to strengthen and shield
the child before he meets with real danger and
temptation. In this spirit his pupil was prepared,
and the result was all he could have desired. The
Due de Bourgogne made his First Communion ear
nestly and devoutly, and during the rest of his life he
was a regular and faithful communicant. Saint Simon
himself, who wrote at some length to prove that he
was "too religious," mentions that the Duke never
communicated less frequently than once a fortnight,
and that with a recollection and humility of bearing
which struck all beholders. He always on these
occasions wore his order and collar of the Saint
Esprit as a token of respect. But we shall have
hereafter to return to this subject.
It was during these years of preceptorship that
Fe'nelon wrote his Dialogues des Morts,' for the
Prince's instruction, and with a view to teaching him
how to weigh character and form historical judg
ment. The Dialogues are short, and for the most
part lively, sometimes indeed abounding in humour
and playfulness, and often giving more true than
flattering characters of well-known personages. The
dialogues between Louis XI. and Cardinals Balue
and Bessarion, and Philippe de Comines, are specially
graphic. In the latter the King reproaches the great
1 CEuvres, vol. ix.

" DIALOGUES DES MORTS." 71
historian for having told many things which he would
fain have had concealed, for, as ho says, "Tout cela
est fort ridicule." " Mais," de Comines replies, "tout
cela n'est-il pas vrai? Pouvois-je le taire?" "Vous
pouviez n'en rien dire," says the aggrieved mon
arch. " Vous pouviez n'en rien faire ! " is the
answer. And in spite of Louis XL's rejoinder, "Mais
cela etoit fait, et il ne falloit pas le dire ! " the
historian has the last word, bidding the King remem
ber that he might have told much worse things and
have been believed; and that kings who wish to be
well spoken of have only one resource, — to act well !
Charles V. and a young monk of Saint Just, whose
slumbers the restless ex-Emperor persists in disturb
ing ; Cardinals Ximenes, Mazarin, and Richelieu, are
all spirited and interesting sketches ; and another
topic, quite free from politics, is touched upon in the
dialogues between Parrhasius and Poussin and Leo
nardo da Vinci.
Fe'nelon wrote a History of Charlemagne, which
was never published; of his Te'lemaque we shall
have to speak later on.
Although the Duke de Bourgogne was the pro
minent pupil, and the one whose memory is most
closely connected with that of Fe'nelon, he had
charge also of the Due d'Anjou (afterwards Philip V.
of Spain), and, for a very short time only, of the Due

72 FENELON.

de Berri; and the former at least always retained a
warm affection for his Preceptor.
Those were days in which disinterestedness was
rare, and men were not the less esteemed because
they strove to profit themselves and their families to
the utmost in whatever position they filled. Conse
quently, it is the more remarkable that not only did
Fe'nelon make to himself a rule, which he steadily kept,
never to ask anything on his own behalf or that of his
family or friends ; . but that he actually continued in a
state of extremely straitened means for more than five
years after entering upon his honourable position
about the royal children. Letters to Mme. de Laval,
who was his guide and counsellor in money and do
mestic matters, show this. He writes (October 1689),
telling her that he has been obliged to spend 500
francs in stores, which only leaves him twenty pistoles
for current expenses; and he does not know whether
he will receive any money when the Court returns
from Fontainebleau. In an account of his moneys
given in the same letter, we find "the sale of my
carriage and ponies;" and he adds, "As to the
maitre dhdtePs accounts, I follow your advice pre
cisely, and hope to learn to be economical."1 In
March 1691 he again mentions having repaid 1000
out of a debt of 1200 francs to Mme. de Laval,
1 Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 15.

RESTRICTED MEANS. 73
and other sums to other people, "all without having
received one sou except my actual salary, and no
thing at all from Carenac, which is hopelessly ruined.
Consequently, I have made retrenchments, which are
very unusual in my position; but justice comes before
all other considerations. I still owe a considerable
sum to my bookseller, and I must buy some plate,
and repay you for the things you have lent me, which
are worn out"1 And in July 1691 he writes, "I
return the plate, my dear cousin, which you have so
long and so kindly lent me. I cannot restore other
things which I have been using these three years, but
as you have a list of them, I beg you will put a price
upon them, and add it to what I already owe you.
Do not suppose I ask it from any lack of confidence
in you ; — there is no one to whom I would so soon
be indebted as you. I owe you too much to have
any false delicacy in the matter, but it is necessary to
go into the accounts in order that I may see my way
in my small economies, and calculate how to go on."2
Again, January 1694, he writes concerning a needy
person whom he commends to Mme. de Laval:
"Although my necessities have never been so press
ing as at present, I beg you to take what is wanted.
... I am tolerably well, though very busy ; but my
purse is at the lowest ebb, through the delays in pay-
1 Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 24. * Ibid. p. 27.

74 FENELON.
ment of my salary, and the exceeding dearness of
everything this year. If 1 do not receive something
shortly, I must dismiss nearly all my servants. But
I will not have you try to help me ; I should return
anything you sent me ! I would rather bear on. All
the same, see that any money that can be sent [from
Carenac] reaches me, after the more urgent alms have
been dispensed, for indeed I would rather live on diy
bread than let any of the poor of my benefice want.
In God's Name, my dearest sister, I beseech you to
enter into my mind about this, and to help me as I
wish to be helped." *
This cousin became Fenelon's sister actually, as
well as in name, by her second marriage with his
eldest brother the Comte de Fe'nelon, and probably
it never cost him more to refuse anything than when
he refused her request, that he would obtain a valuable
military post for her son, a child of four years old.
But, while ready to do anything he thought right to
please Mme. de Laval, he steadily refused to make
the application she desired. "I cannot relax the
strict rule to which I feel it right in my position to
adhere," he writes. " I would do anything on earth for
you or your son that I can, but not to save my life
would I ask for anything from the King."2
it was not till 1694 that the King seems to have
* Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 53. * Ibid. p. 26.

INCREASING HONOURS. 75
remembered or discovered how badly his grandson's
Preceptor was provided for. In that year, at last, he
gave Fe'nelon the Abbey of Saint Yale'ryj Meanwhile
the world's honours and admiration fell thick upon
the Abbe", who was a universal favourite among all who
knew him. He was chosen as a Member of the
Academic Francaise in 1693, and, made his reception
speech March 31st in that year; and while avoiding
the general society of Paris and the Court, he lived in
close association with what was certainly then the
crime de la crime thereof, among the de Beauvilliers,
de Chevreuse, etc. Mme. de Maintenon grew more
and more attached to him : there are frequent allusions
to him in her letters, — his esprit, and his yet greater
saintiiness, "which is just what suits me."1 And she
had very nearly placed herself under his permanent
spiritual direction. "I have often wondered since
how it came to pass that, when hesitating, I did not
choose the Abbe" Fenelon, whose every manner pleased
me, and whose goodness and talent had so won me."2
Mme. de Maintenon did consult him frequently
about her institution at Saint Cyr, which occupied so
large a share of her thoughts, and he was associated
with Bourdaloue, the Abbe" Godet des Marais,
subsequently Bishop of Chartres, and other eminent
* Ltttrcs de Mme. de Maintenon, vol. ii. No. 36.
* Mimoircs de Mme. de Maintenon, vol. vi. p. 19S.

76 FENELON.

ecclesiastics, in its government Moreover, the great
lady, struck probably by the remarkable simplicity and
truthfulness of the Abbe", asked him to tell her what
he believed to be her chief faults, — a demand which
led her friend the Marshal de Villeroi to say, after
reading the reply, years later, " One must confess that
there is just a touch of vanity in such a discussion
of a person's own faults!"
The answer is very long, but there is so much in it
valuable in itself, as well as characteristic both of
Mme. de Maintenon and Fe'nelon, that some extracts
must be given: —
" I can but speak hesitatingly, almost at haphazard,
to you of your faults, Madame. You have never
been thrown into any continuous action with me, and
I think little of what others may have told me of you.
Never mind, I will tell you what I think, and God
will enable you to use it according as He sees fit.
" You are natural and ingenuous, and hence, with
out any effort, you act admirably towards those whom
you like and esteem; but you are too cold directly
that your taste is not gratified; and when you are dry
and hard, you are very hard. I should say that your
natural disposition is at once very keen and very
slow; — what touches you does so to the quick.
" You have a great deal of inborn pride — I mean
that which is called proper, rightful pride, but which

CHARACTER OF MME. DE MAINTENON. 77
is really all the more wrong because men are not
ashamed to call it right; it would be easier to cure
one's self of mere foolish vanity. You have still un
consciously a great deal of this pride; your sensitive
ness as to things which touch it closely shows how far
it is from being conquered. You cling to the esteem
of worthy men, to their approbation, to the pleasant
consciousness of accepting your prosperity with
moderation; in short, of showing that your heart is
superior to your position.
" That ' I ' of which we have so often talked is
still an unshattered idol. You wish to give yourself
heartily to God, but not through the sacrifice of self;
on the contrary, you seek self in God. A sensible
pleasure in prayer and in the Presence of God sustains
you; but if that pleasure were to fail, the attachment
which binds you to self, and the outward tokens of
your own virtues, would prove a perilous trial. I
trust that God will feed you with the sweetest milk,
till such time as He sees fit to wean you and give you
true bread. But be sure that the smallest attachment
even to good things out of self-love will hinder you
more than all the failings you dread. God's Light will
explain this to you better than I can.
"You are naturally kind and trustful, perhaps rather
too much so, towards people you like, without having
tested them enough to satisfy prudence. But, on the

78 FENELON.

other hand, when you begin to mistrust any one, I
fancy your heart shuts up too entirely; it is often thus
with frank, trustful people when forced into mistrust.
But there is a medium between an excessive, head
long confidence and mistrust which knows no bounds
when that on which one rested fails. Your good
sense will teach you that, while worthy people often
have failings to which one must not blindly give way,
they are also to be distinguished by simplicity and
straightforwardness, which show pretty well what they
really are. There is nothing doubtful or equivocal
about the character of a good man to any one who
can follow him under all circumstances. The most
consummate hypocrisy never attains any likeness to
this simple goodness; but one must remember that
the most ingenuous goodness is liable to little self-
seekings and self-interest, of which it is almost un
conscious ; so that what we need is neither to be
suspicious of people whom we know only to a certain
point, nor to give ourselves up unreservedly to them.
I say all this to you, Madame, because, in your
position, you discover so much that is unworthy, and
hear of so much more through the voice of slander,
that it is hard to know what to believe. The more
one is disposed to like and trust goodness the more
perplexed one is under such circumstances; and
nothing but a real love for truth, and a certain power

REAL CHARACTER. 79
of discerning what is true, can prevent one from
falling into the evil of universal mistrust, whicli would
be a serious evil 
"It is generally believed that you are a sincere lover
of goodness: many people have long thought that this
arose from a sort of pride, but I fancy the public
knows better now, and does justice to the purity of
your motives. Nevertheless, it is said, and I should
say apparently with truth, that you are hard and
severe; that you cannot tolerate any failings in others;
and that being hard with yourself, you are the same
to others; and that when you begin to perceive any
weakness in people whom you have represented to
yourself as perfect you are at once disgusted, and
carry your displeasure too far. If what is said con
cerning you in this respect is true, you will only be
able to conquer the fault by long and careful self-
discipline. But the more you put away self by an
absolute yielding to the Holy Spirit of God, the more
your heart will expand in compassion to others, and
in toleration of their defects. You will see infirmity
everywhere, your perceptions will become keener, and
will discover more than you see now; but nothing
will surprise you, or scandalise you, or shut you up.
You will see evil abounding among men as water in
the ocean. The world is very indulgent to sin, and
yet pitilessly severe upon sinners. Do not you be like

80 F&NELON.
the world: be faithful and true, but compassionate
and tender to sinners, as Jesus Christ Himself was
while confounding the Pharisees and their fair out
ward show. ....
"Your zeal for the King's salvation should not
make you overstep the limits which Providence seems
to assign you. There are many things one must re
gret DUt one must await the opportunities which God
only knows, and which are wholly in His Hand. You
need not fear being false, so long as ygu are conscious
of such a fear. False people are not afraid of being
false; it is only true people who fear lest they should
fail in truthfulness. Your piety is honest, you have
never fallen into the world's vices, and have long
since renounced its errors.
"The true way to win grace for King and country is
not to make a great stir or to weary the King with
importunity; but to edify him by continual self-renun
ciation ; to win his heart gradually by simple, hearty,
patient conduct, by being as honest and simple as a
child. But to speak with warmth or bitterness, to be
continually attacking him openly or underhand, to
scheme and reform with worldly wisdom, is doing
evil that good may come. Your own sense will
reject such means, and you must listen to it.
" As to business, I really think that you are more
capable of it than you imagine ; perhaps you mistrust

HIS OWN OPINION. 81
yourself a trifle overmuch, or you are unwilling to
enter into discussions so opposed to the quiet, recol
lected life which suits you best. Moreover, I appre
hend that you shrink from the kind of people you
must encounter in business matters. I persist in
thinking that you should never intrude yourself on
State affairs, but you should inform yourself concern
ing them according to your natural capacity; and
when God's Providence gives you an opening for
doing any good, without putting any undue pressure
on the King, you should never draw back.
" So much for what the world says. For myself,
Madame, I would add that I think you have still too
much natural inclination for friendship, kindness, and
whatever links you to the best society. All this is
doubtless excellent from the earthly side, but it is all
the more needful to know how to abstain. Cold and
hard hearts are very faulty ; this is a great deficiency in
goodness, and if their piety were more advanced, it
would supply the want. But all real goodness of
heart consists in faithfulness and pure love of God,
without which all natural kindness and generosity is
but a more refined form of selfishness, all the more
seductive, and consequently more dangerous. ... If
you can renounce self, you will no more be keen to
see your friends devoted to you than to the Emperor
of China ! You will love them with the pure love of
F

82 F&NELON.
God — a perfect, infinite, generous, active, compassion
ate, equal, tender love, like that of God Himself.
His Heart will overflow in yours ; you will seek no
thing in others but that which God Himself seeks, and
that only for His Sake. You will be jealous for His
Sake against yourself, and you will only require affec
tion from others as it promotes their own perfection
and God's designs for them. What hurts you in hearts
which seem closed to you does so only because your
own heart is too much shut up within itself Nothing
so wounds self-love as self-love. The Love of God
bears with the infirmity of self-love, and waits patiently
till such time as God shall uproot it . . . You must
so entirely sacrifice to God that 'I' of which we
have said so much, as to seek it no more either as
regards reputation or the comfort of an internal testi
mony to your own good intentions and qualities. . . .
You should be prepared to find yourself despised,
disliked, run down by others, and self-condemned, it
may be, in order to give yourself up wholly to God's
Will and pleasure. This is a hard thing to say to
those who live to themselves, and seek to enjoy a
conscious self-righteousness ; but it is not so hard to
one who loves God as heartily as he renounces self-
love. . . .
" As to your duties, I have not a moment's hesita
tion in saying that you should restrict them within a

SELF-RESTRAINT. 83
much narrower sphere than many over-zealous people
would have you accept. Every one, full of his own
plans, tries to lead you on, and counts you as indif
ferent to God's Glory if you are less eager than him
self; every one wants you to think as he thinks, and
to see things as he sees them. Hereafter, if God opens
the way, you may be able to do more extensive good ;
but at present you have the Community of Saint Cyr,
which requires a great deal of attention, and you
yourself need seasons of rest and recollection for body
as well as mind. Then you ought to follow the
course of general affairs, with a view to moderate
what may be excessive, and help where you can.
You should never tire of making use of whatever God
puts into your heart, or of any openings He gives you
in the King's heart to open his eyes and enlighten
him, but without any over-eagerness, as I have often
said." Here follows much advice as to the influence
Mme. de Maintenon should use in order to keep
good advisers about the King ; how she should avoid
listening to gossip, and try herself to ascertain the
real character of those around her ; how she should
do what lay in her power to discourage mere empty
pomp and vain extravagance, seek to draw the
Dauphin as near to his father as possible; with
sundry other points, such as her dealings with her

8» FENELON.
own family, and those who sccgh: ha- frrm interested
motives. Fenelon condaces by saying. " Finally, be
assert; :"- ?.~ the chief thing to co for the collection
of yozr ianits and the berrex ihl£liE,eBt of yonr drdes
is to work from within, not rom without. . . . AH
our ianits spring irc~ err being too much bent an,
and bound to, sett Renounce ihar wretched • »m»*
in die Teriest trifles in which the Spirit of Grace teQs
you that tcz are srll holding to it." . . .
These were scarcely the counsels of a. conrtier, or
of ere seeking to ir-gradate himself wish the powers
that be. That there was an inducement to cd so
Fenelon mast have rally realised at this time, for in
spite of the honourable appointment conferred npon
him, Louis XIV. had never entirely forgotten the
prejudice raised in his mind against the Abbe by de
HaiJay: and i__ceed there were tot wanting detractors
to keep up seen prejudice. Whether throcgh ce
Harlay or others, it was suggested to the King that
the htde Duke's education was nnperfecdv carried
out, that his secular acq^iremers were sacrificed to a.
mystic and exaggerated devotion, and thar re required
a larger ard more liberal treanr-er:. The first point
was answered by Bessie:, who, having educated the
father, was a fit and ssi:sb!e man to examine the son ;
and after a long interview wich the Prince, the Bishop
of Meanx expressed himself as amazed at die extent

A RISING STORM. 85

and soundness of his acquirements. The Due de
Beauvilliers came to the front on the other head
" Sire," he said, " I know of but one Gospel, and I
hold that I owe it to my God and my King to do the
utmost possible to train up a virtuous monarch for
France. You can examine the Due de Bourgogne
himself as to his religious practices, and I am willing
to make any rightful alterations ; but I defy any one
to bring forward an instance of any prince whatever
who at his age is as forward in all secular education."
It might have seemed to a bystander that Fenelon's
worldly prosperity was assured now, and that, humanly
speaking, he had nothing left to wish for. Eutjhe
clouds were gathering round which were soon to break
in a storm over his head, never to clear away as far
as Court favour and this world's good things were
concerned. The cry of Quietism was about to arise
and estrange some of Fenelon's closest friends from
him.

86 FE'NELON.

CHAPTER III.
A SPANISH priest, Michael Molinos, was the chief
promoter of this system of mysticism which
was destined to create so wild a storm in France.
He taught —
J. That " perfect contemplation " is a condition
in which the soul neither reasons nor reflects,
whether upon God or itself, but passively receives
the Divine Light, without making any effort of love,
adoration, or other wonted acts of devotion. This
condition of passivity Molinos calls Quietude.
II. In this state of perfect contemplation the soul
desires absolutely nothing, not even its own salva
tion; it fears nothing, not even hell; the one only
feeling of which it is conscious is utter abandonment
to God's Good Will and pleasure.
III. The soul which has attained this state of
" perfect contemplation " is dispensed from any need
of Sacraments or good works, all which become in
different to it. The darkest, most criminal imagina-

MOLINOS AND QUIETISM. 87
tions may touch the sensitive part of the soul without
polluting it, because they do not reach its superior
side, wherein the will and intelligence abide.
The writings and teaching of Molinos were formally
condemned by Innocent XI. in 1687. The system
called Quietism was already creeping into France,
although in a less marked and offensive form than that
in which it was taught by its Spanish promulgators.
The history of its progress, and of the chief actors
therein, has been already entered upon in the " Life of
Bossuet:"1 nevertheless, at the risk of repetition, some
of the threads must be taken up anew in writing that of
Fe'nelon, whose future career was so largely influenced
by it The first appearance of this disturbing element
was in the person of a woman, who, though doubtless
fanatical, and carried away at times by the love of
influence and applause, was certainly sincere in her
religious purposes, and undeserving of all the calumny
and injustice heaped upon her. Mme. Guyon must
have been a very gifted and fascinating person ; and
had she lived in somewhat later times, she would
probably have been worshipped in her own circle in
Paris so long as she was the fashion, and then quietly
forgotten, instead of being persecuted and imprisoned,
and thereby made an historical personage.
Jeanne Marie Bouvieres de la Mothe was born at
1 P- 372-

88 FENELON.

Montargis, April 13, 1648. She married at sixteen,
and at twenty-eight was left a widow with three
children. Her inclinations had always led her to a
somewhat demonstrative devotion, and she had while
very young fallen under the influence of a certain
Barnabite Monk, Pere la Combe, of whom (although
cruelly calumniated, and worried from prison to a
madhouse, where he died) the most carefully-weighed
evidence seems to prove that he was only excitable
and indiscreet, neither heretical nor immoral, as those
who wished to damage Mme. Guyon (chiefly aiming
at Fenelon through her) would have had it believed.
In r68i the Bishop of Geneva invited Mme. Guyon
to join a Community he was establishing at Gex, and
of which this monk, whom she had not seen for ten
years, was the Superior. It was an unfortunate re
union, and the Bishop soon began to be uneasy at the
excited and illusory tone which crept into the Com
munity. The two who caused this left Gex, and
Mme. Guyon followed Pere la Combe, whom she is
said rather to have directed than obeyed, to Thonon
and Vercelli. Wherever this lady went there was a
certain excitement raised, and Cardinal le Camus,
Bishop of Grenoble, having courteously, but decidedly,
dismissed her from that city, she returned to Paris in
1687, where, on the strength of her general reputation
as a Quietist, and the contents of two little books

MADAME GUYON. 89
she had published, one entitled Moyen Court et
tres facile pour I'Oraison, the other L Explication
Mystique du Cantique des Cantiques, Archbishop de
Harlay assumed a position of vehement antagonism
towards her, and obtained a royal mandate for arrest
ing both her and Pere la Combe. This poor man
was accordingly seized in October 1687, and spent
the rest of his weary life in the Bastille and the Castle
of Lourdes, dying at last, as has been said, in a mad
house, completely worn out. Three months later
Mme. Guyon was sent to a convent, and subjected to
severe cross-examinations and investigations. Un
doubtedly such a measure was not looked upon in
those days in the same light in which it would be,
were it possible, in our own. We find Mme. Guyon
herself advising that a woman whom she believed to
be an impostor " should be shut up ; " ' nevertheless,
there can be no doubt that she was harshly and
cruelly treated, while the notoriously profligate, un
godly life of her persecutor Mgr. de Harlay gives a
deeper sense of the injustice exercised towards one
whose faults were at all events only the result of mis
taken and enthusiastic religious feeling. How much de
Harlay's judgment upon this, however mistaken, was
worth, it may be questioned. An Archbishop whose
1 Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 20 : " Je lui conseillai de la faire
enfermer."

90 F&NELON.

biographer can say without fear of contradiction, " De
religion, de croyance proprement dite, il n'en avait
pas," « was scarcely the right man to visit severely
certain shades of excess in devotion ; or one of whom
the same biographer writes, " Plus on regarde la vie
de cet Archev£que, et plus on y de'couvre de mai-
tresses " * — an assertion history bears out only too
plainly — the right man to insinuate (for the accusa
tions were never clearly set forth) that Mme. Guyon's
intimacy with La Combe had misled her.
The nuns of the Visitation (Rue Saint Antoine),
where Mme. Guyon was sent, were almost immediately
won by her simplicity and goodness, her patience and
resignation, and she seems to have held a little court
during her captivity among them. Mme. de Miramion,
then at the height of her celebrity for good works, made
the prisoner's acquaintance, and was fascinated : Mme.
de la Maisonfort, a cousin of Mme. Guyon's, and one
of Mme. de Maintenon's chief pets at Saint Cyr, took
up her cause warmly ; the Duchesse de Be'thune,3 who
had known her from childhood — all became vehement
partisans of the oppressed lady ; and as all three had
constant access to Mme. de Maintenon, and consider
able influence with her, they pleaded Mme. Guyon's
cause so well, seconded by her own assurances that
' Sainte-Beuvk, N. Lundis, vol. v. p. 187.
• Ibid. p. 1 S3. s A daughter of Fouquet.

ACQUAINTANCE WITH MADAME GUYON. 91
she was ready to renounce any error of which she was
convinced, and to burn all her books, that at the end
of eight months she was set free,1 and immediately
became a sort of heroine and centre of a group of
admiring friends at the Hotel de Beauvilliers. Up to
this time Fe'nelon had never seen Mme. Guyon, and
he was prejudiced against her, as a woman who had
neglected her home duties to thrust herself into the
unseemly position of a religious teacher. Acciden
tally passing through her old home at Montargis, how
ever, he heard a good deal about the lady in question,
her piety and charity, which led him to suspend his
judgment ; and when he met her, as he did frequently,
1 Mme. Guyon wrote to Mme. de Maintenon, Oct. 10, 1688 :
" Madame, — After thanking God for delivering me from the
prison where my enemies detained me, it is but due that I thank
you, whom God has used to deliver me, as by a miracle, out of
the hands of the great ones of the earth. I have obeyed your
advice as I would have obeyed God's own orders, and I hope
you will not impute this obedience to weakness, but will look
upon it as the best way in which I can show my gratitude. At
first it went against me ; but so soon as the thing was done, I felt
joy and peace fill my soul. Pere la Combe, my father in Christ,
is no more guilty than I am. I am the cause of his trouble. You
need but say one word, Madame, and his chains will fall off, and
you will have restored to the faithful an innocent and oppressed
man, who can teach and edify them. My God, Thy Will, and not
mine, be done ! I had set out to throw myself at your feet, but
an inward voice constrained me to give it up and return here. I
await your commands. May the Lord guide and inspire you. I
shall never cease to ask this of Him, or to be," etc. etc. — Letlret
de Mme. de Mainicnon, vol. ii. p. 193.

92 FENELON.
at the Hotel de Beauvilliers, after he became Preceptor,
he too was completely won, and allowed himself to
become one of her intimate friends. Saint Simon
describes the select little coterie — the de Beauvilliers,
de Chevreuse, de Mortemart, Mme. de Be'thune, Mme.
de Morstein, Mme. de Guiche, and a few more —
among which Mme. de Maintenon became intimate
with the prophetesse, as he calls her ;' and before long
the latter was as engouie as any of them, and took her
share in the religious conferences and expositions
given by Mme. Guyon with enthusiastic delight. Very
shortly, seconded by Mme. de Brinon, then Superior
of Saint Cyr, and Mme. de Maisonfort, the foundress
of that institution brought her new friend thither; and
not unnaturally, bringing as she did the prestige of a •
persecuted saint who had charmed the pick of the
Court, and acquired so much celebrity and admiration,
the ladies of the Community went nearly wild about
her, and she was almost worshipped at Saint Cyr,
where her books, manuscripts, and instructions became
the rage.3
1 Me'moires, vol. ii. p. 109. Saint Simon writes as though
Fenelon had introduced Mme. Guyon into this circle, but this is
an obvious error.
2 " Toutes les fois que Mme. Guyon alloit a St. Cyr, elle etoit
ecoutee comme un oracle, reconduite comme une sainte. Les
dames qui n'avoient pas de devotion, en acquirent : celles qui en
avoient, en eurent davantage." — La Baumelle, Memoires, vol.
iv. p. *3.

THE ABBE GODET. 93
The immense mass of correspondence connected
with this subject is almost unmanageable in its bulk.
Scarcely an eminent person of the day but was mixed
up with it, and we have volumes upon volumes of
letters from them, many most interesting in the ab
stract, but impossible to quote without extending these
pages to as unmerciful a measure as their own. Mme.
de Maintenon writes to her numerous correspondents
perpetually on the subject. Perhaps some of the most
interesting letters are those which passed between her
and M. Godet des Marais, Bishop of Chartres, and
one of the most worthy of French Churchmen. A
greater opposite to de Harlay could scarce be found.
It is to Mme. de Maintenon's credit that beneath his
" long, dirty, emaciated face, and almost silly appear
ance," on which Saint Simon dwells,' she should have
been able to perceive and appreciate his profound
learning and deep piety. Through the intervention of
Gobelin and Tronson he had been brought to Saint
Cyr as Confessor extraordinary, and it was there, and
before becoming Bishop of Chartres, that his intimacy
with Mme. de Maintenon, whose director he became,
began. When first Mme. Guyon began to assert her
influence in Saint Cyr, the Abbe" Godet was surprised,
and not altogether pleased, to see a woman going out
of her place, as he considered it, to teach; but he was
1 Memoires, vol. ii. p. 135.

94 FENELON.

not hasty to condemn her, especially as a friend of
Fenelon's, for whom he had a high regard and hearty
reverence. However, he expressed certain doubts,
which led to a decided lessening of favour on Mme. de
Maintenon's part, and at his suggestion she endea
voured to check Mme. Guyon's intimacy in the insti
tution. Fe'nelon himself did the like, and even
remonstrated against some of his own papers, written
for individuals, being generally circulated. In a letter
to Mme. de Maisonfort, he says : — " I told her [Mme.
de Maintenon] from the first, that my little papers
were only suitable to a few; but she could not believe
it, and, judging by her own taste, would give them to
all whom she wished to attract. Later on, experience
taught her that I was right, and she told me so hon
estly, perceiving that these papers contained truths
which were very useful to a few, and very dangerous
to others."1
Mme. de Maintenon confirms this statement in
several letters; e.g. she writes to the same lady:
"You know that we showed the papers against his
will, in your and my imprudence. He both said and
wrote several times that they were not fit for every
body, and might even do harm; they were written
for individuals, without any precaution. You have
often admitted that they had done harm, because they
1 Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 10.

MADAME DE MAINTENON.] 95
were misunderstood, or taken partially, or misap
plied. I am sure he heartily wishes we had not got
them."' In another letter to Mme. de Maisonfort (1691), she
says : " Give yourself up entirely to God, and yield
heartily to the Abbe" de Fe'nelon and M. de Chartres.
I myself shall ever submit to the opinion of these two
saints. Accustom yourself to live by them, but do
not pour out the Abbd's maxims before people who
cannot enter into them. You are constantly talking
about the more perfect state, while you are still brim
ful of imperfections. As to Mme. Guyon, you have
prdnied her too much : — we must be content to keep
her to ourselves. It is not fitting on her account, any
more than on mine, that she should direct our ladies.
She has been under suspicion, and that is quite
enough for her never to be left in peace. She seemed
to me most admirably discreet ; all that I have seen
of her is edifying, and I shall always meet her with
pleasure, but our house must be conducted by the
' Lettres, Mme. de Maintenon, vol. ii. p. 202. And again :
"Mon peu d'expe'rience me revoltoit contre M. l'Abbe de
Fenelon quand il ne vouloit pas que ses e'crits fussent months.
Cependant il avoit raison. Tout le monde n'a pas 1'esprit solide
et droit. On preche la liberty des enfans de Dieu a des per-
sonnes qui ne sont pas encore ses enfans, et qui se servent de
cette liberty pour ne s'assujetir a rien. II faut done commencer
par s'assujetir. Embrasses done avec soumission Dieu qui vous
apeUe."— Ibid. p. 199.

96 FENELON.

ordinary rules. Your perfection lies in not aspiring
to be perfect."1
Mme. de Maintenon was really attached to Fe'nelon;
and now, when the Bishop of Chartres warned her that
he was introducing mischief into Saint Cyr, she was
slow to believe it. However, she consulted Bossuet
and the Bishop of Chalons (de Noailles), who both
expressed their suspicion that he was tampering with
Quietism, and was dangerous. She then consulted
Bourdaloue, Joly, Tiberge, Brisacier, and Tronson,
whose letters in reply remain. They all express a
more or less modified disapprobation of Mme. Guyon's
writings, as containing a spurious devotion, likely to
breed illusions and foster Quietism.3 Some parts of
Bourdaloue's letter may be read with interest.
" I have read and re-read, with all possible attention,
the little book which you, Madame, have done me the
honour to send me ; and as you desire me to give my
opinion concerning it, I do so briefly. I am ready to
1 Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 196.
= Joly, Superieur-General de Saint Lazare, says : " C'est une
chose etrange, que l'esprit de ltomme: nous avons une tres
grande quantite de fort bons livres, dans lequel il y a beaucoup a
apprendre, et a s'edifier : on les laisse, et Ton a la demangeaison
de lire des livres suspects, et de la lecture desquels on ne pent
recevoir que du prejudice : ce que j'ai lu dans ceux-ci a beaucoup
augmente mon aversion pour le quietisme, qui est la porte ouverte
a l'oisivete, a l'illusion, et a l'erreur." — Lettres de Messire Paul
Godet des Marais, etc., Abbi Berihicr, 1755, p. 247.

LETTER FROM BOURDALOUE. 97
believe that the person who composed it was well in-
tentioned; but, as far as I am able to judge, I should
say that her zeal was not according to wisdom, as is
desirable in so important a matter. It seems to me
that there is no solid stuff, no foundation upon the
true principles of religion in the book; on the contrary,
I find various false and dangerous propositions, liable
to great abuse, and which are calculated to divert
souls from the kind of prayer which Jesus Christ has
taught us, and which is expressly commended to us in
Holy Scripture ; to divert them even to the point of
inducing contempt for it. The form of prayer which
our Lord prescribed is, that we make individual
petitions to God, to obtain, whether as sinners or saints,
the special graces which we need for our salvation.
That prayer which is commended to us throughout
Holy Scripture is meditation on God's Law, kindling
our fervour in His Divine Service, impressing our
hearts with a reverent fear of His judgments, remem
bering His mercies, adoring, invoking, blessing Him ;
calling to mind our past lives' as in His Sight, in the
bitterness of our soul, examining our duties and
obligations in His Presence, and the like. It was
thus that David, the man after God's own Heart,
prayed, and the Saints of all ages have done the same.
But the system of prayer put forth in the book in
question is to give up all that, not merely as useless,

98 F&NELON.

but as imperfect, as opposed to the unity and sim
plicity of God, and as in some way hurtful to the soul,
with respect to the condition in which it is supposed
to place itself, when pleased to reduce all things to
a simple act of faith, by which it beholds God in
itself, beneath the most abstract of ideas, and, without
any further effort, waits for God to do all the rest.
This method, I repeat, is full of illusion, and is founded
upon the misunderstanding of a principle which
Quietists abuse — namely, that the soul's perfection in
prayer is to renounce all its own supernatural opera
tions, however holy, meritorious, and inspired by the
Holy Spirit of God. What perfection can be found
in renouncing the most excellent acts of Christian
virtue, in which, according to our Lord and His Holy
Word, the whole merit and grace of prayer consists?
"But the doctrine of the Moyen Court all turns
upon this pretended renunciation, and what I must
call this chimerical perfection. I know very well that,
during actual contemplation, God can communicate
Himself so powerfully to a soul as to arrest all in
dividual action, however good and holy, in it; be
cause the faculties of that soul become, so to say,
bound and fixed, and it rather receives God's impress
than acts itself; I know, I repeat, that this does happen,
— God forbid that I should deny grace, and the gift of
infused contemplation. But that the soul should of

" MOYEN COURT." 99
its own accord forestall such a condition, and affect
itself to suspend the most sacred acts of prayer, to
abide solely by an act of faith, and that it should de--
liberately choose to forsake the sure path, which our
Lord has pointed out to follow a new one — which
for its very novelty should be looked upon sus
piciously, — this I can never accept as the way to per
fection. They argue that the soul only does thus in
order to give itself up more entirely to God, and leave
Him to act within it; but I maintain that the soul
cannot prepare itself for Him to work within it better
than by doing faithfully that which our Lord Jesus
Christ taught us to do in the Lord's Prayer, and
which David did in his intercourse with God. And,
moreover, I say, that if ever the soul has a right to
hope that God would lift it up in contemplation, it
would be at the time when, in all humility and faith
fulness, it is earnestly occupied in the holy practice of
meditation." «
Bourdaloue concludes with a strong expression of
his opinion that it would be much better for.many
people, in an age of religious discussion and j con
troversy, if they would talk less and , do more— a
lesson which we of the nineteenth century might not
unprofitably heed.
Some of Mme. Guyon's own letters written during
* Lettres, edit. Berthier, p. 252.

rob FENELON.

this period confirm one. very much in the impression
that her zeal lacked discretion, as Bourdaloue says^
rather than that her intentions were wrong. Writing to
the Due de Chevreuse, Jan. 20, 1693, she says: — "We
are what God sees us to be, and that only. If I am
'criminal, man's approbation will not make me in
nocent; and if innocent, man's condemnation will not
make me criminal." * But it was a great mistake to
make her a heroine and a martyr. If Tronson's
advice had been followed, and she had been per
mitted to retire quietly, and be heard of no more,
much evil would have been averted. Yet even he
says several times that her conversation, had worked
most extraordinary results among important members
of the Court, and that it was difficult not to believe
that God's Holy Spirit was with her.3 Mme. de
Maintenon read some passages of the Moyen Court
to the King, but he pronounced them "reveries."
"He is not sufficiently advanced in piety -to enter into
such perfection," she writes to Mme. de Saint Geran.
Nevertheless, she goes on to say that she has desired
that these books may not be read any more at Saint
Cyr. " It is too strong meat for our ladies ; they want
milk suitable to their age. All the same, Mme. Guyon
edifies them. I have begged her to discontinue her
1 Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 14.
¦ Tronson to La Perouse, ibid. vii. 48.

BOSSUET CALLED IN.

visits, but I could not refuse them leave fo read the
letters of a pious, well-conducted person. M. de Paris
seems very bitter against her, but even he acknow
ledges that her errors are chiefly dangerous because of
what they may lead to, and that there is more to fear
than blame."1 " -
It was about this time — the end of 1693 — that
Fe'nelon suggested to Mme. Guyon that she should
apply to Bossuet, putting her writings and whole case
into his hands, and abide by his decision. This was
done, and she seems to have reposed unlimited confi
dence in the Bishop of Meaux, giving all her papers,
even a manuscript autobiography which she had never
shown to Fe'nelon, into his hands. -While he examined
these papers carefully, the lady retired to a convent
in the Rue Cassette, where, in Jan. 1694, Bossuet had
a long interview with her, pointing out what he con
sidered her errors kindly and charitably; and, at the
same time, he entered upon them, with Fe'nelon, in
stancing what could only be looked upon as extrava
gances and absurdities. Mme. de Maintenon writes
about the same time : — " Another letter from Mme.
Guyon ! She is a very troublesome person, but it is
true, too, that she is very unfortunate ! She wants now
to have the Bishop of Meaux, the Bishop of Chalons,
and the Superior of Saint Sulpice united to give a
1 Leans de Mme. de Maintenon, vol. ii. p. 142.

FENELON.

definitive judgment on the matters of faith concerning
which she is accused, and she promises me blind
obedience. I do not know if the King will inflict this
mortification on M. de Paris ; for, after all, the heresy
has arisen in his diocese, and it is his place chiefly to
decide. You may be sure he will give up nothing of
his rights ! The Abbe" de Fe'nelon is too pious not to
believe that one can love God solely for Himself, and
too clever to believe that one could love Him amid
the grossest vice. He has assured me that he only
takes part in this business to guard against any acci
dental condemnation of really devout minds. He is
not Mme. Guyon's advocate, although he is her friend :
he is the defender of piety and of Christian perfection.
I trust in his word, because I have seldom known any
one so honest as he is, and you may say so."1
Fdnelon's letters to Tronson fully bear out this
assertion ;' and to Mme. de Maisonfort he writes : —
"Do not think about your cousin [Mme. Guyon]
except to pray for her, and to sacrifice to God all that
nature prompts in such a matter to a kmd heart like
1 Lettres de Mme. de Maintenon, vol. ii. p. 143.
a " En tout cela, il ne s'agit point de Mme. Guyon, que je
compte pour morte, ou comme si elle n'avoit jamais ete\ II n'est
question que de moi, et du fond de la doctrine sur la vie interieure.
Souvenez-vous que vous m'avez tenu lieu de pere des ma pre
miere jeunesse. Je ne veux etre ni accuse ni <ktte." — Corre
spondence, vol. vii. p. 97.

CONFERENCES D'ISSY. 103
yours. God will take care of everything, and your
business is only to seek His Will, holding fast to Him,
and in so doing you will find whatever is agreeable to
His True Spirit. Remember that the path of faith
and general detachment which you have so desired to
follow is only true and trustworthy in so far as we are
detached from persons, books, help, in a word, from
all that is not God and His Will. ... Be obedient,
then, as a little child ; I only ask you to do what I
am doing myself. I should count myself a monster
rather than a priest if I were not actuated by the
desire to be as simple, docile, and lowly as I intreat
you to be. Once more, then, be obedient, and show
that, as Holy Scripture says,1 ' the righteous are a
loving and obedient people.' " 3
Many of the details of this period have been already
given in Bossuet's Life, including what are called the
Conferences of Issy — the Commission Mme. Guyon
hac* asked for (though not, is she wished, including
lay judges) meeting at that place, where the Saint
Sulpiciens had a country house, partly as a matter of
convenience to their Superior Tronson, now an old
man, whose health was failing, and quite as much to
1 This reference to Ecclus. iii. 1, " Filii sapientiae, ecclesia jus-
torum, et natio illorum, obedientia et dilectio," is lost in the
English version.
* Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 132.

to4 FJENELON.
keep the Archbishop of Paris, who was respected by
none of them, and whose prejudices they were alive
to, in the dark. Up to this time no personal feeling
or irritation on the part of either Bossuet or Fe'nelon
appears. The former assented to Mme. Guyon's wish
to retire to the Visitation Convent at Meaux,1 and live
there as a sort of prisoner on parole, pending the sit
tings of the Commission, and there seemed a reason
able hope that the storm disturbing the religious world
would die away.
The Conferences were held at irregular periods, and
constantly interrupted by the necessity both Bossuet
and de Noailles were under, of frequently returning
to their respective dioceses, Meaux and Chalons.
Fe'nelon was not at first on the Commission, but he
was intimate with the three theologians who formed it,
and greatly interested in the matter ; consequently, he
* Among the masses of correspondence of this period, we find
a letter to Mme. Guyon from the nuns after she had left them,
which it seems fair to that lady to quote : —
" De notre Monastire h Meaux, ce <)Juillet 1695.
"Vous avez si puissamment gagne les cceurs de cette commu-
naute par vos bontes et les exemples de votre vertu, qu'il nous est
impossible de laisser partir Mile. Mare, sans la charger de ces
foibles t^moignages, qui ne vous prouveront jamais assez la juste
estime dont nous sommes prevenues en votre faveur. La connois-
sance que nous avons de la generosity et de la tendiesse de votre
coeur, nous fait esperer que vous nous ferez l'honneur de nous
aimer un peu," etc. etc.

ARTICLES OF ISSY. 105
was in frequent communication with them, and was
often consulted, especially by Bossuet, while the (so-
called) Articles of Issy were being framed. Bossuet
had owned himself ignorant of most of the mystic
writers, and said he had never read S. Francis de
Sales, or the Blessed John of the Cross ; and, at his
request, Fe'nelon sent him extracts from many of
the Fathers — S. Clement of Alexandria, S. Gregory
Nazianzen, and others — to show that the earlier writers
used what may be called exaggerated language as much
as more modern authors, and that neither ought to be
taken in their most literal sense. There are numerous
letters of this period on the subject, most interesting
in themselves, but too lengthy to quote, showing how
gradually the divergence of opinion was raising a
barrier between the two men which was unhappily to
become at length impassable. Fe'nelon expressed
himself with the greatest openness and straightforward
ness as to all he believed and taught, and it is hardly
possible to believe that Bossuet really thought him a
wild heretic (as he afterwards professed), or, consider
ing how great his influence with the King and with
Mme. de Maintenon was, Fenelon's appointment
would scarcely have been made at this moment, as it
was, to the See of Cambrai.
It was on February 4, 1695, that the King
announced to the Abbe" de Fe'nelon that he had

106 FENELON.

nominated him Archbishop of Cambrai. Saint Simon
is obliged to admit that Fenelon had in no way sought
or even wished for this promotion; but, like the mere
man of the world he was, he decides that this could
only have been because he wished for something
better still, and aimed at being Archbishop of Paris !
Worldly men will always attribute the motives by
which they themselves are ruled to others, and cer
tainly there is no other foundation for Saint Simon's
supposition. When the King informed Fe'nelon of
his intentions, he was taken by surprise, but at once
replied that he could scarcely rejoice in an appoint
ment which would remove him from his preceptor-
ship to the Princes ; whereupon Louis XIV. graciously
answered that the Abbe" was much too useful to be
spared, and that his intention, on the contrary, was
that he should retain that office, and not reside in his
diocese. Fe'nelon represented that the laws of the
Church and his own conscience made this impossible,
as both required residence in the diocese ; but the
King bore witness to his value for Fe'nelon's services
by overruling this difficulty, and replying, " No,
no, the Canons only require nine months' residence ;
you will spend three months only with my grand
sons, and during the rest of the year you must super
intend their education from Cambrai, just as if you
were at Versailles."

ARCHBISHOPRIC OF CAMBRAI. 107
This point settled, Fe'nelon went on to say that, if
he was indeed to accept the Archbishopric, he must
resign the Abbey of Saint Valery, an act of dis
interestedness which Louis XIV. altogether refused to
allow. But Fe'nelon quietly persisted, pointing out
to the King that tbe revenues of Cambrai were such
as to make it an infringement of canonical law to hold
any other preferment with it. Such conscientious in
difference to his own interest seems to have excited a
great deal of astonishment and gossip at Court, and
Mme. de Coulanges, relating the story to Mme. de
Sevigne-, goes on to say that M. de Rheims (Le
Tellier) remarked, it was all very well for M. de Fe'ne
lon, thinking as he did, to act thus ; but that, thinking
as he did, it was better for him to keep his revenues.1
1 " M. l'Abbe" de Fenelon a paru surpris du present que le roi
lui a fait. . . . M. de Rheims a dit que M. de Fe'nelon pensant
comme il faisoit, prenoit le bon parti ; et que lui, pensant
comme il fait, il fait bien aussi de garder les siennes. " — Lettrcs
de Sevigni, vol. xi. p. 143.
Whereupon Mme. de Sevigne's often bitterly sarcastic editor,
Gault de Saint Germain, remarks: — "Ce qui signifioit quele
vertueux et illustre Fenelon etoit le prelat des autels de Dieu,
et que l'orgueilleux Charles Maurice le Tellier etoit le prelat
du tresor de 1'ambition. Les prelats de I'espece de Fenelon
prient pour ceux qui ne les respectent pas ; les prelats de
I'espece de Le Tellier, et il y en a beaucoup trop, lancent
l'anatheme contre ceux qui les critiquent. "
De Baumelle says : — " L'Archeve"que de Rheims qui crai-
gnoit les suites d'un exemple si dangereux dit brusquement a
Fenelon : ' Le bruit court que vous quittez votre benefice,
quelle folie ! ' 'Si e'en est une,' repondit Fenelon, 'elle est

fo8 ;- FENELON.

Immediately upon this nomination Mme. de Main
tenon and the Bishop of Chartres determined that
Fe'nelon should be put on the Commission sitting at
Issy. There is no doubt that Mme. de Maintenon
was really attached to him, and also was afraid of his
being set down asia Quietist, and that she hoped by
this means to avert the danger. He took his place at
the Conferences, and the Thirty Articles of Issy, which
were already drawn up, were offered to his acceptance.
But on certain points he still stood aloof, and hesitated
about signing them, saying that if he did so as they
stood at present, it would only be out of deference to
his colleagues; but that if they would make certain
modifications, which he pointed out, he was ready to
sign them with his blood. ' Later on Fenelon's enemies
endeavoured to make an accusation against him out of
his having said that he would sign the Articles out of
deference, as though he had acted a hypocritical part.
But he replied that, had he believed the Articles
untrue, he would have died rather than sign them;
dejk faite.' 'Vous nous perdez tous,' repliqua l'Archev£que 1
'Que voulez-vous que le roi pense de M. de Meaux qui a
jllusieurs abbayes, de M. de Rheims qui en demande en
core, de tant de prelats qui croyent qu'£tre evSques est un
titre pour £tre abWs, de tant qui en sollicitent, et de tant
d'autres qu'on ne rassasiera jamais ? ' ' Je ne condamne per-
sonne, ' repondit Fenelon. ' C'est a dire, ' repartit M. de Rheims,
' que chacun doit suivre sa conscience : eh bien ! ma conscience
a moi m'ordonne de garder mes abbayes ! ' " — Mlmoircs, voL
iv. p. 53.

DISCUSSION ABOUT CONSECRATION. 1.09
whereas, on the "contrary, he believed them to be
perfectly true, but insufficient to remove certain
difficulties, and set the whole matter at rest.1 What
he asked was that " disinterested love " should be more
clearly explained, and that " passive prayer '' should
not be authorised without being strictly defined, His
brother Commissioners, after two days' consideration,
proposed an addition of four Articles, which satisfied
Fe'nelon, and he then signed them willingly.2
Fenelon's communications with Bossuet continued
extremely friendly up to this point, although the
former was not pleased with an Ordonnance published
by the Bishop of Meaux in his diocese, condemning
all Mme. Guyon's writings. As the time for his con
secration approached, the wish seemed strong on both
sides that Bossuet should be one of the consecrators ;
andsome of Mme.de Main tenon's letters to deNoailles,
Bishop of Chalons,3 let us into a whole series of petty
1 Rtyonse a. la Relation sur le Quiilisme.
2 See Articles dTssy.
3 "Je suis bien aise de vous rendre compte de ce qui s'est
passe sur le sacre de M. l'Archev^que de Cambrai. . . ., Jusques
la je n'avois rien dit au roi, mais voiant tout le monde d'accord,
je lui dis, que.j'avois prie M. de C. de se faire sacrer a Saint,
Cyr, et que nous avions choisi M. de Meaux, M. de ChSlons, et
M; de Chartres. Le roi repondit que ce seroit done M. de ,
Chartres qui presiderait a la ceremonie. Je dis que non : que'1
vous aviez dit d'abord que e'etoit a l'eve"que diocesain a presider;: ¦;
mais qu'on avoit consulte, et trouve que M. de Chartres
pouvait ceder sans .violer ,les. regies . . . Je vis bien que leroL

no FENELON.
jealousies and disputes about precedence, arising out
of the question of this consecration. Mme. de Main
tenon wanted it to take place at Saint Cyr, and the
Bishop of Chartres, into whose diocese that would
bring it, objected to yielding the chief place in the
consecration to another Bishop. The discussion was
ardent, and Louis XIV. took a lively part in it ; nor
was it easy to satisfy the claims and wishes of the
differing prelates. However, the difficulty was at last
got over by the Bishop of Chartres retiring altogether,
the Bishop of Amiens taking his place as second
assisting Bishop, Chalons being first assistant, and
Bossuet chief consecrator.1 Later on, when the
breach between the two friends had become painfully
wide, Bossuet denied having had any wish to assist on
this occasion ; but by that time he had written many
bitter things against the man he once loved, and
had even called him "the Montanus of this new
n'etoit pas persuaded . . . J'arrivai ici, je vis M. de Cambrai
qui scavoit deja je crois, par M. de Beauvilliers ce qui s'etoit
passe, et qui etoit embarrasse par egard pour M. de Meaux. . . .
Je proposai, pour avoir les trois eveques choisis, de faire le sacre
a Versailles. " — Lettres de Maintenon, vol. iv. p. 13.
1 De Baumelle says : — " M. de Meaux et M. de Chartres se
disputerent l'honneur de consacrer Fenelon : celui-ci fesoit valoir
les droits d'eV£que diocesain : celui-la representoit ceux de
l'amitie* Des Marais, a la priere de Fenelon, abandonna cette
cfremonie a Bossuet, resolu de n'en etre pas le t^moin puisqu'il
n'en etoit pas le ministre. " — Mimoires, vol. iv. p. 54.

CEREMONY TAKES PLACE. in
Priscilla," x and the inconsistency of such words and
such deeds was too glaring to be satisfactory to the
Bishop of Meaux' own mind.3
Meanwhile the ceremony took place, as proposed,
in the Chapel of Saint Cyr, June 10, 1695, in the
presence of Mme. de Maintenon and the Archbishop's
royal pupils. The new Archbishop immediately went
to his diocese. Writing to a friend (a Religious), he
says: — "The honour which the King has conferred
upon me is one of the greatest one can receive from
men ; but all that man can give is but ' vanity and
vexation of spirit,' as we read in Ecclesiastes. One
can only regard this as a heavy burden, and try to bear
it faithfully. I am now in S. Peter's position. ' When
thou wert young,' our Lord said to him, ' thou wentest
whither thou wouldest ; but when thou shalt be old,
another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou
* De la Riponse h la Relation, etc. See Bossuet, QLuvres,
vol. xx. p. 205.
2 Fenelon says in a letter to de Chanterac of January 14,
1698, replying to Bossuet's assertions, that Bossuet offered to con
secrate him, and that it was Mme. de Maintenon who pressed
the point. He goes on to say that Cardinal de Bouillon had
already proposed to be his consecrator, and that he had all but
arranged for it so to be, but "on m'emptchadeV accepter." "M,
de Bouillon will remember all this," he says. He narrates the
discussions that took place between the different prelates, Pere
de la Chaise, and the King, saying that he " yielded to what
the King wished, as intimated to me by M. de Beauvilliers."
— Correspondence, vol. viii. p. 334.

Mnelon.

wouldest not.' I have had a happy, free youth, filled
with acceptable study, and intercourse with delightful
friends. Now I am entering upon a condition of per
petual servitude in a strange land. Sometimes I do
rather feel the change; but I should be very sorry to
cling to health, or freedom, or friends, or any other
comfort." »
Very shortly after Fenelon's consecration (Aug. 6,
1695) de Harlay died, a melancholy, unrespected
end,3 and, as usual, the world became excited as to
who was to be his successor. Saint Simon says, that
the Beauvilliers' party was greatly disappointed not to
see the diocese of Paris occupied by Fe'nelon. De
Baumelle says that "the public voice nominated the
1 Correspondence, vol. v. p. 407.
3 "Harlai finit une vie impure par une mort honteuse . . .
sans donner signe de repentir, il meurt dans les bras de sa
maitresse [la Duchesse de Lesdiguieres]. Le roi aprit cette
nouvelle a Marli. . . . L'Archeveque de Rheims outragea
hautement la memoire d'un homme sur lequel il auroit du se taire ;
car- il etoit son ennemi : le roi l'entendit avec indignation : le
Comte de Grammont lui dit, 'Monsieur de Rheims, il est bon
de vivre !' Nul orateur sacre ne se chargea de 1'oraison funebre
de Harlai. Reste de l'ancienne probite. Le P. Gaillard fit un
sermon sur l'incertitude de la vie, et ne dit rien du mort"— De
Baumelle, MSmoires, vol. iv. p. 62.
Saint Simon gives an account of his last days, and adds : —
"Le Pere Gaillard fit sot oraison funebre a Notre Dame; la
matiere Aait plus que delicate, et la fin terrible. Le celebre
jesuite prit son parti; il loua tout ce qui devait l'etre, puis tourna
court sur la morale. II fit un chef-d'oeuvre d'eloqu ence et de
piete." — Mimoires, vol. ii. p. 114.

DE NOAILLES. 113

Archbishop of Cambrai to the See of Paris. Mme.
de Maintenon asked Hubert, the Cure" of Versailles,
what the world said about it. He answered, " Many
think that if M. de Fe'nelon had not been so recently
appointed, the choice would have fallen on him; and
it is so greatly desired, that people hope the King's
first favour may prove only an avant-gout of a
greater one."1 Others, again, thought Bossuet the
likeliest man. Mme. de Maintenon had fixed her
mind on de Noailles, Bishop of Chalons. He was
a man of singularly simple, pure life, and the fifteen
years during which he had administered the See of
Chalons had been marked by disinterestedness and
piety. His mother had been a lady-in-waiting to the
Queen (Anne of Austria), and lived a life of devotion
in his house. Within a few days of de Harlay's death,
Mme. de Maintenon wrote to the Bishop of Chalons,
inquiring whether he would not consult competent
advisers before refusing the Archbishopric, in the
event of its being offered to him; and asking whether
the welfare of the Church and King were not sufficient
motives to make him resolve not to prefer quiet to
toil, or refuse a place to which God's Providence
should call him, without any seeking on his own part.2
1 Mimoires, vol. iv. p. 62.
3 Leltres, vol. iv. p. 19. The letter concludes with the
words, " Gardez-moi le secret de ce billet, Monsieur, et sans
aucune exception que pour Madame votre mere."

"4 f£nelon.
A week later (Aug. 18, 1695), Mme. de Maintenon
wrote again : — " I can partly enter into the importance
and weight of the yoke it is proposed to lay upon
you. But, Monsieur, we must all work; you have
the advantages of youth and health, and it does not
need me to exhort you to sacrifice them to God's
Glory, the Church's good, and the King's soul."
The next day de Noailles' appointment was made
public. It is evident that Fe'nelon had been greatly in
Mme. de Maintenon's mind on this occasion, and
that it was more because she knew the King would not
listen to the suggestion, than any reluctance on her
own part, which made her reject his name when
pressed upon her by Hubert, the Cure* of Versailles."
They continued to correspond; 3 and on his return to
Versailles, after a brief sojourn at Cambrai, Fenelon's
intercourse with her continued on the old footing.
Meanwhile a fresh act in this most disagreeable drama
had begun, which once more brought Mme. Guyon into
uncalled-for prominence. After leaving Meaux, in
1 Life of Bossuet, p. 397.
3 Sending on a letter of Fenelon's (Sept. 1695) to the ladies at
Saint Cyr, Mme. de Maintenon wrote with it, " It is not enough
to preach to our daughters, we must set examples of perfection
before them: and here is one from an author who is neither
suspicious nor unacceptable to them." — Correspondence, vol. vii.
p. 201.

MADAME GUYON ARRESTED. 115
July 1695 (which she did with a mystery and haste
displeasing to Bossuet, who had really been acting
kindly by her), she broke her promise not to remain
in Paris, or to mix with those members of the Court
with whom her influence was considered harmful.
.Mme. Guyon wrote civilly to Bossuet, and sent him
a religious picture; but she concealed her where
abouts, implying that she was on the point of going
to the Eaux de Bourbon, and in other ways made it
questionable whether she was prepared to act honestly
and openly. Bossuet was very much displeased at
this, and from henceforward the matter became
something very much of a personal quarrel. We
have a note from Mme. de Maintenon to de Noailles,
dated "Versailles, Mardi, a 7 hres- du soir, Dec. 1695.
The King orders me, Monseigneur, to inform you that
Mme. G. has been arrested. What do you wish done
with this woman, her friends, and her papers? The
King will be here all the morning: write to him him
self."' A few days later, she tells the Archbishop
that, having communicated Mme. Guyon's arrest to
Bossuet, he answered that he was " delighted at it,"
1 A note to this letter in de la Baumelle's edition of Mme.
de Maintenon's Letters says : " M. de Meaux had obtained this
letlri de cachel. The exempt Desgres, after a long search for' his
prey, heard of a little house in the Faubourg Saint Antoine ; . . ¦
he obtained a key, and found Mme. Guyon, with two maids, une
cspke a' Abte," etc — Vol. iv. p. 42.

Il6 FENELON.

and that he thought M. de Cambrai and his friends
were beginning to feel how they were entangling
themselves. In fact, the thing was now becoming
a political struggle, and many of those taking part in
it probably cared less for the religious side of the
subject than for the prospect of overthrowing the de
Beauvilliers party at Court. It is evident that Mme.
de Maintenon was disgusted at the vehemence with
which Bossuet pushed the affair. She writes to de
Noailles:— "fan. s, 1696.
"M. de Pontchastrain has just read a long, tiresome
examination of Mme. Guyon — nothing worth repeating
to you. The casket has been opened, and M. de la
Reynie says it contains nothing but doctrinal papers,
which Mme. Guyon says are the copies of those
which she placed in M. Bossuet's hands before going
to Meaux. ... It seems to me that this matter will
drag on tediously, and take a very disagreeable turn.
... I wish you would write me a letter which I can
show, and which might induce them to refer it to you."
And, — "Jan. 9.
"The King told me what had passed between you,
and what he means to say to-morrow to M. de Meaux.
I am delighted that you edified him by the gentle way

FENELON'S LINE OF ACTION. 117
in which you dealt with this business: he was quite
scandalised at M. de Meaux' proceedings. ... In
truth, you have lost nothing in the comparison.'"
If Mme. de' Maintenon's counsels had been fol
lowed, the lady would simply have been sent to some
country convent, and very little more would have been
heard of her. As it was, she was made a martyr at
Vincennes; and, irritated at the treatment she received,
her examinations and declarations there bore a much
more perverse and defiant tone, and Cardinal de
Noailles thought it his duty to obtain a more definite
retractation from her than that which had satisfied
the Commissioners of Issy, while they all sought to
make Fe'nelon express himself strongly on the sub
ject; some, perhaps, "hoping to add affliction to his
bonds," others really wishing him to clear himself
from imputations of a partisanship which was not
likely to do him any credit.
Fenelon was at Cambrai when he heard of Mme.
Guyon's arrest, and he remained consistently quiet.
Personally he was not mixed up with her; and if his
friends or foes had not tried to press him into what he
believed to be an unfair, uncharitable condemnation
of her individually, and apart from doctrine, he would
probably have remained silent. Among the heap of
' Leitres, vol. iv. pp. 54-57.

n8 F&NELON.

letters referring to this period, we will only quote a
few. Fe'nelon wrote to Tronson, sending him his
papers upon the Articles of Issy: — "Feb. 26, 1696.
"I beseech you with all my heart, and by the
friendship you have shown me for so many years, to
examine the papers I send you, carefully, and as soon
as possible. The matter is urgent, for I see how
Mme. de Maintenon has been worked up into oppo
sition. ... If anything seems doubtful to you, I will
put it into the strongest and most precise terms. If
you think me substantially in error, you have but to
correct me, and prove my docility. I shall come in a
few days to see you, and it is of great importance that
you should have seen all the papers, in order to set
me right, if need be. So much for doctrine. As to
the individual, I am asked to condemn her as well as
her works. If the Church gives a formal utterance on
the subject, I shall be the first to sign it with my
blood; but short of that, I cannot and ought not to
do sp. I saw things for myself which edified me
greatly; why should I be called on to condemn her
on account of things which I have not seen, which
are no ways conclusive in themselves, and without
hearing what she has to say in self-defence? Am I
wrong in wishing not to believe what is evil sooner

LETTER TO TRONSON. 119
than can be helped, and in refusing to curry favour
by acting against my conscience? As to the writ
ings, I affirm plainly that I have abstained from
examining them, in order to be unable to say any
thing one way or the other to those who try out of
malice to make me speak. If they are even worse
than is affirmed, have they not been sufficiently con
demned by so many Ordonnances, which no one has
disputed, and which have been meekly accepted by
the person herself and her friends? What more is
wanted ? I am not obliged to censure all bad books,
especially such as are wholly unknown in my diocese.
Such a censure could only be required of me in order
to remove suspicion of my own opinions; but there
are more natural ways of dispelling such suspicion
than by attacking a poor woman who is trodden down
by so many, and whose friend I have been. It .is
not even seemly that I should go out of my way to
denounce her writings; the public would not fail to
look upon my doing so as a kind of extorted abjura
tion. Is it not more natural that every one should
know that I was one of the four who drew up and
signed the Thirty-four Propositions at Issy? Is it
not even more to the point that I should write a work
in which I should plainly and vigorously condemn all
the evil maxims imputed to this person ? So doing,
the public will see my real opinions. There is no

FENELON.

need to fear that I shall make a stir by contradicting
the books which M. de. Meaux is writing: on the
contrary, I purpose entire conformity to his Thirty-four
Propositions, and shall only speak of him as my
master. My work will be very shortly ready. The
Archbishop of Paris and you shall be its judges, and
I will gladly submit it also to the Bishop of Chartres,
whom I love and respect heartily. As to M. de
Meaux, I should be delighted to approve his book, as
he desires; but I cannot do so honestly and with a
good conscience if he attacks a person whom I
believe innocent, or writings which I ought to leave
to the condemnation of others, without uselessly
adding my censure. — To return to the Bishop of
Chartres. He is a holy prelate, and a kind, substantial
friend; but through an excessive zeal for the Church
and friendship for me, he wants to carry me beyond
due limits. I see Mme. de Maintenon is disposed to
do the same; he only can quiet her, and you only
can convince M. de Chartres of the truth of my
reasoning, if you are convinced yourself. It is an
attempt to lead me on, step by step, by a sort of
secret plot, of which M. de Meaux is the mainspring.
M. de Chartres acts out of zeal and genuine friend
ship. Mme. de Maintenon is distressed, and becomes
more irritated with each fresh impression given her.
A thousand people about the Court bring all sort of

REFUSES TO CONDEMN MADAME GUYON. 121
envenomed gossip to her ears by roundabout ways,
because they think that she is disposed to hear it.
She and the Bishop of Chartres are convinced that
everything is useless if I do not condemn the woman
and her writings, a thing which the Inquisition itself
would not ask of me, and which I will never do, save
in obedience to the Church, were it to see fit to pro
mulgate a formulary, as against the Jansenists. What
does it signify if I do not believe Mme. Guyon to be
either bad or mad, if I leave her to herself in total
silence, and let her die in prison without interfering
directly or indirectly in anything which concerns her ?
The only reason for trying to urge me further must be
a belief that there is some mysterious danger in my
repugnance to condemn her. But the whole mystery
is, that I do not choose to speak against my con
science, or recklessly to insult a person whom I have
respected as a saint, so far as anything I have myself
seen of her. After all, can my good faith be ques
tioned ? Have I acted with dissimulation and policy ?
Should I be embarrassed as I am if I had yielded to
human respect? Why, then, should that be required
of me which would scarcely be asked of a man
supposed to be an impostor ? I beg you to read this
attentively, and read it to M. de Chartres if you think
good. . . . My book will be ready at Easter, and it
-will agree in doctrine with the papers I now send you.

122 FJENELON.

After that I have nothing to do but to leave the issue
to Providence.'"
To this Tronson replied (March r, 1696) that he
and the Bishop of Chartres both thought Fe'nelon was
not called upon to condemn Mme. Guyon or her
books, or to approve of Bossuet's, but merely in conver
sation to grant that they had been rightly censured.
Meanwhile another important letter, written to
Tronson by the Due de Beauvilliers, lets in a good
deal of light on the subject : — '"'Feb. 29, 1696.
" I wish to tell you, sir, with the sincerity you know
to be my nature, that it is perfectly clear to me that
there is a very strong and a very active cabal at work
against the Archbishop of Cambrai. M. de Chartres
is too good to belong to it, but he is prejudiced, and
is also worked upon underhand. As to Mme. de
Maintenon, she follows blindly wherever she is led,
and imagines herself to be promoting God's Glory when
she is ready to proceed to any extremity against M.
de Cambrai. In short, I see that he is on the eve of
being removed from the Princes, as likely to damage
them by false doctrine. If they attempt this, and
succeed, my turn will probably come; but save for the
scandal, I must honestly tell you that I should be
1 Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 220.

LETTER FROM DE BEAUVILLIERS. 123
easily consoled. Indeed, if after such proceedings as
these concerning M. de Cambrai, you were to think it
God's Will that I should not wait to be dismissed, but
resign voluntarily, I should feel no reluctance to do
so. This you will readily believe, remembering what
has already passed between us. To return to M. de
Cambrai : I should not advise him, even were he so
disposed, to pronounce a formal condemnation of
Mme. Guyon's writings. At this moment, when M.
de la Reynie [Lieutenant de Police of Paris] has been
examining her about us all for the last six weeks —
when she is still a prisoner, and her answers carefully
kept secret, — were M. de Cambrai to come forward, a
year after MM. de Paris and de Meaux, and censure
books unknown in his diocese, surely he would give
ground for the imputation of being an accomplice of
all that is attributed to this poor woman, and of abjur
ing out of policy and the fear of dismissal. You know,
sir, all that I have told you of my own conduct with
respect to Mme. Guyon. I have borne with every
thing, and to this day I keep total silence, and mean
to do so, because I am convinced that such is God's
Will. But with respect to M. de Cambrai, I feel bound
to say openly what may justify him; and if he were to
leave the Princes, I should speak all the louder,
because I should have a still better hope of con.
vincing. . . .As to the Princes,, as 1 told M. de

124 FENELON.

Chartres, there need be no anxiety on their behalf;
not one of them knows that such a woman as Mme.
Guyon exists, or such a book as the Moyen Court. If
we thought it well to practise such reserve with the
Due de Bourgogne, who is very open to religious im
pressions and very forward in mind, at a time when
there was nothing to fear, is it likely that we should
now seek to influence him, seeing that we ourselves are
far from holding any questionable opinions, and that,
moreover, his confessor, the Pere de Valois, is perfectly
safe as to Quietism ?'"
Fe'nelon himself wrote a week later to Mme. de
Maintenon : — "March 7, 1696.
" Your last letter, Madame, which seemed likely to
grieve me much, comforted me exceedingly, for it
showed me your thorough kindness, which was the
only thing I was anxious about. If I were capable ot
sanctioning a person who taught a new gospel, I should
have a, horror of myself as devilish ; I should deserve
to be deposed and burnt, instead of borne with, as you
kindly do ! But I may very innocently be mistaken
as to a person whom I believe to be holy, because I
believe that she has never intended to write or teach
anything contrary to the doctrine of the Church
1 Correspondence, vol. vii p. 224.

LETTER TO MADAME DE MAINTENON. \2$
Catholic. If I am mistaken as to this, my error is
innocent ; and as I never shall either speak or write
with a view to authorise or excuse this person, any
error would be as entirely a matter of indifference to
the Church as it is of innocence to myself. I ought to
know Mme. Guyon's real opinions better than all those
who have examined and condemned her, for she spoke
with more confidence to me than to them. I examined
her most severely, and perhaps went too far in refuting
her. I never had any predisposition in favour either
of her or of her writings, and never saw anything extra
ordinary in her to prejudice me in her behalf. She
explained all her sentiments and experiences with per
fect freedom and openness to me. It is not a question
of technical terms, which I do not undertake to defend,
and which matter little in a woman, provided her
meaning be catholic; at least that is what I have
always thought. She is naturally given to exaggera
tion, and is careless in her expressions ; and moreover,
she is trusting to excess with those who question her.
This is clearly proved, since M. de Meaux has repeated
things to you as impious which she had confided
humbly to him under the seal of confession. I think
nothing of her pretended prophecies or revelations,
and I should think little of her if she esteemed them
highly. A person who is really given to God may say
offhand things which arise in her- heart, without build-

~t26 FENELON.

ing or meaning others to build upon them. Such things
maybe of God (for His Gifts fail not), but they ma; be
mere empty imaginations. The way by which we love
God solely for Himself, entirely renouncing our own
selves, is a way of pure faith, which has nothing to do
with miracles and visions. Nobody is more cautious or
sober in this matter than I am."
The Archbishop then goes through some of the extra
vagances of which Mme. Guyon was accused, many of
-which he had never heard of before, and which he be
lieved were not meant to be understood literally. If she
said such things advisedly, he should call her a most
absurd person, and find no words strong enough to ex
press his disapprobation.1 As to teaching with presump
tion, he remarks that there are ways in which a woman
is permitted to teach, i.e. by giving counsel on matters
within her own experience, and with all due submission
to authority. All superiors of religious communities
are bound to teach in this way. If Mme. Guyon had
outstepped this limit, she ought to be charitably
checked, without being necessarily condemned. Women
' * Bossuet made great capital of some of these extravagant ex
pressions (see Life, p. 389), and was eager to have it believed
that Fenelon endorsed them. He, however, repudiated all such,
not only in private letters, such as the above, but in his published
Answers to Bossuet's writings on Quietism, in which he says that
Mme. Guyon was mad if she spoke thus seriously, but he believud
her to be only ignorant, indiscreet, and given to exaggeration;

he believed she meant well.

ASKS FOR CONFIDENCE. 127
cannot teach or decide with authority, but they may
edify, counsel, and instruct on matters already autho
rised. Fe'nelon goes on : — " Permit me to say, Madame,
that, after appearing to accept our view of this woman's
innocence, you went over to the opposite opinion
suddenly. From that moment you mistrusted me as
obstinate, and you closed your heart against me.
People who wanted to make way with you, and become
necessary to you, implied in an underhand fashion that
I was deluded, and might prove a heresiarch. Various
methods of unsettling you were brought to bear; you
were struck, and you passed from excessive confidence
and trust to excessive alarm and displeasure. All our
troubles spring from this, that you have not ventured
to follow your own light and your own heart. ... If
you had spoken openly and trustfully to me, in three
days I would have quieted all the excitement in Saint
Cyr, and brought all into perfect submission to their
pious Bishop. I would have caused Mme. Guyon to
write precise explanations of whatever seemed ques
tionable or exaggerated in her books; and these
explanations or retractations (call them which you
please), made voluntarily and in freedom, would have
had much more effect in convincing people than papers
signed in prison, or rigorous condemnations made by
people who certainly did not understand the subject

128 FE'NELON.

when they promised you to censure her. This done,
I would have seen that Mme. Guyon retired afar,
wherever you wished, pledging herself to discontinue
all intercourse on spiritual subjects. It has not pleased
God that so natural a course should be taken. Nothing
has been proved against her conduct save calumny ;
she can only be accused of an indiscreet zeal, and a
foolish way of speaking about herself. As to her doc
trines, even were she honestly mistaken, is that a
crime ? But is it not natural to suppose that a woman,
writing unguardedly before the outbreak concerning
Molinos, might exaggerate her experiences, and not
appreciate the due weight of words? I am so con
vinced that she meant no harm, that I would under
take now to make her give a perfectly clear and precise
explanation of all her belief, as within rightful limits,
and as detecting what outsteps them. Such an ex
planation would tend to undeceive those whom she is
supposed to have infected with her errors, and to dis
credit her in their eyes if she appears to condemn
what she had before taught. Perhaps, Madame, you
will imagine that I make this proposal with a view to
her release. Not so. I would engage to obtain such
a precise explanation and refutation of all her con
demned errors without taking her out of prison. I
would not see her ; I would only write to her, — letters
which you should see, and which should be examined

HONEST INTENTIONS 129
by the Bishops, — her answers passing through the same
channel, and then let what use you please be made of
these explanations. Let her remain in prison. I am
content if she stays there till her death, if we never
see or hear of her again. I do not think that you con
sider me a coward, a liar, traitor, hypocrite, or a rebel
against the Church. I swear before God, my Judge,
that these are the deliberate convictions of my heart.
If I am under a delusion, at least it is one free from
malice, a pardonable delusion, which can hurt no one,
and give no scandal, neither can it give any sanction:
either to Mme. Guyon's errors or to herself. Why then,
Madame, should you close your heart to me, as if I
were of a different religion to yourself ? Why fear to
talk of God with me, as though you were conscien
tiously obliged to avoid seduction ? Why imagine that
you cannot agree with me, and have a quiet heart ?
Why undo what God had so visibly done ? . . . .
" If I thought that you were still of the same mind as
when you wrote last to me at Cambrai, saying that
you so much wished to receive my letters, I should
write to you with my former ease, and I think that
you would not find them poisonous. I was delighted
last Monday to see that you still retain your taste for
S. Francis de Sales' works. . . . All that I say to
satisfy you, Madame, is said without interested motives.
I seek nothing from you but your kindness. I cannot

13° FANELON.

lightly let those bonds be broken which God has
made for His own Service."1
Tronson returned the papers Fe'nelon had sent him
in about a month's time, through the Due de Beau
villiers; he was ill, and said that he was not equal
to weighing and discussing them then, but that he
accepted them willingly, as the Archbishop of Paris
found no fault in them. An active correspondence
was kept up all through this year between all the chief
actors in the matter. Fe'nelon drew up an act of sub
mission, which he proposed Mme. Guyon should sign,
declaring in the strongest terms her absolute rejection
of all the errors condemned in the Articles of Issy,
and this was discussed, added to, and diminished, as if
it had been a diplomatic treaty affecting the peace of
Europe! The Dues de Beauvilliers and Chevreuse
took a vigorous share, and probably all concerned
were conscious of the truth of what the latter says in
a letter to M. Tronson, dated August 18, 1696, that
Mme. Guyon personally was not the object of his
anxiety (although, believing her to be innocent, he
would gladly be of use to her), but other and greater
persons, who were aimed at beneath this cover.
On the 28th of August Mme. Guyon finally signed
an act of submission, which, though retaining the form
of that prepared for her by Fe'nelon, was doctored
1 Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 229.

MADAME GUYON'S END. 131
considerably by the other side, and added to at some
length by Tronson. She wrote the same day to him,
saying that she had followed his advice blindly, and
signed without reserve.1
From this time Mme. Guyon personally ceases to
fill any important place in the ever more and more
active strife. She remained in the Bastille till 1701,
poor thing ! and then, at last, a spirit-broken, worn-out
woman, spent with trouble and physical infirmities,
she was allowed, at Cardinal de Noailles' intercession,8
to go and end her days in comparative peace with her
daughter,. Mme. de Vaux, at Blois. There she led
a quiet and unnoticed life, devout and humble, with
out seeking to make herself conspicuous, until 1717,
when she died, having outlived her most illustrious
friends and foes, and consequently, as Saint Simon
says, her death attracted but little attention.3
Fe'nelon never saw her again. Indeed, it does not
appear that he ever saw much of her,4 and his corre-
' Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 282.
3 "Les amis de Mme. Guyon i'urent redevables a, la charitedu
Cardinal de Noailles, qui la fit sortir de la Bastille, ou elle etait
depuis plusieurs annees sans voir personne, et lui obtint la per
mission de se retirer en Touraine." — Mimoins, vol. vii. p. 26.
3 Ibid. vol. xxviii. p.. 124.
4 "Je n'ai vu ni pu voir bien souvent Mme. Guyon. Mon
principal commerce avec elle a ete par lettres, ou je la question-
nais sur toutes les matieres d'oraison." — Correspondence, vol. vii.
P- 457-

132 F&NELON.

spondence was entirely on the religious questions
afloat. As soon as she became a subject of dis
cussion and controversy, he discontinued his corre
spondence, as well as the slight personal communica
tion he had had with her, he himself says in a letter
to Cardinal de Noailles1 (and had the assertion been
inaccurate, there were plenty of people ready and glad
to refute it), in order to leave no ground for alarm
among those with whom he was concerned, — alluding,
of course, to his position with respect to the King's
grandsons and to Saint Cyr.
Only such a man as the Abbe" Jacques Bossuet, and
probably even he only in the almost insane heat of
blind spite and controversy, could have ventured to
insinuate that anything unworthy of the noble-hearted
Archbishop had ever contaminated his compassionate
friendship for the poor ill-used woman, who, tite
montee as she probably was, was certainly earnest in
her devotion and desire to serve God. Fenelon's
best friends and most faithful adherents did not
think the cowardly charge worth refuting: neither do
we. His life and actions are sufficient testimony to
the motives which influenced him in this as in all
other circumstances. "Unto the. pure all things are
pure." * Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 457.

MEMOIRES AND DOCUMENTS. 133

CHAPTER IV.
THESE stormy years have been so fully dwelt on
in Bossuet's Life (after all, is there not often
much more to be said concerning those who offend
than the offended ?) that it may be allowed us not to
dwell at great length upon them here. Bossuet wrote
his attack on Mysticism, called Instruction sur les
Etats d'Oraison, * and invited Fe'nelon to examine the
MS. This bore a friendly appearance, but it soon
became evident that the real object was to extract
what would be a self-contradiction from Fe'nelon, and
he felt obliged to decline expressing his approval of
the work. There are many letters concerning this
subject, together with a Memoire which he drew up,
and read to the Archbishop of Paris, the Bishop of
Chartres, M. Tronson, and the Dues de Beauvilliers
and Chevreuse, at Issy, August 2, 1696, they all
expressing their entire satisfaction with it. Writing
1 QZuvres de Bossuet, vol. xviii.

134 FENELON.

early in September to Mme. de Maintenon, Fe'nelon
says : — " I had said [to the above-named persons]
that I could see no shadow of difficulty between M.
de Meaux and myself as to the root of the doctrine,
but that if he intended to attack Mme. Guyon per
sonally, I could not approve it. . . . On opening
his papers, I found them full of a personal refuta
tion." * These friends then urged Fe'nelon to write a
book which should give to the public a full expression
of his own mind on the mooted subjects; and the
result was the Maximes des Saints sur la Vie In-
tericure, which, so far from allaying the storm, caused
it to break forth with tenfold fury.
As has been already said, it is difficult now to
realise how such a fierce storm could have been raised
over such a book, written by such a man — a book
treatipg solely of the most solemnly sacred subjects
affecting the soul and God. Strange it is to see men
of learning and piety mingling in the strife with self-
seeking politicians — hard words, cruel imputations,
and bitter calumnies recklessly tossed about, as if
there were no future day in which all these things
should be brought to judgment ! Looking calmly
back upon the turbulent scene, all the eager, feverishly
excited actors in which have so long been laid in
their graves — from the King, who was trying to atone
1 Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 286.

"MAXIMES DES SAINTES." 135
for a life of profligacy by a few years of bigotry, and
the Pope, whose conscience and heart were with the
accused Archbishop of Cambrai, though he dared not
withstand the menaces of the wrathful Grand Mon-
arque, and boldly say so ; — to the fawning, passionate
Abbe* Bossuet, who afterwards feasted and bragged
during the Lent when his Uncle of Meaux lay dying,
and the cruel, treacherous Phelippeaux, who blackened
his colleague's character when it suited him to do so
unsparingly, — looking back, I say, on Pope and King,
calumniator and calumniated, all have passed away,
and " it is a very small thing " to them now what
man's judgment of them has been or is. But, out of
respect to truth and honesty, we must emphatically
say that no one can read through the mass of letters
concerning these events, whether from antagonists to
their opponents, or internal letters from the respec
tive promoters to their own chiefs, without keenly
appreciating the difference of the tone adopted by
Bossuet and all his adherents from that of Fe'nelon
and his correspondents. There is no bitterness, no
spite, no defamation to be found in the Cambrai
letters ; and while we must honestly grant that for
Bossuet's sake it were a good thing if the whole
correspondence had perished, it is not possible to say
the same of Fenelon's. One's admiration and love
for him does but increase as one follows the patient,

136 FENELON.

humble, unselfish spirit in which he acted, spoke, and
wrote throughout.
When the Maximes had been written, Fenelon
sent the MS. to the Archbishop of Paris, saying : —
" Oct. 17, 1696.
" There is no hurry, Monseigneur, about publishing
this. You know better than anyone what has led me
to write it. My object was to explain thoroughly a
system which has never been rightly explained or
understood. I have made many repetitions, in order
to avoid whatever could be equivocal in handling so
delicate a subject, wherein people are so suspicious.
... I have done what I believe to be my duty, and
leave the rest to God. . . . I do not care about my
work. I am not even anxious about the truth; God
will care for it. ... I give my MS. up to you in the
most absolute good faith, to suppress, cut short,
correct or add what you may think necessary. As to
the argument, I am not afraid of the Schoolmen's
criticisms ; on the contrary, the more precise a theo
logian and strict metaphysician any scholar is, the
more he will see that my argument follows an in
evitable chain, and puts the true limit to spirituality,
so as to hinder subtle illusions. On one side examine
this mass of passages from the Saints, and on the
other my arguments, and you will see that the latter

SUBMITTED TO THEOLOGIANS. 137
tend to modify the passages, and bring them to a
harmonious doctrine. It is very easy to handle this
matter superficially, to soften and smoothe, and give a
continual semblance of condemnation of Quietism to a
work, in order to have the public on one's own side,
but such a weak line would be acceptable neither to
God nor man. . . . Once more, I wish neither to hurry
nor to delay — it rests with you, Monseigneur. . . .
The important point is that the work should be per
fectly true. When you are satisfied that the doctrine is
fundamentally correct, never mind the rest. ... As to
expressions, I will alter them as you may desire ; or
rather, I will accept whatever corrections you and M.
Tronson may make, and with this view I have left
half of each page blank." '
Fe'nelon wrote in the same language of absolute
trust to Tronson, expressing his desire that some
profound theologian, known to be a pious man and
not a partisan, should also examine his book. In
a letter, dated Oct. 30, 1696, he professes his entire
willingness to suppress the book entirely if Tronson
thinks it well.2
Pirot, a doctor of Sorbonne, who had been
employed by de Harlay to examine Mme. Guyon,
and who was known to be a great friend and admirer
* Correspondence, vol. vii p. 300. 2 Ibid. p. 317.

138 FENELON.
of Bossuet's, was chosen to examine the MS. ; and
after reading it carefully, he gave it his unquali
fied approbation, saying that it was worth its weight
in gold.1 Fe'nelon had adopted the Cardinal Arch
bishop's few criticisms, and the Archbishop told the
Due de Chevreuse that he entirely approved of the
book.2 In short, if ever a man was justified in publishing
a manuscript, Fe'nelon certainly was justified in
bringing out his Maximes ; and when leaving Paris in
December, he left the MS. with the Due de Chevreuse
for publication, only desiring, at the Cardinal de
Noailles' request, that Bossuet's forthcoming book
might be allowed to appear first. The Duke thought
this a mistake, and appealed to de Noailles to
release Fe'nelon from the promise, to which he
replied that de Chevreuse could do as he liked.
Accordingly, at the end of January 1697, and before
Bossuet's book appeared, the Maximes des Saints was
published. A long letter from the author to Bossuet 3
recapitulates the whole history of the book. It is
1 "... a l'Abbe Pirot, Chancelier de l'feglise de Paris, et
Professeur de Sorbonne, qui se chargea de le rfpandre, et dit a
Hebert 'C'est un livre oTorl' " — De la Baumelle, Mhnoires,
vol. iv. p. 78.
D'Aguesseau repeats the saying : ". . . Le docteur Pirot,
approbateur de cet ouvrage, qu'il appela un livre tout d'or." —
CEuzres, vol. viii. p. 200.
2 Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 347. 3 Hid. p. 359.

CORRESPONDENCE WITH BOSSUET. 139
singularly temperate in its tone, and at the end
Fe'nelon says : — " If I hear it said in the world that
M. de Meaux complains of me, I shall answer I
do not complain of him, and if he has any complaint
to make, I think he would make it to me myself.
... It rests with you to decide the tone of our
future intercourse ; whatever will enable me to see
you, listen to you, consult you, and respect you as
ever, will be the most in accordance with my wishes
and inclinations." This was written on February 9th,
and on February 13th Bossuet wrote to the Bishop
of Chartres about the book in language which can
only be attributed to bitter personal animosity, and a
disturbed mind as to whether he would not be proved
wrong; while the pious wish expressed that the
whole business may promote God's Glory has some
what of the " catapult " tone about it, followed as
it is by the sharp sentence, " A great deal is made
of M. Tronson's opinion, but I am not sure whether
what you call his wisdom is not excessive caution." '
The book did, as it could not fail to do, excite
a great deal of observation and talk, and Bossuet
was eager to carry his unfavourable impressions to
the King,3 already prejudiced against Fe'nelon; a
1 Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 374.
2 D'Aguesseau and de la Baumelle both say that Pontchastrain
—then Controllei -General, subsequently Chancellor— was the first

140 FENELON.
prejudice naturally increased when the Bishop of
Meaux, who had his ear so entirely, besought his
pardon, with a display of contrition, for not having
sooner exposed the fanaticism of his colleague ! In a
letter from Madame de Maintenon to the Archbishop
of Paris, she says (Feb. 21, 1697) : — "I have seen
our friends [Fe'nelon and de Beauvilliers], and we
were all very much embarrassed. I had a moment's
private talk with the Archbishop of Cambrai. . . .
He told me that Pere de la Chaise had given him an
account of a conversation he had had with the King,
after which he could not but speak to his Majesty. I
assented to everything; but from what I see of the
King's mind, M. de C. will derive little satisfaction
from such an explanation. ... I have not inspired
this opposition ; it is genuine on the King's part
against all novelties, but I foresee that it will be
attributed to me." *
to denounce the Maximes to the King, which, however, the
Due de Beauvilliers had already presented to him. ' ' Maurice
le Tellier (de Rheims) ecrivit sur le mfime ton a sa Majesty. *Le
roi ne crut pas qu'un ministre dVtat et un eveque janseniste
fussent de bons juges d'un livre de doctrine. II manda Bossuet,
qui lui jura que 1'eVSque et le ministre n'avoient dit que trop
vrai. Le roi lui reprocha son silence sur une affaii e si grave, ses
liaisons avec Fenelon, son empressement a le sacrer archev£que
de Cambrai. Bossuet se jetle a ses genoux, gemit, pleure et
demande pardon de ne lui avoir pas revels le fanatisme de son
confrere." — De LA BAUMELLE, Mhnoircs, vol. iv. p. 69.
' Lettres de Mme. de Maintenon, vol. iv. p. 90.

DISINTERESTED CONDUCT. 141
Certainly any impartial observer, reading the con
temporary documents of this period, could not but
entirely acquit Fe'nelon of any ambitious designs,
such as various persons have tried to impute to him.
There is Uttle doubt that if he had chosen to flatter
Mme. de Maintenon, and yield to her wishes at this
time, he would have preserved his position at Court.
She thoroughly Uked him, and her influence was all-
powerful with the King, and would have been used
at once in his behalf, but for the red rag of Quietism
which was being perpetuaUy brandished before her
by Bossuet, and more gently and tremulously, though
scarce less effectively, agitated by Cardinal de Noailles
and the Bishop of Chartres. That Mme. de Main
tenon herself did Fe'nelon justice in this respect is
evident from a letter of hers to de Noailles (July
13, 1697), in which she says, that were he not so
firmly convinced of the truth of his principles, he
would give them up from self-interest, but that she
beUeves him perfectly honest in his misconceptions.1
D'Aguesseau, reasoning from the point of view the
world generally takes, — i.e., that a man never does any
thing save from interested motives, — supposes Fe'nelon
to have adopted his line in reUgious matters with a
view to placing himself at the head of a party, and to
" make devotion become the handle of fortune ;" a
1 Lelircs, vol. iv. p. no.

142 FENELON.
most unlikely result, when the devotion adopted was
in direct opposition to the King and all those
specially influencing him, a conclusion at which
d'Aguesseau himself arrives, when he observes that
practically Fenelon's worldly fortunes were altogether
blighted by it.x
It cannot be denied that the Maximes met with
disapprobation from many of Fenelon's friends as well
as his foes, as the following letter from Brisacier
shows. The first sentence in it refers to a misfor
tune which had just befallen the Archbishop, his
palace at Cambrai having been burnt down, with
an absolute destruction of furniture, books, papers, and
everything it contained. Fe'nelon was himself at Ver
sailles, and he received the tidings with the patient
calmness of a man whose knowledge of the Love
of God was not technical only, but so real as to
1 QZuvres d'Aguesseau, vol. viii. p. 197. D'Aguesseau had a
feud of ' ' natural filial piety, " as Cardinal de Bausset says,
against, not Fenelon himself, but against the Due de Beauvilliers,
whom he supposed to have hindered his father from becoming
Chancellor of France, " and it was difficult, " says the Cardinal,
"for so tender a son not to feel estranged from the Duke
and all his friends. This sentiment influenced more or less all
that he wrote concerning M. de Beauvilliers, Fenelon, the Bishop
of Chartres, Saint Sulpice, and whatever in any degree apper
tained to this section of the Court and clergy." Every one ranged
himself on the side of Port Royal or of the Jesuits in those days,
and did all in his power to blacken the opposite party. —
Histoire de Fenelon, vol. ii. p. 20.

FIRE AT CAMBRAI. 143

make all earthly trials endurable. His devoted
friend Langeron made haste to Versailles with the bad
news, and found the Archbishop engaged in conver
sation so placidly, that he concluded the unwelcome
tidings had not yet reached him, and began to break
them as soothingly as he could. But it was unneces
sary. Fe'nelon knew his mkfortune already, and after
thanking Langeron, and remarking that if. was better it
should be his house that was burnt than that of some
poor peasant whose all would have been lost, he
resumed the thread of his literaiy discussion as
calmly as if nothing had happened.1
De Brisacier writes : — "Feb. 28, 1697.
" I only heard this morning, Monseigneur, of the
accident at Cambrai ; I am told that nothing of your
apartments was saved, and that the fire has not spared
either your library or your own papers and manu
scripts, which I regret most of all, for that is an
irreparable loss. However bravely you may meet this
misfortune, I must beg you to forgive my distress ; and
if you will not allow me to mourn over a fire which
must cause you inconvenience for long, and suffering
to others, at least let me thank God for having so lifted
you above the losses of this life, that you seem vulner
able only to what concerns the things of the next life.
1 De la Baumelle, Mhwires, vol. iv. p. 83.

144 FENELON.

" I cannot console myself, Monseigneur, under all
that I hear said daily by all sorts of people, of every
class, against a book bearing your name, and which,
so soon as I saw its title and object, and the mode of
its publication, threw me into the greatest consterna
tion, by reason of my devoted attachment to you,
foreseeing as I did the dangerous consequences to
which it exposes you, independently of the criticism
its doctrine will excite. Nor have my fears proved
vain ; — they are confirmed daily. As I have always
been looked upon as one of your most faithful ser
vants, and have been known before the publication of
your book to defend you heartily from the suspicions
cast upon you, many people think that now they have
a right to ask me how you could venture to write upon
so delicate a subject, and why your intimate friends
did not dissuade you from doing so? People take
pleasure in telling me a number of things about which
I have myself uneasiness enough already ; and in
addition to what I see with my own eyes, I am told
on every side of prelates not in the least prejudiced
against you, of sensible abbe's, zealous cure's, learned
doctors, superiors of secular and regular communities,
laymen of weight, who enter into spiritual subjects, —
all such, however hitherto prejudiced in your favour,
cannot help saying, publicly or privately, that you have
few partisans in this matter. Indeed, practically, it is

LETTER FROM BRISACIER. 145
true that hardly anybody dares support you ostensibly
or secretly, and your best friends, if they do not say so,
are sorry to see you enter upon a career whence you
can scarcely come out altogether satisfactorily, and
upon which you were certainly not obliged to enter on
behalf of God's Glory, which is more likely to suffer.
Such, Monseigneur, is the anticipatory judgment of the
public, which, in spite of myself, I hear from every one,
go where I will. And trustworthy people from Court
assure me that most of the courtier world is as much
opposed to you as the world in general in Paris ; so
that, although hitherto there has been some restraint
in speech, it is evident that it would take but little to
bring about a great explosion, which one could not
but exceedingly deplore for many reasons, especially
with respect to the important offices you hold in
Church and State.
"For myself, I only discuss the subject with a few
intimate friends, most of whom are yours also. They
are as much alarmed as I am, and their honest anxiety
increases mine. You are not a common author,
Monseigneur, and even were it a matter of indiffer
ence to others, it can never be so to me ; but, unfor
tunately, it cannot be indifferent to anybody, and
whatever concerns you must inevitably make a great
stir. It will not do for a man of your position to be
ever so little suspected as to his opinions. What would

146 FENELON.
happen if it came even to worse than this? And can
you use too much precaution to prevent such a
disaster? I protest, Monseigneur, with sorrow and
respect, that I am not writing out of any personal
feeling, or at the instigation of any one whatsoever.
Nobody in the world knows that I am writing, or what
I have said. No one has prejudiced me, no one has
urged me, no one suspects that I am presuming to
take so great a liberty. Night is my only confidant.
I have no motive save that of pouring out my heart
sincerely and respectfully to a prelate, esteemed for his
own sake and beloved by everybody, who, great man as
he is, has given me proofs of friendship as acceptable
as honourable to me. I have no wish to set myself
up as a censor or a judge, or that this letter, written
in the dead of night, and of which I keep no copy,
should ever be seen by any eye but yours. My pen
is guided by no critical spirit, but solely by a heart
devoted to you, which groans before God at the pros
pect of all that may ensue. — Believe me," etc. etc. «
The Archbishop to whom his friends could write
thus so honestly and faithfully, according to their
judgment, was not likely to be an ambitious or self-
seeking man. The very next day we find another
intimate friend, the Abbe" de Chanterac, writing to a
1 Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 379.

PUBLIC OPINION. 147
lady," that probably the reason of so much stir being
made about Fenelon's book was, that he himself was
so entirely sincere, and so deeply penetrated with the
truths of religion, that few about Court could under
stand him or his mind ; and the writer does not sup
pose that savans and courtiers, dried up with worldly
influences, are any judges of the science of the Saints.
More is the pity, he adds, that they should attempt
to criticise it ! M. de Chanterac goes on to say : —
" It is not possible for an unprejudiced person to say
that this book favours the Quietists. I assure you
that it condemns them more severely than the censure
passed by Rome upon the sixty-eight Propositions [of
Molinos]. . . . The Jesuit Fathers take a very
different view of this book; they approve, praise,
and defend it, and so does every one well known for
piety. All who have read it about here admire the
elevation and extent of the author's genius, the beauty
and facility of his simple yet grand style, the weighty
evidence, precision, and solidity of his maxims and
doctrine, combined with such entire disregard of
self, and such childlike docility to the authority and
decisions of the Church."
We find many letters on each side, decrying and
exalting the Maximes; and many replies, chiefly to
friends, from the .author. One of the most interest-
1 Mme. de Pontchat. Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 383.

148 FENELON.
ing of these is a letter to the celebrated de Ranee",
Abbot of La Trappe, a close friend of Bossuet, who
had disseminated some very virulent expressions of
the well-known hermit against Fe'nelon. The reply
is a marvel of gentleness and patience ; Fe'nelon ex
plains what his real opinions and views are — very
different, of course, to those imputed to him — and ends
by saying : — " I quite understand that I did not explain
myself properly, since so enlightened a man, and one
so versed in God's ways as yourself, has misunder
stood me. If you had done me the honour to ask
my meaning in the matters which scandalised you,
perhaps I might have been so fortunate as to remove
the difficulty — at all events, I should have tried to
profit by your lights to correct myself. I shall still
endeavour to do so, if you will charitably tell me what
perplexes you, and remain with sincere respect," etc.,
etc.1 Returning to Paris, to find the storm bursting every
where around him, Fe'nelon had an interview with
Mme. de Maintenon, who was reading his book when
he entered. "Here is a chapter," she said to him,
"which I have read nine times, and I cannot under
stand it yet ! "
"Madame," the 'Archbishop replied, "if you read
it a hundred times, you will not understand it any
Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 519.

CARDINAL DE NOAILLES' OPINION. 149
better ! All mystical writings are obscure, and the
Court is not the best place in which to learn to
understand them."
" Probably that is why such dreadful things are said
about your book," Mme. de Maintenon answered;
"but when I recollect that you wrote it, I feel re
assured in spite of the fuss ! " '
However, she asked Cardinal de Noailles' opinion
of the book, and the following letter is important, con
sidering how strong a part the Cardinal was persuaded
into taking against it later on. He wrote : —
"March 1, 1697.
"I return M. de Cambrai's book, Madame, with
many thanks for your kindness in sending it to me.
I have read it very carefully and thoughtfully, and am
very much surprised not to find what has been so
generally and loudly condemned in it. I have not
found a single proposition, or an expression, or even
a single word, which offends me. They must be
more subtle critics than I am who find matter for
objection and criticism in it — for one can hardly sup
pose that they have so confused matters as to con
demn the author for the propositions he has only
quoted to condemn : — it is not likely, considering how
he has separated what he approves from what he
1 De la Baumelle, Mbnoires, vol. iv. p. 72.

ISO FENELON.
condemns. On the contrary, I can see nothing
original in this book but what shows very correct
theology, great insight into the interior life, and a
very clear exposition of its most hidden mysteries,
which the author must have acquired far more by
experience than by reading books upon the subject.
Certainly those who seek to condemn M. de Cam
brai for this book must begin by condemning Saint
Francis de Sales for his beautiful Traite de I' Amour
de Dieu, inasmuch as the one is but a commentary
on the other." x
The Cardinal goes on to say that the source of
this criticism probably is to be found in the jealousy
of authors, though at the same time he admits that
it may be partly founded on the fact that Fe'nelon
does not denounce the modern Quietists; and he
expresses a doubt as to the book being useful at the
present time, and in the present form. As to the
question of time, the Cardinal probably forgot that he
was one of those who had urged Fe'nelon to write it !
But throughout this controversy poor Cardinal de
Noailles was troubled with a very feeble memory
as to what he had said a few days before !
Perhaps in consequence of this letter, Mme. de
Maintenon sought another interview with Fe'nelon
1 Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 390.

PERPLEXITIES. 151
on the subject ; * and Bossuet's book having by this
time appeared in fierce antagonism, it was proposed
(whether by Fe'nelon himself or by Mme. de Main
tenon is differently stated by contemporary writers)
that he should explain himself thoroughly in the
presence of de Noailles, who had been concerned
all through the matter, the Due de Chevreuse, and
Mme. de Maintenon. This conference took place
at Saint Cyr, but little good came of it. Mme. de
Maintenon grew more puzzled than ever, for de
Noailles had been beset by Bossuet, of whom he was
always afraid, and he hesitated and shrank from con
firming his own words already written. De la Bau
melle says that, at the conclusion of the interview,
Mme. de Maintenon exclaimed, "Argue on, Messieurs,
and if you can, be both of you right ! "
Mme. de Maintenon writes (April 3, 1697) to de
Noailles that the King is very anxious to prevent the
publication of a third edition of the Maximes. "You
may rely upon it, Monseigneur," she goes on to say,
"that this matter will not easily be calmed down,
either at Rome, in France, or in the King's mind, and
that everywhere people are alarmed for the Princes
who are being thus educated. As to me, I am dis
tressed and perplexed. I am so on my own account:
I dread the results of this difference between two
1 De la Baumelle, vol. iv. p. 73.

152 F&NELON.

great prelates, should they proceed to extremities; I
dread the line the King may take, for which he must
answer to God; I have the same dread for you."1
These remarks concerning the Princes were not
mere gossip. The anti-Beauvilliers faction was hard
at work to get not only Fe'nelon but the Duke
dismissed. The latter wrote to Fe'nelon: —
"April 15, 1697.
" The attempt is to get rid of me, and it will suc
ceed if Mme. de Maintenon continues as opposed to
me as she now is. I am not conscious of deserving
it, and I believe that God would have me abide at the
post where He has placed me, altogether irrespective of
any action of my own. . . . There never was a wider
spread Court intrigue, or one more energetic against an
individual, than this against me. They go so far as to
put about that it is a terrible thing to see the Princes
in the hands of the promulgators of a new religion."
One demonstration of this excitement was the
dismissal from Saint Cyr of Mme. de Maisonfort and
two other religious, Mmes. de Tour and de Mont-
aigle, on the ground that they were followers of
Fe'nelon. The King and Mme. de Maintenon, with
the little Duchesse de Bourgogne, assisted on this
Lettres, vol. iv. p. 95.

APPEAL TO THE POPE. 153
occasion. The King himself harangued the Com
munity on the danger of these new opinions, and
afterwards wrote from Compiegne to the Superior,
forbidding these ladies (who were great favourites in
the house) ever to return or be admitted within its
walls.1 Bossuet certainly did all he could to fan the
flame by his writings and his works. Fe'nelon was
especially hurt at being told by He'bert, the Curd of
Versailles, that, before the assembled Court, Bossuet
had stated that "M. de Cambrai had often told him
that he was in the habit of using the pratique interieure
of contrition for which the Molinists were condemned."
Fe'nelon, who was the "most moderate of men" (says
de la Baumelle in telling this story), could not restrain
his indignation, and exclaimed, "If M. Bossuet really
said so, he is most dishonest! I never spoke to him
of my interior practices save in confession, and then
I certainly never said anything of the sort ! "2
Perfectly alive to the energy and unscrupulousness
which were now openly in the field against him,
Fe'nelon determined to refer the question to the Pope ;
and accordingly — determined to do everything as far
as possible so as to avoid giving offence — he applied
through the Due de Beauvilliers to the King for leave
to do this, even sending a rough draught of his pro
posed letter for his Majesty's perusal. On the x6th
1 De i.a Baumelle, Mimoires, vol. iv. p. 89. 2 Ibid. p. 74.

154 FENELON.

April he received permission thus to appeal, and the
letter, dated April 27, 1697, was accordingly sent
to Innocent XII. In it Fe'nelon explains the
motives which led him to write the Maximes, i.e.
that he saw how some persons were gradually incul
cating pernicious doctrines concerning contemplation
and the interior life, while others, who knew nothing
of spiritual things, turned them into ridicule. "The
abominable doctrine of the Quietists," he says, " was,
beneath a pretence of perfection, gliding stealthily
like a gangrene into various parts of France and
Belgium, and writings, some incorrect, and others of a
very suspicious character, were exciting the indiscreet
curiosity of the faithful. For several centuries past
sundry mystic writers, themselves holding the mystery
of the faith with a pure conscience, had unknowingly
favoured this hidden error; — they did so out of the
excess of a tender piety, combined with a lack of
caution in the use of terms, and a very pardonable
ignorance of theological principles. This kindled the
zeal of certain illustrious Bishops, and led them to
compile Thirty-four Articles together with me, and
also to pass sundry censures on certain little books,
some passages of which, taken in their most obvious
sense, deserved condemnation. It is, however, rare,"
he goes on to say, "that men fly from one extreme
without falling into the other; and some persons have

LETTER TO INNOCENT XII. 155

made this a pretext, contrary to our intention, for
turning the pure love of the contemplative life into
ridicule, as an extravagant chimera. Therefore I be
lieved it well to point out the true mean, to separate
the true from the false, that which is venerable and
confirmed from that which is novel and dangerous;
and that I have attempted to do according to my
limited capacity. It is for you, Holy Father, to judge
thereof, and mine be it to listen respectfully to you,
the successor of Saint Peter."1
This letter was sent to Cardinal Colloredo, to pre
sent to the Pope, and at the same time Fenelon wrote,
enclosing a copy, to Cardinal Denhoff.2 The Holy
Father and these dignitaries, as well as Cardinal
Casanata, wrote back in affectionate terms, avoiding
— as is common to official personages — committing
themselves to anything in particular. The simple
good faith in which Fenelon took the step of appeal
ing to the Pope, and his remarkable personal humility
and absence of self-seeking in the matter, are very
strikingly shown in a letter of his to the SupeVieure of
the Nouvelles Converties, the Community of which he
once had charge, a letter in which he advises her not
to read his book ! After some kind messages to a
sick Sister, and a playful request to her not to die just
1 Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 407. " Ibid. p. 405.

156 FE.NELON.
now, but to wait till some future time when he might
have time to visit her, Fe'nelon goes on to say : — " As
to my book, I wrote it with an honest intention, and
in submission to the Church. I only believe it to be
sound because I find a certain number of excellent
theologians who believe it to be so, and conformable
to the writings of the Saints. Those who attack it
interpret it in a sense altogether different from mine,
while yet they acknowledge that my interpretation is
thoroughly catholic. All the same, my dear Sister,
the stir made by so many admirable people is suf
ficient reason for you to suspend your judgment. I
myself think it a duty to mistrust even my most clear
thoughts, and to redouble my attention in listening to
the thoughts of others, and in explaining myself more
clearly. Moreover, supposing my book to be sound,
it is not suitable to every one; it is not mere ordinary
religious reading intended for all good people. It is
only written for those who direct others, and with
respect to souls of the class alluded to in it. So, for
all these reasons, my dear Sister, I come to the con
clusion that you had better neither read my book
yourself nor give it to the person you mention to
read. It would be mere curiosity, and you know how
strongly I feel that curiosity ought not to be indulged
in religious reading." *
1 Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 440.

CRITICISM AT HOME. 157

Meanwhile the Bishops were fussing and fretting —
Bossuet, in stedfast opposition," preparing a pamphlet
against the Maximes (which he constantly promised
to show Fe'nelon in MS., but without ever doing so),
de Noailles pulled hither and thither according to the
pressure put upon him, and Godet-des-Marais en
deavouring to induce Fe'nelon to retract his book, as
the only means of setting things straight. Tronson
joined with the Bishop of Chartres in this wish.
Fe'nelon writes (May 2, 1697) that he has read M.
de Chartres' criticism with great satisfaction, for he
thinks it would be impossible to do more to upset his
teaching than the Bishop has done, and yet he does
not feel it in any way shaken.2 The three Prelates met
and erected themselves into a tribunal, examining the
book, and picking out all that they thought censurable,
having done which, they invited Fe'nelon to confer
with them upon it. Great pressure was put upon him
to consent to such a course, the King himself, at
1 " Bossuet fremit de se voir enlever sa proie, soutient que
des explications sont des faux-fuyans, veut une retraction formelle,
Vemporte sur le Roi, sur Mme. de Maintenon, sur le Pere de la
Chaise, sur toute la Cour. Paris, ne pouvant e"tre juge du com ¦
bat, raisonnoit sur les combattans. On cherchoit la cause des
anim osil.es de Bossuet et des repugnances de Fenelon. Le grand
eclat de M. de Cambrai eblouit M. de Meaux ; il lui semble que
chaque louange qu'on donne a un autre est un larcin qu'on fait a
sa gloire," etc., etc. — De la Baumelle, vol. iv. p. 75.
2 Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 420.

158 FENELON.

Bossuet's instigation, urging it through de Beau
villiers. Fe'nelon wrote (May n, 1697) to the King
in consequence, expressing his perfect willingness to
resume the examination of his book with the Arch
bishop of Paris, Tronson, and Pirot, although he
denied that the Archbishop had any authority to judge
it ; and also remarked that, while various other people
had seen Bossuet's promised remarks, he had not
done so, and therefore the delay did not rest with
him.' He could not, consistently with his dignity,
admit Bossuet into the discussion, and both the King
and de Noailles seemed to admit this.
The discussions began, but Fe'nelon was in a
difficult position, for the Bishop of Chartres was
Always desiring explanations, yet never able to fix on
what explanations were wanted ; de Noailles was
frightened, and would have let it all alone, if he had
not been continually brought up to the charge by
Bossuet, of whom he was most thoroughly afraid ; and
Bossuet himself, behind the scenes, was altogether im
practicable. He communicated his pamphlet to all
save Fe'nelon, who thus was practically excluded from
the real discussion on his own book by the very person
he himself wished to exclude.2 After a time, finding
1 Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 425.
2 "Ainsila personne que j'avois exclue de l'examen de mon
livre m'en a exclu moi-meme, et mon affaire s'est traitee sans moi,
par des personnes qui n'auroient du s'en meler qu'avec moi et a
ma priere. " — Ibid. p. 445.

BOSSUET'S ANTAGONISM. 159
that this course was not likely to conciliate his epis
copal brethren generally, Bossuet proposed to invite
Fe'nelon to assist at the sittings ; but his letters to his
nephew the Abbe" Bossuet at Rome prove that this
was only done when he and the two Prelates who
acted under his directions had already decided on the
points he considered censurable, the precise qualifi
cations to be made, and the satisfaction Fenelon
(according to them) ought to make to the Church by a
formal retraction. Bossuet, moreover, wrote a paper,
of a most offensive character, which he desired de
Noailles to communicate to Fe'nelon, saying that
the three Bishops felt themselves constrained to
speak, lest the Church at large should suppose they
countenanced the " false doctrine " of the Maximes,
with other equally strong expressions, concluding with
an assertion that, from beginning to end, the book was
neither more nor less than an apology for Quietism.
And as if this was not insulting enough to a brother
Bishop, Bossuet added, that the explanations offered
by Fe'nelon were inadmissible, because they were not
sincere !
Fe'nelon, therefore, most justifiably continued to
refuse to meet Bossuet in conference; Mine, de
Maintenon had been persuaded that the Bishop of
Meaux was essential to the work, and matters were at

160 FENELON.

a sort of deadlock. In a very long letter of June 8,
1697, Fe'nelon puts all the facts connected with his
book before the Archbishop of Paris. At the be
ginning he begs de Noailles not to take to himself
any of the complaints the writer is forced to make,
as he imputes none of the injustice done him to the
Archbishop, who has been forced to act as he has
done d regret. " As to M. de Meaux," he says, " you
know better than any one what has been his line
throughout, and what mine." Fe'nelon recapitulates
the course of events: — "You cannot but remember,
Monseigneur, that I first offered Mme. de Maintenon
at Saint Cyr, in your presence, and subsequently told
the King, that I would renew the examination of my
book with the persons who had already examined it,
i.e. yourself, M. Tronson, and M. Pirot. The only
point to be considered was the doctrine essential to
faith, and my main condition was the exclusion of M.
de Meaux. I have in my hands the minute which
the Due de Chevreuse was good enough to com
municate to you, and which you accepted in every
particular. . . . This exclusion of M. de Meaux
was not caused by resentment, but by the painful
necessity to which he had reduced me of having no
dealings with him, after the conduct he has pursued
toward? me for several years. I had even been con-

LETTER TO DE NOAILLES. 161
strained, since the publication of my book, to write
a detailed account of his proceedings towards me,
which the Due de Chevreuse read to him, and of
which he could deny no particular. Although I had
very strong reasons to give, and an urgent interest in
justifying myself against his attacks, yet I chose to
be silent, and let myself be condemned. I am ready
to publish that document, if unfortunately I should
be compelled to do so.
" M. de Meaux was to communicate his remarks to
me, as he promised the Duke, after which all he had
to do was to leave you alone. I was myself to re
examine my book, profiting by the counsels you might
be so good as to give me, after we had had a careful
discussion, of doctrine only. Such were the precise
terms of our engagement. . . . More than four
months have elapsed without the fulfilment of M. de
Meaux' promise. First, he said that I only should
see his comments upon my book; then he added, that
he should show them to you, Monseigneur, and to M.
de Chartres. He has used this pretext gradually to
hold meetings, which you thought it necessary to
allow of under the circumstances, and which, far from
your intention, have given some strange revelations
to the world. I have yet to receive M. de Meaux'
promised remarks, and you. yourself held that I ought
not to wait for them, when you informed me what

162 F&NELON.
were the chief subjects of criticism in my book, which
I noted down in your presence. Thus the very
person I had excluded from the examination of my
book excluded me myself, and my business was dealt
with without me, by the persons who should only
have interfered hand in hand with me, and at my
request. I was kept in suspense, precious time was
lost, and I was the one man who knew least con
cerning my own affairs, while others were deciding
the fate of my book. You alone, Monseigneur,
showed a sincere disposition to treat me with con
sideration, and looked on with regret at what ysu
could not hinder,
"Then, as soon as these meetings were ended, the
matter was treated as concluded, and I was to be
reclaimed as a culprit." [Here Fe'nelon goes through
the technical course of the proceedings, proving their
injustice by the Archbishop's and Pirot's own witness.]
"Hitherto you have held no discussion with me.
After so long a one with M. de Meaux, it is not just
to come to a conclusion without hearing me. I
cannot look upon the examination as finished when
we have not even begun it. When you have patiently
discussed everything with me, according to your
engagement, and when we have gone into my ex
planations together, you will be in a position to give
me suitable advice, and you will then see, Monseigneur,

CONDITIONS OF CONFERENCE. 163
how much I wish to show you all possible deference
and confidence.
" What is it proposed to do ? They will not under
stand the meaning of my book, and they will not allow
me to explain it. Can it be that they really fear to
let it appear as it really is ? I only want to show that
its real meaning is such as is approved, but they will
not allow it to have such a meaning." . . .
Fe'nelon goes through his defence, and clearly shows
the injustice of his accusers. How far he was from
intentionally teaching Quietism may be seen from his
renewed affirmation : — " I do not fear the accusation of
Quietism; I can speak so clearly upon that as to
remove the faintest suspicion." ¦
De Noailles and the Bishop of Chartres were greatly
impressed with the force of Fdnelon's remonstrances,
and would probably have yielded to them, but
3ossuet overpowered them. His own agent, Phelip-
peanx, says that he replied vehemently, " Do as you
please ; as for me, I will lift up my voice in spite of
you. I will carry my complaint to Rome, and over
the whole earth ; and if I am left single-handed, I will
work alone."
Always ready to concede if it was possible, Fe'nelon
now even consented to confer with Bossuet, but upon
three conditions only: — 1. That there should be other
1 Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 442,

164 FENELON.
Bishops and theologians present. 2. That fair turns
should be taken in speaking, and that' questions and
answers should all be committed to paper as they
were made. 3. That Bossuet should not, on the
strength of any such conferences, take to himself the
office of examiner of the Maximes, but leave that, as
already decided, to the Archbishop of Paris, Tronson,
and Fenelon. - But Bossuet replied with acrimony that
such conditions would make any conference useless,
and the whole thing came to an end.
Fe'nelon must have been driven nearly distracted
among them all. On the 14th of July he wrote to the
Abbe" de Chanterac. that he purposed to go himself to
Rome, if permitted, and wished to make such pre
paration as was necessary, saying that he was ill and
feverish from worry and want of sleep, adding touch-
ingly,"I cannot take quinine; nothing but rest can do
me any good, and that God denies me. Pray for me."
On July 22nd he wrote to de Noailles, enclosing a
document to be read to the King and to Mme. de Main
tenon, adding that it was out of respect to the latter
that he had refrained for several months from attempt
ing to see her. " My conscience will not aUow of my
obeying her wishes, and I should only distress her by
trying to remove the injurious impressions given her
concerning me."1 On the 25th he wrote to Louis XIV.,
1 Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 498.

ASKS LEAVE TO GO TO ROME. 165
asking permission to go himself to Rome, pledging
himself to enter into no other business than that con
cerning his book, to live as quietly as he did at Ver
sailles, and to return immediately on receiving a
positive reply from the Pope. But his cause was
already prejudged, and Louis XIV. had, at Bossuet's
instigation, written an urgent letter to the Pope, call
ing upon him speedily to condemn the Archbishop of
Cambrai's book.1 How much diplomacy and party
spirit was at work at this time is illustrated by the
statement made by de la Baumelle, that at the same
moment Pere de la Chaise wrote to Cardinal Jansson,
as from the King, begging him to protect the interests
of the Maximes at Rome. Louis XIV. only knew of
this when the Cardinal wrote back to say he would do
as his Majesty wished, and the King had a violent
scene with the Jesuit Father in consequence !
July 29th, Fe'nelon wrote again, this time not to the
King, but to Mme. de Maintenon, pressing that he
should be allowed to go to Rome, and pointing out
how evasively he had been treated. " I should go,"
he says, " quietly, hoping to be undeceived if I am in
error, and to find, at all events, what I cannot find in
France, — I mean some one with whom I can come to
* There is a difference in the date assigned to this letter by
different editors, but, anyhow, it was written between the 16th
and 26th of July.

166 FENELON.

a definite conclusion." He wrote at the same time
to the Nuncio, and both these, as well as other letters
of the same date, cannot but strike any reader with
their extreme gentleness and simplicity. But Fe'nelon
was still to be thwarted and hindered. On the ist
August, Louis XIV. wrote in a harsh, unfriendly style,
merely saying that he did not see fit to allow the
Archbishop of Cambrai to go to Rome himself; he
might send whatever was necessary to defend his
book, but he was to go to Cambrai directly, without
lingering in Paris more than was absolutely necessary;
and the letter concluded with a rough order to Fe'nelon
not to leave his diocese until further orders. Practi
cally this was a sentence of banishment : Fe'nelon
knew it was so intended, and it proved such in fact.
He never returned to Paris — never saw either the
King or Mme. de Maintenon again.
That same day, immediately after receiving Louis
XIV.'s letter, he wrote to Mme. de Maintenon : —
*' A Versailles, Aug. i, 1697.
" I shall leave this, Madame, to-morrow, Friday,
in obedience to the King. I would not even pass
through Paris, if I were not at a loss where to find a
fit person to send to Rome, who would be willing
to undertake the journey. I return to Cambrai, in
heartfelt submission, zeal, gratitude, and attachment

BANISHED TO CAMBRAI. 167
to the King. My greatest regret is to have annoyed
and displeased him. No single day of my life shall
I fail to pray that God may fill him with His Grace.
I give myself up to be crushed more and more.
The only thing I would crave of his Majesty is, that
the innocent diocese of Cambrai may not suffer for
the faults imputed to me. I ask protection for the
Church only, and even in that I merely ask not to be
hindered in such little good works as my present cir
cumstances allow me to do as a pastor. I have
nothing further to say, Madame, save to ask your for
giveness for all the trouble I have caused you. God
knows how keenly I feel it. I will never cease to
pray that He Alone would fill your heart, and all my
life I shall remember your former kindness to me as
vividly as if it had not ceased, nor will my respectful
attachment to you, Madame, ever alter." *
Always considerate for others, however little con
sideration he might meet from them, Fe'nelon even
abstained from visiting his dearly-loved Saint Sulpice
— which he was never to see again — and M. Tronson
during this his last sojourn in Paris, lest the malice
of his enemies should wrest even such an ordinary
event to the hurt of the Community. In a few touch
ing lines of farewell, he says : —
1 Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 523.

i6£ FENELON.

"Aug. 3, 1697.
" I refrain from coming to embrace you, that I may
be sure I in no way commit you. I revere and love you
too much not to be more careful for your interests and
those of your Community than for my own — and now
my enemies are not satisfied with attacking my book,
but no pains are spared to blacken me personally.
The Archbishop of Paris, who professed such good
intentions, now adopts M. de Meaux' tone, and
says that for the last four years he has been trying
to draw me from my errors, which are still more
weighty in myself than in my book. They give the
world to understand that it is because of these
deep-seated and long-standing errors, concealed
under smooth language, that these Bishops are
obliged to deal with me in a rigorous fashion, which
would not be used towards another man, in order to
avoid all explanations, and force me into a retracta
tion. I know that Mgr. de Paris joins in this ac
cusation, and that he is going to write to the Pope,
in concert with MM. de Chartres and Meaux, that
they feel themselves conscientiously bound to accuse
me to him, as a man who for years they have known
to hold all the errors of Quietism.
" You know that I have placed all my original writ
ings in your hands from long before the time when
they accuse me of having gone astray, and I have

CORRESPONDENCE. 169
altered in nothing since. . . . M. de Meaux says
that my book and my explanations do not agree,
and that my real opinions are much worse than any
thing I have said in my book. I should be glad, if it
would not commit you, for you to give again precise
testimony as to facts to M. de Chartres^ I am leaving
for Cambrai, whence I shall write to Rome. I may
perhaps write a plain, gentle letter to M. de Meaux,
to clear up matters of fact and doctrine, in which he
represents me as a ' fanatic and hypocrite.' Pray for
me, — I need it greatly in my troubles, — and continue
to love one who is ever full of affection, confidence,
gratitude, arid veneration for you." *
A. few lines written on his first arrival at Cambrai
to M. de Brisacier continue to prove the gentle,
unirritated spirit with which Fe'nelon accepted the
King's most harsh and unjust discourtesy, the
malignity of which he was far too penetrating not
thoroughly to understand. " Cambrai, Aug. 9, 1697.
" I hasten to give you the tidings you desire ; no
one could feel your kindness more cordially than I
do. It seems to me that true faithfulness to grace is
best proved by steadily facing one's actual duties, and
1 Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 54 '•

170 FENELON.

closing one's eyes to whatever may be a snare of
self-love. ' Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.'
I am content to accept my daily bread; anything else
would be a temptation.
" The people here are sensible and well-disposed ;
they are not at all courtier-like, for which I am very
glad ; they have neither courtly politesse nor its
vicious refinements. I hope they will appreciate my
good-will. Pray for them and for me, my dear friend,
I intreat you, and I would askthe same of M.
Tiberge," etc.*
While the great Archbishop betook himself thus
quietly to his distant' diocese, where he lived the
life of a true pastor and saintly Father of his
people, his friends and foes were neither so quiet
nor so meek. Mme. de Maintenon was especially
disturbed. Probably her natural good sense and
right feeling told her that she had acted an unkind and
unworthy part towards one whom she had often called
and honestly believed to be a saint. Later on she
herself told a friend 3 that she was so much distressed,
that the King, although vexed with her about the mat
ter, could not help exclaiming, " How now, Madame !
are we to see you worried to death about all this 1"
" Correspondence, vol. vii. p. 546.
* Entretiens. Mhnoires, vol. vi. p. 191.

DUC DE BOURGOGNE'S GRIEF. 171
The King's letter to Innocent XII., dictated
by Bossuet, has been already mentioned, and on
August 6th the relentless Bossuet made his two
feebler colleagues sign a " Declaration of our opinion
concerning the Maximes des Saints," which, with
the King's sanction, was sent to the Papal Nuncio,
Delfini. It is noticeable that in this declaration
one condemned proposition was simply a printer's
error !
Probably no one felt a keener grief than the Due
de Bourgogne, whose affection for Fe'nelon never
wavered through the years that followed, even when
it involved the displeasure of his royal grandfather.
Now, when he heard that the sentence of exile had
been passed (for such it was, and such every one felt
it to be), the warm-hearted boy threw himself at the
King's feet, intreating that he might not be separated
from Fe'nelon, and pleading the strict orthodoxy of
his own education as a witness to his master's teach
ing. The King seems to have been pleased at the
demonstration of character made by his grandson, but
probably his prejudice against Fe'nelon was rather
confirmed by this fresh proof of the strong influence
the Archbishop had obtained over the Due de Bour
gogne, and he repulsed the boy, with assurances that
he was not his own master, and could not act upon
feeling ; — it was a question of theology, which M. de

172 FENELON.

Meaux ' understood better than they did. However,
he so far yielded, that the title of Preceptor was not
taken from the Archbishop of Cambrai then, and the
young Duke was in a measure pacified.
Fenelon was one of those rarely-gifted people*'
whom to love is an honour and privilege to all
fortunate enough to be near them, and now, in his day
of disgrace, his friends held closely to him, and were
proud of his friendship. Foremost among these was
the Due de* Beauvilliers, who, with his whole family,
remained as devoted to the Archbishop as when he
had been the idol of their choice gatherings in the
Hotelde Beauvilliers. The King did his best to
separate them; he sent for de Beauvilliers, and
threatened him with a like fate to that of his friend,
declaring somewhat pompously, that inasmuch as he
was responsible to God and to the whole kingdom for
the purity of his grandson's faith, he could not but
look upon the Due de Beauvilliers' intimacy and
close connection with the Archbishop of Cambrai,
whose doctrines were under so much suspicion, with
the greatest anxiety. The Duke replied that he was
perfectly alive to the fact that it was at his recommen
dation that Fenelon had been appointed to the Pre-
Ceptorship, and that he had never for an instant
regretted it: they had always been friends, and would
ever be, he hoped. But' the King need fear nothing

ATTACK UPON DE BEAUVILLIERS. 173
as to the Due de Bourgogne's education; so far from
having beeri infected with Quietism, he did not even
know what it meant. The Duke concluded by say
ing, with dignity and feeling, "Sire, you have placed
me where I am, and you can displace me. I shall
accept the will of my sovereign as the Voice of God,
and I should retire from Court at your bidding,
regretting your displeasure, but hoping to lead a more
peaceful ,life in retirement." The King could not
but have been impressed by the Duke's manly, un
compromising honesty; he' accepted his assurances,
and said no more. Meantime de Beauvilliers circu
lated a farewell letter he had received from Fe'nelon
when leaving Paris, arid throughout the remainder
of their lives it was but a rivalry of generosity
and affection between, the two friends. Fe'nelon
writes;. — t .
"Cambrai, Aug. 12, 1697.
"No one can feel more keenly than I do the
distress ,1 have caused you. The mere desire to
relieve this would suffice to, make me do the most
painful or humiliating acts, but I have brought for
ward evidence to. show how, unfouhded the objections
to my book are. I did not find one theologian in
Paris who, after quiet discussion, with me, did not
assent to all my, opinions. The rest make a great

174 FE\NELON.

noise, tear me to pieces, and abuse their authority.
My enemies are some excited people, and a few well-
intentioned persons, who have been overpowered by
those who are acting so passionately. They have
refused to let me explain myself, and insist on attri
buting errors to me which I detest as much as they
do. This is outrageous, and in time all fair-minded
people will have their eyes opened. As to me, all I
wish is to bear my cross peacefully, and to pray for
those who lay it on me. After carrying my cause to
Rome, I shall accept whatever condemnation the
Pope may pass. With God's Help, nothing shall be
found in me but sincere docility, unreserved sub
mission, and love of peace. Meanwhile I shall try to
do my duty here, although all the obloquy cast upon
me interferes with the good I might do in this very
needy country. I pray that God may forgive those
who so greatly hinder me in the performance of my
duty. " The theologians of this country are amazed at the
harsh criticisms on my book made in Paris. What
distresses me most is to offend the King, and make
you incur the risk of losing his favour too. Sacrifice
me, and be assured that my interests are nothing in
comparison to yours. If my prayers are worth any
thing, you will soon feel all the peace and confidence
and comfort which you need in your position. God

QUIET FIRMNESS. 175
knows with what affection, gratitude, and respect, I
am," etc.*
De Beauvilliers wrote shortly after about some pro
positions made by the Bishop of Chartres, to which
Fe'nelon returned a clear, manly answer, asking whether
it was consistent with a kindly feeling towards a brother
Bishop'to uphold Bossuet in persistently attributing to
him doctrines which he altogether repudiated. "From
the first," he says, " I have offered to explain all that
frightens M. de Chartres ; and even if such explana
tions were not asked, I would make them, in order to
enlighten and edify the faithful. But I abide firmly
by what I have said from the beginning ; — no weari
ness, or fear, or hope can ever induce me to say one
word savouring of retractation. I would a hundred
times rather unreservedly accept the most rigorous
condemnation from Rome than utter one equivocal
word giving an impression that I retract, because I
cannot see a single proposition in my book which is
not thoroughly and correctly explained in thirty other
passages. So all negotiation on that score is useless.
I must either be allowed to explain myself, or to wait
for the Pope's judgment, to which I am as submissive
as a little child. I do not know whether Rome will
be particularly edified to find that my brethren have
never been willing to allow me to explain myselfc
1 Correspondence, vol. viii. p. 3.

176 F&NELON.

"I must honestly confess that I do not know what
to make of M. de Chartres. At first he seemed only
to wish for an explanation, then that I should give up
my book. He came back several times to the simple
explanation, but never abided by anything. M. de
Meaux always pulls him back again, and after so many
changes I cannot depend upon his propositions.
Moreover, I have learnt by experience that such deal
ings have made me lose precious time, and have worn
out the King's patience, as if I were responsible for
the irresolution and delay of others. Four or five
times over the; plans we had decided on together for
explaining my book have been upset, in spite of the
Archbishop of Paris. . . . I will write the short
Instruction which M. de Chartres advises as soon as
possible, and promise a new edition, but -that (with
additions) I shall send to Rome, requesting the Pope
to have it overlooked by the safest counsel; M. de
Chartres hardly need be more rigorous or zealous
against Quietism than the Pope and the whole Church
of Rome, where these errors have been condemned
from the birth; and when I offer to subject myself
to the severity of the Inquisition which judged
Molinos, surely the hardest to please might be con
tent. If M. de Chartres is satisfied with this, we shall
have entire peace, and may without delay edify the
Church by our unity. From that moment I shall be

LETTER TO MME. DE GAMACHES. 177
of one heart and soul with him ; and he need not
league himself against me with M. de Meaux, who
insists on making me a heretic in spite of myself. . . .
But if he prevents M. de Chartres from standing firm,
my mind is made up. I have only to bear my
cross, to pray for those who oppress me, and strive to
make up for the scandal given as far as possible by
patience."' There are many other letters written at this period,
more or less in the same strain, all marked by their
forbearance and calm, dignified language, even with
regard to Bossuet, who was, and Fe'nelon knew it,
now taking an active, feverish part in opposing him
personally with every weapon at his command. A
few lines written to Mme. de Gamaches, Aug. 20,
1697, show the true source whence this calm gentle
ness sprang : — " It is no mere form of words to
say that it is good to take up the Cross ; — this is a
Gospel truth which recoils in condemnation upon the
head of those who preach it if they do not try to
follow their own precepts when occasion offers. And
that occasion has come to me now; so I must
embrace my cross, I must perceive its use, and dread
lest I lose the fruit thereof; I must try to bear it
humbly, and not in any earthly strength. My only
strength and help must come from God. I must
1 Correspondence, vol. viii. p. 7.
M

1 78 FENELON.

seek to love those who calumniate me ; I must pray
for them, and be always ready to give up for peace'
sake whatever I conscientiously can. . . . With such
good intentions I am in peace. If I am mistaken,
I shall be undeceived, and that is a great advantage ;
if, while meaning rightly, I have explained myself
amiss, I shall be corrected, and I ought to be glad of
that. Woe be to me if I shunned correction through
a false shame ! I owe more than most men to truth
by reason of my office. All I regret is the scandal
which this matter gives ; and I do not think it is my
fault that it was not put an end to almost as soon as
begun. As to my humiliation, that carries its own
consolation with it, for I know that it is a good thing
to be humbled, and I need it more than most. I
should be but too happy if my present position
teaches me to practise some of the detachment and
self-abnegation of which my book treats. A little while
and the vain dream of life will vanish, and we shall
be reunited in the Kingdom of Truth, where there
is no more error, or division, or scandal, where we
shall be filled with the Love of God, and share in His
everlasting Peace. Meanwhile, let us suffer silently,
and be trodden under foot, bearing the reproach of
Jesus Christ, too happy if our disgrace tends to pro
mote His Glory."' 1 Correspondence, vol. viii. p. 25.

WORK A T CAMBRAI. 1 79
And Sept. 1, 1697, the Archbishop, after telling the
Due de Beauvilliers that they had just sung Te Deum
for the taking of Barcelona,1 goes on to say : — " I
am working on quietly here, dealing gently, so as
to enable myself to work usefully. These people like
me fairly well, because they find me quiet, even, and
not proud ; they do not think me harsh, self-interested,
or artificial. They trust me, and our worthy Flemings,
rough as they seem, are more crafty than I intend to
be. ... In the situation to which men have brought
me, and where God permits me to be, I must be very
careful, and suspend many good works, urgent as they
may be, for just now nothing could succeed. If God
chooses to use me in promoting them, He will disperse
the storm which men have raised. They must answer
to Him for all the good which they hinder, and for
the scandal given to the Church. ... As for the Due
de Bourgogne, I pray daily for him; it is all I can do
for him now. People here are very curious to know
whether I am banished. They ask my servants, but
happily they have not asked me in plain terms. If
it would be better, I am quite ready to make no
mystery, but tell what my orders were. One must
not bargain with God when He chooses to heap
discomfiture and humiliation upon one. If He sees
' It had opened its gates to the Due de Vendome, Aug. 10,
1697, after fifty-two days' siege.

180 FENELON.

fit to complete my overthrow, so that I cannot do
anything, I shall abide in His House, full of hearty
good-will, though an unprofitable servant."1
It was war to the knife now on Bossuet's part,
and chiefly on his, so far as one can judge by the
numerous letters, mimoires, and other writings of
the period.
" Two illustrious adversaries, rather equal than
alike, were seen entering the lists," writes d'Agues
seau ;2 " the one long deeply versed in the Church's
science, and covered with laurels won in many a
combat for her against heresy, an indefatigable
athlete, whose age and past victories might have
dispensed him from fresh wars, but whose vigorous
mind was superior to his weight of years, and who
retained much of his youthful fire ; the other in the
prime of life, less known by his writings, but not less
famous for his eloquence and genius, nurtured and
long trained in the subject of contest, thoroughly
versed in the language of mysticism, capable of
understanding and of explaining everything, and that
plausibly. Friends for years before they became
rivals; both to be admired for the purity of their
lives, and loved for the kindliness of their deeds ;
both ornaments of the Court and of humanity itself;
one respected as a setting sun, whose beams were
» Correspondence, vol. viii. p. 2&. 2 OStivres, vol. viii. p. 204,

THE POPE'S COMMENTS.

about to be quenched with majesty, the other
looked upon as a rising sun, promising to fill the
world with its brightness if once the unhappy eclipse
now pending were passed away. A flood of writings
issued from these fertile pens, which entertained the
public, but saddened Churchmen, as they watched the
division of two men, whose union would have been as
glorious as useful, if they had known how to turn the
arms wielded against one another to the overthrow of
the Church's foes.'"
The Pope is said to have remarked that " Cambrai
erred through excess of love of God, and Meaux from
lack of love to his neighbour."2 And hearing some
Cardinals arguing warmly that Fenelon was damaging
the grace of Hope and Bossuet that of Charity, his
Holiness tersely observed, " Meanwhile none of you
seem to find out that all the while it is Faith which
suffers." Bossuet fully realised the talent of the man he was
seeking to overthrow. Mme. de Grignan asked him
one day if Fe'nelon had really as much esprit as was
said. "Ah, Madame ! il en a, a faire peur 1" was the
reply.3 1 CEuvres, vol. viii. p. 204.
2 "Cambrai pe"che par exces d'amour divin, et Meaux par
defaut d'amour pour le prochain." — De la Baumelle, vol. iv.
p. 103.
3 Ibid. p. 89.

182 ' FENELON.
When Louis XIV. so abruptly refused to allow
Fenelon to go himself to Rome, it became an impor
tant question who could best represent him. He
selected the Abbe* de la Cropte de Chanterac, who
was connected with him through his mother's family,
and who is characterised by Pirot as a wise, concilia
tory, learned, and excellent man. He was a good
theologian, and had specially studied the vexed ques
tion of the present day; he was personally unassailable
in purity and devoutness of life, and he had the gift
of discretion and tact, without which zeal is very apt
to defeat its own ends. Like most of those who
came into direct communication with Fe'nelon, de
Chanterac loved him with a warm, hearty affection,
genuine and bold enough to speak out fearlessly
when he differed from, or even blamed, the friend
whom he served so devotedly. De Chanterac was a
remarkable contrast to the two men who enacted the
part of special pleaders for Bossuet at Rome, — his
nephew Jacques Bossuet and the Abbe" Phelippeaux,
— the latter being an acute, attorney-like theologian,
whose better information was expected to supply
the Abbe* Bossuet's deficiencies in theology. Some
account of the manner in which these persons carried
on the war has been already given in Bossuet's Life,1
and numerous extracts from their correspondence,
Bossuet and his Contemporaries, p. 423.

CARDINAL DE BOUILLON. 183
which do not give a pleasant impression, so that we
may perhaps be excused from repeating the nauseous
details, dwelling here rather on the more dignified,
and certainly more Christian-like correspondence
between the Archbishop of Cambrai and his friends.
One of these was Cardinal de Bouillon, French
Ambassador at Rome, who has been calumniated
recklessly by Jacques Bossuet and Phelippeaux.
That he cordially respected and loved Fe'nelon is un
questionable; but there seems no ground for imputing
to him any of the underhand, dishonest proceedings
of which they accused him, and in which they them
selves certainly indulged.
De Bouillon — Cardinal though he was — was also a
man of the world, and he thought that Fe'nelon had
thrown away good worldly prospects. He was not
particularly keen about the Quietist dispute, and
looked upon the whole thing as more a Court intrigue
than a religious difficulty. From the first he told
Fe'nelon that his book was sure to be condemned at
Rome : he was a diplomatist, and he foresaw that
when a King like Louis XIV. was induced to bring
to bear his weight upon, a Pope like Innocent XII.,
the secular prince was certain to be victorious.
Fe'nelon desired de Chanterac to benefit by the
Cardinal's advice and countenance; but he refused
to correspond himself with him, or to do anything*

184 FE'NELON.

which might either compromise him or have a sem
blance of seeking to use any mere party influence.
The Abbe* Bossuet announced his intention of set
ting spies to work directly that de Chanterac should
arrive,' and he kept his word. Moreover, postal
communications were so tampered with, that the
Archbishop and his representative had great difficulty
in communicating confidentially, and letters had to
be sent by private hands, or by way of Brussels.
Fenelon's instructions to de Chanterac are simple
and straightforward like himself. Never once through
that mass of letters do we come upon a mean or un
generous suggestion or unjust accusation of others ; —
there is not one letter that one feels inclined to wish
had never been kept for the sake of the writer. But
Fe'nelon speaks out plainly, and says what he means
consistently throughout. "My appeal to the Holy
See has vexed our frondeurs very much," he writes
Sept. 3, 1697. "Moreover, I have said what greatly
displeases them, namely, that I hold myself pledged
to submission pour le fait comme pour le droit. You
know my principles in that matter. The Church
must be aided by the Holy Spirit in admitting or
' Bossuet, OZtuvres, Lettres, vol. xxix. p. 147. A gentleman —
M. Paul Masson by name, who had been to call on de Chan
terac— writes, "I was watched as I went in and out — no need
to say'by whose orders." — Correspondence, vol. viii. p. 49.

PRINCIPLE OF APPEAL. 185
rejecting expressions calculated to uphold or damage
the deposit of faith, otherwise she would have no
doctrinal judgment; for the sense can only be pre
served by expressions, and the tradition of that sense
is maintained by such expressions. A man who holds
this, and maintains it openly against all the maxims
of those who seek to condemn his book, is not by
way of attempting to make a stir in the Church, and
to elude the censures of the Holy See." After going
at length into the question of his appeal, Fe'nelon
concludes by saying : — " Take care of your health, and
defend prayer in a spirit of prayer, and pure love with
a disinterested heart. Seek God only in defending
His cause. ' I lift up mine eyes unto the hills,
•vhence cometh my help.' I say with Mordecai,
Thou knowest all things ; and Thou knowest, Lord,
that it was neither in contempt nor pride, nor for any
desire of glory." If God be satisfied, we ought to be,
whatever humiliations He may lay upon us."2
There are some interesting letters of the same date
written from Rome to Monseigneur de Vintimille,
Bishop of Marseilles, by a Dominican, Pere Serry,
giving an outsider's account of the actual position of
' Esther xiii. 12. These latter chapters of the Book of Esther
are to be found in the Vulgate and in our Apocrypha. Mor-
decai's beautiful prayer is singularly appropriate to Fenelon.
Correspondence, vol. viii. p. 38.

186 F&NELON.

things. He says that Fe'nelon had been advised by the
friendly Cardinals and others to make peace at home,
and not let the question be pressed at Rome, advice
which he did not take, as we know. Even then the
authorities tried to escape noticing the book, "fear
ing that the judgment pronounced upon it would not
be altogether acceptable to the King." But Fe'nelon
was thoroughly in earnestr in his appeal, as he himself
said in a private letter of Sept. 25, r697, to de
Chanterac — "If I am proved to have erred in the
faith, or to have countenanced error, I will make
public reparation in the streets of Rome. I will put
myself en pinitence, and, if the Pope pleases, I will
resign the Archbishopric of Cambrai.'"
De Chanterac gives an amusing account to de
Langeron of his first interview with the Pope : —
"Rome, Oct. 1, 1697.
" Did I not tell you before I came here that I was
but sorry at a harangue ! I am not up to all these
quotations from S. Cyprian. I had not prepared a
quamquam. I only had two or three stories in my
head, which I told simply, and with a freedom at
which I was myself astonished. I was heard most
attentively, and what I said seemed to carry effect
and persuasion. Once or twice I was interrupted by
a question as to what authority the persons of whom
1 Correspondence, vol. viii. p. 54.

DE CHANTERAC AT ROME. 187
I was speaking had to treat M. de Cambrai thus?
I was assured that his deference to the Holy See
gave great edification, and I was desired to tell him
that his book should be examined most carefully, and
with much graziositd. After all that, what can you
say against my harangue? I certainly don't talk
Latin well, and I should have been much more afraid
of you, if you had heard me, than I was of the Holy
Father ! He had been told that I was not well, and
on my kneeling he raised me at once, asked if I
could stand, and when I said that I could perfectly,
he still signed to me to lean on his table. It was all
his kindness which made me bold. Another time I
will tell you two or three little bits of Italian which
will amuse you, especially if I could convey the tone
of voice, the action of the hand, and the whole
manner with which they were said."'
No pains were spared to give the impression al
Rome— certainly a true one — that Fe'nelon was out
of favour at Court. The Abbe- Bossuet distributed
copies of the King's letter to the Pope everywhere,
talking of his uncle's influence at the French Court as
if that ought to decide the votes of the examiners.
Fenelon's " Letters to a Friend " promoted his cause
considerably, and one of the Sacred College said to
de Chanterac — "There are two things for which I,
1 .Correspondence, vol. viii. p. 57.

188 FENELON.

would shed the last drop of my blood — truth and
charity. I am bound to defend the first against
M. de. Cambrai's book, if it militates against it ; but
if truth is to be found in his intentions, and his
expressions can be explained after a kindly fashion,
then charity bids me shed my blood in defence of so
great an Archbishop." De Chanterac says he went
on, as if talking to himself: — "No, it is impossible
that God should suffer the goodness and innocence
of so great a man to be oppressed. All this will turn
to his glory, and at any rate he will have edified the
Church by his submission." The Grand Vicaire con
tinues to tell Fe'nelon that he meets with general
kindness and sympathy, especially from the Pope.
Cardinal Noris went into all the details of Mme.
Guyon's history, etc., with him, and characterised the
three opposing prelates somewhat epigrammatically —
" Or&, prtz timiditate, ex nimia timiditate; the next, acer,
vehemens, confidit sibi ipse; the third, favor, gratia."1
These three published their "Declaration" against
the Maximes; and, October 28th, Fe'nelon sent a
copy of a "Pastoral Letter" to Rome, which, as he says,
was written before he saw their document, and con
sequently was not a direct answer to it Such an
answer he sent later, begging that it might not be
printed, for the sake of those prelates, on whom he
1 Correspondence, vol. viii. p. 86.

OPINIONS CONCERNING THE MAXIMES. 189
felt that it cast shame. Eventually, however, his
friends prevailed, and the document was published,
as well as a Latin translation of the Maximes and
of the " Pastoral Instruction.''
" The main point," Fe'nelon wrote to de Chanterac,
November 12, 1697, "is to preserve our own patience,
simplicity, and honesty, and to speak out accurately
and unreservedly on each article."1
It is hardly possible to go through the lengthy
correspondence which is in our hands, whether that
of Bossuet or Fenelon's friends, and not feel that, if
so much of Court intrigue had not been mixed up
in the question, the decision would not have been
against Fe'nelon. Many persons in authority liked
the book, and could see no evil in it. One Cardinal
said that he thought it so beautiful and so good that
he had bought it for his own use, and a Bishop, his
director, approved the course ; ' others discussed it
favourably. Even in Paris a doctor of Sorbonne
wrote that Fdnelon's " Pastoral Letter " had quieted
people, and that after such a clear exposition of his
mind, no one could accuse him of being unorthodox ;
and that, though the King was urging his Holiness
to come to a decision, it was not believed that the
Pope could or would condemn him.3 A flood of
1 Correspondence, vol. viii. p. 166. 2 Ibid,
* Ibid. p. 214, Dec. 4, 1697.

19a F&NELON.
writings against him was pouring forth from Paris ; *
but de Chanterac had some difficulty in persuading
Fe'nelon to defend himself, so little did he share in
the irritated, self-seeking spirit of his opponents.
" I beseech you, Monseigneur," de Chanterac writes,
December 7, 1697,2 "neglect nothing that you can do
in defence of the truth. Believe me; it is no longer
yourself personally whom you defend, and Christian
humility should not lead you to give up the cause of
religion and the pure Love of God which is attacked."
He yielded, but always with the same mind. " Suc
cess is in God's Hands, not ours ; whatever happens
will be His ordering, and therefore, by His Grace,
I shall be content." 3
We need scarcely repeat the details of this ecclesi
astical lawsuit, which are given already in Bossuet's
Life. The year 1698 found Jacques Bossuet intrigu
ing, the King pressing on for speedy condemnation,
the Pope' struggling to defend himself from the un-
1 Bossuet had published his Summa Doctrines, De Nova
Qucestione, Declaratio, Aug. 6, 1697, and Qucesliuncula, and
these were followed by sundry more (see Life of Bossuet).
A great person at Rome said, "Meldensis episcopus est Papa
Gallus ; sed vult confirmare suas decisiones brachio saeculari,
brachio regio," adding, that the French Pope, who would' not
allow Rome to be infallible, nevertheless gave utterance as
authoritatively as though he thought himself so, and expected
everybody else to think the like ! -
Correspondence, Vol. viii. p. 223. 3 Ibid. p. 250.

DUC DE BOURGOGNE'S WEDDING. 191
dignified pressure laid upon him by the French mon
arch, who, under Bossuet's dictation, addressed the
Holy Father as though having the right to speak with
the authority of a practised theologian, who had clear
and well-formed opinions of his own upon all these
subjects ! Hints were given that the Archbishop of
Cambrai could never hope to appease the King and
return to Court save by retractation. But he quietly
replied that he had no thought ni de pres, ni de loin
of returning to Court — certainly never at the expense
of truth arid conscience. Perhaps he might have
felt some attraction there on the occasion of his
favourite pupil's marriage,1 which took place that
autumn, and from which he was pointedly excluded.
Yet even when others expressed their indignation at
seeing the Archbishop slighted and ignored, he could
write calmly of it :^— "Feb. 4, 1698.
" I cannot tell you, my dear Abbe, what the King
may have thought concerning me with respect to the
Due de Bourgogne's wedding. One thing is certain,
that he did not think fit that I should take part in it,
as he did not summon me. Indeed, it would not
have been decent for him to have done so, while he
permits the three prelates to denounce me to the
' Saint Simon gives a curious account of this child-wedding
and its ceremonies, Mimoires, vol. iii.

192 FENELON.

whole Church as a Quietist. Another thing which
is altogether false is, that I asked, or made any one
else ask, the King to allow me to assist at the
marriage. You may say as authoritatively as you
please that there is no foundation whatever for such
a report. But I do not think we should make much
use of such weapons as these, which are too human
to help our cause. ' Hi in curribus et hi in equis ; nos
autem in Nomine Domini.' " '
De Noailles' "Pastoral Instruction" against Fe'nelon
led him to give some further answers — for here too
Bossuet had meddled, and induced the Archbishop of
Paris to erase some kindly expressions towards his
old friend; and at every conjuncture the Abbe"
Bossuet was at hand, to detract and calumniate, to
decry and insinuate where open defamation was impos
sible. He is his own historian, and does not scruple,
in his letters to his uncle, the Bishop of Meaux,
triumphantly to narrate his spiteful sayings, of which
a man one degree worthier would at least have had
the grace to be ashamed, if he could not restrain
them. He continued to incite his uncle to violent
measures, and especially that he should obtain
Fenelon's final dismissal from his Preceptorship — a
nominal office indeed, as it had now become. "What
Correspondence, vol. viii. p. 383,

DISMISSAL OF HOUSEHOLD. 193
can the King be waiting for?" he wrote angrily to
Bossuet ; " why does he not deprive M. de Cambrai
of the Preceptorship? You cannot be too speedy
in what measures you have to take against him."
And he did his best to propagate all manner of slan
derous reports concerning Fe'nelon, urging that any
scandalous gossip which might be invented about
Mme. Guyon, Pere la Combe, or any one connected
with the Archbishop, was " of the greatest conse
quence." His enemies' machinations succeeded at last, and
on June 2, 1698, Louis XIV. dismissed every one
connected with Fe'nelon save the Abbe" Fleury, who,
though a devoted friend of the Archbishop, had never
taken any part whatever in the exciting topics of the
day. Bossuet boasted that he had saved him from
the general wreck. " Fleury has only been retained
because I answered for him," he wrote to his nephew,
June 30th. But the Abbe" de Langeron and de
Beaumont, Dupuy and Leschelle (all men who had
been employed about the Due de Bourgogne for nine
years, — not blamelessly alone, but how successfully
his altered character and advanced education might
show) were rudely dismissed, without any acknowledg
ment whatever of their valuable services — without, not
to say any reward, but even a civil word ! None of
them were rich men, and the Abbe- de Beaumont had
N

194 FENELON.

literally nothing save his salary as sous-prieepteur?
The malignant Jacques Bossuet received these tidings
exultihgly writing to his uncle that it was the best and
most efficacious news possible, only to be surpassed
by that brought by the next courier (which, how
ever, was false2), that the King had deprived Fe'nelon
himself of his office and its salary ; and going on to
urge that Pere Le Valois, the Duke's confessor, should be
got rid of, as worse even than the other four, with spite
ful remarks about Pere de la Chaise, etc. He went
about everywhere parading these events, indiscreetly
embellishing them with his own opinions and wishes,
and assuring people that all this was but the beginning
of the measures the King was about to take for the
utter destruction of Fe'nelon. There is no doubt that
Mme. de Maintenon had been worked up into a great
' De Chanterac, on hearing of his dismissal, wrote earnestly to
request Fenelon to give his own canonry to de Beaumont. " II
meriteroit assurement mieux que moi de posseder ces benefices.
O que de bon cceur je l'en rendrois le maitre, si vous le jugiez
a propos 1 et je vous supplie de vouloir y penser devant notre
Seigneur. J'espere toujours qu'il vous protegera jusqu'a la fin,
lui qui est la veritl et la vie. II n'y a que lui seul qui vous puisse
soutenir au milieu de tant de combats et de si rudes epreuves.
Que j'ai de consolation de pouvoir prendre quelque part a vos
peines, et de m'attacher toujours plus fortement a vous pour le
temps et pour l'eternite ! car il me semble que c'est ainsi qu'on
doit etre uni devant Dieu." — Correspondence, vol. ix. p. 203.
2 Fenelon was not himself formally dismissed until January
1, 1699.

"NON EST IRA SUPER IRAM MULIERIS." 195
state of excitement in this matter, and that she pro
moted the dismissals which reflect so little credit upon
her idol the King. Her letters to the Cardinal Arch
bishop prove this ; and one of the sacred conclave,
who knew his Paris world pretty well, remarked upon
it, " Non est ira super iram mulieris." •
Fe'nelon wrote to de Chanterac : —
"Cambrai, June 6, 1698.
" You will have heard, my dear Abbe", that MM.
de Paris and Meaux have had de Langeron and de
Beaumont sent away from the Princes. They have
carried this measure for two reasons — first, to let it be
seen at Rome how strong a part the King takes against
me, hoping to influence that Court, the tendency of
which seemed too favourable to me ; and secondly, to
deprive me of any hope of returning to Versailles,
even if I should not be condemned at Rome, so as, if
possible, to force me to come to some unworthy terms
with a view to a return thither. As to the Court,
I should be very sorry ever to purchase my resto
ration by any doubtful expedient."2
The Due de Beauvilliers anticipated his own dis
missal, as he wrote to Tronson, June 10, 1698.
Fenelon's enemies' had overshot their mark, and
1 Correspondence, vol. ix. p. 198. " Ibid. p. 147.

196 FENELON.

the prevailing impression in Rome was that he had
been shamefully ill-treated, with an inevitable reaction
in his favour. Cardinal Spada asked incredulously
whether such a report could be true, and seemed
ashamed for France upon its confirmation ; and the
Pope, who gave de Chanterac an immediate private
audience, was moved and distressed at the harsh
act, as a personal friend might be, expressing his
warm sympathy.
"I told him," de Chanterac wrote to the Abbe"
de Langeron, " that M. de Cambrai had expressly told
me that he was prepared to resign his archbishopric,
and subject himself to public penance and a solitary
life for the rest of his career, if there were the slightest
ground for accusing either his faith or morals. The
Pope was prepared for this, — he had already heard it
from a confidential friend; and as I began to speak, he
held up both his hands, as a man does when unwilling
to hear something, so entirely is he convinced that
MT de Cambrai is beyond all possible suspicion." The
Holy Father returned again and again with amaze
ment to the ungenerous treatment inflicted. " Expu
lerunt nepotem, expulerunt consanguineum, expulerunt
amicos !" he exclaimed, as though scarcely able to
credit it.1
De Chanterac's letters, both to Fe'nelon and other
1 Correspondence, vol. ix. p. 217.

EXAMINATIONS OF THE MAXIMES. 197
friends, continue to represent their disgrace as the
general subject of conversation, the agents of Bos
suet's and de Noailles' party making use of it ih every
possible way to damage the Archbishop of Cambrai,
and to intimidate those who were disposed to take his
side. Ferielon's own letters Continue to maintain their
usual calm, temperate tone, and as one adverse cir
cumstance after another lowers upon him, and seems —
in the judgment of an Abbe" Bossuet and his like — to
crush and humiliate him, he rises up before the truer
judgment of a less prejudiced period greater, nobler,
more faithful in following his Master's Footsteps than
ever. Meanwhile the examiners were holding their con
stant sittings upon the Maximes. Between October
12, 1697, and September 25, 1698, sixty-four meetings
had been held, and it was known generally that some of
the examiners were altogether impressed in Ferielon's
favour. Bossuet put forth all his strength in one more
book, the Relation sur le Quiitisme, which he formally
presented to the King and Mme. de Maintenon at
Marly, where the Court was. Mme. de Maintenon
wrote to the Archbishop of Paris that the book was
making an immense stir — nothing else was talked of;
it was lively and amusing, and every one was wild to
read it. She adds that it had made the King very
angry, and that he had reproached her sorely for

198 F&NELON.
having misled him into making such an Archbishop as
Fe'nelon ! * This fresh stroke filled Fenelon's friends
at Rome with dismay, coming as it did immediately
after the disgrace of all his friends. The Relation was
so skilfully written ; it implied so much more than it
said ; it gave the public to understand that so much
of damaging fact was withheld out of generous con
sideration ; such mysterious hints of evil too dark to
be expressed abounded, — and the way in which the
King and Mme. de Maintenon were known to accept
and endorse all this of course confirmed it, — that for a
moment men's hearts failed them, and waverers began
to say, who indeed could be trusted if such a man as
Fe'nelon were to fail ! The Archbishop himself was
the only person who seemed to remain calm and
unanxious. His letters are quiet and simple, even
playful. He had prepared a reply to de Noailles for
the press, and on June r3th wrote to de Chanterac to
say that he had determined not to publish it, as, in
the exasperated state into which the King had been
1 LeUres, vol. iv. p. 135.
Dangeau says in his. Journal :—" M. de Meaux presenta au Roi
un livre, dans lequel il explique la conduite qu'il a eu avec M. de
Cambrai, et ou il fait le detail des opinions de Mme. Guyon.
Ce livre est une sorte de condamnation de tout le precede de
l'Archevgque de Cambrai dans cette affaire. M. de Meaux donna
l'apres-dinee ce livre a beaucoup de courtisans. Le Roi en parla
a, sa promenade, et dit qu'il n'y avoit pas un mot dans ce livre qui
ne fut vrai."

RELATION. 199

brought, such a step might ruin all his friends still
further than was already done. " They hold but by a
thread ;" ' and indeed de Beauvilliers' letters to Tron
son show that it was true of himself and the Due de
Chevreuse.2 June 27th, Fe'nelon writes again : — " It
distresses me not to be able to publish my Answer to
M. de Paris for fear of ruining my precious friends ;
but one must die to all things, even to the consolation
of justifying one's innocence in respect of the faith.
I wait God's time patiently."3 And now the Arch
bishop hesitated about answering Bossuet publicly,
probably for the same reason. The first mention of
the Rilation by de Chanterac is in a letter of June 28,
1698. Fe'nelon apparently did not see it till the
beginning of July.4 He made sundry marginal notes,
and sent it to de Chanterac, saying that any one who
would read attentively what he had written on the first
eighty pages would be satisfied that his opponent's
fabric could not stand. He continued to urge his
desire to come himself to Rome, but this was a mea
sure that would have proved so fatal to their intentions
that it was never permitted to be entertained as a
' Correspondence, vol. ix. p. 165.
3 D'Aguesseau says that de Beauvilliers' fate was entirely in
de Noailles' hands, and attributes it to the Cardinal's being "more
Christian than politic" that he did not overthrow him. — Qiuvres,
vol. xv. p. 350.
3 Correspondence, vol. ix. p. 208. * Ibid. p. 249.

F&NELON.

possibility. Meanwhile Fe'nelon could not but com
ment on the factj that in spite of all the King's pro
mises to remain neuter, and to await the Pope's
decision, he had been forced into every most extreme
measure against one whom it was feared might not be
crushed without such partisanship;
On July 19th we find de Chanterac writing to urge
Fenelon to answer the Relation publicly, and not to
content himself with a private circulation of these
marginal notes, and pressing on him the injurious
impressions such assertions as Bossuet's are making
on the world, maintained as they were by the insinua
tions his partisans did not scruple to throw out of
the revelations they could make but for their desire
to screen Ferielon's reputation to the last. Nothing
can exceed the urgency with which de Chanterac,
more worldly wise, though not less upright in intention,
than his principal, presses that the time has come
when no considerations, even for the dearest friends,
must hinder him from speaking out boldly in his own
defence, and clearing himself entirely from these cruel
imputations. He writes no less forcibly on the matter
to Langeron, in order that he may also urge the point.
" I thoroughly enter into your difficulty, and feel for
your distress and doubts. I know how far friendship
and generosity influence such a heart as yours ; — that
you would willingly sacrifice life and reputation for

URGED TO JUSTIFY HIMSELF.

your friends. And if it were but a private matter that
is in question, perhaps it might be better to put up
with the injustice of these accusations than to damage
them. But I question whether an Archbishop, who
for the Church's honour ought to be irreproachable in
his ministry, can withhold from replying, when he is
accused either as concerns the sincerity of his faith
or of maxims which subvert all morals under a garb
of piety."1 The Pope had heard the Secretary, with
kindness and sympathy, protesting that there was no
occasion for Fe'nelon to come to Rome in order to
clear himself. De Chanterac concludes by saying : —
"Amid all our fears, and the heavy clouds under
which we have proceeded of late, we strive to be firm
and endure the storm. We are told on all sides that
our cause is desperate, and I say confidently to our
Lord, ' Domine, salva nos, perimus,' and hope. Good
men may be overwhelmed, the truth never ! True
doctrine will be upheld, and so long as that is the
case you will not fall. The more your danger the
more I long to help you, and the keener my zeal and
affection become. At all events, I would share in
your trouble — Come, and let us die with Him."
Fe'nelon replies that it is easier for him to justify
himself than to publish his justification, hindered as
he was on all sides by restrictions which would not
1 Correspondence, vol. ix. p. 268.

FENELON.

allow of his printing it in Paris, while he would be
loudly condemned for doing so without the country.
He intreats de Chanterac to be patient more and
more as the burden grows heavier, and indeed com
forts his friend, and intreats him to take care of his
health amid so much pressure and harass, more as if
he were the person chiefly aggrieved than the writer !'
August 2nd, Fe'nelon announces that he has finished
his reply to the Rilation. The work had been tedious,
he says, for he had no assistants, and was obliged
himself to seek out his references and copy every
thing. By August 30th the packet reached Rome, and
no one could but be struck with the lucid and ad
mirable style in which, under all his difficulties,
this Answer to his opponents was written.2
As an answer it seems conclusive ; and no fair-
minded man could read it without regretting that
Correspondence, vol. ix. p. 284.
3 The Archbishop of Paris, Bishop of Chartres, and Bossuet had
all put forth weighty writings against Fenelon within a few weeks.
"II y eut telle province en France et telle contree en Europe,"
says Cardinal de Bausset, " oil la Riponse H la Relation, parvint
en mertie temps que la Relation elle-meme. On ne savoit ce
qu'on devoit le plus admirer dans cette Riponse — la clarte dans
l'exposition des faits, l'ordre et I'exactitude retablis dans leur
marche naturelle ; chaque accusation detruite par des preuves
irresistibles ; le merite si rare de mettre dans la justification plus
de precision que n'en offroient les accusations ; I'accord encore
plus rare de la simplicite, de l'elegance et de la noblesse du
style," etc. etc. — Histoire de Fe'nelon, vol. ii. p. 117.

ANSWER TO THE RELATION. 203
Bossuet should have allowed passion to blind him so
far as to bring accusations against the Archbishop in
the reckless way he did. It is impossible to write a
life of Fe'nelon without quoting the concluding para
graph of his noble Answer, although it has been
already quoted in the Life of Bossuet : —
" If M. de Meaux has any further document or
witness to bring forth against me, I intreat him to
make no half secret of it, — more damaging than an
open assertion: I conjure him to send everything to
Rome. Thank God, I have no fear of anything that
can be openly told and judicially examined ; I can
only be made uneasy by vague rumours and unin
vestigated allegations. If he holds me to be so
impious and hypocritical that there is no safety for
the Church or himself but in defaming me, he should
surely bring forward whatever proofs he possesses, not
in libels, but in open judicial proceedings. For my
self, I cannot but call to witness Him Whose Eyes
penetrate the thickest darkness, and before Whom we
must all soon appear — He Who reads my heart, and
knows that I cleave to no person and no book, that
I am bound solely to Him and His Church, that I
mourn before His Presence with many a cry that He
would restore peace, and put an end to this day of
scandal ; I ask Him to restore His shepherds to their
flocks, to aather them together in His Fold, and to

204 FENELON.
grant to M. de Meaux as many blessings as he has
heaped crosses upon me."
The reaction on Ferielon's side produced by this
work was tremendous. He sent it himself to Innocent
XII. on August 13th, with a long Latin letter. He was
obliged to send a special courier, in order to make
sure that the various copies sent to Rome — for de
Chanterac, etc. — should reach their end untampered
with. The Papal Nuncio, who of course received
it earlier in Paris, writing to acknowledge the book,
mentions Bossuet's three tracts, De Nova Qucestione,
just out, adding that he "could not help telling M.
de Meaux that this was not the way to put an end
to the strife ! I have intreated that no more be
written: would to God there had been nothing
written on the subject I"1
In Rome the excitement caused by the book was
great : it was the universal topic, and every one seems
to have been impressed by its power and complete
success in clearing Fe'nelon from all Bossuet's accusa
tions. No one felt this more than the Abbe" Bossuet,
who, in his dismay, beset the Pope with mtreaties to
delay the judgment expected on the Maximes until
1 ' ' Fra tanto noil ho potuto contenarmi di non dire a questo
prelato che questa non e la forma di finire. Io ho pregat6 che
pill non scriva; e volesse Dio che non si fosse da esse mai
scritto in questi materie : pagherei del mio sangue !" — Corre
spondence, vol. ix. p. 376.

SYMPATHY OF THE POPE.

his uncle should have had time to answer the book.
His Holiness remarked that such a request was very
inconsistent with the urgency with which Bossuet
himself was pressing for the judgment,1 and seems
to have sent the pettifogging Abbe away in no very
smooth state of mind ! De Chanterac had a very
comforting interview, in which, as ever, the Holy
Father expressed himself most warmly with regard to
Fe'nelon, and, as the Secretary remarks, " nothing
could be better than the Holy Father's inclinations, if
one could only be certain of their stedfastness ; but
his great age and lack of memory are so patent that
one cannot rely overmuch on what he says."2 The
faithful Secretary was greatly cheered by seeing how
every one, official and unofficial, acknowledged that
Fe'nelon was fully cleared. One of the most learned
Bishops in Rome told him that " nothing more could
possibly be desired for de Cambrai's justification, and
that he had smashed M. de Meaux." 3
Theologians, doctors, prelates, religious, all joined
in the universal applause. " No apology ever met
with such general approbation," de Chanterac (whose
recent letters had been very downcast) writes to de
Langeron. He urged that the Latin translation might
be sent speedily, as many could not read it at all, or
Correspondence, vol. ix. p. 399. 2 Ibid. p. 405.
3 Ibid. p. 393.

206 FANELON.
but imperfectly, in French. The Pope had it almost
immediately translated into Italian for his own benefit.
Many of the Cardinals told de Chanterac, sans fa f on,
that they were thoroughly satisfied, and commented
sharply on the lack of charity in the action taken
against him. One prelate (famous for his learning,
and possessing the confidence and esteem of many
Cardinals, says de Chanterac) observed that the
Reponse had worked a great change in men's minds,
and had set the matter upon the right road. Fe'nelon
received all the hopeful tidings calmly, as usual,
remarking (September 6, 1698) that they must ex
pect further difficulties ; and indeed they seemed
close at hand, for Bossuet was already writing again in
reply. " If Rome allows us to go on thus, we shall
never come to an end," he says, "and the scandal
will wax ever greater. I do not wish to silence M. de
Meaux if he has any testimony to bring forth against
me, but I do think he ought to have a fixed limit
assigned within which to say all he can say, and after
that I ought to be heard, so that, upon my final reply,
the Pope should decide without any further dis
cussion. ... If the Pope desires me to give up my
book, I shall do so without hesitation, at his first sign ;
but after all the scandal roused, it would be like a
tacit avowal of what I am accused of if I abandoned
it otherwise."1 Correspondence, vol. ix. p. 439,

A WEARY STRUGGLE. 207
The good Abbe" de Chanterac was greatly cheered :
his was no ordinary strain of body and mind, and
Ferielon's letters are full of affectionate consideration
for him and gratitude for his devotion.
" Do not fear now," the Abbe" writes, September
18, 1698, "that I shall be worn out with our
troubles or overmuch depressed. When I saw you
in your innocence on the point of being overwhelmed
for want of duly answering all these unjust accu
sations, and your silence misinterpreted, and causing
truth to be confounded with error, I must confess that
I was sometimes terribly out of heart, and as I sat
under my juniper-tree I was not always master of my
anxiety. But now that the truth is recognised, and
that you have done all in your power to clear and
defend it, I shall accept whatever can come as the
ordering of God's special Providence for us, and
shall neither murmur nor be cast down, but submit
calmly to His good pleasure." '
At this juncture de Noailles and the Bishop ot
Chartres seemed to feel that they had gone too far
under Bossuet's furious driving, and some feelers
were put out through a safe person, intimating that
Mme. de Maintenon and her Director greatly desired
peace and reunion, but that they met with every pos
sible hindrance. Fe'nelon was ready to meet any
1 Correspondence, vol. ix. p. 460.

208 FENELON.

overtures in his usual kindly, straightforward spirit, —
apparently without the approval of his friends,
— but he knew the Cardinal Archbishop too well
to suppose that either he or the Bishop of Chartres
had strength or courage to resist Bossuet's vehemence.
And he was right : nothing came of the attempt at
reconciliation, and Bossuet did his best to widen
the breach by bringing out some remarks upon
Ferielon's Riponse. It was even more violent, but less
weighty, than his previous writings, and was met by
Fe'nelon in an immediate reply, which he says took
three days to prepare, six to write out, and four or
five to print1 — a reply which confirmed all honest
men's judgment in his favour. How great his
difficulties were, and how bitter and dishonest the
cabal against him, may be judged by the fact, that his
books were stopped when sent by post or public con
veyance, and that his only way of insuring any justifi
catory documents reaching Rome in safety was to
send them by special courier !
The calm dignity of this counter-reply is wonderful,
and carried a prodigious moral weight with it.
Cardinal de Bouillon did not hesitate to pronounce
it the most masterly effort of the human intellect he
had ever seen ! Fe'nelon wrote to de Chanterac with
it, Nov. 7, 1698, "I hope you will be satisfied with
Correspondence, vol. ix. p. 543.

THE ABBE BOSSUET. 209
my answer. If it seems rather stronger in tone than
what I have written before, it is because I cannot
refrain from expressing my horror at such accusations,
and some readers might suppose that my moderation
arose from fear. Anyhow, a comparison will show
that my expressions are very mild and patient com
pared with those of my opponent. ... In Paris my
reply is considered scarcely necessary, and the King
is impatient of my writings. M. Clement, who is in
M. de Chartres' confidence, keeps on writing to me
about a reconciliation, and evidently the Bishop and
Mme. de Maintenon wish it. He talks of direct
overtures to be made shortly; but, without refusing
any, I shall reply that, being in the Pope's hands for
judgment, I cannot with propriety do anything save
in obedience to him. . . . My health keeps good,
thank God, amid work which would overwhelm a
stronger man. . . . God be with you. I desire
nought save His Will in whatever may befall me,
however hard to bear."'
The Abbe" Bossuet was furious. He wrote to his
uncle that Fenelon's party was greatly delighted with
this last book, and urged the Bishop of Meaux to use
every means to crush Fe'nelon, and leave him no
means of escape — to hunt him down like a wild beast !

* Correspondence, vol. x. p. 8.
o

FENELON.

Again and again he exclaims — " If you do not make
haste, it will all be useless !"
But Bossuet did not attempt again to write any
thing of importance, and he ceased to urge his
personal accusations with respect to Mme. Guyon.
Probably he felt himself what d'Aguesseau emphati
cally says, that Fe'nelon had won the confidence of
the public rather than himself.1 The Archbishop had
some controversial correspondence with the Bishop
of Chartres, but the war of writings was practically
over, and the victory certainly remained with Fe'nelon.
Meanwhile the long-protracted examination of the
Maximes had come to an end on September 25, 1698,
after sixty-four sittings, at many of which the Pope
himself had assisted. "They gave their votes in
writing, and were divided to the end," de Chanterac
wrote.2 " If we may believe an Archbishop, a Bishop,
a General of Carmes dechaussis, one of the Pope's old
theologians, and a Procureur-geniral of a reformed
order of S. Bernard, our doctrine is that of the
Church, and our book good as a whole, or if taken
by individual propositions. If, on the contrary, we
are to believe certain Religious of no very special
weight, long distinguished by their violent opposition
1 Mimoires sur les Affaires de I'Aglise de France, CEuvres,
vol. viii. p. 205.
3 Correspondence, vol. ix. p. 481.

REFERENCE TO THE SACRED COLLEGE. 211
to everything savouring of the Jesuits, the book,
though orthodox in doctrine, is sometimes inaccurate
in expression, and therefore deserves censure. Ii
these examiners were judges, we should be dismissed
on every point of accusation raised against us — I
mean against our book ; for it is an unheard-of thing
that the Holy Office ever condemned any person or
book where the votes were equal for and against ; —
but these examiners have only a consulting voice, and
the Cardinals orthe Pope judge and decide."'
Innocent XII. would gladly have acted upon the
examiners' opinion and have finished the matter ; but
after all the pressure put upon him by the Court of
France, under Bossuet's influence, he could not follow
ilis own conscience and will, and he accordingly
referred the case to the College of Cardinals. This
book then, pronounced by the Bishop of Meaux to be
" subversive of all religion," was to undergo another
inquisition before its fate could be sealed.
The number of interesting letters of this period is
embarrassing from its richness — one scarce knows what
to quote and what to withhold, but at all events we
may be allowed to give the following letter, written by
Fe'nelon, after his long silence, with such quiet and
respectful dignity, to Mme. de Maintenon. It is dated
December 1698 : — v
1 Correspondence, vol. ix. p. 482.

FENELON.

" So long as it was impossible for me to keep silence
in public, I felt it right to be silent to you ; but now,
when my case must be already decided at Rome, and
when I expect hourly to receive that decision, I feel
no longer obliged to practise such reserve, but that I
may presume to inform you concerning my own affairs,
with some remains of confidence in your former kind
ness. In a letter which I have just had the honour to
write to the King, I have set before him the conscien
tious reasons which constrained me to defend my book
against my brethren, and to wait the judgment of my
Superior. It is useless to weary you with a repetition
of all this, Madame, as you will read it in my letter to
his Majesty. All that I would ask you to allow me to
say is, that this book, which was pronounced so incap
able of any catholic interpretation, and by reason of
the impiety of which my brethren thought fit to drive
me to the last extremity, — this book has seemed to
the five chief theologians selected by the Pope from out
the whole Church of Rome, not only to be capable of
the best construction, but still more, so pure and cor
rect, that, according to them, it needs no explanations.
It is true that five others are against my book, but the
voice of the public has decided that, though highly
respectable, they have not the same weight as the first.
Moreover, even they allow that in a hundred places
the book condemns all the errors they fear, taking

LETTER TO MME. DE MAINTENON. 213
refuge in the assertion that certain less plain passages
might countenance error ; as though innumerable clear
passages would not altogether outweigh some few less
distinct utterances. Moreover, the examiners who are
unfriendly to me are by no means in favour of M. de
Meaux' criticisms, whichnone of them have attempted to
defend or to excuse. ... In short, after fifteen months'
examination, the five principal theologians concerned
maintain that my book is uniform with the doctrine of
the Saints, and altogether opposed to the delusions of
Quietism. The inviolable rule of the Holy Office, the
strictest of all tribunals of faith, is that a book is held
to be justified unless a majority of votes condemns it.
And this rule is conclusive in my favour. This anti
cipatory judgment clears me, Madame, in the face of
all Christendom. Am I required to be a closer theo
logian and more opposed to Quietism than these five
examiners whom the Pope has selected ? I was not
occupied fifteen months in writing this book, as the
examiners have been investigating it. I had not
studied, as they have, all the subtle objections which
can be brought to bear against it. I wrote simply
and trustfully, without foreseeing any of the evil inter
pretations which have been saddled upon me against
my will. I imagined myself to be taking precautions
enough, when following with unlimited docility all the
counsels of those who were most sensitive to the

214 FENELON.
danger of delusion. All Christendom beholds now,
Madame, that the Pope's chief theologians uphold my
book, and that if an extraordinary course had not sus
pended the wonted use of the Holy Office, I should
have won my cause even according to the strictest
rules. It might have seemed natural even to have
somewhat relaxed such rules, to avoid damaging a
submissive Archbishop of innocent life. But, on the
contrary, Rome is required to overstep its own strictest
rules, in order to crush that Archbishop as a Quietist.
If the Pope sees fit to yield, I have no choice but to
sacrifice myself and obey my Superior.
"I only take the liberty, Madame, of telling you
all that is being done at Rome when it is probably
over, and I lay it before you only to show you what
my opinions and conduct are. Whatever it may
please God should occur, nothing will be seen in me
save docility towards the Pope my Superior ; save zeal,
submission, and gratitude to the King my master;
save respect, attachment, and gratitude to you,
Madame; save love for the Church's peace, abhor
rence of novelties, and forgetfulness of the severity
with which my brethren have attacked me. While
thinking of them all in a spirit of true brotherly kind
ness before God, I cannot but be alive to the differ
ences with which some have treated me from others.
"I have but two things more to say, Madame.

DIGNIFIED SUBMISSION. 215
First, that if the Pope condemns me, I shall en
deavour to bear my cross without a murmur, and with
a submissive heart ; and that if the Pope will but
follow the ordinary rules, as I hope, and justify me.
I shall stand towards my brethren exactly as if they
had never attacked me. And next, that amid all the
crosses heaped upon me, there is none heavier than
that of having so greatly offended you ; yet I cannot
complain if you believed three great prelates rather
than me, or if you preferred the Church's welfare to
my individual reputation. Reflecting on the impres
sions given you, I can understand that it was natural
you should have gone even further, and that only a
lingering kindness for me has restrained you. I feel
this, and shall ever feel it. I intreat God with all my
heart, Madame, that He would comfort you in pro
portion to the pain I have unwillingly caused you,
and fill you with His abundant Grace to work His
Will. While I live I shall be ever your most faithfully
attached and respectful servant,'' etc. etc.
If Mme. de Maintenon answered this letter her
reply has been lost, but it seems probable that she
did not answer, — in fact, it would have been difficult
for her to know what to say ; she had been thoroughly
impressed1 with the danger of a rampant Quietism if
1 Lettres, vol. iv. p. 143. "Si M. de C. n'est pas condamne,
c'est un fier protecteur pour le quietisme." — To de Noailles.

216 FANELON.

Fe'nelon were not condemned, and the King had been
induced by Bossuet to make it almost a personal
question, so keenly did he press Innocent XII. to
condemn the Archbishop and his book.
A suggestion of the Abbe" Bossuet's had already
been acted on, and a censure passed on twelve pro
positions taken from the Maximes by sixty doctors of
Sorbonne in October 1698. It is noticeable that this
censure was a paper drawn up by Pirot, who had
studied the original manuscripts, suggested alterations
which were adopted by the author, and finally pro
nounced the book worth its weight in gold ! It
would seem as if many of the signatures appended
to this document were merely a sort of Court compli
ment; but the manoeuvre was not a success. The
censure carried little weight at Rome, where it was
intended to make a great impression; while, on the
contrary, considerable displeasure was excited at these
doctors arrogating to themselves the right to prejudge
the sentence impending at Rome, and Cardinal de
Noailles had to take some trouble to excuse himself
for having allowed such impertinent dogmatising !
The next effort made was a bold one. It must have
been close upon the time of Fe'nelon's letter to Mme.
de Maintenon that Bossuet made the King write
a threatening letter (one can call it nothing else) to
the Pope. It was evidently dictated by Bossuet, and

FINAL DISGRACE AT COURT. 217
intended as a coup de main. In spite of a semblance
of smooth words, and the signature of his Holiness's
"most devoted son Louis," it was dictatorial and
impatient to a degree of which the Pope was fully
conscious; and a letter went by the same courier
to the French Ambassador, Cardinal de Bouillon,
making him practically responsible for the immediate
completion of the King's wishes.1 A few days later
the stroke so'long aimed at Fenelon was brought about,
and, Jan. r, 1699, Louis XIV. caused the official
list of his grandson's household to be brought to him,
and with his own hand crossed out the Archbishop of
Cambrai's name, both in title as Preceptor and on
the list of salaries. Fe'nelon never took much notice
of this fresh affront ; he had felt the dismissal of his
friends too much to feel his own very keenly ; and it
was not likely that a man always so indifferent to
money, and who had actually offered his revenues to
the Privy Purse when it was greatly straitened some
few years earlier, would be very sensitive on the score
of salary. Louis XIV. certainly was the greatest loser
by the measure. Probably the only person mean
enough really to rejoice in the fact was Jacques
1 "C'est bien a nous," Cardinal de Bouillon said to his
brethren of the Sacred College, "a defendre le pur amour; a
nous, qui ne connoissons que l'amour impur !" — De LA BAU
MELLE, Mimoires, vol. iv. p. 97.

218 FENELON.

Bossuet, who congratulated his uncle, only bemoan
ing that the Due de Beauvilliers did not share his
friend's fate — a very dangerous omission, so he pro
nounced it to be.
The Pope, beset from without by Louis XIV., and
from within by the unremittingly impertinent assaults
of the Abbe" Bossuet, put on all the speed he could.
All other business of the Holy Office was suspended,
we are told;1 but even so matters did not advance
rapidly, and in spite of the contre-poids terrible of
the Court of France, there were men who did not see
why they should be browbeaten on their own territory,
moral and material, even by the Grand Monarque
himself. De Chanterac, however, foresaw that all this pres
sure must end in the condemnation of the book.
His best friends at Rome said it was not possible for
the Pope to resist all the efforts made by the King of
France." Innocent XII. was kind and gracious still
1 Correspondence, vol. x. p. 233.
2 " Tres-Saint Pere, — Dans le temps que j'esperois de 1'amitie
et du zele de Votre Saintete une prompte decision sur le livre
de l'Archeveque de Cambrai, je ne puis apprendre sans douleur
que ce jugement, si necessaire a la paix de I'Eglise, est encore
retarde par les artifices de ceux qui croient trouver leur interet
a le differer. Je vois si clairement les suites facheuses de ces
delais, que je croirois ne pas soutenir dignement le titre de fils
aine de I'Eglise, si je ne reiterois les instances pressantes que
j'ai faites tant de fois a Votre Saintete, et si je ne la suppliois

UNDUE PRESSURE AT ROME. 219
in their personal interviews, but de Chanterac wrote
that he seemed thoroughly wearied and worn out with
the subject; — both he and the Cardinals were terribly
frightened by the threatening solicitations they re
ceived from France. A feeling began to prevail that
it would be for the general peace of the Church to
give up Ferielon's book, even if there were not much
amiss in it. Couriers from France were arriving daily
with every stimulus to action that could be brought
to bear, and no means were spared to make, not the
Pope only, but all the Cardinals, feel how awkward a
thing it might prove to them to quarrel with the Court
of France — a powerful Court, whose support they were
so liable to need any day." The Pope called for
public intercessions that he and his Sacred College
might be guided rightly in their judgment, evidently
d'apaiser enfin les troubles que ce livre a excites dans les con
sciences. On ne peut attendre presentement ce repos que de la
decision prononcee par le Pere Commun ; mais claire, nette,
et qui ne puisse recevoir de fausses interpretations ; telle enfin
qu'il convient qu'elle soit, pour ne laisser aucun doute sur la
doctrine, et pour arracher entierement la racine du mal. Je
demande, Tres-Saint Pere, cette decision a Votre Beatitude, pour
le bien de I'Eglise, pour la tranquillite des fideles, et pour la
propre gloire de Votre Saintete. Elle sait combien j'y suis sen
sible, et combien je suis persuade de sa tendresse paternelle.
J'ajouterai a. tant de grands motifs qui la doivent determiner,
la consideration que je la prie de faire de mes instances et du
respect filial avec lequel je suis,'- etc. etc.---23«f Dec. 1698.
1 Correspondence, vol. a. p. 257.

220 FENELON.
quailing under the pressure from without ; and Mme.
de Maintenon wrote (Jan. 20, 1699) that the answers
from Rome were unsatisfactorily vague — she feared
lest by seeking too much the party pressing for
Fenelon's condemnation might lose all — " the Pope
will promise nothing, not even diligence." Almost
on the same day (Jan. 23rd), Fe'nelon wrote to de
Chanterac :— " All Europe will believe that an innocent
Archbishop has been sacrificed to please the Court,
though really to its simple damage, and contrary to
all its true interests, as well as those of wholesome
doctrine. As for me, I can only obey and be silent,
having delivered my conscience, when once my
Superior speaks ; but I do not hesitate to say that a
censure or prohibition will hardly damage the Holy
See with Europe generally less than it will me. Come
what may, I shall remain firm to the end, and wait in
simple faith for truth to set me free. And for your
part, my dear Abbe", fix your heart firmly on the
words, 'Quis es tu, ut timeres ab homine mortali ?'
If God does not choose to make any further use of
me in my ministry, I shall give myself up to loving
Him for the rest of my life, being no longer able to
work towards making others love Him. I shall feel
the value of all you have done for me, as much as if
you had obtained the approval of my book ; I shall
be no less grateful for the unspeakable trouble you

THE CARDINALS.

have gone through for so long. Do not be afraid of
men. . . . Heaven and earth will pass away, but the
words of Jesus Christ will never pass away, and His
Truth abideth for ever."1
Meanwhile the Cardinals sat in conclave — but by
no means harmoniously3 — on the much-discussed
book. Evidently they felt strongly the dangers which
beset them, "It will not do," they prudently said,
" to fire great guns at a king. Rome's wisest course
demands of her to yield to him whatever may be
yielded without wounding the first truths of religion." *
The recent struggle with the Gallican Church was
fresh in all minds, and new collisions were to be
avoided. Nevertheless, Innocent XII. in his heart
sided with Fenelon, and toiled to deliver him from the
snare, much as Jonathan toiled to deliver David from
the persecutions of Saul. When at length the Sacred
College decided that there were twenty-three repre
hensible propositions in the Maximes, only differing
as to whether they should be censured specifically
or generally, they referred this final decision to the
Pope, and he saw that there was no help for it, —
' Correspondence, vol. x. p. 266.
3 As one of the Cardinals said of Fenelon's opponents,
"Vinceranno, ma non trionferanno. " Another said, "The
book may be prohibited in order to satisfy France, but it can
not be condemned."
' Correspondence, vol. x. p. 303.

FENELON.

the book must be censured. The second week in
February 1699, he gave de Chanterac an audience,
in which he said that the Archbishop's doctrine was
noways questioned, every one approved that — the
book alone was doubtful, whether it was always
worded in strict conformity with the author's real
intentions. Shortly after, his Holiness held Con
gregations on three days running; and on February
24th he appointed Cardinals Noris, Ferrari, and
Albani, to draw up the decree embodying the judg
ment, pointedly excluding Casanata, in spite of his
claims through age, position, and theological ex
perience, because he was known to be an ally of the
Abbe" Bossuet and his cabal. However, Cardinal
Albani insisted on the revocation of this exclusion,
and the Pope reluctantly yielded, even then taking a
measure which the indignant Abbe" Bossuet described
as " unheard of in any previous Pope," namely, send
ing the Assessor and Commissary of the Sacred Office
to all the Cardinals, with special injunctions to use
all possible personal gentleness and courtesy towards
M. de Cambrai, giving them clearly to understand
that his own desire was to give him the most lenient
handling possible; and further, Pope Innocent sent
a special messenger to Cardinal Casanata, whom he
knew to be most under French influence, and there
fore least favourably disposed towards the Arch-

EXTRA 0RD1NAR Y CONGREGA TION. 223
bishop, bidding him seriously to reflect, as in God's
Sight, on the danger of compromising the Church, and
so to consult his conscience, and admit no other
influence. The three Cardinals first appointed had already
held three sittings, in which they had decided to
issue the decree in the form of a simple brief, rather
than a formal bull; also that this brief should dis
tinctly affirm that his Holiness did not intend to
condemn the author's explanations of his book (" non
intendimus improbare explicationes auctoris ") ; and
further, that one point, which had arisen solely through
a mistake (the so-called trouble involontaire of our
Lord), should be spoken of as " quam tamen pro-
positionem negat auctor esse suam," while the name
both of book and author were carefully omitted.
But Casanata, irritated at the Pope's wish to exclude
him, proved the justice of his Holiness' desire by
pertinaciously insisting on using his power by frustrat
ing all these indulgences — if indeed they were not
rather strictly acts of justice — towards Fenelon ; and
being possessed of an inflexible will and overbearing
temper, he positively refused to sign the decree until
his colleagues yielded, and by sheer dint of imperious
pressure he succeeded. Innocent, wearied out with
the whole business, called an extraordinary Congrega:
tion of Cardinals on the 3rd of March, in which

224 F&NELON.

Casanata overpowered the others ; and the Congrega
tion accepting the decree, it seemed that at last the
long-drawn discussion was about to end, and the
amiable Abbe1 Bossuet wrote off his pious thanks
givings for the triumph of truth to his uncle. His cup
was nearly dashed to the ground, however.
The Holy Father was so wounded and shocked at
the perpetration of what he knew to be a grievous
injustice, and so reluctant to sign the decree which
was to condemn a man he heartily admired and
reverenced, that a fresh plan was devised to reUeve
his conscience and feelings. This was that he should,
instead of condemning the Maximes, put forth twelve
canons now laid before him, asserting the Church's
true doctrine as opposed to Molinos and the
Quietists — a measure which, as it was asserted, would
confirm the true doctrine and justify the Holy See,
without casting any blame on the Archbishop of
Cambrai. Innocent eagerly grasped at this alternative,
and it promised to succeed, but the Abbe's Bossuet
and Phelippeaux moved heaven and earth to prevent
it, openly urging upon all the Cardinals how bitter
the wrath of Louis XIV. would be, as well as every
other motive they could think of. In due course of
time a tremendous fulmination from the Grand
Monarque arrived, written obviously to terrify
the unfortunate Pope into submission, and clearly

FINAL DECREE. 225
dictated by Bossuet, while purporting to be the King's
own writing. But he might have spared himself this
unworthy act. A Congregation had been called on
March 8th to discuss the twelve canons, in which
Casanata overpowered the other Cardinals, forcibly
representing that there was no saying to what ex
tremities the Court of France might not be moved
by opposition to its stringent desires, and somewhat
ungenerously urging that the Archbishop of Cambrai's
submission and piety could be better trusted than
that of his three royally-protected opponents. So the
project of the twelve canons was given up, greatly
to the mortification of the Pontiff, who felt himself
helpless in the toils of France. On March 9th the
decree was submitted to the Cardinals individually,
and on the 10th a Congregation was held in which the
condemnatory Brief was finally read by them. On
Thursday the 12th the whole Sacred College was
solemnly assembled at the Palace of Monte Cavallo,
and there the decree was accepted by the whole
body of Cardinals, and signed by the Pope in their
presence, being immediately — according to custom —
printed and posted in all the principal public places
of Rome.
Cardinal de Bouillon, as in duty bound, and Jacques
Bossuet, in hasty gratification of his spite and hatred,
sent off couriers without a moment's delay to the.

226 FENELON.
King and the three prelates. He was afflicted, and
so, we must honestly confess, was Bossuet himself,
because the Pope and the majority of Cardinals
refused to associate the name of heretic, or even of
anything resembling heresy, with Fe'nelon, arid had
absolutely rejected the usual appendage to a brief of
condemnation — ordering the book condemned to be
burnt. But the project of the Twelve Canons had
thoroughly alarmed Ferielon's enemies, showing them
how readily their hoped-for victory might be turned
into defeat ; and though not satisfied with the strin
gency of the measure, Bossuet told his nephew it was
better to accept it as it stood than to run the risk
of seeing it made even less weighty if tampered
with. " M. de Meaux had gained his suit at Rome against
M. de Cambrai," as the Abbe- Le-Dieu, Bossuet's
private secretary, writes ; and it is not the first or
last time in which a victory has cost the victor dearly
in repute and character.
Let us turn from the dark, malignant, ungenerous
side to the brighter one of the noble-hearted man who
was defeated. De Chanterac wrote at once to him as
follows : — "Rome, March 14, 1699.
" Now indeed, Monseigneur, the time has come for
you to practise all that your religion has taught you of

DE CHANTERAC'S ANNOUNCEMENT. 227
the most holy and absolute conformity to the Will of
God. This indeed is a time which calls upon you
and all who love you to be obedient to Christ to the
death, even the death of the Cross, so that they who
live should not live unto themselves. You will need
all your piety, and all the submission which you have
repeatedly promised to the Pope, in order to possess
your soul in patience while reading the Brief which he
has issued against your book. It would be useless
to dwell here upon certain circumstances attending
this decision, which would only serve to render it
more overwhelming. The zeal of some partisans
went so far as to imagine themselves serving God by
demanding still harsher and more violent utterances,
and the Pope felt himself doing great things for you
in resisting these. It was thought right that I should
see him, not only to assure him of your submission to
his judgment, but for other reasons, into which I may
be able to enter further on. How different his private
utterances were to what his Brief sets forth to the
public! All of us put together can hardly be so
grieved as he alone seemed concerning what was
painful to you in the judgment — he was so altered
one would scarcely have known him. He repeated
over and over again that he reckoned you a very great
Archbishop, very pious, very holy, very learned — they
were his own words, piissimo, santissimo, dottissimo,

228 FENELON.

for he spoke Italian. I will not repeat to you what I
answered. " All your friends, Moriseigneur, feel that you ought
to receive this Brief as you promised to do, with per
fect submission, simply and sincerely. They are con
vinced that the more straightforwardly simple it is
the wiser it will be at last. It seems as though our
Lord purposes that you should thereby edify the
whole Church as widely as your enemies have sought to
have -it believed you scandalised it by your book.
This single example will give a clearer impression of
the perfection of Christian virtue than all the holiest
utterances you could make concerning religion. I have
not hesitated to say that you would thoroughly fulfil
all your promises in this respect, for I have always
been deeply impressed by the touching words I have
repeatedly heard you say- — that you thought nothing
of yourself or your book, and I know how throughout
you - have studied to mould all your conduct upon
the Author and Finisher of the Faith, Who, solely in
order to give the greater glory to God, knew how to
bear His Cross and despise the shame." "March igth.
" Jesus Christ hanging on the Cross, exposed to the
mocking judgments of men, and forsaken of His
Father, seems to me, Monseigneur, the one Example
held before you by religion, and upon which the Holy

TIDINGS REACH CAMBRAI. 229
Spirit would mould you. It is, above all, in such a
condition as that wherein Providence has placed you,
that the just man does indeed ' live by faith,' and
when we need to be rooted and built up in the Love
of Jesus Christ, from which who can separate us ?
'Tribulatio, an angustia? neque mors, neque vita, neque
creatura alia.' I never felt so closely drawn to you
in love. I cleave to you, and indeed I feel a certain
consolation in abiding quietly and firmly at the foot
of your cross, in testimony of the confidence I have
ever felt in your piety."'
Fe'nelon had already received the bad news when
de Chanterac's letters reached him. His brother the
Comte de Fe'nelon heard the tidings first in Paris, and
started off instantly for Cambrai, thinking that to receive
them through a kindly channel would at least lighten
their weight; and he arrived on the Festival of the An
nunciation, just as the Archbishop was about to preach
in the Cathedral. Fe'nelon was but human, and it is not
possible but that he must have felt the blow; neverthe
less, with his usual marvellous sweetness and freedom
from self-consciousness, he was not disconcerted, as
most men would have been, but merely paused a brief
while in order to arrange his thoughts, and then,
throwing aside his intended sermon on the special
1 Correspondence, vol. j.. pp. 418-425.

230 FENELON.

festival they were keeping, he preached on the duty
of absolute submission to authority. The news of his
trouble was already whispered about among the congre
gation, which was riveted by the noble simplicity and
calm dignity of the Archbishop, and the eyes of most
overflowed with tears of admiration and respect as
they listened to his heartfelt words.
His assertions of unqualified submission had been
thoroughly real ; and now that they were put to the
test, their reality was proved. His reply to de Chan
terac was as follows : — "Cambrai, March 27, 1699.
" I had already heard from Paris of the condemna
tion of my book, my dearest Abbe", when I received
your letter. I have not yet seen the BulL but I know
that it is as strong against me as if M. de Meaux him
self had penned it. I can only give God praise and
be silent, or at least give forth one single utterance,
whereby to prove my promised submission to my
Superior. I am only waiting for the exact words of
the Bull in order to frame my Mandement upon them.
If I can obtain it from Paris, I shall not lose a moment
in drawing it up, and I shall endeavour to make it as
short and as simple as possible. I hope you will send
me a printed copy of the Bull by the next courier,
together with such advice as you have doubtless

PROPOSED MANDEMENT. 231
received concerning the line I should adopt. My own
reflections are as follows : — ¦
" I. The customs of France, which it would be held
unpardonable in me to violate, forbid me to acknow
ledge the Bull until it has been accepted by Parlia
ment. Consequently I must necessarily await this
formal act before making any act of submission. I
beg you will explain to all our friends that this alone
delays the Mandement I purpose putting forth.
" II. I propose (subject to advice) to touch only four
points in my Mandement: — 1st, That I believe myself
to have insufficiently explained my meaning, when the
Head of the Church, with his superior light and autho
rity, so judges, and that consequently I condemn my
text unreservedly, and with the same qualifications as
his. 2nd, That I owe it in justice to myself to declare
yet once more before the whole Church, what will in
noways contradict the judgment, namely, that I never
understood my text, or supposed any one could under
stand it, save in the sole sense which I have al.vays
assigned it in all my justifications. 3rd, That, never
theless, I do not say that the Church need be troubled
about the distinction between the author's meaning
and the text, inasmuch as my meaning and intention,
however pure, does not alter the natural sense of the
text such as it is judged to be by the Pope. 4th,
That I submit the doctrine of my defence (which is

232 FENELON.

my very own) to the Pope, and if it contains error,
I intreat him to point it out.
" III. In this, and in my whole action, I desire to
show with perfect sincerity that I feel no resentment
in my heart, but true respect for the Holy See, and
unreserved submission to its judgment, however severe.
At the same time, I ought not to take any superfluous
steps with respect to Rome, which would be mean
after all that has passed. I shall ever continue in sub
missive unity with her. But I beg that you will quit
Rome, and before leaving, that you will do nothing
more than what is required by strict courtesy. I will
not complain, I submit sincerely and unreservedly;
but it would be wrong to act as if one were satisfied
when one has no right to be so."
After one or two more similar remarks, Fe'nelon
proceeds to desire de Chanterac to leave Rome, if
possible, without seeing Cardinal de Bouillon, saying,
" He has been almost as deeply calumniated as my
self. See no one to whom you may do harm, while
they can do you no good." And the letter concludes
with all manner of kindly considerations for de Chan-
terac's welfare and comfort, as though he were the
chief person to be considered.1
Two days later the Archbishop wrote to the Due de
1 Correspondence, vol. x. p. 44.0.

ACCEPTS THE TRIAL. 233
Beauvilliers : — " . . . For my part, I try to bear my
cross humbly and patiently. God has graciously
granted me to be at peace amid sorrow and bitter
ness. Amid all these troubles I have a comfort little
appreciated by the world, but very substantial to those
who seek God heartily ; namely, that my course is
clear, and I have nothing to hesitate about. I have
only to submit and be silent, as I have always wished.
All I have to do is to choose the expressions of my
submission. I prefer the shortest, simplest, plainest,
and most unreserved. My conscience I submit to
that of my Superior. In all this, so far from referring
it to my opponents, I see no human agent; I see God
Only, and I am content to accept what He does.
"Sometimes I can hardly help laughing at the
alarm certain worthy people display lest I should
not be able to make up my mind to submit. I am
occasionally bothered with long exhortations, written
to induce me to submit myself, telling me of all the
glory to accrue to me through such humiliation, and
what a heroic act I shall perform ! All this is rather
wearisome, and tempts me to say to myself, Whatever
have I done to all these people to make them think
that I should find such difficulty in preferring the
authority of the Holy See to my own poor lights, or
the peace of the Church to my book ? Still I see that
they are quite right in imputing great imperfection to

234 FENELON.

me, and supposing me very averse to a humbling act.
So then I readily forgive them, and I mean to try and
be grateful for their fears and exhortations !
"As to the trial involved in an act of full and abso
lute submission, I must simply tell you that I do not
feel it at all. My Act was drawn up the day after I
received the news, but I felt bound to keep it back
until I knew the right mode of procedure. Bulls are
not recognised in France until they have been passed
by Parliament. I know not whether the same form is
observed with respect to a Brief containing a doc
trinal judgment upon an Archbishop. But while
doubtful, I suspend my Mandement; for, whatever may
be said, no one is more heartily French than I am.
Directly I know the rule, my Act will appear. You will
remember, if you please, that I have not yet received
the Pope's judgment either from Rome or from the
Nuncio ; but I shall not lose a moment as soon as I
can be sure that I am in no way acting contrary to the
customs of France. My only consolation is obedience,
and if people had really known my mind on this
point, none of their vain fears would have arisen." *
Many other letters to different friends, written at
this critical period, hold the same language, which
was unquestionably the simple expression of Fenelon's
mind, and the dignity which blends with his humility
' Correspondence, vol. x. p. 449.

LETTER TO THE BISHOP OF ARRAS. 235
is intensely characteristic of the man. He was so
desirous to lose no time in expressing his mind
publicly, that, fearing the endless delays which might
arise with Government, the Archbishop wrote to Bar-
besieux, the Secretary of State, inclosing a memorial
to the King, requesting to be informed what were his
Majesty's intentions, and" whether he might issue his
Mandement without waiting for Parliament formally to
register the Brief.
These facts were made generally known through a
correspondence with M. de Sene, Bishop of Arras,
who, as one of Ferielon's suffragans, wrote to him on
hearing the news from Rome. Ferielon's reply was at
once made public by Mgr. d' Arras, who also sent a
copy of it to Bossuet.
" Allow me, Monseigneur," the letter says, " to
tell you plainly that you are wrong in being reserved
with me. Who should speak openly to me if not
you, the senior of our province ? Believe me, there
is nothing you may not unhesitatingly say to me.
While, of course, feeling all that has been done, I must
honestly tell you that I am more at rest than I was a
fortnight ago. My line of conduct is decided. My
Superior's decision discharges my conscience; nothing
remains for me but to submit, be silent, and bear mv
cross quietly. May I venture to say to you that this
is a condition which carries its own consolation for an

236 FENELON.
upright man who seeks nought save God, and does
not cleave to the world? My Mandement is now,
thank God, all I have to think about, and it is
already prepared. I have tried to choose the shortest,
simplest, most decided expressions. It would be
already published, if I were not waiting the King's
orders, which I have asked for through M. de Bar-
besieux, so as to avoid collision with the customs of
this realm with respect to the reception of Bulls and
other acts of Roman jurisdiction. This alone, Mon
seigneur, delays the publication of my Mandement.
Doubtless it costs one something to humble one's self,
but the least resistance to the Holy See would cost me
a hundredfold more, and I must confess that I cannot
see any room for hesitation in the matter. One may
suffer, but one cannot have a moment's doubt." *
Fe'nelon sent de Chanterac a private copy of his
unpublished Bull, which was not to be circulated,
but would enable that devoted friend to speak
authoritatively as to the Archbishop's mind, and to
quash at once any doubts expressed by unfriendly
persons as to the submissive line he intended to
adopt. In a long letter accompanying it Fe'nelon
sums up his plans and intentions under four points: —
i. Full submission ; 2. No attempt to seek any ad
vantage or self-interest; 3. While desiring earnestly
' Correspondence, vol. x. p. 464.

SUBSTANCE OF THE MANDEMENT. 237
not to give any further offence to the King, to do
nothing bearing the semblance of unduly seeking his
favour, which would simply prove him unworthy of past
confidence; 4. To endeavour on all occasions to show
that his heart was free from pride or resentment to
wards his opponents, while at the same time yielding
nothing that concerned his conscience or sense of truth
in order to win them, to which end he could enter on no
negotiations. Short of this, he was ready to meet them
everywhere in the humblest and most pacific spirit.
From first to last, while expressing his absolute
submission to the Pope, and his unresentful spirit
towards Bossuet and his other enemies, Fe'nelon
steadily refused to utter one syllable which could be
perverted into a semblance of retractation. " I will
never purchase a few vague compliments at the price
of meanness or ambiguous admissions,"" he wrote to
de Chanterac (April 4, 1699), " "I would rather bear
my cross, and justify myself in the eyes of my flock by
my patience, my work, and my conduct, as utterly
opposed to illusion. But, thank God, I do not prize
the world enough to beg for help to raise my head.
.... My opponents wish to lead me to say some
thing ambiguous, in order to have it supposed that I
acknowledge that I was wrong, and that they were
right in their rigorous treatment of me."
' Correspondence, vol. x. p. 476.

238 FENELON.

On the 8th of April Fe'nelon received an un
gracious message from the King through de Bar-
besieux, to the effect that the sooner the whole
business was done with the better ! Upon this1
Fe'nelon published his Mandement, which, as we'
know, was only waiting the King's permission, and
on the 9th it appeared.
"Owing ourselves unreservedly to you, dear brethren,
as we do," (so the Mandement ran,) " inasmuch as we
belong not to ourselves, but to the flock committed to
us, we esteem ourselves as your servant in the Love of
Jesus Christ. And in this spirit we feel constrained
herein to open our heart to you, and tell ycu all that
concerns the book entitled Explication des Maximes des
Saints. At last our Holy Father the Pope has con
demned this book, together with the twenty-three
propositions extracted from it, in a Brief dated March
12, 1699, which is spread abroad everywhere, and
which you have already seen.
" We give our adhesion to this Brief, dear brethren,
both as regards the text of the book and the twenty-
three propositions, simply, absolutely, and without a
shadow of reserve, and we forbid the faithful of this
diocese to read or retain the book. We ourselves,
dear brethren, shall be consoled under our humilia
tion, provided the ministry of the Word which we
have received of the Lord for your sanctification

WRITES TO THE POPE. 239
suffer not in consequence, and provided that, not
withstanding the humiliation of the pastor, the flock
grow in grace before God.
" Therefore with our whole heart we exhort you to
a sincere submission and unreserved docility, for fear
the single-mindedness of obedience to the Holy See
insensibly suffer; in which we desire, by God's Grace,
to give you a full example to our last breath.
" God grant that we may never be spoken of save
as a pastor who strove to be more docile than the
least sheep of the flock, and whose submission knew
no limit.
" Dear brethren, may the Grace of our Lord Jesus
Christ, the Love of God, and the Fellowship of the
Holy Ghost be with you all. Amen.
" Francois, Archbishop and Duke of Cambrai."
On the nth April Fe'nelon sent the published
Mandement to the Pope, together with a private letter,
of which he says himself to de Chanterac, that in
writing it he had endeavoured to show neither pride
nor vexation, but at the same time to avoid all appear
ance of meanness, flattery, or empressement. It is not
without a certain sense of wounded dignity that in the
same letter, referring to the Pope's repeated assertions
that he held the Archbishop to be piissimo, santis-
simo, dottissimo, Fenelon says: — "If my patience, my

240 FENELON.

teaching, and my example cannot uphold me amid my
flock, apart from any such laudation, it will certainly
not uphold me.''1
But in truth, even at the time, as assuredly in
history ever since, no one came out of the whole of
this, which Louis XIV. so truly called a "disagreeable
affair," with such unblemished reputation and grace
in the sight of God and man as he for whom, by dint
of every injustice and subterfuge and terrorism practi
cable, his Eminence had at length obtained a so-called
condemnation. The Chancellor d'Aguesseau does not hesitate to
say that the King received the condemnation "with
joy." "The Archbishop of Cambrai," he says, "who
had fought like a lion in defence of his book so long
as he had a hope of victory, proved the superiority of
his character by submitting, as he himself said, like
the humblest sheep of his flock. He did not even
wait till the King should have taken any step to
sanction the Brief in his kingdom. Although no
decree from the Court of Rome can be received in it
without the sovereign's consent, he, forestalling that
consent, committed one of those well-timed errors
which none save great men ever risk; and being
unable any longer to avert the condemnation of his
colleagues, he hastened to appropriate the dignified
1 Correspondence, vol. x. p. 497.

LETTER TO BISHOP OF CHARTRES. 241
position of being the first to condemn himself. His
brief and touching Mandement consoled all his friends,
discomfited all his enemies, and gave the lie to the
prediction too hotly uttered by the Bishop of Meaux,
that if Cambrai were condemned, the world would
soon see the difference between his theory and prac
tice, and all the various subtleties appertaining to
theological discussions."1
D'Aguesseau spoke the truth. Fenelon's line was
most disconcerting to his enemies, though scarcely
any voice save Bossuet's dared make itself heard
in criticism or depreciation. Cardinal de Noailles
remained silent, but Godet-des-Marais (Bishop of
Chartres) wrote a few lines, intended to be cordial
and affectionate, expressing himself as ravi at Fene
lon's line of action, and assuring him that words would
not express how touched he was at such humble and
generous conduct. There is great dignity in the
Archbishop's brief answer: —
"I have just received the letter you do me the
honour to write, and hasten to send my humble
thanks. Although I have endeavoured to act
solely with reference to God in what I have done,
I am, nevertheless, glad, Monseigneur, to see by
the words you use how much you approve my
conduct. Permit me, I beg, to commend myself to
' CEuvres d'Aguesseau, vol. viii. p. 208.
Q

242 FENELON.

your prayers, and to assure you of the sincerity with
which I am always," etc., etc.1
At Rome the greatest satisfaction was felt and
expressed, and the large number of Cardinals who
thought that Fenelon had been unjustly treated, were
joined by their colleagues in a unanimous vote, that
the Pope should be requested to send an "honour
able" answer to the Archbishop's letter of submission.
The Pope was only too glad to appease his own con
science and feelings by any act favourable to one whom
he had been so reluctantly forced to injure, and he
commissioned Cardinal Albani to draw up a Brief as
complimentary and soothing to Fe'nelon as possible,
which the Cardinal accordingly did; but the Abbe"
Bossuet got wind of the matter, and while writing to
his uncle in the greatest alarm on the subject, even
intreating him to induce the King to forbid such a
measure, and suggesting whether it would not be
possible to depose the Archbishop, he made good use
of his opportunities on the spot to frighten different
Cardinals, and through them the Pope, as to the
extreme displeasure any favour shown to Fenelon
would excite at the Court of France, and the terrible
consequences which might ensue. The Brief was
actually prepared and registered, but the petty spite
of the Abbe" Jacques succeeded in preventing its
1 Correspondence, vol. x. p. 518. I

A PAPAL BRIEF.

243

being sent. Plow ever, Cardinal Albani roused him
self to represent to the aged Pope, whose fears were
thus worked upon, that so much deference to a
foreign Court, and such obvious timidity, was both
undignified and dangerous, and Innocent summoned
up courage to send his Brief, albeit mutilated and let
down from its first jubilant tone.1 But even this well-
diluted and somewhat feeble document was intensely
irritating and annoying to those in France who wished,
1 The letter was as follows: — "Venerabilis F rater, salutem et
apostolicam benedictionem. Ubi primum accepimus fraternitatis
tuas, Mense Aprili proxime elapso, ad nos datas litteras, unaque
cum illis exemplar Mandati, quo apostolical nostrae, libri a te
editi cum viginti tribus inde excerptis propositionibus, damnationi
humiliter adhaerens, earn commisso tibi gregi prompto obsequen-
tique animo edixisti; summopere laetati sumus. Novo siqui-
dem hoc debitse ac sinceraa tuae erga nos et hanc sanctem sedem
devotionis atque obedientiae argumento, illam quam de Fraterni-
tate tua jampridem animo conceperamus, opinionem abunde
confirmasti. Nee sane aliud nobis de te pollicebamur ; qui
ejusmodi voluntatis tuae propositum diserte explicasti, ex quo ab
hac caeterarum matre et magistra Ecclesia doceri ac corrigi
demisse postulans, paratas ad suscipiendum verbum veritatis
aures exhibuisti; ut quid tibi aliisque de libro tuo praefato,
contentaque in eo doctrina sentiendum esset, prolato a nobis
judicio statueretur. Tuae itaque solicitudinis zelum, quo ponti-
ficiae sanctioni alacriter obsecutus fuisti, plurimum in Domino
commendantes, pastoralibus laboribus ac votis tuis adjutorem et
protectorum omnipotentem Deum ex animo precamur ; tibique,
venerabilis Frater, apostolicam benedictionem peramanter 1111-
pertimur. Datum Romae, sub annulo Piscatoris, die 12 Maii,
anno 1699, pontificatus nostri anno octavo."

244 FENELON.
if possible, to crush Fe'nelon entirely. They went so
far as to aim at inducing the Pope entirely to reject
his Mandement, and overdid their attempts to such an
extent, as to convince even those Cardinals who had
taken part against Fe'nelon that personal malice was
at the root of the whole business. Consequently
every member of the Sacred College, with the single
exception of Cardinal Casanata, sent messages of
sympathy, veneration, and esteem to the Archbishop
of Cambrai, through de Chanterac, before he finally
quitted Rome, May 15, 1699.
Meanwhile the troubles raised were not quite
quieted in France. Much discussion was held at
Versailles as to how the Brief of condemnation was to
be received. Government and clergy alike desired to
adhere to the famous Declaration of 1682, which
required the formal acceptance of the Episcopate of
France before any judgment issued by the See of
Rome could be received as ruling doctrine ; and
further, it required that such acceptance should take
the form of an examination and certificate that the
Bishops of France recognised the faith and tradition
of their own Church in the Pope's judgment. It was
decided at last that the King should authorise all
Archbishops to assemble the Bishops of their respec
tive provinces, to examine and accept the Brief.
Accordingly, the King issued letters commanding

METROPOLITAN ASSEMBLIES. 245
the Archbishops to convoke their metropolitan assem
blies. That of Paris met on the 13th May. "The
provincial assemblies were held in each province,
with perfect unanimity, alike as to the condemnation
of the Archbishop of Cambrai's book as to the pre
servation of episcopal rights, and as to the judgments
which concerned the doctrine or liberties of the
Gallican Church," says d'Aguesseau.' " On the latter
point, indeed, there was a laudable emulation among
the various provinces, each desiring the honourable
reputation of having best sustained the episcopal
power to judge either before the Pope, or with him, or
after him, as also the right of not receiving papal
constitutions, save subject to examination and a formal
judgment." The Paris Assembly, mainly composed of Ferielon's
chief and acknowledged antagonists, Paris, Meaux, and
Chartres, sought to add to the Pope's judgment a
condemnation he had expressly omitted, of the various
writings Fe'nelon had put forth in defence or explana
tion of the original book. Either the bad taste or
the injustice of this proceeding was not acceptable to
the Episcopate generally — one half of the metropo
litan assemblies refused thus to amend the judgment
of Rome. As if God in His Providence was pleased
to allow the pious Fe'nelon to drain the cup of humi-
' CEuvres, vol. viii. p. 209.

246- FENELON.

liation, so bitter to a worldly-minded man, his own
province was still destined to put his patience and
humility to the proof. He did not hesitate for a
moment to obey the royal mandate, and summon his
provincials to condemn his own book, scarcely expect
ing, probably, that Monseigneur de Valbelle, Bishop
of Saint Omer (who is characterised by d'Aguesseau as
" a clever man, but hot as a Provencal, which he was,
and argumentative as a Norman,"1) would exceed his
orders and the Pope's utterances so far as to beset
his Metropolitan in a most insolent manner, in order to
induce him to say that he had actually fallen into the
errors imputed.2 The great Chancellor affirms that
Fenelon answered Saint Omer's "pressing and odious
interpretations" with wisdom and dignity; adding,
that the other Bishops, indignant at Monseigneur de
Valbelle's proceedings, rallied round their Archbishop,
and quashed the matter. It is melancholy to find that
this onslaught was prompted by Bossuet, his letter

1 OZuvres, vol. viii. p. 210.
3 ". . . Les indignes tracasseries qu'il lui fit dans l'assernblee
provinciale de Cambrai, ou il vouloit non seulement que ce
prelat se soumit a sa propre condamnation, comme il l'avoit deja
fait de si bonne grace, mais qu'il avouat encore qu'il etoit veri-
tablement tombe dans les erreurs que le Pape avoit condamnes,
faisant ainsi le proces a ses intentions memes en lui arrachant la
foible consolation de pouvoir dire au moins qu'il avoit bien
pense s'il s'etoit mal exprime. "

D'AGUESSEAU 'S OPINION. 247
urging the Bishop of Saint Omer to the attack being
extant.1 D'Aguesseau gives an interesting account of the
proceedings which went on behind the scenes in
framing the letters patent which were to confirm the
ecclesiastical judgments by royal authority, he himself
having the principal share in drawing these up.
Always ungenerous and prejudiced towards Fe'nelon,
Louis XIV. found no fault with d'Aguesseau's papers
except that they spoke too kindly of the Archbishop
of Cambrai. In relating the whole history, d'Agues
seau honestly says that, besides liking him personally
(" et il faut avouer que son commerce e'toit delicieux,"
he adds), he could not but remember that some day
the man now the mark for obloquy would very likely
come to the front, and that therefore prudence dic
tated abstaining from giving needless offence. Never
theless, he was obliged to retrench somewhat to satisfy
the King.
His Discours " was published with the formal
documents, and the whole was presented to the Parlia
ment, Aug. 14, 1699. " Thus was the condemnation
of the Archbishop of Cambrai's book completed,"
writes d'Aguesseau in his Memoires sur les Affaires de
CEglise de France, — " a solitary instance, perhaps, of
1 Correspondence, vol. x. p. 577.
3 See CEuvres, vol. i. p. 258.

248 FENELON.

a doctrinal dispute being finally closed by a single
judgment, which no one has since sought either to have
retracted or to elude by any specious explanations.
The credit of this is due to the wisdom and superi
ority of mind of the Archbishop of Cambrai, who was
able to see that an over-great desire to justify one's self
often does more harm than good, and that the surest
way to obliterate wrongs unjustly imputed is to let
them be forgotten and die out in silence; while,
furthermore, his knowledge of men must have taught
him that he was likely always to be condemned by
more than three-quarters of his judges, because there
would always be a full three-quarters incapable of
understanding him."1
A letter from Fe'nelon to de Chanterac, giving an
account of his own provincial assembly of the 29th
May, describes the events of the last month with
vonderful moderation, summing up with the touch
ing words : — " One must bear everything without
murmur, maintain a loving submission to our Mother
Church, and accept humiliation with humility. Come
— oh, come ! To embrace you, talk with you, live
and die with you, will indeed be a comfort ! "'
Nor was this meek, unworldly spirit merely a pass
ing frame of mind, destined to pass away. Not
GEuvres, vol. viii. p. 218.
¦ Correspondence, vol. x. p. 585.

LETTER TO DE CHEVREMONT. 249
unnaturally, a much less submissive feeling existed
among many others, — some personal friends of the
noble-hearted sufferer, some strangers to all but his
public character, — and many champions were desirous
to enter the lists in his defence. But Fe'nelon never
swerved in his attitude of patient submission, and
to all he returned the same answer, that he wished
nothing to be said or done on his behalf. A speci
men of his views on this subject may be given in the
subjoined letter to a certain Abbe" de Chevremont,
who wrote to him concerning a work on Quietism he
was preparing : — "Cateau, fuly 2, 1699.
¦' " I am deeply touched, sir, by the tokens of friend
ship and zeal shown by you. But allow me, I intreat
you, to speak unreservedly, and from the bottom of
my heart. I condemned my book in perfect good
faith, out of submission and docility to the Pope.
Consequently, whoever bears me any friendship can
not show it more truly than by never uttering another
word in its favour. I cannot consent even to an
indirect justification of it. Further, I beseech you
neither to say nor write anything against my colleagues
who attacked me at Rome, nor against the Archbishop
of Rheims. You know, sir, how strongly religion
requires a spirit of peace, charity, and respect for
the Episcopate. Whatever you might do out of zeal

250 FE'NELON.
for my interest would recoil upon me, for it would
inevitably be imputed to me. ... In God's Name,
1 intreat you to speak of me to none save God." *
The same language we find in all Ferielon's letters
of this period, and that in reply to many most flatter
ing and warmly approving from a great variety of
ecclesiastics — Cardinals, religious, and others. Un
doubtedly he was, as one eminent person wrote from
Rome,2 " more glorious than if he had never been
condemned." It was nearly a year later that, in the great
Assembly of Clergy sitting at Saint Germain-en-Laye,
the subject wasrenewed, more, however, in accordance
with the custom of a reference to all ecclesiastical
events of importance which had occurred since last
the Assembly met than with any special object.
Bossuet was selected to introduce the subject, and
one is thankful, for his sake, to be able to record that
he did it with moderation, and perhaps with a secret
desire in some way to repair the injustice and harsh
ness of the past.
After that the subject died out. Fe'nelon lived
1 Correspondence, vol. xi. p. 3.
3 A l'Abbe de Chanterac, du P. Bellissen, Procureur-Gerieral
de la doctrine Chretienne. Rome, Juillet 4, 1699. — Ibid.
p. 5.

BOSSUET. 251
down any possible questioning of the orthodoxy and
purity of his faith and practice, and no unkind word
respecting any of his persecutors seems ever to have
escaped him. Once, some one who had mentioned
Bossuet's talents with admiration in the Archbishop's
presence, expressed some fear lest he should have
thought such mention a breach of good taste. But
Fe'nelon was distressed at such a notion being pos
sible. " What can he think of me," the Archbishop
exclaimed, with considerable emotion, "if he shrinks
from mentioning before me a man whose genius and
vast knowledge must for ever be an honour to his
age and his country, as well as to all the Church ! "
Such faint grounds as exist for imagining that
Bossuet desired a reconciliation with the friend he
had so grievously injured have been already brought
together in the Life of Bossuet/ and need not be
repeated here. Assuredly Fe'nelon forgave him, with
all others who had ever wounded him. When Bossuet
died (April 12, 1704), a report got about that the
Archbishop of Cambrai had held a solemn service
for him, and preached his funeral oration. The
Benedictine Pere Lami wrote to ask Fenelon as to the
truth of these reports, and he answered, that though
he had prayed most heartily for the late Bishop of
Meaux, he had certainly not asked the public prayers
1 Bossuet and his Contemporaries, 0. 462.

252 FENELON.
of his diocese on Bossuet's behalf, such a proceed
ing being quite unwonted, " and you know I do
not like affectation or out-of-the-way doings. Still
less did it occur to me to deliver a funeral oration." *
" Yet deem not, on such parting sad
Shall dawn no welcome dear and glad:
Divided in their earthly race,
Together at the glorious goal,
Each leading many a rescued soul,
The faithful champions shall embrace."
* Correspondence, vol. iii. p. 43.

fAnelon AT THE COURT. 253

CHAPTER V.
PROBABLY there were many in France, both in
political and ecclesiastical circles, who believed
with D'Aguesseau that nothing was more probable
than that, after the great storm had been dispersed,
Fe'nelon would return to Court, and be a more in
fluential and favoured personage than ever. But
those who could think thus did not know him, or
perhaps know the real character of the Court and its
principal actors.
Fe'nelon had loved individuals in that Court — in
deed he loved the Due de Bourgogne with a father's
devoted love to the end, and felt a father's grief
when the young Prince was taken from this world in
the flower of his age ; he had had a respectful, ap
preciative affection for Mme. de Maintenon, and a
loyal devotion at least for Louis XIV. ; but he had
no love for Court favour per se—ior its dignities, or
pomp, or pleasures, and his whole life bears witness

254 FE'NELON.
to the truth of his often-repeated assertions, that he
had no wish to return to Paris or Versailles.
Louis XIV. was too autocratic ever to forgive the
man who had so meekly but so entirely withstood
him ; and it was not in the Grand Monarque's nature
either to conquer a prejudice such as had been in
stilled into him against Fe'nelon so long ago as when
he was a simple young Abbe" by de Harlay. More
over, the King was unquestionably jealous of his
influence over his grandson the Due de Bourgogne.
Mme. de Maintenon probably could and did better
appreciate the nobility of Fenelon's heart and con
duct, and would feel that all her early opinions
concerning his disinterestedness and purity of mo
tives were more than justified. But she had wronged
him too cruelly to forgive herself,1 however entirely
he might forgive her; and even had her woman's
tenderness overcome her pride, and enabled her
freely to acknowledge her faults and crave Ferielon's
forgiveness, she dared not have taken a step so utterly
offensive to the King as to reconcile herself with one
whom he chose to visit with his displeasure.
The Cardinal Archbishop of Paris could surely
never think of Fe'nelon without consciousness of the
" Saint Simon says he was ' ' odieux au roi, . . . plus odieux
a Mme. de Maintenon, parce qu'elle 1'avait perdu." — Mbnoires,
voL xvii. p. 176.

HIS VARIOUS OPPONENTS. 255
weakness and vacillation with which he himself had
acted through the last few years; and his family, if
not he, were jealous of the influence which any re
union between Mme. de Maintenon and the Arch
bishop of Cambrai would tend to promote. Some
rather contemptible efforts he seems to have made to
make the latter believe that he had been unwillingly
forced into the line he took; but though Fe'nelon had
put away past grievances, he did not care to solicit
the favour of those who had ill-treated him, and
nothing came of Cardinal de Noailles' little schemes.
The Bishop of Chartres alone, perhaps, was free
from personal motives as respected Fenelon, for
whom his respect and friendship had never quite
perished ; and, a really good religious man himself,
he could not help knowing and believing that the
man he had helped to overthrow was good and
deeply religious too. But he had not the courage
boldly to make advances, which would doubtless have
been met cordially ; he pottered on with timid mes
sages sent through the Cure" of Versailles1 (Hebert),
to which Fenelon replied frankly and heartily, saying
that "no vexed memories of the past were on his
mind — he should think it a sin to cherish such."2
But nothing more ensued then, and some slight
intercourse respecting one of his clergy is all that
1 Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 458. * Ibid. vol. xi. p. 45.

256 FENELON.

ever appears to have taken place between the two
afterwards. In Fenelon's letter to the Bishop of
Chartres on this occasion he says : — " I feel as I
ought, Monseigneur, the tender expressions with
which you are pleased to allude to our intimate
friendship of more than thirty years. God knows
that I have never ceased to respect you duly, and I
pray Him to fill you abundantly with His Grace for
the service of the Church."1
But a fresh episode was in store which was to
confirm Louis XIV. in an unchangeable aversion and
mistrust of Fe'nelon. This was the publication of his
famous story Telimaque. Perhaps now, when this
once celebrated book is seldom read, save as a per
fectly harmless — however beautifully written — and (be
it honestly confessed) a rather dull schoolroom book,
it is difficult to appreciate either the intense admira
tion2 or the bitter wrath which it excited at the time
of its appearance. Mythological stories were more
to the taste of that period than they are to that of
our own, and unquestionably the language in which
Telimaque is written is graceful and flowing, like

1 Correspondence, vol. iii. p. 33.
2 Even making allowance for French exuberance, it is difficult
to understand how at any time it could be said by the most
enthusiastic — "Si le bonheur du genre humain pouvait naitre
d'un poeme, il naitroit de Telemaque, " with the Abbe Terrasson.

t£l£maque. 257

everything which came from Fenelon's pen.' The
precise time at which the story was written is not
known, but in a letter (or rather m'emoire) written to
Pere le Tellier in 17 10, Fe'nelon says concerning it : —
" Tl'timaque is a story in the form of an heroic
poem, like those of Homer and Virgil, in which I
introduced the principal points of teaching suitable to
a prince destined to the throne. I wrote it at a time
when I was rejoicing in the many marks of confidence
and kindness which the King showered upon me. I
must have been not merely the most ungrateful, but
the most foolish of men, if I had intentionally drawn
satirical or insolent portraits in it. I abhor the mere
notion of such a thing. It is true that I introduced
All the virtues necessary for a good government, and
the faults to which sovereign power is liable, but none
were drawn with the slightest approach to any per
sonality or portraiture. The more the book is
examined the more it will be seen that I only ex-
1 Sainte-Beuve says : — " Je n'ai rien dit de TeUmaque, ce cours
de themes comme il n'y en a jamais eu, qui n'est, & le bien voir,
que la plus longue des fables de Fenelon, l'allegorie developpee,
devenue epique, et oil l'auteur, abordant par les douces pentes
de I'Odysee la grandeur d'Homere, de cet Homere qui fun seul
trait met la nature toute nue devant les yeux, n'a fait, en le
reduisant un peu, que lui donner la mesure et comme la modu
lation virgilienne, et le ramener en meme temps aux conven
ances francaises, telles que les entendaient les lecteurs de Racine."
— Nouveaux Lundis, vol. ii. p. 131. R

258 FE'NELON..

pressed principles fully, without attempting to draw
any finished character. It is simply a story rapidly
written, in detached fragments, and at intervals — a
story needing a great deal of correction. Moreover,
the printed version is not accurate as compared with
the original. My only, object was to amuse the Due
de Bourgogne with a tale of adventure, and to instruct
him at the same time, without ever thinking of giving
the Work to the public. Everybody knows that this
was only done through the treachery of a copyist."' ,
No one can entertain a doubt that this is the true
history of Tilimaque. Nevertheless a very different
view was held and circulated at the time. The book
was, as Fe'nelon says, treacherously published, a man
trusted to make a fair copy having been clever enough
to perceive its merits, and having privately handed
it about in manuscript as early as October 1698.
Emboldened by the success of this first piece of
dishonesty, the man actually presumed fraudulently to
sell his stolen MSS. to the publishing firm of Claude
Barbin in Paris, without, of course, betraying his own
secret, or saying who the author was. That did not
concern the publisher, who easily obtained the usual
license, and the first edition was printed bearing the
date April 6, 1699. The MS. was printed off as far
as the 208th page, when the fact of its authorship got
1 Correspondence, vol. iii. p. 247. See also vol. ii. p. 459.

PUBLIC EXCITEMENT. „+
wind, and as at that very moment the height of the
storm concerning the Maximes was raging, the proofs
were seized, the printers imprisoned, and every
possible measure taken to efface the whole thing.
Nevertheless some proofs escaped the police, and a
very limited edition was sold, — under such exciting
circumstances, as a priceless treasure. The injured
publishers hastened with the greatest secresy to sell
the complete manuscript to a bookseller at the Hague,
Adrien Moetjens by name, who, with the greatest
speed possible, brought out the whole work in June,
and no one pretending to the smallest literary acquire
ment but had read and admired the book before the
summer was over.
It was a delightful weapon for his enemies to handle
against him ! Saint Simon (while passing lightly
over the book as a quantity of old stolen themes
patched together, and published without Ferielon's
knowledge) says that the Marechal de Noailles, who
coveted the Due de Beauvilliers' offices, went about
telling the King and all who would listen that none
save one who was the monarch's personal enemy
could have written it ! ' Every one who desired to
damage the Archbishop, or to perpetuate his estrange-,
ment from Court, sang the same song. Old Le-Dieu,
Bossuet's secretary, records, January 23, 1700, not
Mimoires, vol. xvii. p. 176.

260 FE.NELON.

only his master's criticisms on the style of Teli
maque, which Bossuet pronounced " effeminate and
poetical," and unworthy of a Bishop by reason of its
love scenes ; but further, that he did not hesitate to
pronounce " le roman de M. de Cambrai " to be a
covert censure of the actual Government, the King
and his ministers. What on earth could possess M.
de Cambrai to publish such a thing at such a time,
unless it were to prove to the public that he was the
best writer of his day, and affect to be the only man
honest enough to tell the truth ! '
People went on to say that Fe'nelon had written the
satire since his disgrace, as a piece of revenge upon
Louis XIV. and his surroundings. Mme. de Main
tenon was easily persuaded of this. Fe'nelon says,
writing to the Due de Bourgogne, that Telimaque had
" irritated " her; 3 and the more all Europe persisted in
admiring the book and in bringing out fresh editions
and translations — for the demand became almost un
limited — the more embittered Louis XIV. and his
queen-like wife became.
It is scarcely necessary now to go into any elaborate
process of proof that Fe'nelon had absolutely no
personal satire in view when he wrote Telimaque.
Probably no one free from the turbulent prejudices of
' Journal de lAbbl Le-Dieu, vol. i. p. 12.
3 Correspondence, vol. i. p. 97.

THE KING'S DISPLEASURE. 261
that period would be inclined to question the matter ;
and the circumstances attendant upon his writing the
book, i.e. merely as an unpublished MS. for his royal
pupil's amusement, together with his unfailing loyalty
and respect in deed and word to the King, would be
enough to satisfy any dispassionate and reasonable mind.
But Louis XIV. never could forget or forgive
it, and the enforced separation already so painful to
the Due de Bourgogne between him and his beloved
Preceptor, was more urgently pressed even than before,
with the inevitable consequence (which one would
have thought the King's acquaintance with human
nature might have taught him) of binding the bonds of
that devoted affection closer than ever. That this
was the case need not be doubted by those who read
the following letter, written by the Duke to Fe'nelon.
"Versailles, Dec. 22, 1701.
" At last, my dear Archbishop, I have found an
opportunity of breaking the silence of four years. I
have suffered many things meanwhile, but one of my
greatest trials has been that I was unable to tell you
all I felt for you all the time, and that, so far from
slackening, my love for you grew stronger under your
troubles. I look with eager pleasure for the time when
I may see you again, but I fear it may yet be far off.
We must leave it to God's Will ; His Mercy is ever

262 FE'NELON.
heaping fresh favours on me. I have been repeatedly
faithless to Him since I last saw you, but He
has always mercifully recalled me, and I thank Him
that I have never been deaf to His Voice. Latterly
I think I have been more persevering in the right
way. Ask God graciously to confirm my good
resolutions, and not to allow me to be His foe any
more, but that in all things He would teach me His
holy Will.
" I go on studying by myself, although for the last
two years I have left off regular lessons ; and I like
it better than ever. Nothing interests me more than
metaphysics and moral theology. I should never
grow weary of them. I have written some little
papers on these subjects, which I wish I could send
for you to correct as you used to do my themes. All
this is very disconnected, I am afraid, but that does
not matter much. I will not begin to say here how
all that has been done about you revolts me; we
must submit to God's Will, and believe that it has all
happened for our good. Do not show this letter to
any one whatsoever, except the Abbe" de Langeron,
if he is at Cambrai, for I am sure of his secresy.
Remember me very kindly to him, and assure him
that absence does not weaken my friendship for him.
Neither must you answer this letter, unless by some
very safe channel, and putting your letter into M. de

CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE DUKE. 263

Beauvilliers' packet, as I do with mine; for he is the
only person in whom I can trust, and I know how he
would be damaged if it were known. Adieu, my dear
Archbishop. I embrace you with all my heart.
Perhaps it may be long before I get another chance
of writing to you. I ask your prayers and your
blessing. Louis."1
The answer to this simple, boyish letter is hardly
less simple, and marvellously characteristic of the
writer : — "Cambrai, Jan. 17, 1702.
" Nothing has been a greater comfort to me than
your letter which I have just received. I thank Him
Who Alone can mould hearts as He will to His own
Glory. He must love you very much, since He fills
you with love for Him amid so much that seems
likely to banish His Love from your heart. Love Him
above all things, and fear nothing save the loss of
that love. It alone will be your light, your strength,
your life, your all. Oh, how rich and powerful even
amid crosses the heart is which bears that treasure
within it ! Even so you must accustom yourself to
seek Him with the simplicity of a child, with a tender
familiarity and a confidence acceptable to so loving
a Father. Correspondence, vol. i. p. 116.

264 FENELON.

" Do not be disheartened by your failings. It is
possible to bear without giving way to them, and to
correct them without impatience. God will point out
this peaceful, effectual course, if you seek it in hearty
mistrust of self, and walking with Him like faithful
Abraham. " In God's Name, I beseech you let prayer nourish
your soul as your meals nourish your body. Let
your fixed seasons of prayer keep you in God's
Presence through the day, and His Presence, fre
quently remembered through it, be an ever-fresh
spring of prayer. Such a brief, loving recollection of
God renews a man's whole being, quiets his passions,
supplies light and counsel in difficulty, gradually
subdues the temper, and causes him to possess his
soul in patience, or rather gives it up to the posses
sion of God. Renovamini spiritu mentis vestrce. Do
not try to make long meditations, but every morning
get some quiet time for a brief one — that short season
will feed you through the day. Let this meditation
be more a matter of heart than intellect, — less of
argument than simple affection, — little of methodical
arrangement, a great deal of faith and love.
"You must read, too, and that books which will
strengthen you, teach you recollection, and draw you
nearer to God. You have a person at hand who can
point out suitable reading. Do not be afraid of

SPIRITUAL COUNSEL. 265
frequenting the Sacraments according to your need,
and as you feel drawn to them. Let no vain human
respect deprive you of the Bread of Heaven, Who
deigns to give Himself to you. Never make any
uncalled-for demonstrations, but at the same time
never be ashamed of Him Who Only is your
glory. " What gives me the greatest hopes is that I see by
your letter that you know your failings, and acknow
ledge them humbly. How strong one is in God
when one realises one's own weakness! Cum infirmor,
tunc potens sum. Fear to fall a thousand times more
than death. But if you should unhappily fall, hasten
to return to the Father of Mercies and the God of
Consolation, Who will stretch out His Arms to you,
and open your wounded heart to those who can
heal you. Above all, be humble and lowly. Et vilior
fiam plus quam factus sum, David said, el humilis
ero in oculis meis. Apply yourself diligently to your
duties, take care of your health, and restrain your
tastes, so as not to exhaust your strength. I speak to
you only concerning God and yourself, it does not
matter about me. Thank God, my heart is at rest ;
my heaviest cross is not seeing you. I have you con
tinually in mind before God, in a closer union than
anything of this life. I would give a thousand lives
as freely as a drop of water to see you such as God

266 FE'NELON.

would have you be. L. de L. (Langeron) is full of
gratitude for your remembrance. Amen, Amen."*
Two more letters to the Duke, written about the
same time, will still further show what the nature
of this influence was from which prejudice could
make Louis XIV. so anxious to preserve his grand
son !
" I believe, Monseigneur, that the true way of
loving your neighbour is *o love him in God and for
God. Men know so little of the Love of God, and for
want of knowing that they are afraid of Him, and
draw back from Him. This fear hinders them from
understanding the sweet familiarity with which His
children rest in the Bosom of the tenderest of all
Fathers ; they can see nothing but an all-powerful
and stern Master ; they are always constrained with
Him, hampered in all they do. They do what is
right reluctantly, to avoid punishment ; they would do
wrong if they dared, and if they could hope to do
it with impunity. The Love of God is to them a
burdensome debt ; they seek to evade it by formality,
and by an exterior worship which they strive to sub
stitute for a hearty, active love. They bargain with
God Himself, in order to give Him the least they can.
O God, if men knew what it really is to love Thee,
1 Correspondence, vol. i. p. 118.

THE LOVE OF GOD. 267
they would ask no other joy in life save Thy
Love !
" This love only demands of us an innocent and
well-regulated habit of life. It only requires us to do
for God what common reason would enjoin. It is
not a question of adding to our good works, but
rather of doing for love of God that which upright
people who lead good lives do from a sense of honour
and self-respect. All that has to be given up is that
evil which we should give up from a mere principle
of reason. And for all the rest, we may leave things
in the order of God's Providence, doing all that is
right and good, but so doing for His Sake Whose we
are and to Whom we owe everything.
"This love of God does not exact of ordinary
Christians austerity such as the hermits of old prac
tised, their solitude nor their contemplation ; it does
not ordinarily require either startling heroic deeds,
nor a renunciation of rightfully acquired property, or
of the advantages appertaining to each man's natural
position. It only requires of each to be honest, sober,
and temperate in the right use of all these things ; not
making an idol of any of them, but using them as God
would have him, in His service.
"Such love as this does not increase our crosses, it
finds them broadcast already among all conditions of
men. Our crosses arise from the infirmity of our

268 FE'NELON.

bodies and the passions of our hearts ; from our own
imperfections and those of others with whom our lot
is cast. It is not the love of God which causes these
trials ; on the contrary, it softens them by the comfort
He mingles with our sufferings. Indeed, it lightens
our crosses as by degrees it moderates our ardent pas
sions and our sensitiveness, which are at the bottom
of all our real troubles. If we had a perfect love of
God, it would put an end to all our sorrows and fill
us with blessed peace, by teaching us real detachment
from all alike that we fear to lose or long to gain.
" Why, then, should we fear that love, which causes
none of our trials, which can soften them all, and which
would bring all possible blessings with itself into our
hearts ? Truly men are their own great enemies when
they fear and resist this love.
" The precept of love, so far from being a weight
over and above all other precepts, tends, on the con
trary, to make those others sweet and light. What we
do from fear, and without love, is always wearisome,
hard, grievous, oppressive. What we do out of love,
from persuasion, with a free will, however hard to the
senses, becomes pleasant. A desire to please God
because we love Him makes one love to suffer, and
what we suffer for love's sake ceases to be suffering.
" This love alters, disturbs, changes nothing in the
order of things God has established. It leaves the

LOVE OF MAN. 269
great to their greatness, only causing them to be
lowly in His Hand Who has made them great. It
leaves the lowly in the dust, and makes them rejoice
to be nought save in Him. Such content in the low
liest place is altogether free from meanness, and is
true greatness.
" This love rules and inspires all other love. We
never love our neighbour so well as in God and for
Him. When we love men apart from this, we love
them for ourselves only; we seek either our own
obvious interest, or a subtle, hidden self-interest. If
it is not money, favour, advantage that we seek, it
will be the credit of disinterestedness, or gratification
of taste, or confidence, the pleasure of being liked by
people of merit — things which are more soothing to
self-love even than a round sum of money. So that
after all it is self that we love all the time; and such
love is a very poor thing, it is much more vanity than
real love.
" What, then, is the true way of loving one's friends ?
It is to love them in God, to love God in them ; to
love what He has made them, and to bear, for love of
Him, with what He has not made them. When we
only love our friends out of self-love, that selfishness
which is impatient, fastidious, jealous, exacting, and
worthless, will be for ever mistrustful both of itself and
its Mend; it grows weary, and is easily put out; it

270 FE'NELON.

soon comes to an end of what seemed boundless; it
is for ever lost in misunderstandings; it wants per
fection, and cannot find it; it grows petulant and
changeable, and finds rest nowhere. But the love of
God, loving friends apart from self, knows how to
love patiently through all their faults. It does not
want to find more in them than God has put there;
it sees Him and His gifts above all; all is welcome so
long as we love what He does, and bear with what
He withholds, knowing that He withholds it only the
more to conform us to His Will.
" This love which comes of God never looks for per
fection in anything created, it knows that perfection is
God's only; and imperfection only causes it to cry out,
That is not my God ! Expecting no perfection, it is
never disappointed. What is lacking in any one it
knows may yet be made up, if God so wills. He who
has such love loves all that God has made, and chiefly
those whom God gives him for special love. In an
earthly father he sees reflected a Heavenly Father; in
brothers, relations, friends, the close links which
God's Providence has knit. The closer such links
the deeper and stronger His Providence makes them.
Can we love God, and not love all that He has given
ns to love ?
" Verily, we had rather die than love aught better
than we love Him. He has said in. His Gospel,. 'If

A LOWLY SPIRIT. 271
any man love father or mother more than Me, he is
not worthy of Me.' God forbid, then, that I should
love more than H,;m that which I should love for His
Sake only. But I love with all my heart whatever
represents Him, whatever is His Gift, whatever He
wills me to love. And this solid foundation of love
makes me careful to fail in nowise either towards
relations or friends. Their imperfections cannot sur
prise me, for I look for imperfection in all that is not
God. In Him Alone I see any real goodness, but I
love Him in His creatures, and nothing can affect
that love. It is true that this love is not always
equally tender and quick ; but it is real, deep, faithful,
constant, practical, and I prefer it to all other love.
At times it has its sweetness and its transports. A
soul wholly stayed on God would never be cold and
dry with the inequalities and touchiness of self-love.
Loving for God's Sake only, it would love, like God,
with a perfect love; for, as S. John says, 'God is
Love.' Its heart would be a spring of living water,
according to the promise. Such love would bear all,
endure all, hope all for its neighbour; it would over
come all difficulties ; the depths of the heart would
overflow a maris exterior; he would be tender over
the troubles of others, unmindful of his own; he
would mould himself to all men, lowly with the lowly,
great with the great, he would weep with those that

272 FENELON.

weep, and rejoice out of sympathy with those that
rejoice; he would be all things to all men, not in cold,
outward show, but out of the abundance of a heart
in which the Love of God was the living source of
all the tenderest, keenest, and strongest feelings.
Nought so dry, so cold, so hard, so shut up, as a
heart which loves itself alone. Nought so tender,
open, quick, sweet, loveable and loving, as a
heart possessed of and filled with the Love of
God." '
What could be a better though unconscious de
scription of the writer's own most loving heart ? Or
what wiser lessons could the expected successor of
Louis XIV. receive than the following ? —
" Son of Saint Louis, imitate your ancestor. Be,
like him, gentle, humane, accessible, affable, com
passionate, and generous. Never let your grandeur
hinder you from coming down to the level of the
lowliest ; never let such kindliness weaken either your
authority or their respect. Study mankind con
tinually ; learn to use men without giving yourself up
blindly to them. Seek for real worth to the ends of
the world — it is apt to be modest and reserved.
Virtue does not push through the crowd — it is neither
eager nor greedy, and lets itself be overlooked. Do
not allow yourself to be beset by insinuating flatterers;
' Correspondence, vol. i. p. 121.

EXAMPLE OF ST. LOUIS. 273
let it be felt that you do not like praise or fawning.
Only show confidence in those who have courage to
contradict you respectfully if need be, in those who
value your good name more than your favour. Saint
Louis' power and wisdom will be givm you, if you
ask them, humbly acknowledging your weakness and
helplessness. It is time that you show forth to the
world a maturity and strength of character suited to
the present need. At your age Saint Louis was the
joy of good men and the terror of evil men. Let
the pastimes of your past days drop — show that you
feel and think aright. Make good men love you,
bad men fear you — all esteem you. Make haste to
correct your own faults, that you may labour profit
ably to improve others.
" There is nothing trivial, or gloomy, or constrained
about real religion ; it makes the heart larger, it is
simple and loveable, and becomes all to all that it
may gain some. The Kingdom of God does not con
sist in a scrupulous observance of petty details, but
in a due performance of the duties which belong to
every condition of life. A great prince is not called
upon to serve God in the same fashion as a hermit
or an ordinary private individual. Saint Louis worked
out his salvation as a great king. He was intrepid in
war, decided in council, superior to other men by the
nobility of his. mind, — without pride, presumption, or

274 F&NELON.
harshness. In all things he studied the real welfare
of his people, whose father he was as well as their
king. He saw everything with his own eyes. He
was industrious, far-sighted, moderate, upright, and
firm in negotiation, so that he was as much trusted
by strangers as by his own subjects. No prince ever
ruled a people more wisely, or more effectually made
them both good and happy. He loved those who
deserved his love tenderly and trustfully, but he was
firm in chastising those he loved best when they were
in fault. He was generous and magnificent according to
the fashion of his time, but without luxury or display.
His expenditure, though great, was so well regulated
that the country was not oppressed. Long after his
death his reign was remembered tenderly as a model
for all ages. The weights and measures, the laws and
customs, the government of the good Saint Louis,
were everywhere quoted. May you be the inheritor
of his virtues as well as of his crown. Invoke him
confidently, remember that his blood flows in your
veins, and that the same spirit of faith which sancti
fied him should be the mainspring of your heart. He
watches you from above, where he prays for you, and
hopes that one day you will dwell with him in God.
Unite your desires with his. Conserva, fill mi, prce-
ceptapatris tui."1 * Correspondence, vol. i. p. 127,

POSITION IN HIS DIOCESE. 275
Unable for the present to see his beloved "petit
Due," or to communicate save at rare intervals with
him, Fenelon accepted this trial, like all others, with
calmness — very far removed from indifference — and
continued simply to devote himself to the duties and
responsibilities of his diocese, which he worked with
the power of a man of vast capacity, and the simple
industry of a humble priest. Situated as he was, on
the very borderland of France and Flanders, sur
rounded with hostile armies and belligerents of all
nations, Ferielon's position was one requiring peculiar
tact and discretion; and the surest proof that he
exercised both is to be found in the fact that from
first to last he won the respect and veneration of
friend and foe. Prince Eugene, commanding the
allied armies in the Low Countries, never failed to
testify this by his conduct. Military honours were con
tinually offered to Fe'nelon; and where justice or mercy
required of him to enter any protest, or ask any
seeming favour at the hands of the allies who were
opposing his country, Ferielon's voice was always
respectfully heard, and his demands granted. His
diocesan flock, as a rule, were attached to 'him, and
more or less perceptive of his noble nature; as he
says in an early letter to de Beauvilliers, he set to
work among them gently and tenderly, and he
thought they liked him because they found him to

276 FE'NELON.

be equable, quiet, disinterested, and free from pride.
His greatest satisfaction seemed to lie in the con
sciousness that his people loved and trusted him ; of
his own immense power of fascinating rich and poor
he seems — as probably all who possess such a power
of necessity are — to have been unconscious.
When the worldly Saint Simon says of Fe'nelon
that no man ever lived who so possessed " la passion
de plaire," whether master or man,1 he very likely
speaks the truth in one sense, for probably few
ever lived whose heart more abounded in love for
all men, and in the consequent burning desire to
pour out love and kindness upon them. Had the
desire to please arisen from a worldly motive, as
Saint Simon naturally supposes, (how could he be
expected to see beyond the horizon of this world's
good things?) Ferielon's conduct from his earliest
to his latest days would certainly have been very
different to what it was ; and moreover, judging by
ordinary experience, it is not probable that in such
case Saint Simon could have added, as he does, that
as no man ever so passionately desired to please, so
no man ever so perfectly succeeded.
Cambrai was at that time a very central point, and
a great thoroughfare, and nothing could surpass the
courtesy, the charm, the discrimination, with which
>.• ¦...., * Mbnoires, vol. xxii. p. 1 37.

A TTRA C TION TO CAMERA T. 277
he received all comers, says Saint Simon. He never
sought any one (this critical courtier goes on to
remark, with a ndiveti which contradicts his foregone
conclusions), and at first people were shy of one
known to be in ill-odour at Court ; but by degrees his
exceeding attractiveness drew the bolder few, and
under their covert the multitude soon ventured to
approach. Every one was glad to find an excuse for
passing through Cambrai, until at last the whole
world thronged it. The Due de Bourgogne's unalter
able affection for his Preceptor was so well known,
that as time went on the self-interested part of
that fforld believed it would prove no unwise game
to cultivate the person dearest to the heir-apparent;
but even Saint Simon could perceive the deeper
lines of Fenelon's power to win love.
The quantity of people to whom he afforded a
hearty hospitality, the number of passers-by he
received cordially, the devoted care he bestowed
upon the sick and wounded who were frequently
brought to Cambrai — this it was, says Saint Simon,
that won the heart of all the troops. The Arch
bishop's personal attention was given to the hospitals
and to the humblest sufferers, while his palace was
crowded with invalided officers,' who frequently
' After the battle of Malplaquet, Fenelon even turned his
Seminary temporarily out in order to make room for the wounded.

278 FE'NELON.

remained his guests for months together, until their
health was entirely re-established — precious months, in
which he watched for their souls " with that know
ledge of the world which enabled him to adapt
himself to them, and which led multitudes to seek
him out, never refusing his ministrations to the
humblest of hospital subjects who sought them, and
following up their needs as though he had no other
claims upon him. Nor was he less active with respect
to the bodily relief of all such. Bouillons, delicacies
and alleviations of all kinds,1 not unfrequently theneed-
ful medical remedies themselves, were largely sent forth
from the palace, and all this, in spite of the large
scale, with a method and care that everything should
be the best of its kind which scarcely is conceivable.
He used to preside over the most important medical
consultations, and in truth the degree to which the
Archbishop became the idol of the armies,2 and in
which his name was re-echoed far and wide, to the
very core of Paris itself, can scarcely be expressed.
His alms, his constantly-repeated episcopal visitations,
' "Les consolations des degouts," implying that "something
to take after my nasty medicine," is no mere modern child's
requirement. 2 He would often stop and enter into conversation with the
private soldiers of the garrison at Cambrai, one of his personal
attendants says, with the view of making some impression for
good on them. — Correspondence, vol. xi. p. 176.

MANNER OF DAILY LIFE. 279
by means of which he thoroughly knew every corner
of his diocese for himself; the wisdom and gentleness
of his government', his frequent preaching in towns
and villages, his easy access, his consideration for the
poor, his courtesy to all, the natural grace which
enhanced the charm of whatever he did or said,
made him perfectly adored by the people, and no
less so by his clergy, whom he called sons and
brothers, and treated them as such. Amid all this
eager and universal desire to please," Saint Simon
goes on to say, still unable to look beyond the lower
motive, " there was nothing mean or ordinary,
affected or undue ; he always took precisely the
right attitude towards each one ; perfectly accessible
himself, prompt and disinterested, he contrived to
animate all who acted under him in that large diocese
with a like mind, so that no one ever met with in
justice or injury. Everything about and around
him was in the most perfect order. His mornings
were devoted to diocesan business. By reason of his
powerful talent and penetration, combined with con
stant residence and daily attention to whatever
claimed his eye, this was a comparatively short and
easy task. That ended, he received all who sought
him, then said Mass * in his chapel. That done, he
dined or breakfasted with his guests, who were always
' "Et il y etait prompt," adds the Marquis.

280 FENELON.

numerous, eating but little himself, yet lingering at
table for the sake of others, while charming them by
the ease, the variety, the naturel, the cheerfulness
of his conversation, without ever dropping into any
thing unsuitable to the dignity of a Bishop or a grand
seigneur. He did not remain with his guests on leaving
the table ; they were accustomed to live in his house
in perfect freedom both on his side and theirs. The
Archbishop used to retire to his study, and work there
for some hours, which were lengthened if the weather
was bad or he had no external duties to perform.
On leaving his study, he would go to pay needful
visits or take a country walk, which latter was his
favourite pastime, and one he willingly extended. If
there were no visitor or distinguished person who
claimed to be his companion in this walk, he used
to take some official or other ecclesiastic, and discuss
diocesan matters, or various religious and intellectual
topics, amid which most delightful episodes would
occur. He spent the evenings with whoever was
in his house, supping with the military 01 other
great people who might arrive, his table being served
as in the morning. He himself eat even less than at
dinner, and he always went to bed before midnight.
While his table was always abundant and refined, and
everything about him was consistent with the position
of a grand seigneur, there was notwithstanding nothing

FENELON AT HOME. 281
but what was thoroughly episcopal and in conformity
with the most precise rule, although tempered with a
seemly and delightful ease. He himself was an ever-
perfect example of all this, but one which it was
difficult to follow. In everything he was a true
Bishop, in everything a grand seigneur, in everything,
too, the author of Telimaque. Never one word
referring to the Court or politics with which it was
possible to find fault, or which savoured in the least of
flattery, regret, or servility; never anything whatsoever
which could for one moment suggest the thought of
what he had been or might yet be. Amid so much
party strife the most perfect order existed in his
domestic matters and in his diocese, but that free
from all petty triviality or pedantry, and without any
one of any rank being molested on doctrinal
matters." x
It must be confessed that such a description, given
by one so little in harmony with Ferieloris real nature,
conveys a strong impression of his power to win hearts.
We have another, and more minutely-detailed, account
of the Archbishop at home from that most amusing, if
small-minded, chronicler, the Abbe" Le-Dieu, Bossuet's
secretary, and Canon of Meaux. His Journals are
the most wonderful compound of really interesting
matter and the veriest trivial details of his own
1 Memoires, vol. xxii. p. 379.

282 FENELON.
ailments and physics, his meals, his petty quarrels with
his Chapter and with the Bossuet family, and the like.
Amid all this jumble we come upon a very interesting
episode in September 1704,' when the Abbe" deter
mined to pay a visit to the Archbishop of Cambrai,
who, he says, had often invited him, knowing him to
be a native of Peronne hard by. He had discussed
the proposed visit with Mme. de Maisonfort, who had
never ceased to lament her enforced separation from
Fenelon; and she requested Le-Dieu to be the bearer
of a letter to her former Director — a trust he the more
readily accepted, as he tells us, because it afforded
him an easy entrie to the Archbishop. We have the
most minute details as to the heavy rain which made
the Abbe"'s journey uncomfortable, until he finally
attained the Lion Inn, on the Place at Cambrai, Sep
tember 15, 1704. To his disappointment he found
Fe'nelon absent on a visitation in Flanders, but the
next morning an express announced the Archbishop's
return that day to dinner. He accordingly arrived at
noon, and Le-Dieu took care to be waiting in the first
large salle at the top of the palace staircase. Fenelon's
nephew, the Abbe de Beaumont, who never left him,
and two other gentlemen from Paris, who frequently
visited him (M. de l'Echelle and M. Lefevre), were in
1 Mlmoires et Journal, vol. iii. p. 154.

THE ARCHBISHOPS COSTUME. 283
the Archbishop's carriage; and he was met by his
Grand Vicaire de Chanterac (afterwards Archbishop
of Brabant), his nephews, the young de Ferielons,
and others of his household and friends. " I was
by the fireplace in the large billiard-room, and as
soon as he entered I approached him with profound
respect. At first his manner seemed to me cold and
reserved, though gentle and courteous, inviting me
to come in with kindness, but without empressement.
I said, in a modest but audible voice, ' I profit, Mon
seigneur, by the permission it has pleased your Gran
deur to give me to pay my respects to you when it
lay in my power ;' and then I added, in a whisper,
that I had brought him tidings and letters from Mme.
de Maisonfort."
Thanks to the old Canon's love of minutiae, we
learn the precise style of Fenelon's dress. He wore
" long violet garments, cassock and simarre with
cords, buttons, and button-holes of crimson scarlet
(icarlate cramoisi). I saw no golden tassels or fringes
to his cincture, and he had nothing on his hat but a
plain green silk cord ; white gloves, and neither cane
nor cloak.' I gave him the packet of letters as soon
' The Abbe Galet says that Fenelon's wardrobe was always a
very scanty one, and he would use none save the simplest mate
rials. He adhered to the same rule even with respect to his
ecclesiastical vestments; neither would he have lace or other
costly trimmings (as was the custom) on his albs or rochets. One

284 FE-NELON.

as we entered his room, and without opening it he
made me sit down above him, and iii a fauteuil
corresponding to his own, not permitting me to
take a humbler seat, and obliging me to put on my
hat." After an unimportant conversation, recorded d la
Boswell, dinner was announced; the Archbishop rose,.
and invited Le-Dieu to his table. We will profit by
the old Canon's detail to get an almost photographic
description of Fenelon's domestic life.
" All the guests awaited him in the dining-room.
.... One washed one's hands sans fafon, and as
among friends.1 The Prelate said grace, and took the
chief place, of course ; M. l'Abbe de Chanterac sat on
his left hand ; every one else took their place as it
day he showed the Abbe a splendid pastoral cross, set with
emeralds, which the Elector of Cologne had given him, and M.
Galet observed that he hoped the Archbishop would wear it, as
it was so infinitely handsomer than that he generally wore. But
Fenelon answered, with a smile, that he had accepted the gift
with a resolution in his own mind never to wear it. "Would the
holy bishops who are our examples have worn such ? Not they.
God forbid that the Cross, which is meant to be a memorial to
me of the poverty and nakedness of Jesus Christ, should be
insulted and despised by worldly pomp even on my breast. " —
Correspondence, vol. xi. p. 164.
1 Does the Abbe mean that in the Palace at Cambrai there
was a public tap of water, and a long towel hung from the ceil
ing, with a view to general ablutions, as one still sometimes may
see in " commercial" hotels in France?

AN ARCHIEPISCOPAL DINNER. 285
might happen after they had washed. I took a chance
place, and my soup was served to me. But the seat
on the Prelate's right hand was empty, and he signed
to me to take it. I thanked him, but pointed out that
I was already seated and served. He pressed me
gently and civilly, 'Come, this is your place.' So I
went without further resistance, and they brought my
soup after me.
" We were fourteen at table, and in the evening
sixteen ; and as I saw no tables in the dining-room
but bigger ones, suited to eighteen, twenty, or twenty-
four couverts, I concluded this to be the ordinary table;
and indeed there was no one present but his own
attendants and familiar friends, who never leave
him. . . .
" The table was served magnificently and delicately :
several soups, good beef and good mutton, all sorts of
entrees and ragoiils, a handsome roli, partridges and
all kinds of other game variously dressed; magnificent
fruit, exquisite peaches and grapes, albeit in Flanders,
the best kinds of pears, and all manner of compotes;
good red wine, no beer; the linen was clean, the bread
excellent, a great quantity of plate, very solid and
a la mode. There were a great many servants in
livery, who waited well and neatly, without noise, and
carefully. I saw no pages ; the Prelate was served by
a footman. I liked the looks of the maitre d'hote!,

286 FENELON.

who seemed to be duly respected and of weight in
the household.'
" The Archbishop took the trouble to help me with
his own hands to everything that was choicest on the
table, and every time I thanked him with the greatest
respect, hat in hand, as each time he too did not fail
to take off his hat to me ; and he also did me the
honour to drink my health — all very seriously, but with
a very easy, courteous manner. The conversation was
very easy, pleasant, and even mirthful; the Prelate
took his part, and left every one full scope. I noticed
that his chaplains, secretaries, and icuyers talked just like
the rest, quite freely, though nobody presumed to chaff
1 The Abbe Galet mentions Fenelon's peculiar consideration
for his servants. He used to speak in strong language of the
want of generosity people show who treat their attendants roughly
or unkindly. " Why should one add to the trials of their posi
tion by want of civility, poor people ! " he used to say. "Never
theless, sometimes I scold out of natural quickness ; but the next
moment I am sorry for it, and cannot rest till I have made up
for my sharpness by some kind of apology, which soothes my
poor servant at the expense of my own self-love." Sometimes
his friends would tell the Archbishop that he spoilt his servants,
and that his over-indulgence made them careless. " I grant it,"
he would say. " I know I am not as well served as I ought to
be ; mais que voulez-vous 1 We are all men — that is to say, full
of faults — and so we must be ready to forgive one another a good
many things ; I would rather err on the side of over-indulgence
than of too great severity, ' ira viri justitiam Dei non operatur, ' "
— Correspondence, vol. xi. p. 158.

TEMPERATE HABITS. 2F7
or satirise.' The young nephews did not talk. The
Abbe de Beaumont kept up a conversation turning
chiefly upon M. de Cambrai's journey ; but this
gentleman was very polite, and I saw nothing of the
haughty, contemptuous manners which I have so often
encountered elsewhere ; — indeed, I met with far more
modesty and civility than usual, both from the master
himself and his nephews and others.
" These tables for sixteen, eighteen, and twenty
persons were very noticeable to me, as indicating that
this Prelate always does his clergy the honour of
receiving them at his table for dinner and supper,
which is more than the Archbishop of Rheims does :
... he has always a separate table for his clergy
and secretaries. M. de Noailles, when at Chalons,
did the same — still more when he became Archbishop
of Paris, and most of all since he was made a Car
dinal, so that it is a sign of great modesty in M. de
Cambrai, with his titles of Duke and Prince of the
Empire, and all his wealth, to gather his priests at his
own table. The Prelate eat very little, and only the
lightest and plainest food : at supper, for instance, he
only took a few spoonfuls of ceufs au lait, and he only
drank two or three glasses of a very weak white wine.
I never saw such temperate feeding.2 In conse-
' Railler, ni epiloguer.
3 " Un regime severe au'on se 6"t une loi etroite de garder, et

288 FENELON.

quence, he is extremely thin, his complexion clear,
but colourless ; and he said himself, ' No one can be
thinner than I am.' But he is in good health, and
did not seem tired or weary after his three weeks'
journey. . . .
"After dinner everybody went to the Arch
bishop's great bedroom, where again this Prelate
insisted on giving me a place of honour; so I went to
the foot of the bed, against the wall, by M. de
l'Echelle, leaving the back of the room for those who
followed. The Prelate sat by the fireplace, near the
middle of the room, a little table beside him, at
which he wrote as occasion required, his secretaries
and chaplains (merely in cassocks) taking his orders
for letters dimissory, and other papers which they
brought to him to sign, as he was not going to hold
an ordination himself this time, there being only
some monks who were to be sent up for Orders.
qu'on observe journellement, sans s'en ecarter le moins du monde,
devient, par cette continuite, un assujettissement qui vaut lui
seul une bonne penitence : j'en atteste l'experience. On voit
toujours en effet tous les jours qu'on craint moins de souffrir et
d'etre malade, que d'etre toujours aux prises avec soi-mgme pour
combattre ses gouts ; preuve certain que cette contrainte est tres
mortifiante. M. de Cambrai pratiquoit done un regime eton-
nant, certes, soit pour l'uniformite invariable de la nourriture
qu'il prenoit, soit pour la tres petite quantite dont il en usoit.
Je ne lis point ce que Jesus Christ dit de Saint Jean Baptiste,
que je ne me sente porte a en faire l'application a votre saint
Prelat, 'Venit neque i.ianducans, neque bibens. ' " — Correspon
dence, vol! xi. p. 161.

THE DEAN OF CAMBRAI. 289
"After a while the Dean was announced : he is M.
de Franqueville, a Doctor of Theology, of a noble
family in Flanders, and a man greatly esteemed in
Cambrai and in the Chapter. The Archbishop saluted
him with the title of M. notre maitre, and so did
the Abbe de Beaumont. He was treated with every
sign of familiarity and friendship. The Doctor placed
himself in the most dignified seat in the room : he
talked a great deal, chiefly about news from the Court
of Brussels and the like, and showed by his conver
sation, by his hurried manner, his loud voice, and
frequent gesticulations, signs of a flighty character. . . .
The Prelate received him with an affable tone of
welcome, and a more open, bright countenance than
any one else. But no one except the Dean came,
which seemed to me very extraordinary on the return
of this great Prelate. Then coffee was brought, and
served to everybody ; M. de Cambrai had the polite
ness to have mine served with a clean napkin ! . . .
Between two and three o'clock M. de Cambrai went to
see the Comte de Montbrun, the Governor, . . . and
appointed me to an interview after his return. . . ."
The old gentleman's curiosity was always insati
able, and as soon as the Archbishop went away, he
profited by the opportunity to investigate all the
rooms and their arrangement minutely, although, as
he tells us, Fenelon had already shown him all his

290 FENELON.
apartment. This palace, unfortunately, was destroyed
at the Revolution, and consequently LerDieu's precise
description of the locality is scarcely worth repeating.
It seems to have been spacious ; a considerable part
had been rebuilt by Fe'nelon himself since the fire
already alluded to. The old chapel remained, and
corridors communicating between that and the living
rooms afforded space for walking up and down, as
Fe'nelon was apt to do when engaged in conversation.
The salle du dais, or grand reception-room, is of
course minutely described, with its crimsOn velvet
dais (beneath which the Archiepiscopal Cross was
placed), its tapestried hangings representing scenes
from the Book of Genesis, its red velvet fauteuils,
curtains, and portieres — down to their gold fringes and
galloons. So, too, the state bedchamber, and its
crimson damask furniture, which we may be excused
for not cataloguing. The most interesting objects
were portraits by Rigaud (or in his style) of the King,
the Dauphin, the Due de Bourgogne, and his brother
the young King of Spain ; besides which there were
several pictures of religious subjects in the ruelle,
which Le-Dieu does not describe beyond pronounc
ing them to be by good artists. This, however, was
only, used as a sitting-room. Fenelon himself slept in
a little room* adjoining, furnished merely with some
• The Abbe Galet says, that, feeling obliged to have his public

PALACE AND APARTMENTS. 291
grey woollen material, and unadorned save by a few
good engravings, causing the Canon of Meaux to
expatiate upon the Archbishop's lowliness, and how
everything that concerned his office was splendid, but
all that concerned himself only as modest as possible.
In spite of the fire which had destroyed so many of
his books, Fe'nelon appears to have had a large
library at this time, though Le-Dieu dwells upon the
black leather chairs and tables, and the well waxed
and polished floors, rather than upon literary details.
The garden was merely a square parterre, enclosed .
with alleys of trees. Fenelon told Le-Dieu that he
sometimes thought of turning various yards and
spaces about into garden, but that he could not
afford it now, and preferred first to rebuild all that
had been burnt. Le-Dieu seems to have been much
struck by the carriages he saw in the cour, and by the
fact that such ample consideration was shown in all
respects for the convenience of the Archbishop's suite
and officials, who, he says, were never sent on
journeys save under comfortable circumstances.'
rooms furnished with a certain degree of state, according to the
custom of the time, out of respect to his position and office in
the Church, Fenelon's compensation (disliking it as he did)
was to inhabit "a little cell at one side, where the furniture was
the plainest serge. C'etait la son habitation delicieuse, qu'il pre-
feroit a la magnificence des plus superbes palais." — Correspon
dence, vol. xi. p. 165.
' " - . . Tout est grand et commode en cette maison, et Ton

292 F&NELON.
About four o'clock, having paid his visit to the
Governor, Fe'nelon gave Le-Dieu the promised inter
view; nor does the vain old Canon omit to record
again how honourably he was placed by the Arch
bishop,1 or how, on an interruption obliging him to
dismiss his guest, the Prelate held open the door for
him, and said courteously, " Vous etes le maitre," so
that he might not feel obliged to wait. So Le-Dieu
went down to the garden and joined the Abbe de
Beaumont, to whom he seems to have imparted a
large amount of information concerning Bossuet and
other matters, (the dear old gentleman always gives
one the impression of a vast vessel of heterogeneous
small-talk, only needing the tap turning to flow on
indefinitely !) until at length he was recalled to
Fenelon's presence. Conversation turned, he says,
on the piety, spirituality, and faithfulness to duty of
holy souls — a line in which it occurs to one that the
Archbishop must have had all the personal apprecia
tion of their subject, though doubtless the good Canon
could let flow his banalitis on this as on all other
topics. Fenelon naturally avoided any discussion
which touched Bossuet, a reserve which Le-Dieu
n'y fait pas faire de voyages aux ecclesiastiques qu'a leurs points
et aises ; ce qui fait aussi beaucoup d'honneur au maitre et le fait
aimer et respecter comme il l'est partout. "
1 "II me fit encore asseoir au-dessus de lui aveo la meme
distinction que le matin."

FAMIL Y PR A VERS. 293
seems scarcely to have understood. He says that,
when speaking of Mme. de Maisonfort, the Arch
bishop told him to ask any questions he pleased, and
that he would answer as simply as a child — a famous
opportunity for pumping the great man about Quiet
ism, Le-Dieu remarks, but he wisely abstained.
Fe'nelon seems to have gratified the former secretary
by talking with him about various matters of Church
discipline, about his Seminary, and diocesan work.
At supper Le-Dieu found himself treated with a
like consideration, and afterwards Fe'nelon questioned
him with deep interest concerning Bossuet's death
bed, apparently confining himself to spiritual details,
for Le-Dieu says he made no allusion to the Bishop's
will, or any private matters, still less to the matter of
Quietism? Rather before ten o'clock the Archbishop
inquired if the household were assembled, and saying,
" Let us pray," the whole family joined in evening
prayers in the before-mentioned large bedroom, a
chaplain saying them. Prayers ended, Fe'nelon
ordered the Canon to be conducted to his sleeping
apartment with bougies and a flambeau de poing,
apologising because the said apartment was on the
other side of the court, and accompanying him to the
door of the salle du dais, where he took leave of
the gratified ecclesiastic, who went the next day to
Beaumetz, in a storm of wind and rain, much com-

294 FENELON.

forted by the courteous reception on which he could
dilate at length to his relations. But, like most other
chroniclers of petty and often egotistic details, Le-
Dieu lets in a bright light upon the picture one loves
to contemplate of that holy man, devoting himself to
his daily duties calmly, and without longings after the
more brilliant scenes he had left for ever.
One of Ferielon's great interests at Cambrai was
his Seminary, which, educated as he had been at Saint
Sulpice, he naturally wished to mould upon that model
as far as possible. There is an interesting correspon
dence remaining between him and his former Superior
Tronson concerning it, as also letters from Tronson to
de Chanterac, Sabatier, etc., which show the high
value and respect he always felt for his former
disciple, and his willingness to help him.1
, "Mgr. de Cambrai is the prelate of all pre
lates in France," Tronson writes (Nov. n, 1695)
to de Chanterac, "whom we prize the most, and to
whom we would most gladly supply workers for his
Seminary;" and a month later he writes to Fe'nelon
himself, that nothing save the lack of suitable subjects
has hindered such being sent to Cambrai. How
thoroughly the Archbishop worked the thing himself
may be gathered from a letter to Tronson (Jan. 7,
1697), in which he says, " Send me teachers possessed
* Correspondence, vol. v. p. 198.

SEMINARY OF CAMBRAI. 295
of straightforward sense, easy of access, and with a
hearty good-will, and I answer for their success. I will
myself watch over everything. I will lead them through
the beginning, and give them sanction and authority.
I will see to and uphold all. M. de Chanterac, who
is equally wise in action and firm in dogma, will help
us. No one shall have any fault to find. What our
people do not know at first they will have leisure
to learn. I shall live like a brother among them. I
do not ask for refinement or dazzling talents; I only
want common sense, and a will thoroughly given to
God. If you can give me anything beyond that, it
will be so much mOre than I expect. Think of my
attachment to your house, and you will feel that you
ought to make an effort to help me. I feel sure they
will care for me when we have lived a little while
together. They will not find me, please God, either
fastidious, or jealous, or mistrustful, or capricious, or
obstinate. This I hope of God's Goodness, not of my
own strength. . . . There is an immense work to do
here, and workers in whom I can trust are lacking."1
Saint Sulpice had not been yet able to provide
Fe'nelon with the teachers he desired when the storm
of disgrace burst over him, and with characteristic
delicacy and consideration he at once thought no
more of himself and his own needs, but of the
' Correspondence, vol. v. p. 210.

296 F&NELON.

possibility (only too great after the way all connected
with him were treated) that the Society he loved might
suffer through him, and consequently suspended all
negotiations with Saint Sulpice, just in the same spirit
as that which made him quit Paris without taking
leave of his dear friend Tronson.1 It was not till
after that friend was dead, and quite at the close of
his own career, that Fe'nelon effected his desire,
and saw his Seminary in the hands of the Saint
Sulpiciens. Meanwhile his unfailing helper, the Abbe
de Chanterac, took the lead in its work, and the Arch
bishop amply kept his promise of working it himself.
He was continually mixing both with the teachers and
the taught, and made a point of personally knowing
all the men whom he ordained, winning their love and
confidence as a father before the time whenhe had to sit
in judgment upon their qualifications for Holy Orders.
He frequently gave instructions and retreats in the
College, and regularly once a week held what he
called a conference there on some selected subject,
encouraging the students to discuss it with him, and
to ask questions, or state the doubts which might be
suggested to them. This habit made him a more
competent judge of their religious and mental powers
than even the regular examinations, which the Arch
bishop invariably superintended himself, maintaining
' See p. 167.

PERSONAL INTERCOURSE WITH HIS CLERGY. 297
a certain amount of ceremonial on these occasions
which he considered due to the dignity of the circum
stances, but which was not alarming or discouraging
to the Ordinands, who were accustomed to his kindly
and paternal manipulations. It was said in the
diocese — so invariable was the Archbishop's practice
with respect to these — that there was no priest within
its limits, ordained by him, whom he had not per
sonally examined five times. Neither was his care
for his Seminary confined to its spiritual and intellec
tual needs. Writing to his nephew, the Abbe de
Beaumont, Nov. 7, 1710, concerning his financial
affairs, Fenelon mentions, in addition to his heavy
household expenses, the burnt down buildings that
were still but partly replaced, his soldier nephew to
be helped in the service, great-nephews to be edu
cated, etc., etc.; while in addition to all these there
was his Seminary to maintain, nearly all the seminarists
to feed, and bons sujets to be supported in Paris,1 i.e.
men who went up there for one reason or another
from the Cambrai College at the Archbishop's ex
pense. Fenelon's opinions as to the interior working of
- Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 130. When men who were likely
to prove good priests were too poor to defray their own expenses,
Fenelon constantly undertook these himself, "in order," as he
said, "to insure capable and edifying clergy for the diocese." —
Correspondence, vol. xi. p. 184.

298 F&NELON.
such an institution may be gathered from his corre
spondence. "I often pray," he says, writing to
M. Leschassier, Superior of Saint Sulpice in 1706,
when sending one of his clergy to his care, " that the
primitive spirit of simplicity and separation from the
world's ways may be preserved in Saint Sulpice. If
a taste for brilliancy and dashing talent slips in,
gradually the work done by M. Olier and M. Tron
son would cease to exist." ' While attending himself
to all the affairs of diocese and Cathedral, Fenelon
never sought arbitrary pOwer; and de Ramsai, who
lived so long in his house, says that he never did any
thing of importance save in concert with his Vicars-
General and the "Chanoines de son conseil," who
met him for business regularly twice a week.
The religious houses of the diocese also received
the kindliest, most paternal care from its Archbishop,
who was ever ready to give his attention and labour
to the humblest Community of his flock, as may be
illustrated by the following extracts from a paper of
Counsels drawn up by him for the benefit of some
Religious after a visitation, in which it had appeared
to Fenelon that they were deteriorating in regularity
of life :—
"... The Superior is mother of all ; she should
esteem all the Religious as her children, with equal
¦ Correspondence, vol. v. p. 224.

INCESSANT LABOUR. 299
affection, as is needful in order to preserve peace and
union among the Sisters. They, on their part, should
respect and obey their Superior, ever bearing in mind
their vows and the Example of Jesus Christ.
" It is important to avoid special friendships, whence
spring cabals and lack of harmony. The Religious of
a Community should all love each other as sisters,
serving the same Master, living under the same rules,
aiming to win the same inheritance. If any one feels
it a duty, either to the Rule or out of charity, to make
a complaint against another, the Superior should be
most discreet in dealing with such complaint. . . ."
He goes on thus through a variety of subjects, dwell
ing at length on the importance of ascertaining that
those admitted into religious houses have a true
vocation and a " real religious mind." '
The unremitting labours which Fe'nelon steadily
persevered in necessarily involved a regular life of
industry. He, like Bossuet, gave but a short time to
sleep,2 and his working hours began early, so that he
had already done nearly a day's work before saying
Mass.3 His habit was to say this in his own chapel,
1 Correspondence, vol. v. p. 243.
3 " II dormoit tres-peu, nulle partie de sa vie exempte de
mortification ; imitation aussi sincere que continuelle du grand
ap&tre ; semper morlificalionem Jcsu in corpore nostra cinum-
ferenler." — Aru£ Galet.
3 The Abbe Galet says that Fenelon spent several hours in

300 FENELON.

except on Saturdays, when he said it in the Cathedral,
remaining there to hear the confessions of penitents of
any and every class who chose to present themselves.
He not unfrequently preached in the Cathedral, but
seems to have preferred the town churches, in some
one of which he always preached the Lent Station.
But few comparatively of his sermons remain to us in
full written form ; an Epiphany sermon, preached at
the Missions Etrangeres, in 1685, a few Saints'-day
sermons, one for the profession of a Religious, a great
Discours preached on the occasion of the Elector of
Cologne's consecration (May 1707), and a few En-
tretiens, are all we find,1 together with a certain
number of "plans" which seem to have been his more
usual method of preparing his sermons. These are
most carefully worked out, usually occupying three or
four pages of print, and leaving all but the skeleton to
be filled up in preaching.2
Fe'nelon probably never was an orator, certainly
prayer before saying Mass : — " II etoit homme de priere ; je
m'exprime mal, consomme dans l'oraison." — Correspondence,
vol. xi. p. 167.
De Ramsai says, in his Life of Fenelon, that he did not write
his sermons. " Tous ses sermons etoient faits de l'abondance de
son cceur. II ne les ecrivoit point. . . . Comme Mo'ise l'ami de
Dieu, il alloit sur la montagne sainte, et revenoit ensuite vers
le peuple lui communiquer ce qu'il avoit apris dans cet entretien
ineffable." — Histoire, p. 93.
2 CEuvres, vol. vii.

HIS PREACHING. 30!

not in the sense in which Bossuet was one. His
preaching seems rather to have been, like his letters,
characterised by its exceeding beauty and spirituality
of thought, and easy, simple style, than by any
masterful power of language, calculated to carry
away his hearers. " To think like Pascal, to write like
Bossuet, and speak like Fe'nelon," has been desi
derated as the perfection of human gifts.' His own
ideas on the subject may be studied in his Dialogues
sur I'Eloquence en giniral, et sur celle de la Chaire
en particulier,'1 written in his early days, and only
published after his death, and in a letter written to
the Acaderirie Franchise on L' Eloquence, la Poesie,
etc. 3 Not to quote at length from these writings,
one passage we must give, as forcibly illustrating
at once Ferielon's classical purity of taste, and his
intense and deep-down love for and knowledge of
Holy Scripture.
"Let us return to the eloquence of Holy Scripture,"
one of the interlocutors in the dialogue says. — " To
appreciate that," replies the person who is speaking
Ferielon's mind, "nothing is more helpful than a
taste for ancient simplicity ; and, above all, the study
of the ancient classic Grecians will promote such
appreciation. I say advisedly the ancient, for those
' Marquis de Vauvenarques. 3 OZuvres, vol. x. p. 167.
3 Ibid. p. 309.

302 FE'NELON.

Greek writers, whom the Romans called Grceculi, and
whom they so justifiably despised, were utterly
degenerate. But, as I was saying yesterday, you
should study Homer, Plato, Xenophon, and other
early writers, and then you will no longer marvel at,
Holy Scripture. You find almost the same customs,
the same narratives, the same pictures of great deeds,
the same action. What difference you find there is
absolutely in favour of Holy Scripture, which surpasses
them all infinitely in simplicity, life, and force. Not
even Homer ever approached the sublimity of the
songs of Moses ; especially the last, which was to be
learnt by all the children of Israel. No Latin or
Greek ode ever attained to the grandeur of the Psalms.
For instance, that one which begins, ' The Lord, even
the Most Mighty God hath spoken, and called the
world' (Ps. 1. E.V.), surpasses all power of human ima
gination. Neither Homer nor any other poet has ever
equalled Isaiah in describing the Majesty of God, in
Whose Eyes earthly kingdoms are but as a grain of dust,
Who spreadeth out the heavens as a curtain (Isa. xl.)
At one moment the prophet speaks with all the grace
and tenderness of a eclogue in his softly-smiling
picture of peace, and the next he lifts himself up till
all else is left far below. Again, what is there in
classical antiquity which can compare with plaintive
Jeremiah bewailing his nation's woes ; or Nahum in

ELOQUENCE OF HOLY SCRIPTURE. 303
the spirit beholding afar off the fall of stately Nineveh
before countless hosts ? One seems to behold those
hosts, to hear the clash of arms and chariots ; the
living description kindles imagination ; it leaves even
Homer far behind. Or again, study Daniel bearing
the message of God's vengeance ready to fall on
Belshazzar, and see if in the sublimest masterpieces
of antiquity you can find anything comparable.
Moreover, in Holy Scripture everything is sustained,
everything keeps up its characteristic tone, whether it
be history, legal detail, description, passion, mystery,
or instruction. And there is as great a difference
between the classical poets and the prophets as
between true and fictitious enthusiasm. The pro
phets, who were really inspired, consciously deliver
that which is Divine ; the others, while striving to lift
themselves up beyond themselves, continually betray
the mere human element. Only in the Second Book
of the Maccabees, in the Book of Wisdom, chiefly
towards the end, and in the beginning of Ecclesi-
asticus, do you find anything resembling the inflated
style which the already deteriorated Greeks had
imported into the East, where their language had
taken root together with their rule." And answering
the question whether, if all this be true of the Old
Testament, at least our Lord Himself did not speak
with the utmost simplicity, Fe'nelon says : —

304 FENELON.

" That simplicity is perfectly classical, it is like to
that both of Moses and the Prophets, whose words
our Lord frequently employs ; but simple and familiar
as it may be, it is sublime and full of imagery. It
would be easy to take up the Bible and prove
minutely that we have no modern preacher whose
most studied discourses so abounded in illustration
as did the popular teachings of Jesus Christ, and
that without including His sermons recorded by S.
John, where every word is consciously Divine ; I am
speaking rather of His more familiar teaching as
recorded by the other Evangelists. Even so with
the Apostles, with this difference, that Jesus Christ,
complete Master of His doctrine, handles it calmly ;
He says what He pleases without effort, He speaks
of the Kingdom and Eternal Glory as of His Father's
House. The grandeur which overwhelms us is natural
to Him ; it is His Home, and He speaks of 'that which
He has seen,' as He Himself tells us. The Apostles,
on the contrary, are bowed down beneath the weight
of the truths revealed to them ; they cannot give
utterance to the conception of their hearts, words fail
them. Hence the transpositions, confused expressions,
and arrangements we meet with. All these inequalities
in S. Paul and the other Apostles prove that their
minds were overruled by the Spirit of God ; and in
spite of sundry little ruggednesses of style, all we read

CORRESPONDENCE. 305
is noble, Uving, pathetic. As to the Apocalypse, we
find the same magnificence and enthusiasm in that
as in the prophets : the very expressions are often
identical, and sometimes this serves to the clearer
understanding of both. So you see eloquence exists
alike in the Old and New Testaments."1
Fenelon goes on to urge the importance of making
sermons a channel of expounding Holy Scripture, not
merely of preaching morality, or the best and ablest
line of reasoning.
While carrying on all this laborious and stedfast
pastoral work, Fe'nelon likewise found time for an
enormous correspondence, sometimes to a considerable
extent concerning ecclesiastical affairs, partly literary,
but in the main spiritual. Perhaps his spiritual letters
are the most perfect things of their kind anywhere
to be found, and multitudes who never have read
and never will read any of his published works have
found infinite solace and benefit in the wise, tender,
thoughtful letters which poured from his ready pen on
behalf of. all who sought comfort and guidance from
one of the most sympathising and ablest friends and
' Qluvres, vol. x. p. 271. His devotion to Holy Scripture,
and to. a prayerful study of it, was a marked feature in Fenelon's
life. " Read it faithfully, " he used to say, "standing up, with
uncovered head, with avidity : we need to hunger and thirst after
righteousness, and to feed with hearty appetite on the Bread of
God's Word." — Correspondence, vol. xi. p. 169.
U

306 FENELON.
directors that ever lived. These spiritual letters are
much too numerous to find place in a sketch like
this, and will accompany it in a separate form ; but
there are also many letters which, while not precisely
to be classed among spiritual, properly so called,
are most valuable and beautiful in themselves, and
fill up the history of those years spent at Cambrai in
exile from the scenes of which Fe'nelon would have
been the noblest ornament, had not the petty-minded-
ness of a so-called Great Monarch banished him from
them. In November 1699, we find him writing to that
never-failing friend the Due de Beauvilliers : —
" I am quietly settled here, and in a position, if it
so please God, to do some good. ... If I can
but get a good Seminary I shall be only too happy.
I am sorry, dear Duke, to be separated from you, the
dear Duchess, and a very few other friends. But
for all else I rejoice in being far away; I sing my
canticle of thanksgiving for deliverance, and nothing
would cost me so much as to have to return.
" I love the Due de Bourgogne dearly, in spite of his
many great faults, and intreat you never to let your
friendship for him slacken ; let it be a faithful, unspar
ing friendship. You must travail painfully until Jesus
Christ be formed in him. Bear with him without
flattering him, admonish him without oppressing him,

TO THE DUC DE BEAUVILLIERS. 307
availing yourself of such opportunities as Providence
may open to you, and being thoroughly faithful in all
such; tell him necessary truths, but tell them briefly,
lovingly, with tenderness and respect. It is provi
dential that his heart does not lean towards those
who would fain estrange him from you. For God's
Sake, do not let him escape you ; and if he should
ever fall into any great fault, let him feel that your
heart is open to him, as a haven in shipwreck. I
only write to Paris through the most secure channels,
and that to very few people — in fact, only to you, and
the petite Duchesse,1 and the petit Abbi, and at long
intervals to the Due de Charost. Scarcely anybody
writes to me. La petite Duchesse et le petit Abbe do not
write to me by the post. ... I pray God to give you
His Wisdom and Strength, ' esto vir fortis, et pneliare
bella Domini.' And again I would apply to you the
words of Holy Scripture : ' Quis tu, ut timeres ab
homine mortali.' God will be with you, if you are
continually with Him."3
In July 1 701, the Chevalier d' Albert, one of the
Due de Chevreuse's sons, was killed at the head jof his
regiment, at Carpi on the Adige, and Fe'nelon' writes
1 This was Fenelon's pet name for the Duchesse de Beau
villiers. In his intimate correspondence 1 she is frequently
alluded to as the " P. D." only, while.the Abbe de Langeron is
often indicated by "le P. Ab."
3 Correspondence, vol. i. p. 79.

308 FENELON.

to the bereaved parents — who had ever been such dear
friends to him, and who now were sorrowing both
for their loss and with natural anxiety as to the soul
of their son — with the tenderness of a brother.
"August I, 1 701.
" I have heard of your loss, dear Duke, with the
deepest sorrow. God has sent it, and we must bear
it silently ; we can only pray for him we have lost
You know how much I loved him, and how keenly I
felt whatever concerned him. I am sure that you
will bear this cross calmly, and that from the first you
have given up the dear child it has pleased God to
take as a sacrifice to Him. But I feel anxious for
the Duchess's tender heart ; for though I noways doubt
her submission to God's Will, I know that the sor
row must wring her soul, and I pray our Lord to
comfort her. The good things of this life are but
poor consolation, and they almost always involve us in
the danger of cleaving overmuch to them ; but as to the
sorrows of which life is so full they are trying indeed.
Our whole path is sown and strewn with thorns ; we
are here below only to suffer, and to love Him Who
proves us by suffering. All our most lawful attach
ments turn to crosses ; God rends them in order to
bind us more closely to Himself, and in so doing
He tears asunder those ties of the heart to which

TO THE DUC DE CHEVREUSE. 309
external objects are bound. But we must always
submit to God's Hand when He undertakes this pain
ful operation.
" I can sympathise more than most people with
the sorrows of your dear Duchess, who has always
sympathised so much with mine. ... I would I
could transport myself invisibly to your solitude.
But I feel as if we were near, even now that God
separates us, and in Him you are ever very close to
my heart, and will be to the last breath I draw."
"August 18, 1701.
" I have just received your letter, dear Duke, and
I think you will have received mine, which I wrote by
the first secure opportunity after hearing of your loss.
I feel that loss, and the sorrow which overwhelms you ;
but I have no fear for you, being sure that your heart
will be filled with the peace which is always in
separable from a true love of God's Will. I only pity
you because of the secret wound which seems to
wither your heart. But suffering is the hidden life of
souls while on earth, for it is only through death
that the germ of the new life is raised up in us.
All that seems to make the seed perish in the earth
is really causing it to spring up and grow meet for
the harvest.
" Still you must not dwell too much on distressing

310 FE\NEL0N.
thoughts. The frailties of one so youthful, and thrown
into a life of so much dissipation, are not so pernicious
as the intellectual vices which are cloaked with refine
ment, and dressed up like virtues at a later age.
God beholds the clay of which He has made us, and
has pity on His poor children. Besides, if the torrent
of example and passion had led the young man some
what astray, we can still say, as the Church says in her
prayers for the dying, ' He hath believed and hoped
in Thee, O God.' A deeply-rooted faith and religious
principle, lying hidden beneath passion and excite
ment, will wake up in a moment of extreme danger.
The extremity of the moment disperses all illusions,
tears away the veil, opens the eyes to eternity, and
recalls many half-forgotten truths. The heart once
taught to know Him and seek His Mercy turns by
instinct to God at His faintest whisper in such a
crisis. He needs neither time nor much speaking
to make Himself heard and felt. He said but one
word to Mary, and she answered but one word,
' Master.' That said all. He called His child by
her name, and thereby she knew Him at once. His
ineffable word is all-powerful ; it creates a new heart
and mind within the man. Weak men, who can only
see the outside, want great preparations, fixed actions,
well-framed resolutions ; God needs but one instant,
in which He does all, and sees what He does.

LE TIERS OF S YMPA THY. 311
" It would be fearful presumption to count upon
such miracles of grace; but He Who forbids us
to count upon them is pleased sometimes to per
form them. You will find S. Augustine saying re
peatedly that life itself is a grace, inasmuch as God
prolongs it as an invitation to the last to us to be
converted. Do not doubt it. He Who truly desires
to save sinners waits for their salvation, and His
waiting would be in vain if He refused the succour
necessary for that salvation in the last hour of the
final combat. ' Wherefore, comfort one another with
these words." I pray the Spirit of consolation to
soften your burden and the Duchess's. Every day
I take you both in my heart to the altar, together
with all your family, which will be dear to me while
I live. Nor do I forget the poor child you have
lost. I am ever yours in Him Who so greatly loves
us, and Whom we all seek to love," etc. etc.2
The de Chevreuses hoped to visit Fe'nelon, and enjoy
his sympathy and power to comfort viva voce, but
an obligatory attendance on the King forced them to
give up this consolation and to remain at Versailles.
Three years later another of their sons, the Due
de Montfort, was also killed in battle near Landau,
and we find a letter from Fe'nelon to a younger
* I Thess. iv. 18. 3 Correspondence, vol. i. p. 108.

3i2 FFNELON.

brother, who was greatly shocked at the sudden loss,
amid his correspondence. After expressing the
writer's own sorrow, he continues : — " This touching
event has brought you into a very close realisation of
the vanity and hollowness of the dream we call life.
Men cleave closely to the world, but it does not
cleave to them. Life, uncertain as it is to all, is
doubly so to men of your profession ; they cannot
count on a day, however strong and healthy. Yet
they are absorbed in the amusements of a life which
is in ceaseless peril ; they rarely think of death, which
they advance to meet half-way, as though it were
not striding towards them already.
" Men are perpetually upheld by God's Hand, and
yet they think not of Him, and use all His best gifts
only to offend Him. They do not wish to die in
His displeasure, but they will not live in His Love.
They confess that they owe Him everything, but will
give Him nothing, preferring the most contemptible
pleasures to Him. Men would often be ashamed to
utter the things which they allow to take precedence
of Him in their hearts. They own the worthlessness
of the world, yet they meanly make use of it ; they
know the greatness and mercy of God, yet all they
offer Him is an empty show. Such a state is as
contrary to reason as to faith.
" You know the truth ; you would fain follow it.

LETTERS OF WARNING. 313
You would shrink from dying as many men who are
well spoken of are not afraid to live ; but you are
carried away by the torrent. You are dissatisfied
with yourself, but you cannot make up your mind to
do what alone will bring you peace. Why delay?
All the evasions with which you flatter yourself are
false. God asks everything, and everything is due to
Him. You cannot admit of any half-measures, any
delay. The least we can do for Him Who gives us
all we have, and on Whom we depend wholly, is to
give ourselves up to Him heartily. Would you lay
down the law to God ? Would you fix the limits of
your own dependence ? Would you say to Him, ' I
feel you worthy of the sacrifice of this or that interest
and pleasure, but I cannot make up my mind to
sacrifice this other one to you ? '
" Are you going to wait till your passions are worn
out to sacrifice them? Do you mean to go on, while
your worldly tastes wear themselves out, spending
your life in ingratitude, in resisting the Holy Spirit,
and despising the Goodness of God? Do you mean
to run the risk of one of those terrible sudden deaths
which sometimes overtake hardened sinners? It is
not merely a question of abstaining from great sins ;
you must turn stedfastly towards what is good, follow
it perseveringly, not look behind you, make up your
mind to restrain yourself, foster vour faith with solid

314 F&NELON.

reading, with heartfelt prayer, and aiming at recollec
tion of God throughout the day.
" You must mistrust your own weakness, and still
more the presumption without which mere weakness
would humble you, and make you feel the need of
prayer. You should fear and shun as far as possible,
according to your position, all dangerous society.
When we do not love that which is evil, we cling
neither to its occasion, its appearance, nor its memories.
" You should strive to be fit to receive the Sacra
ments frequently with profit and comfort, in order to
get rid of your languid, dissipated state. Men are
disgusted and discouraged, till they are tempted to
despair ; yet they will not seek strength where alone
it is to be found, nor draw consolation from the one
true Source. Oh, how light-hearted you would be if
you had broken all your bonds ! How you would
bless God for having saved you from yourself if this
blow were struck ! The operation is painful, but the
health restored thereby would be your blessing. I
pray the Lord to give you such courage : ask it often
for yourself. In Him I am," etc. etc.1
Many letters of firm, manly, yet most tender counsel
to this young man, as well as to others of a similar
class, will be found more fittingly placed in the
Spiritual Letters ; but, indeed, most of Fenelon's
* Correspondence, vol. i. p. 157.

THE DUC DE BOURGOGNE. 315
friendly letters are so mixed up with the element most
natural to him of spiritual things, that it is sometimes
difficult to classify them.
One young man, indeed, there was to whom his
letters were written with the fervour and passionate
affection of a parent, the Due de Bourgogne, and no
portrait of Fe'nelon can be exact which does not give
this feature with some precision. Already certain
letters, written in all the secresy that something evil,
instead of the counsels of a saint, might have required,
have been quoted. Early in the year 1702 the King
gave the command of his army in Flanders to his
grandson, who was to be in a sort of state tutelage
under the Marechal de Boufflers : such was the way
formerly in which princes were taught the art of war.
To reach Flanders the Duke must needs pass through
Cambrai, and he naturally put strong pressure on his
peremptory grandfather to be allowed to pause there
and visit his beloved friend the Archbishop. Even
the arbitrary Grand Monarque could hardly have
refused such a reasonable request; but he dreaded
(probably almost without knowing why) the influence
of Fe'nelon upon his grandson, and a hampered,
qualified permission was all the Due de Bourgogne
could obtain. The Duke was strictly forbidden, not
merely to sleep at Cambrai, but even to dine there ;
and in order to make sure of his having as little com-

316 FE\NELON.
munication as possible with Fe'nelon, the King for
bade him to alight, so says Saint Simon.' But even
this limited prospect was grateful to him who thirsted
once more to sun himself in the warmth of the truest
affection he had ever been blessed with, and he
wrote to Fe'nelon as follows : —
"A. Peronne, April 25, 7 o'clock, 1702.
" I cannot be so near you without expressing my
delight, as also that which the King's permission
to see you gives me. He has subjoined the condition
that I am not to see you alone ; but I can obey that
command, and still talk with you as much as I will,
as I shall have Saumery as the third in our first
meeting after five years' separation ! It is sufficient to
mention him ; you know even better than I do that he
is a very safe man, and better still, your true friend.
So I intreat you to be at the place where I am to
change horses about eight or half-past. If by chance
an excess of discretion should have taken you to
Cateau, I bespeak a rendezvous on my return, assuring
you that nothing ever has or can alter the sincere
affection I have for you, etc. Louis."3
The Duke knew Fe'nelon well, and had rightly fore
seen that, in order to avoid any possibility of appa-
¦ Mlmoires, vol. vi. p. 146.
Correspondence, vol. i. p. 13a.

A LOVING INTERVIEW. 317
rent wrongdoing, he would leave Cambrai at the time
his former pupil was to pass through. However, the
King's permission set this difficulty at rest, and the
Archbishop and his "petit Louis" met once more,
though in a constrained, uncomfortable manner, sur
rounded by lookers-on at a moment when both their
hearts yearned for an unreserved private interview.
Saint Simon says that the very crowd was touched at
the transport of joy which the young Prince could not
restrain, in spite of all the chilling formalities imposed
upon him, when he caught -sight of his beloved friend.
He embraced Fe'nelon over and over again, and con
tinued to whisper loving words as he did so ; but both
were too loyal to infringe upon the King's commands.
The royal party only remained long enough to change
horses leisurely, and the meeting was frozen by
form, until just before they parted. When the Arch
bishop was offering a napkin to the Prince as he
washed his hands, Louis said in a raised tone, intended
to be heard by all present, " I know what I owe to
you ; and you know what I am to you" (" Je sais ce
que je vous dois, vous savez ce que je vous suis").
"The scene was too public and too narrowly watched
not to be made known everywhere," says Saint
Simon ; " but as the King had been strictly obeyed,
he could not find fault with such utterances as could
be snatched amid embraces, or with the loving and

318 FENELON.

expressive looks exchanged between the Prince and
the Archbishop. The Court gave good heed to all this,
and still more the army. The consideration which
the Archbishop had won for himself in spite of his
disgrace, throughout his diocese and in the Low
Countries, spread through the army, and foreseeing
people selected the route through Cambrai, in
preference to any other, on their way to and from
Flanders." Fe'nelon wrote on the evening of that interview
to Mine, de Montberon :— " I have seen the Due de
Bourgogne to-day, after five years' separation, but God
seasoned the consolation with great bitterness ... I
saw him only in public, for a short quarter of an hour.
One must take things as they come, and give one's self
up unreservedly to God's Providence.'' *
Writing soon after to the Due de Chevreuse,
Fe'nelon expresses his joy at hearing that the Prince
was exceeding all hopes in his conduct in Flanders,
"in which he is strengthened by his religious tone.
This experience must induce him to take a new line
when he returns to Court, unless he starts on this
fresh footing at first, he will fall back into the old
state of things, and all the good gained with the
army will be lost. Two misspent days at Versailles
will be his destruction. On the other hand, if he
' Correspondence, vol. vi. pp. 379, 380.

FURTHER INTERCOURSE. 319
maintains the reputation he has won ; if he is found
to be affable, obliging, attentive at Versailles as when
with the army ; if he maintains a certain dignity, with
out hauteur or quick temper, even towards those least
prejudiced in his favour, you will see that the public
will appreciate it, and even the least favourably dis
posed will not be able to help perceiving his worth.
If he will take the trouble, he will make himself
esteemed by everybody ; he need only act in a really
religious spirit — that will uphold him in all." And in
another letter, written a fortnight later, the Archbishop
expresses a similar urgent desire that the Duke should
keep up the improvement wrought by his sojourn in
the army at Versailles.'
The campaign was not eventful, and in September
Louis XIV. recalled his grandson, who wrote most
affectionately from Malines (Sept. 6, 1702) to express
his fears lest a renewed meeting should excite the
King's displeasure and do harm. However, the letter
was delayed, and as a matter of course Fenelon went
to the post-house to meet his dear "petit Due,"
writing afterwards to de Beauvilliers that he had
improved in personal appearance, and was most
affectionate. The Archbishop knew his former pupil's
character so well, that he could not help feeling the
present to be a critical period, and he accordingly
1 Correspondence, vol. i. p. 154.

320 FE'NELON.

intreated de Beauvilliers to take a most faithful and
prayerful line about one whose character was so all-
important to the welfare of France. There are many
letters on this subject. Some extracts must be per
mitted : it is not often, perhaps, that such true and
loving counsels are uttered on behalf of princes : —
" Cateau-Cambresis, Oct. 5, 1702.
" I intreat you, my dear Duke, not to let any mere
political views influence your dealings with the Due
de Bourgogne, nor any over-anxious foresight or
mere secular plans, or any excessive caution or over-
reliance on his natural discretion — all such machinery
would fail in the hour of need. Deal quietly with
him, without anxiety, and simply as in the Presence
of God. Do not seek him overmuch, let him seek
you; do not indulge him weakly. On the other
hand, beware of exercising indiscreet authority. Do
not constrain him, or worry him with importunate
lectures ; but tell him the truths he ought to know
simply, gently, and briefly. Never say much at a
time, and that only according to his needs and
opportunities." And in Jan. 1703, the Archbishop (after wishing
his old friend a happy new year, no physic, a little
rest, and plenty of cheerfulness, since joy is the true
baume de vie, and " a broken spirit drieth the bones,"

DUC DE BOURGOGNE'S CHARACTER. 321
Prov. xvii. 22) bids him study the Due de Bourgogne's
inner life still more than the external, nourishing his
heart, and strengthening him so that his natural tastes,
his impetuosity, and the world's stream may not carry
him away. " I should think less of his indifference
to the world while it was against him than of his
being able to be detached from the world now that
it sings his praises and seeks him eagerly. The thing
is to act fittingly as regards the world, without caring
for it, and that cannot be accomplished unless God
upholds a man with His Hand, as though he hung in
mid-air. What can be more flattering than to be
born so great a prince, and yet to owe public applause
to one's own conduct and abilities, like a mere private
individual? But it would be a terrible misfortune if
he leant on such a broken reed. The esteem of
empty men is empty, and will be forfeited some day.
If the Prince be left to himself, apart from God and
His Grace, all will wither up around him, and the very
world which led him to forget God would be God's
instrument for punishing his ingratitude. I would die
rather than hear of such a calamity. Assuredly, if he
were to fall from God, he would be in a condition
which would speedily lose him with the world, and
the world would turn from him."
Again : — " I am delighted at all I hear of the Due
de Bourgogne. Try to influence him so that those

FE'NELON.

who are charmed with him in the army may find him
as charming at Court. I know the unavoidable differ
ences, but we must try to bring the two things as near
together as possible. The only sure way is for that
which is good to be thoroughly established within him,
and then to overflow on all that is without. Grace is
to the soul what food is to the body. A man who
strove to feed his arms and legs by applying the best
possible food to them would not gain flesh. All must
begin from within : the food must be digested and
become chyle, blood, and finally sound flesh. It is
from the very centre of life itself that all external parts
acquire their nourishment. And prayer to the soul's
life is as the digestive organ to the body. Love digests
everything, absorbs everything, and assimilates all it
receives ; it nourishes all the exterior man by good
deeds. As the digestion forms flesh, blood, nervous
power for arms, hands, legs, feet; so love in prayer
renews the spirit of life for all its course. It forms
patience, gentleness, humility, purity, temperance, dis
interestedness, sincerity, and all the other virtues
necessary to repair their daily waste. If you strive to
apply any such virtues externally, you only produce a
formal method, a superstitious exterior, a collection of
legal, judaising works, a lifeless form. It will be a
mere whitened sepulchre : the outside may be gar
nished with sculptured marble, with a bas-relief of

DIFFICULTIES OF TEMPERAMENT. 323
virtues, but within will be only dry bones. The
interior will be lifeless, a mere skeleton, withered up
for lack of the Holy Spirit's unction. It is no good to
try and excite love within by a multitude of external
practices and scruples; but, on the contrary, the
inward principle of love, cultivated by prayer al cer
tain fixed hours, and maintained by the familiar Pre
sence of God throughout the day, must convey
nourishment from the central source to the exterior
members, and bring forth in all simplicity the virtues
suitable to each passing hour and occasion as they
are required. This it is, dear Duke, which I heartily
desire you may be able to teach our Prince, who is so
precious in God's Sight. Religion taken thus becomes
gentle, kindly, simple, exact, firm, without being
scrupulous or harsh. Take care of his health ; he
will be wanting in his duty to God if he does not
husband his strength."
There was much to make Fenelon anxious about his
dearly-loved pupil, whose noble qualities and special
difficulties of character no one probably knew or felt
so thoroughly as he did.' His passionate, eager tem-
• ". . . Fe'nelon, plus difficile que ses autres precepteurs et
plus clairvoyant, voudrait le voir un homme, un grand prince,
ouvert, sociable, accessible a tous, non etroit ni particulier, ni
renferme et borne a un petit nombre de gens qui l'obsedent et qui
l'admirent — a une coterie, comme nous dirions ; ayant de la reli
gion la moelle et l'esprit, non pas les simples pratiques minu..

324 FE'NELON.

perament had been, as Saint Simon says, " so mastered
by grace, that the work seemed simply miraculous, so
vast was the change wrought in a short time, amid the
most impetuous outbreaks of youth, and amid all the
countless obstacles which age, rank, and individual
circuftistances seemed to combine in order to contend
for the victory against that grace. Yet none of these
obstacles could touch the victory won, and its con
tinued firmness removed all anxiety as to its perma
nence." " But the very strength of the character thus
won by grace inclined it to extremes, and shunning
the profligacy and dissipation and selfishness of his
Court and times, the young Duke was in danger of
falling into a narrow groove of asceticism and self-
isolation, which, if allowable to a private individual,
free to choose his own line, could not but be wrong
in one whose vocation called him to so eminent a
public position. Writing to the Due de Beauvilliers
about him in r7io,3 Saint Simon laments that the
Due de Bourgogne gives himself up so much to.
study, while admitting that in his condition high
tieuses et les scrupules, s'inspirant de lui-mgrne dans les occasions,
prenant sur lui, brave a la guerre, sachant y acquerir de la gloire,
sinon par des succes eclatants qui peuvent manquer, par sa fermete
du moins, son genie et son esprit de ressource jusque dans let.
tristes evenements." — Nouveaux Lundis, vol. ii. p. 136.
' Mimoires, vol. xv. p. 47.
3 Ibid. p. 46.

SAINT SIMON'S OPINIONS. 325
mental cultivation is necessary. But, he urges, the
Duke has already attained a height therein far beyond
anything he can possibly require ; and having become
a man, he ought to turn his energies rather to the
profitable use of what he has acquired than to a con
tinual amassing of increased stores ; like a workman,
who, having collected his tools, sets to work without
delay to turn them to account.
Saint Simon presses the desirability of more free
intercourse with the King and the Dauphin, more
sociability with men in general, a less scrupulous and
constrained piety, less shunning of fetes and amuse
ments, a smoother brow and easier manner, which, he
says, would " make his piety more winning, I dare
not presume to say less alarming." The very entrain
with which his natural temperament led the Duke into
pleasures which his conscience reproved, caused him to
put literature, science, and piety in their stead with too
keen a reaction, according to Saint Simon. " The vio
lence he had done to his natural faults, his craving after
perfection, . . . imparted an austerity which infected
everything, and gave him a constrained manner, often
unintentionally that of a censor, which estranged his
father more and more, and displeased the King." '
He would refuse to be present at Court balls and
parties on certain occasions, and shut himself up in
1 Memoires, vol. xv. p. 80.

326 FENELON.
his study when others thought that duty demanded
the sacrifice of his personal feelings. It is only fair
to add Saint Simon's concluding sentences : — " But
with praise I must conclude as I began. That grace
which had begun with such speedy miracles achieved
its work fully, and made- him a most admirable prince.
All pettiness and scruples and infirmities vanished, and
left him perfection in every way. But alas ! perfec
tion is not meant for this world, so unworthy of it.
God showed what he could be as a witness of His
own Goodness and Mercy, and then hastened to
take him away in order to reward him and punish
our sins."
These criticisms of the astute politician and courtier
throw an interesting light on the intercourse carried
on between the Duke and Fenelon, who was fully
alive to his pupil's dangers, and who, while above all
cherishing his spiritual life and progress, was far too
wise not to feel forcibly that those could only attain
their fitting proportions by means of a faithful per
formance of the daily duties of that life and vocation
in which God had placed him.
The correspondence between them is too valuable
and interesting to be omitted, and seems to find its
fit place here, rather than among Fenelon's spiritual
letteis. It was generally expected that the Due de Bour-

ADVICE AS TO SOCIAL LIFE. 327
gogne would have been sent to Flanders again in
1703; but whether, as some supposed, in order to
keep him effectually apart from Fe'nelon, or for other
reasons, Louis XIV. sent his grandson to Germany,
as nominal Commander-in-Chief of his armies there,
under the charge of Marechal de Vauban. Ferie
lon's advice to the young Prince, given through the
Due de Beauvilliers, was of the most practical and
Sensible kind. While assuming that he would never
permit any excessive drinking at his table, the Arch
bishop urged that he should promote pleasant and
easy conversation, not hurrying away churlisnly the
moment a meal was ended ; and that in all social
hours he should cultivate friendly, affable habits.
If offences against decency or morality in the army
came under his notice, he was right to repress all such
severely; but he ought not to descend into minute
details, or indulge scrupulous fancies. He was bound
to take care of his health, to sleep and eat well, and
try to lead his daily life as in God's Presence, in the
peace of a good conscience. The royal pupil seems
to have striven to follow this advice, for Saint Simon
says that he " won great honour through his appli
cation and assiduity in his work, combined with a
natural, simple valour quite free from affectation,
going wherever he was wanted, or where he had any
thing to see, or learn, or order, without thinking of

328 FENELON.

danger. . . . His liberality, his care of the wounded,
his affability and appropriate demeanour towards all
men, won him the hearts of the whole army." '
The Duke was recalled unexpectedly by Louis
XIV. and he reluctantly returned to Versailles, Sep
tember 22, 1703, whence he wrote to Fe'nelon on the
28th :—
"The line I have been upon this year was not
compatible, dear Archbishop, with the rendezvous I
gave you at our last meeting, but I profit by my usual
message-bearer, and hope you will use him on his
return to bring a reply. My desire to be God's only
is unchanged, and even grows stronger at bottom, but
it is hindered by many faults and much dissipation.
So, I intreat you, redouble your prayers for me. I
need them more than ever, being still weak and
miserable. I see it daily more and more. But I
consider that this light comes from God, Who ever
sustains me, never quite forsaking me, though often I
feel nothing but coldness and sloth, which I must try
to conquer with the help of His Grace. For some
time, too, I have been troubled with scruples which
have worried me. This is a pretty fair account of
myself at present; so help me with your counsels and
prayers. Your name is every day mentioned in mine,
though, as you may guess, it is not spoken out loud.
' Mimoires, vol. vii. p. 89.

CAMPAIGN IN FLANDERS. 329
Thank God, too, for the successes with which He
has favoured us, and ask the continuance of His pro
tection in a situation where we need it so much.
I will say nothing of what I feel concerning you; I
am ever the same, and greatly long that it did not
depend upon going into Flanders or not whether I
can see you. But all that will be as God pleases. If
the Abbe de Langeron is at Cambrai, say a little word
to him from me, cautioning him about secresy." '
During the next five years the King kept his grand
son at Court, away from the scene of a war which was
not increasing the glory of France, and it was not till
17CS that the Due de Bourgogne was allowed to
resume military duties. He writes (Senlis, May
15, 1708): — "I am delighted, dear Archbishop, at the
opportunity given me by the campaign I am about to
make in Flanders to embrace you once more, and
renew in person my assurances of the tender love I
must bear you all my life. If it were possible, I
should have greatly liked to sleep at your house;
but you know the reasons which oblige me to be
cautious, and I do not think you will stand on form.
I shall be at Cambrai to-morrow about nine o'clock,
get a mouthful of food at the post-house, and continue
on horseback to Valenciennes. I hope to see you
there, and talk of many things. If I do not often
' Correspondence, vol. i. p. 1 5 1.

330 FENELON.
write to you, you know that it is from no lack of
friendship and gratitude." *
This interview took place, subject to much the
same restrictions as that of 1702, says Saint Simon,3
except that the Duke dined at Cambrai. "To be
sure, it was only at the post-house, where the Arch
bishop and everybody in Cambrai appeared. The
curiosity felt about this very public interview may be
imagined. The young Prince embraced his Preceptor
repeatedly, and said out loud that he could never
forget the great obligations he was under to him.
Without ever whispering, he scarcely spoke to any
one else, and his urgent glances directed to the
Archbishop {land dans les yeux de F Arclieveque) —
looks which silently spoke all which the King had
forbidden — were filled with an eloquence which, to
gether with his first words, carried away all the
spectators. . . ."
On the 2 1 st he writes from Valenciennes : — ". . . I
am delighted with the advice you give me in the
second part of your letter, and intreat you to renew
it as often as you will. I think, thank God, that I
have some of the sentiments you suggest, and that,
letting me know what is lacking, God will give me
strength to attain and to use the remedies you pre
scribe. It seems to me that, considering how seldom
1 Correspondence, vol. i. p. 213. ' Mhnoires, vol. xi. p. 179.

THE DUC DE VENDOME. 33!
we meet, you still know me pretty well ! . . . Con
tinue your prayers, I beseech you ; I need them more
than ever. Unite them to mine — or rather I will
unite mine to yours, for I know that the Bishop is
superior to the Prince. You do wisely not to come
here, as you may judge by my not sleeping at Cam
brai. I should most certainly have done so but for
the decisive reasons which hindered me. Otherwise
I should have delighted in seeing you while I am
here, and in talking with you about many matters in
which you are more capable of enlightening and ad
vising me than any one. You know the love I have
ever borne you, and that I have always done you
justice amid all the unjust accusations laid against
you. Be persuaded that nothing can lessen that love,
and that it will last all my life."'
The campaign of 1708 was not a happy one for the
Due de Bourgogne, whose principles and self-com
mand were most severely tried during it. Nominally
at the head of the French army, he was practically
subject to the Due de Vendome, whose impetuous
courage, no less than his vehement temper, caused a
series of difficulties to the young Prince and all around
him. Moreover, Vendome was prejudiced against
the Prince, and from the first treated him with an
insulting tone of superiority which was most trying to
1 Correspondence, vol. i. p. 214.

332 FENELON.
one whose own temperament was naturally so fiery,
however subdued by grace and training.
This is not the place to give military details, or to
describe the campaign. Suffice it to say, that, after
losing the battle of Oudenarde (July ir, 1708), Ven
dome, infuriated at his own failure, lost all self-control,
and while consulting with the generals as to what should
be their next immediate step, he grossly insulted the
Due de Bourgogne, who was about to speak, by ex
claiming before the assemblage, in an imperious voice,
that the Duke had better remember he was there only
on condition of obedience to himself!' These tre
mendous words, uttered at such a moment, when the
fatal results of obedience paid to Vendome's indolence
and obstinacy were but too evident, Saint Simon says,
1 Saint Simon, Memoires, vol. xi. p. 21 1. According to this
chronicler, the loss of the battle of Oudenarde was really owing
to the indolence and incapacity of Vendome. " The Due de
Bourgogne, supported by the whole army, and even by Ven
dome's own greatest admirers, vainly represented to him that
since the suggestion [to pass the Scheldt, burn Oudenarde, and
close the country to the enemy] was the only profitable course, as
he himself admitted, it was better to take such a course now than
leave it to be taken hereafter ; and that if delayed, they might be
forestalled, which, as he admitted, would be extremely awkward.
Vendome was afraid of the fatigue of marches and change of
quarters, which upset the ease of his life. He was always re
gretting the comforts he left behind, and these considerations
triumphed" (p. 206). Saint Simon's account of the battle and
attending circumstances, related to him by Biron and other eye
witnesses, is most graphic and interesting.

BATTLE OF OUDENARDE. 333
made all who heard them quiver with indignation.
"The young Prince to whom they were addressed
had to win a harder victory than that which had just
been won over him by the enemy. He felt that there
was no medium between extreme measures and ab
solute silence, and was sufficiently master of himself
to preserve the latter. Vendome began to discourse
about the battle, trying to make out that it was not
lost, and that as one-half of the army had not been
engaged, battle must be renewed next morning — in
order to which they must remain all night where they
were, and make the best of it. Everybody listened
in silence to a man who refused to be contradicted,
and who had just shown in the person of the heir-
apparent how he would treat any one who dared
differ from him. This silence lasted, no one ven
turing to speak, till at last the Comte d'Evreux broke
it." One after another began to bring in tidings of the
utter disorder of the French troops, and the principal
officers present urged the importance of taking some
decided measure. At last Vendome, who was mad
dened with rage at seeing every one against him, ex
claimed, "Very well, gentlemen, I see you all will
have it so — we must retreat." And then, turning
spitefully to the Due de Bourgogne, he added with
pointed sarcasm, " Indeed, for long, Monseigneur, I
know you have wished to do so." The vicious double

334 FENELON.

entendre meant to be conveyed in these words was
perfectly plain both to the Duke and all bystanders ;
but he once more controlled himself in spite of the
exceeding provocation, and uttered not a syllable,
and, following his example, all around were silent,
only expressing by significant gestures their amaze
ment. At length Puysegur broke the awkward silence
by asking how the retreat was to be conducted ? A
general confusion ensued. Everybody talked except
Vendome, who remained silent, either from confusion
or rage, till at length he said they must fall back upon
Ghent, without saying how, or giving any orders.
After much that was perplexing and annoying, the
retreat began, Vendome doing nothing — in fact, not
being seen again. The whole details are equally dis
creditable to him and creditable to the Due de
Bourgogne. The latter wrote briefly to the King,
leaving Vendome to give details ; but to his wife he
openly denounced the obstinacy and supineness of
Vendome as causing the defeat, adding that such
another event would make him leave his profession,
but for the precision of his orders and the blind
obedience due to them. The same courier carried a
letter to the King from Vendome, in which he tried
to make out that the defeat had not been so absolute ;
and shortly after he wrote again, assuring the King
that he would have, conquered had he been better

COUNTER DESPATCHES. 335
supported ; and that if, contrary to his opinion, they
had not retreated, he would certainly have defeated
the enemy on the following morning, referring Louis
XIV. to the Due de Bourgogne for details. There is
a curious little bit of behind-the-scenes, in which we
find the King opening and reading all the private
letters carried by the same courier from various
officers to their wives and friends !
Saint Simon goes into a copious narration of the
cabal at Court against the Duke, and its aims — " pour
n'avoir point a compter avec lui du vivant du roi, et
a sa mort s'en trouver debarrasse's pour gouverner
Monseigneur sur le trone." The Due de Bourgogne
did not perceive how much it behoved him to give
the true details which Vendome withheld; many lies
were told and propagated, and the cabal bid fair to
succeed in its aim, which was, as Saint Simon says, to
attack the Duke in the most vulnerable place, and
deprive him of what is priceless to men of the world,
his honour."
The old courtier draws a touching picture of the
young Prince's state of harass and discouragement,
his religious principles preventing him from giving
way to his righteous indignation, and his terror of the
King3 making him believe that all Vendome said
' Memoires, vol. xii. p. 2.
3 Saint Simon says, "sa frayeur du roi, — ce serait trop pen
dire la crainte. ..."

336 FENELON.

would be believed. Fenelon, whose intense interest
in his pupil kept him always alive to and well in
formed concerning aU that was going on, was dis
mayed to hear that there was a risk of the Duke's
throwing up his command, and returning hastily to
Paris. He wrote urging the Vidame d' Amiens to do
what he could to prevent this, and to the Prince him
self he wrote: — "September 1708.
"I do not wish, Monseigneur, to meddle with
affairs beyond my ken, especially military matters, of
which I am profoundly ignorant ; but knowing your
goodness, my excess of zeal makes me take the
liberty of saying that I hope you will take every step
possible to remain at the head of the army to the
close of the campaign. When a great Prince like
yourself, Monseigneur, cannot win glory by brilliant
successes, he should at least strive to win it by his firm
ness, his talent, and his power of resource under trial.
I am convinced, Monseigneur, that this is the bent of
your own mind. It is not yours to do what is im
possible; but what will sustain the repute both of
the King's arms and your own, is, that you do to the
end whatever a proved old captain could do to rein
state things. Then wise men will do you justice, and
in the long run wise men. generally lead the public

ADVICE TO THE DUKE.

337

mind. Bear with this indiscretion on the part of the
most faithful and attached of your friends." '
The annoyances which were heaped upon his be
loved Prince did not fail to reach Fe'nelon, and he
hastened to write the following letter to him, the
admonitory tone of which testifies the hearty affection
borne by each to the other: —
"Cambrai, September 16, 1708.
"Monseigneur, I can find no comfort under the
trials you are experiencing, save in the hope of the
benefit which God will bring forth for you from them.
As S. Augustine says, God often gives temporal
prosperity even to the wicked, to show how utterly
He despises, the good things which dazzle the world.
But He keeps crosses for His own children, for those
whom He desires to detach, to humble beneath His
powerful Hand, and make the subjects of His Good
ness. 'Et quia acceptus eras Deo, necesse fuit ut
tentatio probaret te.' 2 There is always a con
siderable lack in any man, however great, who has
never experienced adversity. The Wise Man says,
'Qui non est tentatus, quid scit?'3 , One does not
' Correspondence, vol. i. p. 224.
3 Tobit xii. 13 (Vulgate). The English version altogether
loses this passage, "Because thou wert acceptable to God, it
was needful that thou shouldest be proved by temptation. "
3 Ecclus. xxxiv. 9. Fenelon cites these passages in French.
Y

338 FE'NELON.

know other men, or one's self, if one has never been
subject to misfortune, in which the real trial both
of one's self and of them is brought to bear. Pros
perity is a torrent which bears you onwards, and in
which all men offer you an incense which intoxicates
you. But adversity is a torrent which drags you
down, and against which you must harden yourself
unremittingly. Great princes need the lessons of
adversity more than other men; lessons which for the
most part are wanting to them. They need contradic
tion, that they may learn to be moderate, just as hum
bler people need encouragement. Without contradic
tion princes ' are not plagued like other men,' 1 and
forget their human nature. It is well that they should
feel that all things may slip from them, that their gran
deur is fragile, and that the men now at their feet would
fail them were that to fail. It is well that they should
learn not to risk going to the extreme end of their
power, but know how to put themselves in other men's
places, thereby to learn consideration. Of a truth, Mon
seigneur, it is far more important to the real welfare of
princes and their people that the former gain such
experience than that they be ever victorious. What
I feared for you was the flattering delight of command-
but the English version so entirely loses their point, that it is
necessary to give the words of the Vulgate.
' Ps. lxxiii. 5.

TRUE GLORY OF PRINCES. 339
ing so powerful an army. I prayed to God that you
might not be as the king of whom it is written,
' Gloriabatur quasi potens in potentia exercitus sui.' '
The greatest princes have only a borrowed power.
Their confidence is indeed vain if they imagine them
selves strong by reason of the multitude of their forces.
A contretemps, a shadow, a mere nothing brings disaster
and terror into such forces. I was moved to tears
when I heard you so devoutly say, ' Some put their
trust in chariots, and some in horses, but we will
remember the Name of the Lord our God.' 2 Many
common minds imagine that a prince's glory depends
on success : it really depends on well-chosen measures,
not on the success of those measures ; and not even
wholly on well-chosen measures, for the errors into
which the most able princes are liable to fall may be
turned to account, and enhance their repute, if they
know how to use such aright.
" The true glory of princes depends only on their
virtue. They must be admired if they prove them
selves good, wise, courageous, patient. Adversity
confers a lustre on them which is not to be found in
the most brilliant prosperity. It brings to light capa
bilities which the world would never have seen if all
things had taken shape according to their wishes. The
* Judith i. 4. ' Ps. xx. 7.

340 FENELON.

greatest of all victories is that wherein wisdom and
courage are victorious over misfortune.
" No more striking instance of this could be afforded
than that of Saint Louis. He fought for the faith, and
because He loved him you know how many crosses
God laid upon him. I often pray that the descendant
of that gVeat King may inherit his virtues, and that
you may be, as he was, a man after God's own Heart.
I should greatly rejoice if you might do great deeds
on behalf of the King and country; but if God does
not will this, I would have you at least do well and
thoroughly all that is given you to do. I doubt not,
Monseigneur, but that you will do it : if you are faith
ful to God, He will lead you by the hand.
" Dare I tell you what I hear the public say? If
I only consulted prudence, I should not do so ; but I
would rather run the risk of seeming indiscreet than
fail to tell you what may be useful to a character like
yours. You are sincerely esteemed, you are tenderly
loved, there are great hopes as to the good you may
do ; but the world says that you are not sufficiently de
cided, and that you yield overmuch to counsels which
are very inferior to your own instincts. Not knowing
the facts, I do not know who the persons alluded to
may be, and do but tell you literally what I hear.
" It is true, Monseigneur, that your submission to
the King's will should be absolute, but you are bound

THE DUKE AND THE ARMY. 341
to use the powers he confers on you to the utmost in
his service. Moreover, you ought to make the strong
est representations, if you see that it is necessary to
enlarge those powers. A thoughtful prince, accus
tomed to business, and who has led a steady life,
closing his third campaign at the age of twenty-seven,
cannot be considered too young to exercise decision
of his own. The Due d'Orleans has absolute power
in the Spanish war; and experience has shown, Mon
seigneur, that a deliberate and well-regulated line of
conduct may be looked for from you. It is not a
question of decisions in which you might stand alone,
opposed to all the general officers of the army; suffice
it if you are free to follow what you think right, when
your opinion is confirmed by that of the most expe
rienced and well-known officers. There would be
much less risk in giving you such power, than in keep
ing you bound and subject to the mind of an indi
vidual, or always waiting the King's decision. There
are urgent cases where to wait is to lose the oppor
tunity, and in which no one can decide save those
who are on the spot.
" I ask your pardon, Monseigneur, for this freedom
of speech, which arises from my ardent zeal. I have,
thank God, no interests in the world; I care only for
yours, which are those of the King and the country.
I know to whom I speak, and cannot doubt the good-

342 FENELON.

ness of your heart. Mine will be devoted to you all
my life, with the most inviolable affection and the
truest respect." '
The Duke's answer to this letter is as follows : —
" Camp of Saulsoir, Sept. 20, 1708.
" . . . It has not been a question of my return, but
you may rest assured that I am and have always been-
of your mind in this matter, and that unless I receive
peremptory orders, I intend, come what may, to finish
the campaign, and remain at the head of the army.
It is true that I have had a severe trial during the
last fortnight, and I know that I have not borne it as
I ought ; I let myself be carried away by prosperity
and overwhelmed by adversity ; I yield to the depres
sion and disgust caused by contradiction and uncer
tainty, and the fear of doing something amiss in
matters of so much consequence to the country. I
was in this position : the King repeatedly ordering
me to attack the enemy, M. de Vendome urging the
same ; while, on the other hand, Marechal de Berwick
and all the old officers, and the greater part of the
army, agreed that success was impossible, and the
army would be lost. The King renewed his com
mands after one representation which I felt obliged
to make. ... I foresaw the fatal results of a lost
' Correspondence, vol. i. p. 226.

THE DUKE'S REPLY. 343
battle, with little or no hope of winning it, and that
the best one could hope for would be retreat after a
fruitless attack. ... As to what you say about my
indecision, it is true. I often reproach myself for it ;
and sometimes indolence or carelessness, other times
mauvaise honte, human respect, or timidity, hinder me
from taking a clear course in important matters. You
see I speak in all sincerity to you, and I daily ask
God to give me not only wisdom and prudence, but
strength and courage to carry out what I see to be
my duty. I had not power to decide {cette puissance
decisive) at the beginning of the campaign, and the
King had desired me, where opinions differed, to abide
by that of M. de Vendome. But I asked for such
power after Oudenarde ; it was granted, and perhaps
I have not used it as fully as I ought. As for the
commendations you give me, from another I should
look on them as flattery, for in truth I little deserve
them, and the world is mistaken as to me. But with
God's Help I will try to be what I am thought, or
something like it."
A few warm lines from Fe'nelon in reply to
this urge the Duke to go bravely on, putting
aside his individual tastes and likings for duty, re
sisting prejudice, avoiding scruples, and seeking to
do all as in God's Presence. And on Sept. 24th
there follows a long letter which certainly is no

344 FE'NELON.
flattery, for it recapitulates the Prince's faults with
the unsparing hand of a true friend. " It is said
that you are too exclusive, too select, and associate
too much with a few who surround you. I must
confess that in your childhood you were always
inclined to exclusiveness, and to dislike fresh faces.
Though I am sure that since then good sense and
right feeling have taught you more consideration for
the public (which has a right of easy access to its
princes), there is, perhaps, too much of the old dis
position left." As to society (the Archbishop goes on
to say), the Prince has a cultivated mind, and power
to adapt himself to all ; he only needs a little self-con
trol and obligingness. " God will give you strength
to mould yourself if you seek it. You will only have
worldly praise to fear. The men who expose them
selves to ruin or death for the sake of great princes
are ready to be won by a kindly, well-timed word.
The whole army will love you if you are accessible,
frank, and kindly." Fe'nelon returns to the world's
charge that the Duke is too much led by incompetent
advisers, and that he had yielded contrary to his con
victions to Vendome, going on to mention an accusa
tion that he sometimes wastes time in unseemly
badinage, that he is not sufficiently cautious in letting
his opinions be known, and does not take pains
enough to inform himself of details connected with

CHEERFUL RELIGION. 345
the army. " I thank God, Monseigneur," the Arch
bishop continues, "that He enables you to see your
faults, and teaches you, even by sharp lessons, to
mistrust yourself. But you must seek in God all that
is lacking in yourself. ' I can do all things through
Him Which sanctifieth me,' S. Paul says. Live by
faith, not by your own wisdom or courage. Do not
be surprised at what is deficient in you ; work hard to
attain it by degrees with patience, and, while working,
lean only on God. He must love you very much to
teach you by so many misfortunes. He is showing
you how terrible a thing war is, how useless the most
powerful armies, how easily the greatest states are
moved. He shows you how severely great princes
are judged by the world, in spite of the incense of
their flatterers. One who is destined to govern men
must love them for God's Sake, without reckoning on
their love ; and sacrifice himself for their good, while
knowing that they cavil at his goodness and modera
tion. . . . The world says that your devotion is
gloomy, timid, scrupulous, and unsuitable to your
position. ... If you want to recommend your re
ligion, you cannot take too much pains to make it
kindly, simple, cheerful, and sociable. You must be
'all things to all men, that you may win all;' you
must work hard to root out your chief faults through
love for God, by renouncing self-love; you must

346 FENNEL ON.

seek the public welfare as much as possible, and lay
aside scruples as to minutiae. "'
There is something very touching in the candid
way in which the Duke meets all Fenelon's loving
rebukes and incisive truths. "I am a much less
good man than is supposed," he replies (Oct. 3, 1708)
to the letter from which these last quotations are
made. " I am all up and down, falling over and
over again, relaxed, full of omissions and sloth in my
most important duties, of self-indulgence, fastidious
ness, pride, contempt, clinging overmuch to life and
its good things, not loving God above all, or my
neighbour as myself." He then goes through the
accusations one by one, admitting some and palliating
others. " I will try to use your advice, and pray God
to give me grace not to err on one side or the other.
Ask more and more of God to give me a true love
for Him, and for all — myself, friends, and enemies — ¦
in Him."
On October 15th following, Fe'nelon writes again
in the same strain of admonition. A large part of
the letter is a repetition of similar charges. " There
is a complaint," he continues, "that your confessor
is too often shut up with you ; that he meddles with
matters of war. ... It is said that you make unwise
confidences. ... If you will but look to God on every
1 Correspondence, vol. i. p. 237.

TRUE POPULARITY. 347
occasion in humble confidence, He will lead you, and
clear up all your doubts. Whatever talent He may
have given you, you run a risk of committing irrepar
able faults if you give yourself up to a sickly, scrupu
lous devotion. . . . Your resources are endless, if you
will use them. You have more means than most men
of making pleasant conversation with those around
you ; and by a little more ease with them you would
win them. A word, a gesture, a smile, a look from a
prince like yourself, gains the heart of the multitude.
A suitable commendation bestowed on recognised
merit attracts right-minded people. . . . Nothing will
so win you hearts as kindness, heedfulness of merit
and services, and earnestness in rewarding them. It
only depends upon yourself to earn the suffrage of the
public, and of the whole world. ... I grant that
nothing is more idle than to run after the empty
praise of men, who are often rash, unjust, and blind
in their judgment. They are happy who can ignore
all such ! But greatness, so far from raising you
above man's judgment, subjects you to it far more
than a lower position. Those who are called to rule
over others cannot do it profitably if they lose the
esteem and confidence of the public. Nothing
could be harder and more unbearable for the people,
nothing more dishonourable and dangerous for a
prince, than a government of mere power, without

34? FANELON.

esteem, confidence, and reciprocal attachment. It
is most important, by God's own teaching, for great
princes to study unremittingly how to be loved and
esteemed, not out of mere vanity, but as a duty to
God, Whose Goodness they ought to represent on
earth. If such study is irksome, they must accept it
as a duty, and take it as a mortification to be chosen
rather that any other for the love of God. If you
give yourself unreservedly to Him, He will make
some of these little efforts which now seem so hard
easy to you. . .
"You ought to make religion honourable, and let
it be respected in your person both by critics and
libertines. Your practice of it should be simple,
kindly, noble, firm, and consistent with your position.
You must go straight forward in the essential duties of
that position, acting on the principle of love of God, and
never making your goodness importunate by scruples
and hesitations in trifles. God's Love will expand
your heart, and help you to act promptly on urgent
occasions. A prince in camp or court cannot rule
men like a community of religious : you must do
what you can, and adapt yourself to your surround
ings. Jesus Christ said to His Apostles, 'I have
many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear
them yet;' and S. Paul, 'I became all things to all
men ! ' I pray God daily that His free Spirit may

DIFFICULTIES AT COURT. 349

enlarge your heart without relaxing your fervour, and
teach you to adapt yourself to the needs of the multi
tude. You must show that you think seriously, sted
fastly and firmly. You must let the world feel that you
know what you mean, and that nothing escapes you.
If you appear plastic and easily influenced, you will
be led away. . . . The period of your return to Court
will be a crisis. I shall redouble my poor prayers
for you then. If you accustom yourself to withdraw
frequently within yourself in order to renew God's
possession of your heart ; if you say in all humility,
' I will hearken what the Lord God will say concern
ing me ' (Ps. lxxxv. 8) ; if you act neither from
temper, nor natural inclination, nor vainglory, but
merely as setting self , aside, and in all faithfulness to
the Spirit of Grace, God will uphold you. ' He shall
give His angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all
thy ways : ' ' It shall be given you in that same hour
what ye shall speak.' You will be great before men
in proportion as you are lowly before God, and
supple in His Hand. You will have crosses, but
they will be part of God's designs for you, as the
instrument of His Providence, and you will be able
to say, 'I am exceeding joyful in all my tribulation'
(2 Cor. vii. 4). I cannot enter God's Presence with
out taking you with me, and asking Him that you
may be like David, ' after His own Heart.' " '
1 Correspondence, vol. i. p. 252,

350 FENELON.
Several more letters of a like character were ad
dressed to the Due de Bourgogne while yet absent
from the Court; for though well aware of the injustice
and malice of the cabal which depreciated him, Fene
lon was too clear-sighted not to realise his pupil's
faults, and too real in his affection not to desire to
correct them. Nor could he fail to know that no one
living had the same influence or power to do this
that he had. Not only did he write to the Duke on
the subject which lay so near his heart; his corre
spondence with de Beauvilliers and de Chevreuse, and
the Vidame d' Amiens, turns largely upon it. " If the
P. P. does not feel the necessity of a firm, vigorous
course, he will make no real progress," Fenelon writes to
the Due de Chevreuse. " It is time to play the man.
The life which surrounds him is luxurious, indolent,
all amusement and trifling. He will never be so
subject to his two superiors [the King and the
Dauphin] as when he makes them feel that he is a
ripe, diligent, firm man, appreciating their real interests,
and fit to uphold them by the wisdom of his counsel
and the vigour of his conduct. Let him be more
and more lowly in God's Sight, but great in the eyes
of men. It is said of Solomon that men feared him,
seeing the wisdom that was in him." '
It was to the Due de Beauvilliers that Fe'nelon
1 Correspondence, vol, i. p. 385.

DISCRE TION IN STRIC TNESS. 35 1
wrote anxiously about the need for wisdom and charity
in the exterior religious life of his beloved Prince. " I
hear," he says, " that the Duke increases his religious
exercises. I am most thankful to see grace ruling
his heart. We may hope great things when the
wish to please God conquers his youthful passions
and the seductions of our corrupt age. I thank God
for giving him courage not to be ashamed of His
Gospel. It is most essential that a prince of his
rank should publicly perform such good works as
will lead men to glorify the God they profess to
adore. But it is reported that the Duke goes
beyond what is due to a regular and edifying Chris
tian life. People are frightened at his strictness,
and imagine that he is disposed to criticise others,
and force his scruples on them. It is said that be
wanted to make the Duchess keep Lent as strictly
as himself, and to abstain from all theatres ; also,
that he is ceasing to play, and is almost always shut
up by himself; and finally, it is reported that he
refused to attend Monseigneur (his father) to the
opera during Lent.
" I make allowance for the exaggeration of a world
which detests rule, and is still more afraid of it
among the great than among, private persons, be
cause the results are wider. The world often calls
that excessive which is scarcely sufficient; but, on

352 FENELON.

the other hand, I should greatly fear that the Prince
might overdo external practices which are not of
necessity. Without pretending to lay down the law>
it seems to me — I. That he ought not to constrain
the Duchess, but be satisfied to let her physician
decide how she should keep Lent. ... If he wishes
to draw her to piety, he should make it attractive
and loveable, put aside all that is harsh, make her
feel the charm of a simple, unpretending goodness,
be cheerful and accommodating in whatever does not
concern principle; — in short, adapt himself to her,
and wait patiently, taking care the while not to
slip himself while reaching out to help another.
" II. He ought not to display his piety before the
world, save on those occasions where harm would
be done if he were to neglect a public observance
of rule. For instance, he ought to be devout and
recollected at Mass, perform his devotions freely,
abstain from all levity and over free conversation, im
posing silence in such matters on others by his reserve
- — all this would give him great weight ; but when
he wants to perform extra devotions, he should
select such place and time as will best conceal
them from mere courtiers, and he should never be
demonstrative as to his opinions, which are sufficiently
known. Regularity in his general duties, and steady
avoidance of evil, will suffice for public edification.

THEATRES. 353

" III. I think he ought to yield to Monseigneur's
wishes in whatever is not sinful. If plays were
such in themselves that no one could be present
at them without offending God, he ought never to
go; — no more in the Carnival than during Lent or
Holy Week. It is very proper for the Prince to make
a rule for himself not to frequent such places during
a season consecrated to penitence and prayer ; but a
well-timed concession is a real merit, and if it de
parts from the letter of the law it does but the
more comply with the spirit. I should say, let the
Prince abstain from theatres during Lent as far as
his own pleasure is concerned, but let him go to
please Monseigneur, should he require it."
It would be easy to multiply quotations from the
Archbishop's letters to his " little Duke," conveying
the soundest advice as to his conduct towards the
various personages and parties with whom he was
brought in contact, but while the general tone is
very similar, the more minute details scarcely concern
a sketch like this. It is difficult to realise that
this was the counsellor so dreaded by Louis XIV. for
his grandson, that all communication still had to be
carried on in the most secret and cautious manner,
and that any of Ferielon's personal friends, after a
visit to Cambrai, were wont to abstain from appear
ing at Court a while, lest it should be supposed

354 FENELON.

they were acting as channels of such communica
tion! The Due de Bourgogne had great need indeed
both of sympathy and good counsel. After his return
from the Low Countries the cabal succeeded in
thoroughly estranging the weak, dull Dauphin his
father from him, and the intrigues and petty diplo
macy into which Saint Simon's piquant Memoires
admit one must have been a great trial to a man of
his character. The year 1709 was one of great de
pression and suffering in France; and while the royal
pupil was exerting himself in a manner worthy of his
great Preceptor under difficulties and cares which
were almost overwhelming, Fe'nelon himself was
labouring in the King's service as devotedly as if he
had ever been an appreciated and well-rewarded
servant. His boundless hospitality to the officers
and soldiers of the French army has been already de
scribed ; but now, when famine and financial pressure
were heavy upon the land, his liberality went yet
further, and he practically provided a large part of the
army with subsistence. So great was the veneration
in which Fe'nelon was held by all European nations,
that the enemy's generals had invariably respected his
land and his stores. It was no uncommon thing to
find a special guard mounted over the Archbishop's
property, not at his request, but by the free good-

MARLBOROUGHS GENEROSITY. 355
will of Prince Eugene, Marlborough, or others. On
one occasion the latter performed a striking act of
generosity of this kind. The allies were placed
between Cambrai and Cateau-Cambresis, where all
the Archbishop's stores were, as also those of his people
which had been committed to his care. In fact, the
little town was one vast storehouse. The Duke of
Marlborough placed a guard upon it at once; but
perceiving, that in the existing deficiency of pro
visions, which threatened to become a famine, it
would be impossible permanently to protect so
valuable a supply, he gave notice to Fe'nelon that he
had better remove it, and accordingly a vast cortege
of cars was forthwith loaded with the precious grain,
which Marlborough's own troops escorted to the Place
d'Armes of Cambrai, which was the headquarters of
the French army at that moment.
Fenelon's first act was to give up all his stores to
the army, reserving only so much as was necessary for
his household and his many guests. The Comp
troller-General asked him to name a price for these
invaluable supplies, but Fe'nelon merely replied that
he placed them absolutely at the King s service : and
writing at the same time to the Due de Chevreuse, he
added that he was ready to give his plate and all he
possessed, remarking that all he wished was to devote
his money and his life, but not to court favour.

356 FENELON.

During the winter of 1709-10, when things were at
their worst, Fe'nelon drew up a mimoire concerning
the state of the country for the benefit of his friends
de Beauvilliers and de Chevreuse, which shows at
once his clear sight and his noble spirit. They made
ample use of it in the Council, and the King, anxious
and broken with advancing age and the declining
prosperity of his kingdom, was constrained to admit
the truths contained in the document, though he did
not know the source whence it sprang.
It was at this time that, moved by a sense of the
disasters of his country, and the almost hopeless
difficulty of remedying them, Fe'nelon proposed call
ing together an " Assemble de Notables." '
All through these years Fe'nelon kept up an ex
tended and interesting correspondence with various
members of his family, especially with his nephew
the Marquis de Fe'nelon, always a special favourite
and object of his care. His letters are a wonderful
combination of affection and playfulness, with most
earnest, solid counsel. Nothing seems too great or
too little for the Archbishop's care. While telling his
nephew all the family or local news likely to interest
him, he gives him the wisest advice as to his duties,
religious and social, cautions about his own health,
intreaties to watch over the morals of a young brother
1 Correspondence, vol. i. p. 389.

LETTERS TO HIS NEPHEW. 357
just joining the army; nothing is forgotten: —
" Good night, dear little fellow. Do not let yourself
be carried away by the stream. I fear for you, though
you may not fear for yourself: watch and pray. I
offer you frequently to God, and I would intreat you
to watch even more against the contagion of the
world than the enemy's sword." '
The young Marquis was a self-concentrated, re
served person, seemingly, and many of his uncle's
letters contain advice meant to counteract this dis
position : — " I must scold you for not seeing more of
the people you ought to cultivate. Of course the
first thing is to learn and devote yourself to your
duties, but you should seek their approval. . . .
What I want to see in you is a quiet attention, not
springing from vanity or ambition, but from a faithful
desire to fulfil the duties of your position, and
towards your family. . . . Sometimes indolence,
shyness, and self-indulgence make us shun the inter
course of people superior to ourselves. Self-love
likes to dwell among those with whom we are per
fectly at our ease and sure to satisfy: it is wounded
when there is any risk of failure, or of being thrown
' irito the background. In God's Name, dear child, I
beg you not to neglect these things, which do closely
concern the duties of your position. One must despise
1 Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 120.

358 • FE'NELON.

the world, but all the while realise the need there is
to handle it wisely : one should be detached from it
from religious reasons, but we have no right to forsake
it out of mere indolence or individual likings." '
The Archbishop wished to see his nephew join the
army in Germany, as a more enlarged sphere of
action, and likely to be more improving. " I am very
sorry," he writes, April 6, r 709, " that you are going
to Dauphine*, I hoped you would see some service in
Germany; but one ought to be prepared for every
thing, and content to be wherever one is sent. If the
rumours we hear of peace are true, we may soon see
you again. Meanwhile, work unremittingly at what
ever will be most for the good of your regiment and
the service generally. Try to make yourself liked;
be gentle and obliging, though not weak; quick to
discern merit among your subalterns, without slight
ing any one; attach yourself to those officers who are
your superiors, win their esteem, and leam from them.
Take care of your health; don't reckon too much
upon it when seemingly good, it may quickly fail. . . .
Let us hear from you wherever you are. Remember
that I shall always long to hear, and that I shall be
very anxious unless at least I know that you are well.
Good-bye, mon cher enfant. I pray God to have you in
His holy keeping, to make you faithful to His Grace,
* Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 123.

DURING A CAMPAIGN. 359
and humbly distrustful of self, fulfilling His Will in
everything." ' "July 10, 1709.
". . . I want you to take care of your health,
without falling short in any of your duties, or in any
opportunities of acquiring military knowledge. Your
failures will not hurt you ; on the contrary, they will
Ue useful, by humbling you, and keeping up a whole
some mistrust of self, and throwing you more con
stantly on God, so long as you are mindful of
recollection, prayer, reading, and so much steady fre
quenting of the Sacraments as your restless life will
allow of. Be sociable generally, but in private life
avoid familiarity with men of loose or questionable
character. Attach yourself to worthy people, seek
ing their friendship and esteem, but substantially trust
little to men. God is the One faithful Friend Who can
never fail. Tenderly as I love you, I intreat you
never to rest upon me, but always to see God Only
in me, in spite of all my infirmities. The enemy is
besieging Tournai ; the trenches were opened on the
7th. It is not known yet whether Marshal de Villars
will come to its succour. The whole country is in
extreme suffering, cruelly ravaged by the enemy,
while our own troops, too, overrun it terribly. God
* Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 10S.

360 F&NELON.
grant that the campaign may end without any great
calamity."1 "July 10, 1710.
" The Chevalier de Luxembourg tells me that he is
really fond of you, but that you are too formal with
him. Beware of being less so. You cannot show
him too much deference or respect ; but you should
avoid a certain ponderous kind of ceremony and
oppressive stiffness. ... I hope you will watch over
your little brother, and see how he behaves in com
pany, — it is a good opportunity of knowing him.
There are some faults into which you must not let
him fall ; you must teach him to be gentle, courteous,
moderate, just, true, firm, discreet, and obliging. Try
to make him feel at ease with you, so that he may
consult you and be open with you. Look after
Dufort's health; see that he does not fall into any
kind of excess, and tell me honestly how he be
haves." "July 2%, 1710.
"... What you say. makes me think that some
great engagement may be brought on almost by in
sensible degrees. May God turn all to good, and
preserve both France and the people who are dear to
us. ... Is it possible that the wish to increase our
1 Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 112.

TO THE ABBE DE BEAUMONT. 361
possessions, or to seem to gain a few steps, should
involve us in a battle which might be a risk to the
whole kingdom?" "Aug. 19, 1710.
"Although you do not condescend to give us
tidings of yourself, fine gentleman that you are, I am
delighted to send you our news. We are all well ;
I am taking the Saint-Armand waters, as in other
years at this season. . . . Tell the Connetable' that I
often ask how he is behaving, that I want to know
whether he is courteous, taking pains to please good
people, trying to be like them, rather than to follow
his own ways, earnest in following good advice, brave
in trying to correct his faults, and diligent in learning
all business. All this is a good deal to ask, the
Conne'table will say, but the ' good deal ' is not at all
too much. I want to love him, but I shall only be
able to do it in so far as he will help me by being
loveable." The Abbe" de Beaumont, who, it will be remembered,
was another nephew, was in trouble about his sister,
Mme. de Chevry, who was dangerously ill, while the
conduct of her husband added greatly to her distress
and that of her family. Many of Ferielon's letters
' The younger brother of the Marquis.

362 FENELON.

are full of kind thought and wise counsel on her
behalf. " Do not be too ready," he writes to de
Beaumont, October 30, 1710, "to take the advice of
friends who are over-excited through friendship for
the invalid and indignation against her husband. Be
patient in taking the gentlest and surest steps, so
that the most malicious critics may have no excuse
for finding fault. Your profession demands unlimited
gentleness, patience, and meekness, especially with
your sister's husband. . . . There is a gentle, patient
nobleness in real piety, which knows how to adapt
itself to every trial. I pray God to give it you in
every word and deed. Show my letter to your sister
she may rely on me in whatever depends on me. D
she should be in a fit state to be moved here in a
very easy litter, a thing I should greatly wish, but fear
is impossible, all the objections must be considered."
To the Abbe" de Salignac, another great-nephew,
the Archbishop writes : — "Dec. 10, 1 7 10.
" I am very glad, my dear child, to hear through
your brother that you are doing well. It rests with
you to be of the greatest comfort to me, by doing
your best to advance in study and piety. You can
not be too grateful or docile to those who are taking
so much pains to teach and mould you. You should
avail yourself of all opportunities, public and private,

TO THE ABBE DE SALIGNAC. 363
for it is only by continual practice that a man can
become a good scholar. But beware of presumption
and obstinacy in discussion ; they hinder the under
standing, lead to the most dangerous errors, and are
offensive to God and man. Argue vigorously without
losing your temper ; put your doubts forward clearly,
and accept conviction gladly when you are wrong. I
love you dearly, but I wish to love nothing save for
God and the Church. Having given yourself to the
latter, give yourself up heartily and unreservedly —
the one thing is to fit yourself to serve her without
any self-interest or ambitious motives. If it might
please God, I could wish that you never should win
any prize, but deserve all ! Mistrust yourself, do not
rely on the excessive praise which friends give for
encouragement' sake. Be recollected, simple, and
unaffected; faithful to your duties, and to whatever
grace requires of you for the correction of your faults.
Mortify your intellect, and take care of your frail,
delicate body. I am ever tenderly yours," etc.
To the Marquis de Fe'nelon : — "Aug. 10, 1712.
"I long to hear of you, my dear nephew. We are
well here, except for the anxiety we feel about those
we love, which somewhat heats one's blood and
injures one's digestion. . . . Try to act, not as fol-

;364 FENELON.

lowing your natural tastes, or the impulses of self-
love, but as in the Presence of God, according to- His
Will. Fall back into your place simply, as soon as
any important action or main attack in which your
regiment is concerned is over. . . . When I know
that you are awaiting some great action or siege, in
which you ought to be at the head of your regiment,
I am content to let you alone. So you see I am not
wanting to spoil you or cocker you up like an old
nurse ! But I do not at all approve of your being
with M. de Puyse'gur, far from your regiment, in order
to play the volunteer and adventurer here and there,
and putting yourself under unnecessary fire. ... As
to the siege,1 as your regiment is not there, neither is
it your business to be. . . . Try to overcome your
natural impetuosity, and wait in silence and calmness
to see what God requires of you, and then do it
simply. You will see that whatever is excessive will
thus be restrained, and what is insufficient will seem
so to you, so that the Spirit of Grace will enable you
unhesitatingly to keep a. juste milieu. It is all I wish.
I care a hundred times more for your faithfulness
than your life ; and in truth there is no true life save
in such faithfulness, all else, however attractive to
common minds, is but death. So soon as there
ceases to be any prospect of action, and that you
1 Douai, which was taken September 8, 1712.

FANFAN. 365

have done all that is seemly with respect to a siege
in which your regiment is not concerned, come away,
en bon enfant. Up to that point remain, and God
will be with you. He will Himself be your shield
and buckler."
The young Marquis received a severe wound in his
leg at Landrecies in 1711, from the effects of which
he suffered all the rest of his life, and his uncle writes
more anxiously in consequence about his reckless
self-exposure : —
" I am sending an express, cher Fanfan,' to know
about you, feeling anxious. I do not want to make
you fail in any real duty or reasonable matter, but as
your regiment is with the army, why should you not
remain at your post like other colonels ? why should
you insist on being at headquarters in order to take
part in every attack ? It seems to me that you ought
to be with your regiment like other colonels, and only
take part in sieges and assaults as they do when it is
their post. It is no trifle for you to remain with the
army at all with such an open wound in your leg, but
at least you ought to confine yourself to your own
post as other officers do. Think this over quietly
' His pet name for the Marquis. It is a marked feature in
Fenelon's correspondence, how almost every near relation and
special friend has some pet name by which he is usually men
tioned.

366 FENELON.
before God, and if you feel that what I say is reason
able, pay attention to it. I accept needful and right
ful perils for you, and the natural anxiety consequent
upon them for myself; but do not you add to both by
an ambitious impetuosity which is not for God's Sake.
A clear, precise answer, if you please, Fanfan ! May
God be in your heart, and possess it wholly. I love
the two words strength and humility, — God grant they
may be yours. Amen."
The kind of confidence existing between the pre
late-uncle and the soldier-nephew may be seen from
such passages as the following : — " When you write to
me, give one sheet for whatever may be generally
seen, about the siege, or things in general, and keep
a separate sheet for whatever you have to tell Tonton
[himself] about Fanfan's faults, or his inner life. This
will make all easy as regards your brother and others,
who want to hear about you. Bonjour, petit Fanfan,
tu connois la tendresse de Tonton pour toi."
The Archbishop was as eager as a fond mother to
seize an opportunity of visiting his soldier-boy in
camp, " to chat together a coeur ouvert." He writes,
August 30, 17 12 : — "As you think, Fanfan, that it
will be acceptable, I will go to-morrow to see M. de
Villars, and dine with him. I will not take your
brothers there; they must seek charity elsewhere in
the camp, they won't die of hunger. I must return

A VISIT TO THE CAMP. 367
at night. You may tell the Marshal how great the
desire to see him is which makes a coward like me
join the war ! If. he chances not to be dining at
home, I will get a mouthful of bread from some other
friend in camp, and come home to supper. You can
guess my delight in seeing you, and hugging you
again! Good-bye, petit Fanfan; God be with you.
Don't forget that to-morrow is the anniversary of
your wound; it is a day of special mercy to you, keep
it sacred in your heart. A demain. I am so glad to
see you on such a marked day." "Sept. 21, 1712.
"... Keep up a very intimate union and respect
ful kindliness with your [elder] brother, who deserves
it in every way. We are quiet, and see little com
pany. I am taking milk, but have nothing as yet to
say of the results. My heart is with you in Him Who
is our Centre and our Life. But this true life is con
tinual death to the false life which deludes us. Try
to be restful, simple, cheerful, sociable, having the
Kingdom of God within you. ' Rejoice, and again I
say, Rejoice. Let your moderation be known unto all
men ; the Lord is at hand. Be careful for nothing,
but in everything by prayer and supplication let your
requests be made known unto God. And the Peace
of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep
your heart and mind through Christ Jesus."

368 FE'NELON.

"Nov. 4.
"... Do not grow slack or dissipated ; keep
steady to the appointed seasons for feeding your soul;
try to calm the impetuosity which you know to be too
keen. One cannot always avoid being taken by surprise
by a first impulse, but it is most important to check the
second, without which the third is stronger yet, and a
passion which might have been restrained at first
soon becomes so powerful that one is carried away.
One has to fear vanity in one's faults; one often
persists in them out of a false shame which shrinks
from seeming to acknowledge them and correcting
them. There is a sermon! I don't want to weary
you with my preaching. Come as soon as you can.
I long to see Fanfan come in at one door and Panta *
at the other." "Dec. 6, 1712.
"... Bonjour, Fanfan. I hope that in leaving
Cambrai you have not left our mutual Centre, and
that our absence from one another has not lessened
God's Presence within you. A child cannot always
suck, or be for ever in leading-strings ; it must be
weaned, and taught to walk alone. You will not always
have me. God must impress you a hundred times
more than a vile, worthless creature like me. Do your
' Pantaleone de Beaumont

SOCIETY. 369
duty among your officers carefully, without pettiness,
but patiently and without harshness. It is a dis
honour to justice not to unite gentleness, courtesy,
and kindness with it — it is doing right badly ! I want
you to make yourself loved; but God only can make
you loveable, for you are not so naturally, owing to
your stiff, rough nature. It needs God's Hand to
make you supple and pliable. He Alone can make
you gentle, thoughtful for others, unmindful of self,
lowly as a little child. Everything else is mere foolish,
vain puffing up. . . . There is nothing pleasant to
tell, except that Fanfan comes on Friday."
Sometimes the kindly admonitions lengthen out,
as when, advising his nephew to spend a certain time
at Court, Fenelon continues : — "Jan. 7, 1 713.
" I am not surprised at your disliking it — one is
constrained with people whom one knows but little
or not at all, and one does badly that which one is
not accustomed to do. Self-love smarts when it has
to undergo much constraint without success. You
are accustomed to a simple life, made easy and
acceptable by the friendship of those around you,
and this spoils you. You must grow accustomed to
mental fatigue in the world as to bodily fatigue in
camp. The longer you postpone the labour of

370 FENELON.

making acquaintance with the world the harder it
will grow, not to say impossible. You run the risk
of very decided failure after a certain age; and if
you give it up entirely, you will spend your life in
obscurity, without any distinguished friends, without
credit or position, without any reward for your
service, or any means of helping your family. So it
is important that you should at once break the
ice courageously and patiently, without heeding
aggrieved self-love. Ease will gradually come with
practice. You will not be shy when you know
everybody and. everybody knows you, when you are
accustomed to the way things are done in the
new country, and when you are qualified to enter
into familiar conversation with those around. As
soon as you have made friends with a few worthy,
highly-esteemed people, they will admit you into
their society, and by degrees you will get all you
want. You will be courteous to every one, you will
pay customary civilities to individuals, while for real
society you will limit yourself to true friends. In
these you must look not merely for goodness, but for a
certain standing and position. Meanwhile be patient,
and gain some conquest over yourself daily. Offer
the constraint you feel to God ; you can fulfil His Will
in performing the duties of your position. It is a good
penance for past sin; it is a sacrifice of rest, tastes,

LIFE IN PARIS. 371

convenience, to Him ; it will be the correction of a
moral laxity which seduced you under the garb of a
serious, regular, well-filled life.
"As for Paris, keep some hours to yourself for
work ; avoid suppers, which are prolonged too late
and upset all the next day ; try to save some part of
your mornings for yourself. Read, and reflect on what
you read. I am quite aware that you cannot always
be so regular ; good-nature to friends must sometimes
lay you open to invasion, society and the habits of the
age demand it; but while giving up something to your
friends' amusement, you must rescue those hours, with
out which you would do nothing to make you worthy
of their friendship. . . . Do not let the little page '
get spoilt : you must win his heart by kindliness,
but premature praise spoils children. He must learn
early to look upon himself as a poor little younger
brother, with no prospects except those earned by
merit, work, good conduct, and patience. Steady
occupation will deliver your friend from the day
dreams which excite his imagination. He ought
never to give them any voluntary heed. God will help
him to accomplish this if he seeks it with all his
heart." It was in no worldly spirit that Fe'nelon urged his
A younger brother.

372 FE'NELON.

nephew to take his fitting position as a soldier of the
ancienne noblesse in the world. But while he had
sacrificed all worldly considerations for himself, and
felt that to do so was suitable to his ecclesiastical
position, he naturally and rightly wished the younger
branches of his family to take their fitting place
in the world, and to do good service to their King
and country. There is something very touching in
the way in which, during the last years of his life,
when few earthly things gave him so much pleasure
as the society of his enfant de pridilcction, this young
soldier-nephew, Fe'nelon resolutely sent him to camp,
Court, or the healing waters of Bourbon and Barege
when needed, saying frequently, " I love you for
yourself, not for my amusement ! " and, " God for
bid I should want to make you ambitious ! I
should like to see you deserve all the highest
honours possible, while not having them, but remain
ing content with earthly insignificance. What I desire
most is that you should not give way to luxury or to
your own vain imaginations. Every time you see
that you are encouraging these try to return faith
fully to God ; let the dangerous thought drop, just as
you would let a stone fall from your slackened fingers
into the water below. And in order to turn to God,
you must have some occupation which will engross
your mind and divert it from delusive dreams. O

IN SICKNESS. 373

dear Fanfan, how happy you will be if you learn
recollection, and accustom yourself to act calmly in
every detail of life through a simple, homely lean
ing on the Spirit of Grace ! He will never fail you
if you do not fail Him."
Many of the Archbishop's letters are full of minute
directions and advice concerning his health, for the
young Marquis suffered greatly owing to the wound
in his leg already mentioned ; and his cousin, Mme.
de Chevry, was seemingly an intractable invalid, to
whom many admonitions were conveyed through him.
" It is a heavy cross to give one's self up to a weari
some treatment; one gets disgusted and at an end
of one's patience. But the only thing is to turn one's
courage against one's self, and to do what is necessary
for recovery as to God. Sometimes, while curing the
body, the senses and intellect may be very profitably
mortified." And when the surgeons in Paris urged
a severe operation as the best hope for the wounded
leg, Fe'nelon urged prompt and vigorous action, add
ing : — " Would to God that you were here among us,
with the cleverest of Parisian surgeons to treat you.
I would gladly pay for him, so as to have it done
under my own eyes. But we must have the very best
surgeon, and he would not come here. . . . Your
best course now is not to delay the appointed opera
tion a day. Get the best surgeons, regardless of

374 FE'NELON.

expense ; strict rigime, perfect quiet ; no thought, no
duty, save obedience to the masters of their art;
patience, calm, the Presence of God — trust in Him
only. Money will not be wanting. If peace comes,
as is hoped, you can save ; if the war lasts, God will
provide; 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.'
Do not be uneasy about to-morrow — to-morrow will
take care of itself. Providence, like a good mother,
takes care even of sparrows. Fear nothing; if you
are wanting in nothing within, you will not be left to
want from without. . . . Stay patiently in bed during
the course of the operation, see very few people, talk
little, take all your meals alone, go to sleep very
early, strict diet, perfect rest, absolute temperance.
If you are faithful to God, He will help you to be
obedient to the surgeons."1
So, when the painful operation was over, the Arch
bishop's letters are full of tenderness and playful
encouragement. "Give yourself up to God, be
obedient, be brave against yourself in enduring
rigime, quiet and patient in spite of the tediousness.
1 In this same letter, Jan. 22, 1713, Fenelon sends thanks to
a friend who ' ' has sent us an excellent p&ti de Perigueux. I
would write to thank him, but that I am afraid it would make
him repeat his present. The Baron has grown quite young
again through eating a Perigord dish; whatever comes from
his own country is more delicious than nectar and ambrosia to
him."

PATIENCE. 375

. . . What would I not give to be your nurse !"
Again : — " Your sufferings, mon cher petit homme,
grieve me. I am glad to find that you are more
patient than I am ; I should be happier if I could see
you, minister to you, and comfort you, but the cross
must be thorough. Courage, tres-cher Fanfan ; let us
bear it cheerfully. This is a most precious time for the
practice of faith, for realising the frailty of all things,
and for resigning one's self to God. I ask that you may
have confidence in Him, and a humble patience ;
self-satisfied patience would be as poison."
And : — " I am grieved, tres-cher Fanfan, to think of
you in pain, but we must resign ourselves to God to
the end. Human courage is a false thing, a mere
result of vanity ; one may hide one's sorrow and one's
weakness, but this soon comes to an end. Blessed
is the true courage that comes of faith and love ! it is
simple, peaceful, comforting, true, and inexhaustible,
because it comes from the One true Source. What
would I not give to relieve you ! Nevertheless I would
not spare you any of the healing pains which God
sends in His Love. I pray constantly for you, taking
you daily in my heart to the Altar, there to hang you
on the Cross with Jesus Christ, and to win the spirit
of sacrifice for you. Nothing but detachment brings
about real patience. O dearest child, give yourself
up to God ; He is a good Father, Who will carry you

376 FE'NELON.
in His Arms and upon His Bosom. It is in Him Only
that I love you with devoted affection," etc. etc.
When a renewal of the operation was called for,
Fenelon writes : — "March 27, 1713.
"... The God of patience and comfort will sup
port you, if you are diligent in seeking to maintain
His Presence within your heart in childlike love.
Why should we daily say, ' Our Father, Which art in
Heaven,' if we do not want to be held in His Arms as
tender, simple, obedient children ? How do you look
upon me, knowing how I love you ? Yet how in
finitely more fatherly, more pitiful, more loving, your
Heavenly Father is than I am. All my love for you is
but a faint reflection of His. He Who has counted
the hairs of your head, letting not one fall uselessly
to the ground, counts your every pain and trial-hour.
He is faithful to His promises and to His Love ; He
will not suffer pain to try you beyond what you can
bear, but will work your advancement out of tempta
tion and trial. Give yourself up to Him ; let Him do
as He wills. Take up the dear Cross, which will be
so precious to you if you carry it aright. Learn to
suffer ; in learning that one learns everything. What
does he know who has never been tempted? He
knows neither the Goodness of God nor his own
weakness. I am so very glad that you are learning

MME. DE CHEVREUSE. 377
to talk freely with the dear Duchess [de Chevreuse].1
She will do you good. Simplicity enlarges the heart ;
it grows narrow when shut up. People generally shut
themselves up in reserve through the jealousy of self-
love, and a false shame which is pride. I am very
pleased at what you tell me about your brothers. I
cannot possibly ask them this week, when the con
secration of M. d'Ypres brings a great bustle and
many strangers, but after that I shall rejoice to have
them freely."
As the tedious recovery goes on, Fe'nelon follows
it with loving counsel for body and soul :¦ — " Bonsoir,
cher Fanfan, Your long sufferings grieve me for
mind and body ; the amount of attention paid you
by so many, dissipation, vanity, and a taste for the
world, are even more to feared than the surgeon's
caustic. Beware, petit Fanfan, of the sweetly flatter-
" Mme. de Chevreuse must have been a wonderfully saintly
and attractive woman, to judge not merely from Fenelon's
friendship for her, but from all we gather from Saint Simon, to
whom mere piety was not specially congenial. He says that
her "virtue and piety were as true as herself all through life,"
and he describes her, after her husband's death, living "like a
patriarch amid her family," spending her time in prayer and
good works, and in kindly offices and duties to her relations.
"Never was any woman so adored by her own belongings,
or so respected by the world to the end of her life, which was
prolonged over eighty years, in full vigour of mind and body. " —
Mimoires, vol. xix. p. 160.

¦378 FE'NELON.
ing poison of worldly friendship. You must receive
the world's civilities with courtesy, and such de
monstrations as are fitting; but keep all real intimacy
and union for your true friends, who are God's
children, such as the Duchesse de Mortemart and
a few others, who will give you what your most
estimable worldly friends can never give. Be open
with such persons, in spite of the difficulty it is to
you. On the one hand, the effort expands your heart,
and helps to dispossess self and self-conceit; and on
the other, you want devout friends in Paris, who will
make up for such little help as I can give you here,
and who will feed your inner life. For want of this
you might fall unconsciously into a blank dryness
and dissipation which would be dangerous. ... I
love you more than ever; you can never understand
the nature of this love, but God, Who has caused it,
may explain it to you some day. I want you to be
His, not mine, and I want to be wholly yours in
Him." "April i, 1713.
" You are suffering, tres-cher petit Fanfan, and I feel
the contre-coup sorely; but we must cherish blows which
come from God's Hand. It is a lighter Hand than the
surgeon's; it cuts only in order to heal ; all its wounds
turn to blessings, if we will not hinder it. I want
you to be patient without patience, and courageous

REAL COURAGE. 379
without courage. Ask the dear Duchess [de Chev
reuse] what this seeming galimatias means. The
courage which one looks upon as one's own, of which
one thinks highly and is self-satisfied, is a mere
poisonous pride. On the contrary, one must feel
weak and ready to fall ; one must face it quietly, be
patient under one's own impatience, allow others to
see it, be upheld from one moment to another by
God's Hand, and be content to live on borrowed
goods. In such a state one walks without legs, one
eats without bread, one is strong in weakness; one
has nothing in one's self, but everything in the Be
loved; one can do all things, because He Alone works
in us ; all comes from Him, all returns to Him. The
virtue which He imparts to us is no more our own
than the air we breathe. ... I go out walking when
ever the weather and my work will let me, but I
never walk without longing for you. Still I want to
wish for nothing but what the Lord of all wills, and
you must do the same, without sadness or anxiety.
What a source of strength it is when one has found
an All-powerful Love Which protects one, and never
inflicts a pang save as the means to infinite good !
How much I pity those who do not turn to this
Source for time and for eternity. And there are so
many who reject it ! Le bon Put [M. Dupuy] walks
with me; but sometimes he is weary, and gets out

38° FE-NELON.

of my way. He is the best of fellows. People who
seek to serve God unreservedly are very delightful !
"Our dear invalid [Mme. de Chevry] boasts of
her docility in a way that proves she has absolutely
none ! Her brother's scolding letter, I can see, has
been simply a waste of time, and mine are blown
away by the wind in like manner. ... I expect that
she will beat you when you read this to her; but she
is welcome to beat us all, if only she will do as she is
told. It is a question of severe pain and early death,
and of doing a far greater wrong to God than even to
her dearest friends. If nothing has so much weight
with her as the dislike of self-control, I don't know
what more to say to her; I can only grieve and pray
for her.
"I am beginning to make acquaintance with le
petit cadet.1 He seems to think a little, to feel, and
have a will. God grant that we may find stuff in him
to make a man. Men toil to make a brave, learned
fellow by dint of education, and then God overthrows
the card-castle. He upsets this human courage, pulls
down the empty wisdom, exposes the weakness cf
this supposed strength. He clouds, humbles, alters
everything. His work is to annul ouis, and He needs
but one blast to do so. He brings us to see gladly that
He is All, and that we are nothing. This confession
' One of the Ma.quis's brothers.

ELECTOR OF COLOGNE.

is all that is left us; and even that is not our own, we
borrow it hourly from Him. We owe all we have to
Him, but we can give Him nought save that which
is His." "Mayg, 1713.
" The Elector of Cologne went through at nine this
morning on his way to Valenciennes, only stopping to
take some soup. This is all our news. It is said that
the Hollanders are delaying the exchange of ratifica
tions, but this is very likely a false rumour. God
grant that we may soon have a general, lasting peace.
" In proportion to the time you have been reported
as ' better,' you ought to be able to run like a Basque !
I am afraid these ' betters' are very slow and imper
ceptible. ... I have given M. d'Ypres' canonry to
the Abbe" de Devise, not without vexing other people
who asked for it. I was very sorry, but what can one
do? I don't see how I could conscientiously have
done otherwise." "May 21, 1713.
"Bonjour, mon cher petit Fanfan. Blondel will give
you our news, but he cannot tell you how much I
long to know that you are well again. I am not
anxiously impatient; I even wait quietly on God's
pleasure, since His Will is dearer to me even than
you, or than a thousand 'me's' put together. But when

382 F&NELON.

all is said, my soul craves for your restoration, and
then I submit this craving unreservedly to Him Who
is the real bond of union between us. Do not be
injured at my loving you with such a love, for it is
the very love with which I love God and live in Him.
I have often thought of S. Paul's words in connec
tion with you, 'Let us run with patience the race
that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the Author
and Finisher of our faith; Who for the joy that was
set before Him endured the Cross, despising the shame.'
The world cannot understand that patience is a
j ourney towards our true end ; it fancies that patience
means inaction. Besides, the world cannot under
stand that our end is a struggle. Men aim at a rest
which shall be all glory and enjoyment. Yet it is
true that a struggle maintained patiently to the end
of life is the greatest of blessings as seen by faith ;
nor can we hope for this blessing unless we con
tinually look to Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our
faith. Like Him, we must choose the Cross rather
than the poisonous pleasures of the world, despising
the contempt of libertines. Let us try to do so
quietly, gently, and cheerfully. Why should we be
less cheerful than irreligious people, we who have
nothing hard to do save with the help of love, and
the hope of an eternal Kingdom, while irreligious
men have everything to fear and nothing to hope?

LOBOS AND ALEXIS. 383
Let us then rejoice in the Lord. . . . Lobos1 has
many good points. One must wait, and lead him
unconsciously ; he has a very delicate mouth. Alexis
has good sense and feeling, with plenty of good-will.
There is stuff in him to make something of: I like
him. His brother is a little jealous of a coat I have
given Alexis. It is not amiss that the lazy fellow
should be piqued, and feel that he is behindhand.
He shows some slight desire to apply himself, but
the right principle is wanting. We must bring him
on as much as we can patiently. . . . You, cher Fanfan,
must be patient to the end ; patient with your pain,
patient with remedies, patient with yourself. You
must be patient with your own impatience ; you must
wait, manage yourself, bear with yourself, correct
yourself gradually, as you would correct another
person whom you want neither to discourage nor to
flatter." I have quoted freely from these family letters,
because they bring Fe'nelon so vividly before one ;
living his quiet yet active life at Cambrai ; surrounded
by guests and duties, amid which he finds time to
think for every one, from the " little page " Alexis,
and his education, upwards ; caring so heartily for
country, diocese, cathedral, town, relations, friends ;
* Lobos and Alexis were the Marquis's brothers.

384 F&NELON.
dwelling upon the accidents of his niece's long illness,
and the details of his nephew's damaged leg, as though
he had no weightier cares to occupy his mind, and
turning everything to gold by his instinctive and
natural reference to the Love of God. I am the more
disposed to do this, as an idea seems to have grown
up among some who have spoken or written of
Fe'nelon, that during his latter years he dropped into
" a state of passive Quietism,"' whereas really we need
1 Alexander Knox, in his correspondence with Bishop Jebb,
runs a fierce tilt against Fenelon, talks cfhis " spiritual apathy "
(vol. i. p. 513), and denounces his "system of devotion as opposite
in its leading features to that nature which God has formed us
with " (vol. ii. p. 36) . But is it needful to defend Fenelon
from such accusations to any one who will study his life, even
as briefly recorded in this volume, or in his letters? What can
be less like spiritual apathy than his earnest teaching to others
and his own devout practice?
It seems to me that too much has been made by Pere
Querbeuf of Voltaire's remarks on a poem of Fenelon's (Steele de
Louis XIV. vol. ii. p. 237). Querbeuf assumes that Voltaire
"wishes to make out that Fenelon died en philosophe, blindly
yielding to destiny, devoid of hope or fear;" but Voltaire's
words scarcely imply so much. Nor does the Ode sur lEnfance
Chritienne (OEuzres, vol. xi. p. 282) at all necessarily convey a
statement of Fenelon's religious belief. The lines,
" Loin de toute esperance
Je vis en pleine paix ;
J e n'ai ni confiance
Ni defiance,
Mais l'intime assurance
Ne meurt jamais," . . .

ACCUSATION OF QUIETISM. 385
only the testimony of his own life and letters to see
how very beautiful and zealously active his last days
were. If ever any man on the downward course of
life threw himself out of himself into the interests of
others, their joys and sorrows, or made the deep, fervid
love of God, which was as the very air he breathed,
take living shape in act and deed, it was surely Fe'nelon.
Quietism, if you please, in so far as he rested with
an absolute, unhesitating rest and unquestioning faith
in God's Hand, asking nothing save that His Will
might be perfected in him, but active and energetic
in body, soul, and spirit for his neighbour's good, in
prayer, in earnest purpose to the end, as though his
whole being were framed upon the promise, "In
quietness and confidence shall be your strength." In
the technical sense of Quietism, Fdnelon's old age
was assuredly not that of a Quietist. Let his acts and
letters speak for themselves.
if personal at all, would mean that the writer had, as he often
said, no hopes or wishes with respect lo Court or a restoration to
favour. And supposing we choose to take the poem as express
ing Fenelon's own mind, the Riponse condemns the "sotte
philosophic," which certainly did not colour Fenelon's declining
days. ThereisaninteiestingpaperbyM. deEoulogne, Bishopof
Troyes, published in the Journal des Dibats (Oct. 18, 19, 20,
t8o2) entitled, Dela. TcU>ar.:e Philosophique attribute <X Fhielon,
in which the Bishop disposes of the question whether Fenelon
deserved to be classed with the philosophers, and in the course
of which he alludes to the misconstruction purposely put by
Voltaire on the ode referred lo. 2 B

386 FANELON.
The temptation is to transcribe page after page of
his almost daily letters to that apple of his eye, the
young de Fe'nelon. One or two more must be granted
space : — "July 3, 1713.
" Though I write to you daily, tres-cher Fanfan, the
letters sent by post are not enough. I must tell you
by this safe channel how I watch, though not uneasily,
for the progress of your cure. Panta is too much
engrossed with my health and peace of mind ; perhaps
I am rather too much engrossed with yours; but
really I am fairly at rest, and better than I should
have looked for. I shall be better still when you are
cured, and I have you in the little grey room beside
me. Be sober, patient, resigned to God, and lowly in
your griefs. Oh, how foolish one is when one tries
to be great! and how good and true when one is
content to be in one's own eyes and those of others
weak and poor ! If you need money, you have only
to say so ; do not let yourself want for anything. If
you are short, it will serve you right ; it would be your
own fault. Good-bye, tres-cher Fanfan. Alexis goes
on well, and I like him thoroughly. I don't know
whether he will be what is called clever, but he seems
to have good sense, good feeling, and good-will Tout
a toi, petit Fanfan."

AFFECTIONATE SOLICITUDE. 387

"August 5, 1713.
" I am counting the days until we meet, but without
anxiety or impatience. I may be believed as to my
troubles, for I show them enough when I have them,
and let my weakness appear. I don't do my own
honours well ! Continue getting well, without relaxing
precautions ; don't be shipwrecked just as you are in
port, but do whatever your doctors think desirable to
hasten and confirm the cure. I will send a carriage
Monday or Tuesday next to meet my Godson.1 I
long to embrace him, and it will be a pleasure, too, to
see the little Abbe*. . . . Do not be anxious about any
really necessary expense. Your father in the flesh is
not so really your father as I am, and it is your chief
father who will pay whatever the other cannot. As
to ces messieurs [the surgeons], I wish to pay them
handsomely, but without display ; — better to give a
little too much, than run the smallest risk in any case
of not doing enough, especially in such as this. . . .
" See what books you can bring us. I do not want
many ; my curiosity is very limited, and I feel that it
lessens day by day. ... I want to send my niece a
present as soon as I have a little money to spare.
Could you not find out for me what she would like
best? Bonsoir, cher petit Fanfan. Give yourself
heartily to God, and ask Him to take you in His own
' A child of Mme. de Chevry's,

FE-N'ELON'.

way, for often one does not know how to give one's self.
One is apt to draw back in detail after "a wholesale
gift, making it an excuse to be really more one's own
under pretext of being God's. This is a most danger
ous delusion. -There is a good rule for donations in
the Coulumes, 'Donner et retfenir ne vaut.'"
, "April 2% 1714.
" Do not be troubled because you said too much.
It is enough to perceive simply what has slipped into
conversation through self-love. You may tell it
quietly to those you trust, out of candour, and as a
humiliation, and then let all such details drop, else
you will be ^spinning a perpetual web round and
round, yourself. . . . Our big Chevalier * started this
morning to join you. He struck me as softened, and
anxious to do well. God grant that he may conquer
his timidity and want of application. . . . Send the
little .page to me — I insist upon it; he will be no
trouble to me now that I am almost alone. I enjoy
my. solitude greatly, though the society I have lost is
very dear to me.'' . . .
The Marquis went to Barege for the waters, and
the unfailing letters of affectionate Chit-chat, mingled
with words of counsel, continue. It is pleasant.to see
* One of Fenelon's great-nephews.

DULY RE TURNED. 389
how, heartily and devotedly the 'cold-mannered, re
served soldier loved his warm-hearted uncle — how
entirely he returned such an affection as does- not' fall
to the lot of eyery one, and, when it is given; is not
always appreciated or' returned. ' How- simply arid
trustfully the' young officer"must have written of his
spiritual life, and his daily needs and faults, the above
letters in reply show. It is the same to the last.
" Follow freely the plan you wrote to me about, in read
ing Holy Scripture," Fe'nelon writes to his nephew,
June 12, x 7 14, "Avoid cl6se application while under
treatment. Look, at your faults from a simple point of
view, without fidgeting, without being discouraged, with
a sincere confession of yo'urweakness, and hearty con
fidence in God, sb as to work heartily at your own
amendment with "the help Of His Grace. You shall
hear from .me twice a w'eek; arid if I cannot write^
Alexis shall take my place; but I shall give him as
few chances as possible. . . . Always my dearest
Fanfan's unreservedly and for ever." "July $th.
¦ " Be cheerful, gaudetc in Domino. Peace and joy
in the Holy Spirit are with men of good-will. De
tachment sets us free, and spares many a trouble. . . .
Bear with your distractions and repulsions, without
fostering them. Pray with good-will,, even if you can-

390 FE-NELON.

not feel much. A servant of God used to say that
we serve God with His own wages when we pray with
consolation, and that we serve Him at our own cost
when we pray in spite of clouds, dryness, and dis
traction. Your vanity heeds to be crushed by
neglect and humiliation from within and without. . . .
Good night, dearest Fanfan. It is not far from
Cambrai to Barege in God — what is one cannot be
distant." In the same way fatherly counsels were continually
travelling in kind, playful letters to the young Abbe
de Salignac at his college. Some have been already
quoted: here is another, dated Jan. 7, 17 14, just a
year before the venerable writer's death: — "I am
greatly touched, dear child, by the letter I have just
read, shown to me by 3'nur brother. I love you from
the bottom of my heart, and thank God that you know
yourself and mistrust yourself. One is never secure
against one's self, save when watching in fear, having
constant recourse to God, a heart open to one's real
friends, joined with them in striving to correct one's
self. You cannot be too careful in following the
advice of good friends, or too much on your guard
against the example and precepts of worldly friends.
What might seem a slight fault in another would be
weighty in you. Talk little, and that modestly;

GREAT-NEPHEWS. 391
work diligently. . . . Nothing would give me more
pleasure than to see you a pious and capable
ecclesiastic. I look forward to seeing you next
summer." And a few months later : — "May 12, 1714.
" I rejoice, dear nephew, to think that the time for
seeing you here draws nigh. I look with pleasure to
finding you ripened and advancing in your studies.
I intreat you to use the remainder of your time dili
gently. Avoid all dissipation, shun mere amusement,
and learn everything accurately. That is the only
way to express yourself clearly in few words."
In Fenelon's correspondence with the Abbe* de
Beaumont, who, it will be remembered, had so long
been his constant companion and fellow-labourer, his
classical and literary tastes appear more than in any
other. De Beaumont was an older man than the
other nephews (who were great-nephews, while he was
a sister's son); and though to the full as reverential to
his uncle, and as ready to accept his fatherly instruc
tions, the well formed and tried character needed not
the kindly admonitions and counsels which were
obviously not merely accepted, but courted bv the
younger relatives. Some of the Archbishop's letters
to de Beaumont must have recalled memories of days

392 FENELON.
long gone by, when the same graceful pen was con
tinually exercised on behalf of; the "little Duke."
Take as an instance,:— !r "May 22, 1714.
"Your letter from Cour gladdened me, my dear
nephew. Its poetical trifles amused me, and its
affection warms my heart. I live solely on affection
now, and I shall die of affection.1 I only, realise
spring here in the trees of our poor little garden :
'Jam Iseto turgent in palmite gemmae.'
[Virg. Eel. vii. v. 48.]
And in our borders I see the grateful sight :
' Inque novos soles audenf se germina tuto
Credere, nee meruit surgentes pampinus austros. . . ¦
Sedtrudit genimas, et frondes explicat omnes.'
[Geor. 1. ii. v. 332.]
I delight in this delicate touch of the trees :
' Ac dum prima novis adolescit frondibus setas,
Parcendum teneris ; et, dum se lactus ad auras
Palmes agit, laxis per purum immissus habenis,
Ipsa acie nondum falcis tentanda, sed uncis
Carpendae manibus frondes, interque legendae.'
[/bid. 1. ii. v. 362.]
And another exquisite picture : — -
1 " Te ne vis plus que d'amitie, et c'est 1'amitie qui me fera
mourir. " This was written when one after mother of Fenelon's
dearest friends had passed before him from this life, and his
tender heart, however resigned, was palpitating beneath tile
shock. - ¦ • • J

LETTERS TO DE BEAUMONT. 393
' Sponte sua quae se tollunt in luminis oras,
Infecunda quidem, sed laeta et fortia surgunt.'
[Gear. 1. ii. v. 47.]
This is child's play, which soothes my fancy under
our trees. Oh, how I wish you were beneath their
shade ! But I must be glad that you are at the
baths [Bourbon], laying in a stock of health. The
Abbe" Delagrois reads to me in his room, and chats
to me in mine ; he is cheerful, has a good heart and
a refined mind. You have. an. immense distance to
travel ; you will rival the erreurs of Ulysses. I count
your steps at my heart's cost. But this absence will
bring about the delights of reunion. . Get well, pray ;
be lowly and plastic in God's Hand. Love him who
loves you dearly. The. dead walnut-trees are a sorrow
to me — they were ruris honos." "June 1, 1714.
" You expect tidings from me, and don't give me
yours, you very lazy fellow ! But I must make excuses
for a buveur,1 who is dispensed from everything
except his promenades. I long to know that your
course is well over. As to your distant visits, abate
vour ardour. I only want you to go to Chateau-
bouchet, Fontaines, and Sainteonge, not to Tulle,
Sarlat, or even Manot  Say that I am impatient for
'" The Abbe de Beaumont was at the Eaux de Bourbon. .

394 FENELON.

your return. It is not for nothing that you are
grand vicaire. ' Ut mater juvenem, quem Notus invido
Flatu, Carpathii trans maris asquora,
Cunctantem spatio longius annuo
Dulci distinet a domo,
Votis, ominibusque, et precibus vocat,
Curvo nee faciem littore dimovet ;
Sic desideriis icta fidelibus,' etc. [Hor. I. iv. Ode v.]
Scaliger' is here with his brother. The Sun came
by post:" it is very beautiful, and we admire it greatly.
Some of us could not tell which was the back and
which the front !
'Barbaras has segetes!' — [Vir. Eel. i. 72.]
Delagrois is still here ; he is true, upright, good,
noble, pious, cheerful, sharp, and piercing. He
edifies and cheers one, but he is dangerous to people
who are not like him." "June 4, 1 714.
"When shall I hear from you? I long to know
how you are getting on. We are well, and at rest.
' Excepto quod non simul esses, csetera laetus.'
[Hor. i. Ep. x. 50.]
You have far to go —
1 A nickname for one of the young de Fenelon nephews.
* This was a massive gold ostensoir, which the Archbishop had
presented to the Cathedral of Cambrai.

CLASSICAL ALLUSIONS. 395
'Longa tibi exsilia, et vastum maris aequor arandum.'
[jEneid, ii. 780.]
Do not hurry anything, but don't lose a moment
in returning. 'O qui complexus,' etc. — [Hor. Sat. 1. i. v. 43.]
The Chevalier' des Touches comes on Saturday —
'Mais quelque ami qui vienne, il me manque Calixte,
Et moi je ne vois rien, quand je ne le vois pas.'
Take notice that Calixtus is a very venerable
name, borne even by several Popes !
" Our lively treasurer has returned out of devotion
to the feast of S. Barnabas. Come, dear child, soon,
soon. A thousand loves to our relatives,"

396 ' , FENELON.,

Chapter yil.
TO French "people, doubtless, the interest of
Fenelon's Mimoircs on political subjects "is
very great: to ourselyes they cannot bear any pro
portion in that respect to his spiritual and "friendly
correspondence, "and I think genefarfeadeis witl'not
'regret it if I pass by the former with little more than
an allusion. Ferielon's Memoires were addressed to his
two friends de Beauvilliers and de Chevreuse, for it is
needless to say that nothing purporting to come direct
from himself had the least chance of being heard
by the King or Mme. de Maintenon. Strong good
sense, and a very noble, unworldly spirit, such as
migtit be expected from the writer, characterise these
documents. In some cases they probably exercised
an influence; and had the Due de Bourgogne lived to
wear the crown, this would have been a very vast
influence. As it was, they doubtless helped to steer
him through the most difficult years of his life. The

DEATH OF THE DAUPHIN. 397
current of this life was about to be changed by events
over which neither he nor the -Archbishop of Cambrai
had any control.
On the-1 17th April i7ir, the Emperor Joseph died,
without a son, and the succession of the Archduke
Charles greatly altered the position of political affairs
in Europe. Marlborough's disgrace also had its share
in the general colouring of the scene; and to the Due
de Bourgogne himself the most weighty change was
wrought by the death of his father, the dull, heavy
Dauphin, Bossuet's pupil, who died at Meudon, like
the Emperor, of smallpox, only three days earlier.
As far as he was himself concerned, few events could
have been more unimportant in the world around.'
Saint Simon's account of the illness and death, and all
the intriguing and manoeuvring that were seething
round the deathbed, is marvellous. The Due and
1 ". . . De caractere, il n'en avait aucun" (Saint Simon,
vol. xvii. p. 2). ". . . II resulte que Monseigneur etait sans vice
[this certainly was not so !] ni vertu, sans lumieres ni connais;
sances quelconques, radicalement incapable d'en acquerir, tres
paresseux, sans imagination ni production, sans gout, sans choix,
sans discernement, ne pour l'ennui qu'il communiquoit aux
autres, et pour gtre une boule. roulante au hasard par l'impulsion
d'autrui, opiniStre et petit en tout a 1'exces, avec une incroyable
facilite a, se prevenir et a tout croire, qu'on a vue, livre aux plus
pernicieuses mains, incapable d'en sortir ni de s'en apercevoir,
absorbe dans sa graisse et dans ses tenebres, et que, sans avoir
aucun volonte de mal faire, il eut ete un roi pernicieux. "— Ibid.
p. 25.

39« FENELON.

Duchesse de Bourgogne were dutiful in their attend
ance on the sick man. The Duchesse d'Orleans
fairly grieved with Saint Simon that the malady
seemed to be taking so favourable a turn that they
could hope for nothing save recovery.' But appa
rently the Court physician Fagon had deceived the
expectant multitude, or the disease deceived him
(Saint Simon says that it was suggested that the
Court physicians had no experience in " maladies de
venin," and that other advice should be called in; but
Fagon was furious, and refused to do so) ; probably
he was really mistaken. The Dauphin began to sink.
Some hasty attempt to give spiritual consolation was
made, and after an hour of unconscious last agony,
he expired. The scenes which followed are graphi
cally described by Saint Simon. The Due de Bour
gogne wept some natural tears for the man who, after
all,' was his father, though hardly ever bestowing any
sign of fatherly affection on his son; the Duchesse,
who had been dutiful and amiable towards him, kept
up decent appearances. Generally speaking, feeling
for him there was none. " Personne rien fut surpris,
et comme il n'y avait plus de Monseigneur, personne
aussi n'en fut scandalise"," says Saint Simon. He was
buried with scarcely the ordinary decencies, not to

* Mimoires, vol. xvi. C. 26',

NEW PROSPECTS. 399
say pomps of the period, so great was the fear of infec
tion.' The King lay in bed longer than usual the next
morning, but beyond that no violent demonstration
of sorrow on his part appeared.
Naturally every one began to look on to the time
when the Due de Bourgogne, now Dauphin, would be
a worthier successor to the throne than his father
could ever have been. To the Dukes de Beauvilliers
and Chevreuse a new prospect was opened out.
They wisely did all in their power at once to smooth
the way between the new Dauphin and his jealous
grandfather; and Fe'nelon, who dared not write directly
to his former pupil, addressed him either through one
of them, or through Pere Martineau, the Duke's Con
fessor. a
" God has brought about a sudden stroke, but His
Hand is merciful even amid His severest dealings.
We began with prayer, we pray yet. Death is a
grace, inasmuch as it is the end of all temptation.
It spares the most formidable of earthly temptations
when it takes a prince away before he comes to
rei°n 'froperavit educere ilium de medio iniquitatum.'
1 "II fut enseveli, les uns ont dit par des sceurs grises, les
autres par les frotteurs du chateau; . . il fut porte k Saint
Denis dans un carosse du roi qui n'avoit rien de deuil . . .
011 tout de suite le corps fut descendu dans le caveau royal, sans
aucune sorte de ceremonie. "— Vol. xvii. p. 26.
' The copy of the letter remains, but without address.

400 ,'. FE'NELON.-

Doubtless the sad sight is set before the world lo
teach men dazzled by the world how really small
these princes are who externally seem so great.
Happy they who, like Saint Louis, have never used
their power for the mere indulgence of self-love, but
have counted it as a trust committed to them solely
for their people's good. I pray that He from Whom all
wisdom and strength proceed may build the true
greatness of . . . [the new Dauphin} on the lowliness
of pure grace. Vanity puffs up, without any real
dignity ; but he who seeks nothing for himself finds
all in God, through his own self-abnegation. This is
the time for him to make himself loved, feared,
respected. He must strive more and more to please
the King; to win him, to make him feel the strength
of his attachment, to relieve him by fitting atten
tions and assiduity. He must become his Majesty's
counsellor, the people's father, the comfort of the
afflicted, the resource of the poor, the stay of the
nation, the defender of the Church, the foe of all
novelties. He must distrust and dismiss flatterers;
discover merit, seek it out, cherish it, learn to use it;
he- must listen to all, believe nothing save on proof,
and be as really superior to all as he is in position.
He Who gave David a sceptre instead of the crcok
will give our Prince 'a mouth and wisdom which all
his adversaries snail not be able to gainsay nor resist'

COUNSEL TO THE NEW DAUPHIN. 401
(S. Luke xxi. 15), if only he be simple, lowly, recol
lected, mistrustful of self, trusting in God Only. He
must aim at being a father, not a master; not that the
many should be his property, but that he be the
property of the many, to the furtherance of their real
happiness."1 To the Due de Chevreuse Fe'nelon wrote a little
later (May 12, 1711):— " . . . The P. P. [petit Prince]
ought to have himself more in hand than ever, to be
open, agreeable, accessible, and sociable. He must
undeceive the public as to the scruples imputed to
him; he must be careful in his private life, and not
frighten the Court with the prospect of a severe
reformation which the world could not bear, and
which ought, if possible, to be carried on quite
insensibly. We shall pray continually for him. I
ask that his heart may be as wide as the ocean ! He
cannot apply himself too carefully to please the King,
to avoid giving him the smallest dissatisfaction, to
make him lean upon him in confidence and affection,
to relieve him of toil, and to speak to him with a
gentle and respectful vigour which will gradually gain
strength. He must only say what can be borne.
The way must be prepared before approaching hard
and unwonted truths. And as to the rest, let there be
no childishness, no religious pettiness. There is
1 Correspondence, vol. i. p. 452.
2 C

402 FENELON.

more to be learnt of government by studying men
than books."'
The efforts of the Dauphin's best friends were not
unsuccessful. The King was probably ready to be
won, and Mme. de Maintenon, to whom the Dauphine
was as a daughter, promoted his conquest. The
first fortnight, Saint Simon says, testified to every one
how great a change had come over the King.3 And
the same courtier bears witness to the external change
which appeared in the Dauphin. "The once timid,
shy, self-concentrated Prince, with all his precision,
his priggish wisdom, who was as a stranger in his own
house, always stiff and constrained, one saw gradually
unfolding, giving himself duly to the world, and when
in it easy, majestic, cheerful, agreeable, holding his
Court at Marly, and presiding like the divinity of a
temple, who is sensible to and receives mortal homage
as one accustomed to it, repaying men with a graceful
gratitude." 3
Saint Simon goes on to describe one who was
carrying out to perfection all his great Preceptor's
lessons, charming every one by his really intellectual
powers, his happily-dropped words of wisdom, wit, or
' Correspondence, vol. i. p. 456.
2 ". . . Un changement si extraordinaire dans le roi, si
reserve pour ses enfans legitimes, et si fort roi avec eux. "  Vol.
xvii. p. 189.
J Ibid. p. 19a

A REAL TRIUMPH. 403
perception, without pedantry or affectation; alike
graceful and gracious, paying a seemly and well-
timed attention to all whose age, rank, or position
deserved it; full of dignified courtesy, unaffectedly
grave (" grave, mais sans rides"), yet at the same time
cheerful and easy. It was indeed a triumph for the
Archbishop ; and as the Dauphin's reputation flew on
the wings of popular applause, not only over France,
but over the worlds the world foresaw a triumphant
restoration to the Court and to power, and a brilliant
worldly and political future for a man yet in his full
vigour and charm ; while the man himself knelt meekly
in his far-distant cathedral, or in his "little grey
room," putting up no prayer for worldly greatness,
sullied by no thought of self or self-aggrandisement,
but crying out in his deep, unselfish love for the lad
that was as a son to him : —
" Give the King Thy judgments, O God, and Thy
righteousness unto the King's son.
" Then shall he judge Thy people according unto
right, and defend the poor.
". . . He shall keep the simple folk by their right,
defend the children of the poor, and punish the.
wrongdoer. ". . . In his time shall the righteous flourish, yea,
and abundance of peace, so long as the moon en-;
dureth. . . .

404 FENELON.

" He shall live, and to him shall be given of the
gold of Arabia. . . . All the heathen shall praise
him." Not for glory in this world were the saintly Pre
late's prayers granted, but for how much richer a
portion to the child of his love ! But of this here
after. It is touching to read in a letter from Lallemant to
Fe'nelon, dated May t7, 17 n, "All Paris expects
your immediate arrival, Monseigneur. M. le Dauphin
asked your return of the King as the one crowning
favour which moved him above all else.'"
The warm-hearted young Prince was no match
herein for the cold, jealous, old Monarch, and his
request, as might be expected, was not granted ; but
what did Fe'nelon care for himself or his own restora
tion to a favour he knew well how to dispense with,
when he saw his " petit Prince " taking his rightful
position as a man and a statesman — appreciated,
admired, beloved ? Truly he had his reward for all
he had done and suffered, when the pupil for whom
he had toiled and prayed so unremittingly had
obtained the affection and esteem of King and
country !
Quick as the courtier mind was to perceive the
new-born appreciation of Louis XIV for his grand-
1 Correspondence, vol. iii. p. 350.

A CHANGE AT COURT. 405
son. the whole Court was electrified when one day,
after a long tiie-d-tite, the King gave orders to his
ministers to hold their deliberations in the Dauphin's
apartment, and to refer everything to him !
" It would be difficult," says Saint Simon, " to
describe the prodigious effect on the Court of a
mandate so utterly opposed to the mind, inclination,
maxims, and customs of the King, hitherto so un
alterable, and which for this very reason were tokens
of such a confidence in the Dauphin as could do
no less than give him the greatest influence over
politics." *
If the Dauphin deserved all credit for his noble
bearing under his new circumstances, how much was
not owing to the devoted friend, whose admonitions
reached him continually through de Beauvilliers and
de Chevreuse ! Who but one of so large a mind
could have written as Fe'nelon writes to the latter : —
"July 27, 1711.
"... I hear that the Dauphin improves greatly.
Both his position and his natural temperament set
him amid great snares and great resources. That
religion which involves him in so much criticism is
his only solid support, and if he grasps it largely,
without a scrupulous detail, it will fill him with con-
1 Mimoires, vol. xvii, p. 193.

4o6 FE.NELON.
solation and glory. In God's Name, let him not be
governed by you, or by me, or by any one living! *
Let well-weighed truth and justice rule and decide
all he does. He must listen, take counsel, mistrust
self, pray to God, and then be as firm as a rock to
what his conscience dictates. Let it so be that those
who are wrong dread his firmness, and have no hope
to influence him save by amendment. Let him be
yielding, attentive, easy, comforting, respectful, sub-
rnissive, full of zeal and of affection to the King, but
independent, courageous, and firm, according as the
Church and the State have need." *
" And again : — "Aug. 24, 1 71 1.
"... I hear that the P. P. goes on improving,
that his reputation rises, and that he will carry weight.
He: must be upheld, made business-like, taught to see
and decide for himself. He must deal freely with
men, so as to see through their acts, weigh their
talent, and learn how to turn even their failings to
good account. He must be put in the way of assist
ing and relieving the King, and learn to give his
counsel in an acceptable way. If he does so earnestly
and respectfully, he will not give offence, and will soon
be believed. Let him give himself wholly to God, act-
' -Correspondence, vol. i. p. 471.

PROSPECTS FOR THE FUTURE. 407
ing entirely in His Spirit, and he will have a mouth and
a wisdom which the enemy will not be able to gainsay."'
Ferielon's correspondence of this period with de
Chevreuse is full of suggestions on public matters, and
characterises public men and measures with all the
skill and perception of a practised diplomatist, as well
as the earnestness and unwoiidliness of what he was —
a saintly Prelate. Nothing escapes his loving vigi
lance : the Dauphin's faults and merits ; his actions,
public and private ; his friendships, his family duties,
suggestions of books he had better read, hints for
his conduct to be conveyed best by this or the other
of his special friends — all are there, and one is fain
sometimes to ask, What would a prince so educated
and so counselled have proved himself as a King
had it been God's Will that he should ever attain to
that perilous grandeur !
That he would do so was the natural expectation
of all at his age and that of his grandfather; and
in the prospect of the Dauphin's elevation to the
throne, who that knew anything at all of the position
of things but must have expected too, to see Fe'nelon
second to no one, not even to de Beauvilliers, in the
kingdom ? The only person who seems never to have
thought of Fe'nelon from a worldly point of view in
1 Correspondence, vol. i. p. 486.

408 FENELON.

connection with the Dauphin's future was Fe'nelon
himself — " you, who never think of yourself," as the
Due de Chevreuse writes to him, Sept. 4, 170.
The changed tone of the Court, Saint Simon says,
made itself strongly felt at Cambrai, which now became
apparently the only possible route by which any one
could attain Flanders ! Every one — courtiers, general
officers, soldiers more and less known — every one
must needs go that way, and linger as long as possible
there. The Archbishop involuntarily held so large
and devoted a Court that it needed all his unfeigned
modesty and simplicity to avoid serious umbrage being
given at Versailles. However, his conduct was so
irreproachable in this delicate position, that no sign
of displeasure on the part of either the King or
Mme. de Maintenon seems to have been betrayed,
though they could scarcely be ignorant of the facts.
How nicely Fe'nelon steered between the absolute
ignoring of himself for his own sake, and a stedfast
putting forward of what in his conscience he believed
would promote God's Glory and his country's welfare,
was strongly illustrated when, at this very time, he was
pressing his views on public matters earnestly upon de
Chevreuse. A meeting between them at Chaulnes
(one of the Duke's country places), as early as June
1 71 1, was in contemplation, for the purpose of dis
cussing such important subjects; but circumstances

PROJET POUR LE PRESENT. 409
delayed it till the November following, when Fe'nelon
drew up what he called " a sort of tables of the nature
of agenda." Much as these papers tend to prove the
thorough grasp he had taken of the whole position
and needs of France, they need scarcely be more
than mentioned here. His Projet pour le prisent
goes into the whole question of the peace which he
thought a necessity at almost any price ; from that he
goes on with a plan for reform after peace be made,
in which military reform, external policy, Court expen
diture, interior administration, religion and Church
government, judicature, etc. etc., are briefly, but for
the most part vigorously treated.
How far Ferielon's plans for the government of
France would have been acted on, or have succeeded,
had the young Dauphin ever become King, can only
be a matter of speculation. Not a year after the un
loved son of Louis XIV. was carried to the grave,
the treasured grandson, the nation's hope, was to
follow, and the Grand Monarque's declining days
were to witness the all but simultaneous death of his
heirs in three generations.
It was in the January following upon Monseigneur's
death, that, when at Marly, the Dauphine was warned
by her chief physician Boudin that there was a design
afloat to poison her and her husband. This strange
warning was publicly given, enplein salon, and doubt-

4^0 FE\NEL0N.

less had much to do with the vehement belief which
later on raised so wild a storm, that the death of the
young royal couple was caused by poison. No
explanations could be given, even to the King him
self, who examined Boudin on the subject. Within
twenty-four hours the Dauphin received a similar
warning from his brother, the young King of Spain,
equally vague, though equally confident. The Court
affected to pay no heed to such uncertain foretelling ;
but nevertheless, Saint Simon says that men were
uncomfortably impressed by it, and something of a
cold shadow and foreboding fell upon them.'
At that time the Dauphine was suffering from a
swelled face, and soon after feverish symptoms came
on, accompanied with severe pain in the head, un
relieved by tobacco smoked and chewed, opium
given in quantities, and bleeding twice repeated from
the arm ! 2 Some hope was entertained that the
malady was measles, from which many people in Paris
and Versailles were suffering; but by Feb. roth the
doctors decided that the Dauphine's illness was not
that epidemic. The Dauphin never left his wife's
bedside. Mmei de Maintenon was scarcely a less con
stant attendant, and the King frequently visited her.
; The symptoms became worse, and Mme. de Main
tenon suggested to the young Duchess (who always
' Mhioires, vol. xviii. p. 172. , " Ibid. p. 189. -

DEATH OF THE DAUPHINE. 411
called her ma tante, and was as a child of her own)
that it would be well not to delay the last Sacra
ments. Her confessor, Pere de la Rue, asked if she
would like to have some other priest, and after asking
Mme. de Maintenon whether it would hurt him
should she accept the offer, the Duchess asked for a
certain Kecollet, the Pere Noel, and he spent a long
time with her. Extreme Unction and the Viaticum
were administered directly after ; for the Dauphine
grew visibly worse, and the doctors did not know
what to make of the malady, which some took to be
suppressed smallpox, Others malignant fever. The
King went to meet the Viaticum, as it was carried
from the Chapel of Versailles, his tears flowing fast.
He had by this time forbidden the Dauphin to return
to his wife's room, fearing the deadly infection ; but it
was too late. That was already conveyed; but the
Dauphin's pallor, his trembling feverishness and agita
tion, were naturally attributed to anxiety and distress.
The Dauphine received her last Communion, and
after a few words of penitence and trust in God,
expressed an earnest desire to see her husband.
Mme. de Maintenon told her that she had the
measles,- and that they feared the Dauphin might take
it from her. A . little later she again asked for him,
and soon after, calling the Duchesse de Guiclie, said,
" Adieu, ma belle Duchesse; I am Dauphine to-day.

4ia F&NELON.

to-morrow nothing ! " ("aujourd'hui Dauphine et de-
main rien ! ")
Mme. de Guiche expressed a hope that God would
restore her in answer to the Dauphin's prayers.
" No, He will lay this sorrow on him," she replied,
"for He chastens those He loves."
The King remained in the sickroom, giving free
vent to his grief. Some one called the Dauphine's
attention to him. " If I loved him less, and he loved
me less, I should die without a regret," she said.'
The seven doctors tried all their remedies — emetics,
bleedings, and all the rough treatment in vogue at
that time. In the evening of February 12th the
patient became unconscious, and before long expired.
The King and Mme. de Maintenon went that night
to Marly, and the next morning, after having com
municated, the Dauphin went after them; but he was
already very ill, and fainted in the carriage. The
previous evening, after being told of his wife's death,
he had seen his brother, his confessor, and the Due
de Beauvilliers only, the latter having left his bed to
come to his dear Prince, for he was himself ill then.
It was the last time they met in this world. Saint
Simon saw the Dauphin that morning, and was startled
at the alteration in his countenance, noticing, too,
certain red livid spots about his face which had
Mimoires de Mme. de Maintenon, vol. v. p. 1 52.

DEATH OF THE YOUNG DAUPHIN. 413
appeared also upon the dying Dauphine.' The King
made the same observations. That night burning fever
came on, but there were no malignant symptoms, and
the day following the doctors seemed to think rest
was all the Dauphin needed, so that the King
went to bed comparatively free from anxiety. About
eleven, however, the young Prince felt himself much
worse, and asked for the Viaticum. His attendants
told him that his illness was not dangerous. "I
shall be dead," he answered, " before the priest can
come." Just at midnight Mass was said in his room,"
and he communicated with his wonted fervour, and
seemed easier in body as well as in mind. But
shortly a paroxysm of internal pain came on again,
and the Dauphin pressed for Extreme Unction. The
attendants were disposed to delay, but he urged them,
saying that he should soon be unconscious. Amid
frequent ejaculatory prayers his wife's name was con
tinually on his lips. The King was summoned from
his bed, only to find his grandson delirious and in
convulsions, amid which, about 8.30, on the morning
of February 18th, he died.
The Dauphin had actually passed away while yet
the alarm was so fresh that all Paris was in a state of
excitement. Everywhere the churches were crowded
1 Mimoires, vol. xviii. p. 205.
" Mhnoires de Mme. de Maintenon, vol. v. p. 156.

414 FANELON.

with people praying for him, and the relics at Sainte
Ge'nevieve were exposed. The tidings of his death
following so rapidly on that of his wife almost stunned
people. It was a real and universal consternation,
Saint Simon says.
There was a pompous lying in state ; and on
February 22nd the young husband and wife were
buried together at Saint Denis. The little Due de
Bretagne, their eldest child, who now at five years old
had become Dauphin, remarked to his governess, the
Duchesse de Ventadour, that " the journey to Saint
Denis was not a pretty one." ' The little fellow was
soon to take it himself. The same malady, whatever
it was, which carried off his parents, had already
attacked him and his baby brother, the Due d'Anjou,
afterwards Louis XV. The elder boy was bled and
physicked, and died March 8th; the younger prince
was not yet weaned, and Mme. de Ventadour con
trived to save him from medical treatment, otherwise
probably he too would have succumbed. He was
very ill, though ; and when Louis XIV. was told of
the elder child's death, he so entirely gave up the
baby prince, that he turned to the Due de Berri,
saying, " So no one is left but you ! "
The loss was terrible for Louis XIV. ; but as a real
sorrow of heart probably no one felt it as Fe'nelon did.
* Mhnoires de Mme. de Maintenon, vol. v. p. 158.

DEATH OF THE DUC DE BRETAGNE. 415
On February 15th, he wrote expressing his exceeding
alarm at what he had heard concerning the Dauphin's
health; and when the tidings of the Dauphine's
death reached him, he wrote to de Beauvilliers as
follows : — "Feb. 18, 1712.
" I feel most deeply the loss our P. P. [petit Prince]
has undergone, and the keen agony he is bearing.
I tremble for his own health, which is fragile and
delicate. Nothing can be more precious to the
Church, the country, and all our people. I pray and
ask prayers for the rest of the Princess's soul, and for
the health and consolation of the Prince. You know
his temperament — keen, and somewhat melancholy ;
I dread lest he be overwhelmed with exceeding
sorrow, and give way to a grief which might mar
his piety with gloom and scrupulosity. We must try
to turn these sorrows to account, and stimulate him
to a simple, brave devotion, seemly in his position.
God is carrying out His own designs; we must
follow them. We must sustain, comfort, soothe, and
encourage our poor sorrowing Prince."'
In the same letter was an inclosure marked "For
the Dauphin."
" I pray, and I will pray. I ask prayers for the
1 Correspondence, vol. i. p. 545-

416 FENELON.

Princess we have lost, and God knows whether the
Prince is forgotten ! I fancy that I see him in the
state wherein S, Augustine describes himself : — ' Quo
dolore contenebratum est cor meum ! et quidquid
aspiciebam, mors erat. Et erat mihi . . . paterna
domus mira infelicitas. . . . Expetebant eum un-
dique oculi mei, et non dabatur mihi : et oderam
omnia quia non haberent eum. Nee mihi jam dicere
poterant : Ecce veniet sicut cum viveret, quando
absens erat. . . . Solus fletus erat dulcis mihi, et
successerat amico meo in deliciis animi mei. . . .
Miser eram, et miser est omnis animus vinctus ami-
citia rerum mortalium ; et dilaniatur, cum eas amittit,
et tunc sentit miseriam, qua miser est, et antequam
amittat eas. . . . Portabam enim conscissam et cruen-
tam animam meam, impatientem a me portari ; et ubi
earn ponerem non inveniebam."
1 "At this grief my heart was utterly darkened, and whatever
I beheld was death. My native country was a torment to me,
and my father's house a strange unhappiness. . . . Mine eyes
sought him everywhere, but he was not granted them, and I
hated all places, for that they had not him ; nor could they now
tell me that 'he is coming,' as when he was alive and absent.
. . . Only tears were sweet to me, for they succeeded my friend
in the dearest of my affections. . . . Wretched I was, and
wretched is every soul bound by the friendship of perishable
things ; he is torn asunder when he loses them, and then he feels
the wretchedness which he had ere yet he lost them. ... I
bore about a shattered and bleeding soul, impatient of being
borne by me, yet where to repose it I found not." — Confessions
ofS, Augustine, Lib. Fath. bk. iv — vii.

LETTER OF CONSOLATION. 417
" It is not enough that we love only those whom we
may rightly love ; our Jealous God will have us love
them only for Him and in Him. ' Et ideo,' says S.
Augustine, ' non eis amore conglutinetur, neque
velut membra animi sui faciat, quod fit amando, ne
cum resecari ca^perint, eum cruciatu ac tabe fcedent.'1
All that we love the most lawfully here below does
but bring us the keenest grief, inasmuch as it must
necessarily be soon taken from us. We cannot love
that which is dearest to us more than ourselves, and
self may only be loved for God. ' Si ergo teipsum
non propter te debes diligere, sed propter ilium ubi
dilectionis tuas rectissimus est finis ; non succenseat
alius homo, si etiam ipsum propter Deum diligis. . . .
Nullam vita? nostrge partem reliquit, quee vacare
debeat, et quasi locum dare ut alia re velit frui ; sed
quidquid aliud diligendum venerit in animum, illuc
rapiatur, quo totus dilectionis impetus currit. . . .
Totam sui et illius refert dilectionem, in illam dilec-
tionem Dei, qua? nullum a se rivulum duci extra
patitur, cujus derivatione minuatur.'3
1 " And, accordingly, let him not be too closely joined to them
in love, nor make them as it were members of his own mind,
which is the effect of loving, lest, when they begin to be severed
from him, they disgrace him with anguish and decline." — De
Lib. Arb. lib. i. c. xv.
* "If then you ought to love yourself, not for your own sake,
but for His Sake Who is the most proper object of your love, let
2 D

418 FANELON.
" God never chastens but in love. He is the ' God
of all comfort' (2 Cor. i. 3). He dries the tears He
calls forth, and gives back in Himself all that He
seems to take away. He saves her who might have
been led astray by worldly prosperity, and loosens
his bonds who knew not true detachment. We must
give up all to Him in perfect trust, saying, 'Thy
Will be done on earth, as it is in Heaven.' "2
At the moment these loving lines were written, the
young Prince to whom they were addressed was dying;
and before they could reach him, he was beyond the
power of earthly consolations.
Fenelon's first utterance on receiving the tidings is
a wail of intense grief to the Due de Chevreuse : —
"Feb. 27, 1 712.
" Alas ! dear Duke, God has cut off all our hopes for
our Church and country. He had formed our young
not another man take offence at your loving even him for God's
Sake. . . . He has left (sc. in ' with all thy heart') no side of
our life to be a mere void, and as it were to furnish room to any
one to wish for something else ; but that whatever else comes
into our mind as an object of love should be hurried in that
direction whither the entire current of love is impelled. It
refers the entire love of self and of another to that love of God
which allows no rivulet to be drawn away from itself by the
diversion, of which it may suffer diminution." — De Doct. Christ,
lib. i. c. xxii.
1 Correspondence, vol. i. p. 548.

PUBLIC AND PRIVATE GRIEF. 419

Prince; He trained him, and fitted him for the noblest
work. He just let the world see what he was, and
now it is over! I am struck down with grief, and
the shock has made me ill without any malady. And
while weeping sorely for him who is dead, I tremble
for the living. My affection alarms me for both you
and the dear Duke [de Beauvilliers]. Moreover, I
fear for the King, whose preservation is so infinitely
important. ... I hear that the Duchess has been ill,
and am very anxious. How closely trial follows upon
true affection!"'
Not even his private grief could make the Arch
bishop forget his country's needs, and in the same
letter he goes on to say : — " Never was peace so much
to be wished for, so necessary. Conceive what it
would be if we should be involved in the storms of a
minority without any Queen Regent, and with an
overwhelming war around. Everything is exhausted
and driven to the last extremity. The Huguenots are
still formidable, the Jansenists more .so than people
think. Peace, peace, at any price ! Moreover, un
fortunately, the King is too old to hope that he will
see his successor grow old enough to rule. Even
were we so fortunate as to avoid a legal minority, — that
is to say, that the Dauphin were not under fourteen
when he succeeded, — there is no hope of escaping
1 Correspondence, vol. i. p. 550.

420 FANELON.
a practical minority, in which the child's name will
be merely a tool to the strongest party. There is no
sure remedy for this evil. All that human prudence
can hope to do, is without loss of time to establish
such a government and plan of education for the little
Prince as may be firmly assured should we lose the
King. His honour and glory, his love for the royal
family and for his people, and moreover his conscience,
demand most rigorously that he take every pre
caution human wisdom can suggest in this matter.
It would be exposing the State and the Church alike
to the most fearful peril not to give heed to this
capital point before all else. You must try to do all
that is possible to unite Mme. de Maintenon and all
the ministers in making every effort to influence the
King. The Father Confessor [Le Tellier] ought to
take his full part, in the very obvious interests of
religion. I could say a great deal on this subject,
but you know it all still better than I do, and I have
neither time nor strength. I pray our Lord to inspire
you : never were we in so great a need."
The need was great indeed, and Fe'nelon felt, with
the instincts of affection, that those lie most trusted
in that hour were passing away. The Due de
Beauvilliers was already ill when the Dauphin died,
and a letter to the Due de Chaulnes (formerly the
Vidame d' Amiens, now the eldest surviving son of the

THE DAUPHIN'S PAPERS. 421

Due de Chevreuse), dated March 4, r7i2," shows
how much anxiety there was for his health also.
But a few days later Fe'nelon was writing urgently
to him about public matters. "... I would give
my life," he says, " not only for the State, but for the
children of our dear Prince, who is still nearer my
heart now than when living. ... I should say that
the dear Duke [de Beauvilliers] would do well to go
and see Mme. de Maintenon, and speak openly to
her, regardless of past coldness between them. He
should make her feel that it is not a question of
interest, direct or indirect, but of the security of the
State, the peace and preservation of the King, his glory
and his conscience, for the sake of all which he ought
as far as possible to make provision for the future.
He should further tell her his own chief ideas, and
in concert with her decide what to lay before the
King."2 It was not unnaturally a subject of some anxiety at
this moment to all the late Dauphin's special friends
what might become of his papers, and how far any of
these' might give offence to the King, — not probably
from their contents, for assuredly neither the Arch
bishop nor the Dukes had ever written one disloyal
word, nor one of which they could be ashamed, but
owing to his own jealousy and unwillingness that his
1 Correspondence, vol. i. p. 552. s Ibid. p. 553.

422 ' fAnelon.

grandson should be counselled by any hidden under a
cloud from the royal favour. The Dauphin's cassette,
or despatch-box, was demanded immediately after his
death; but while sending the key to his Majesty,
de Beauvilliers determined to trust the precious box to
no one, and waited till he was sufficiently well himself
to take it to the King. Saint Simon says that the
upper part of the cassette was happily filled with a
fatras of all manner of mimoires and financial projects,
a number of which de Beauvilliers read to the King,
until he became so tired, that, assuming all the con
tents to be equally uninteresting, he bade the Duke
burn them all, which was done, save and except
certain papers which the Duke dextrously withdrew.'
This, however, does not seem consistent with a note
to de Beauvilliers from Mme. de Maintenon, dated
Saint Cyr, March 15, 17 12, saying, — "In order to
set your mind at rest, Monsieur, I have made copies
of all your writings, and send them to you all without
exception. Your secret would have been kept, but
there are occasions which disclose everything ; we
have made sad experience of it. I wanted to send
you everything that was found of yours or M. de
Cambrai's, but the King chose to burn them himself.
I confess that I regretted it much, for nothing so
good or so admirable will ever be written again ; and
1 Mimoires, vol. xviii. p. 251.

A KING'S CONSCIENCE. 423
if the Prince we lament had some failings, it is not
owing to his having been timidly counselled or flat
tered. It may be affirmed that those who go straight
forward are never put to confusion."'
Among these papers Fe'nelon supposed one would
be found which the King might choose to be offended
at, entitled " Directions pour la Conscience d'un Roi,"
— which, written as it was solely for the spiritual
guidance of the Dauphin, could hardly be said to be a
representation of his grandfather's conduct; although
pomp, display, a disproportionate love of glory and am
bition, unjust acquisition, the taste for flattery, and the
like, were therein deprecated in a manner which Louis
XIV. might have thought personal. But the young
Dauphin had guarded against anything of this sort
which might have aggravated the injustice already
done to his beloved Preceptor ; he had burnt or com
mitted to de Beauvilliers' care all such papers as he
conceived likely to displease his grandfather should
they fall into his hands ; and the manuscript in ques
tion remained in Mme. de Beauvilliers' hands after her
husband's death, until she gave it ultimately to the
Marquis de Fe'nelon, who published it in the year 1734."
These were heavy days to Fe'nelon : his heart was
Bad at the prospects which seemed to threaten his
Correspondence, vol. i. p. 55^.
3 Qiuvns, vol. ix. p. 373.

424 FANELON.
country, and he was worn with toil, anxiety, and care.
A few touching lines written to the late Dauphin's
Confessor, the Pere Martineau (who had asked him
for his recollections of the Prince with a view to a
life the Jesuit Father was about to write), set this
vividly before us : — " April i, 1 712.
" I will frankly confess my weakness, mon Pere ; I
do not feel able at present to look up the facts you
want put together. I cannot say too much for your
zeal and goodness, but I have not courage to carry
out a work I so heartily desire to see done. The
sorrow which has come upon us has taken such hold
upon me that my health has suffered considerably,
and whatever revives my grief brings on a certain
amount of feverish- agitation. I must wait till rest
and contemplation of God calm my mind, although I
am humbled by my weakness. M. de Beauvilliers
can help you much better than I could ; his advice
will be good, both as to furnishing facts, their
selection, and the best way of using them. You
will easily perceive that there is much to consider
on this score — ¦
" Periculosse plenum opus alese
Tractas." — [Hor. Carm. lib. ii. i. 6.]
You know the world, and the malice of its criticism.
As soon as my head is somewhat stronger I will try

THE DUC D'ORLAANS. 425
to do what you wish. Meanwhile I ask your prayers,
and remain," etc.*
I have purposely not dwelt upon Ferielon's poli
tical papers, but some allusion can hardly be omitted
to one which he saw fit to draw up at this period with
regard to the Duke of Orleans. Remembering the
warnings about poison given to the Dauphin, together
with the rapid death of himself, his wife, and child,
the second child suffering from the same malady, a
malady which baffled the physicians either to treat or
to name, it was scarcely strange that early in the
eighteenth century such startling events should be
attributed to crime rather than to natural disease, and
the public voice very generally cried out that the
Duke of Orleans was the murderer of his cousins.
Fe'nelon was not prejudiced against the Duke,
rather the contrary ; yet so strong were the possibili
ties, that he felt bound to -write as though he were
guilty, and to consider all the difficulties of a public
inquiry into the facts, while he believed it necessary
to make private inquiries for the protection of the
infant Dauphin, whose fate must probably ere long
depend upon the Duke of Orleans as Regent.
Fe'nelon not unnaturally felt that a man who was so
notorious an unbeliever, and of so profligate a life,
1 Correspondence, vol. iii. p. 511.

426 FANELON.
laid himself open to any imputations. It is due to
the Duke's memory to say that Fe'nelon ended by
believing him entirely innocent of the dark deeds
thus attributed to him. It was after this that a
lengthy correspondence took place between them,
the Duke laying before Fe'nelon his so-called philo
sophic doubts respecting the existence of God, the
immortality of the soul, free-will, etc.1 The sub
stance of Fenelon's arguments will be found in his
"Treatise on the Existence of God,"2 only part of which
was published during his life, and much of which
has been considered by able judges as a masterpiece
both of philosophy and literature.
Another call upon Fenelon's powers of teaching
was made by a Scotchman named Ramsay, who, sick
ened by the Protestantism in which he had grown up in
his own country, revolted, as he says himself,3 against
the fanaticism and inconsistency which he met with
in ,"all Christian sects;" — and he wandered over all
Holland and Germany, hoping to rest amid the
philosophers of those countries. Yet he could not
swallow the monstrosities of atheism, and thought
to find a refuge in deism. But "it seemed a bold
measure to plunge into that, while to stop short in
any Christian sect appeared childish weakness. I
1 Osuvres, vol. ii. p. 317. » Vol. ii.
3 Entretiens de M. de Ramsai. — CEuvrcs, vol. iii.

De ramsai. 427

was tossed hither and thither amid the vague ideas
of ultra-toleration, unable to find a resting-place,
and in this mind I reached Cambrai, where the
Archbishop received me with his wonted fatherly,
attractive kindness, which at once won my heart,
and during the next six months I went with him
into a very careful study of religion."
Ramsay (de Ramsai he is generally called) has
left an interesting record of his intercourse with
Fenelon, which will scarcely bear condensing. Suffice
it that the dry Scotchman was wholly won, as
much seemingly by the personal holiness and daily-
watched beauty of the Archbishop's life, as by his
clear and helpful teaching ; and one is not surprised
to hear that Andrew Ramsay found a refuge from
Calvinism, philosophy (so-called), and deism, in the
Catholic Faith. He continued much at Cambrai,
never weary of studying his host's mind and life,
and eventually he wrote the first Life ever published
of Fe'nelon. Subsequently Ramsay became tutor to
some of the Pretender's family ; and there is an in
teresting story on record, telling how the friendship of
Fe'nelon stood him in stead at Oxford years after.
In 1730 Ramsay came to England under a safe-
conduct, and was received as a member of the
Royal Institution on the strength of his connection
.with the Archbishop of Cambrai. He further de-

,428 fAnelon.
sired to take a doctor's degree at Oxford, and the
Earl of Arran, then Chancellor of the University,
proposed him for that honour, when an opposition
was raised in Convocation on the double ground
that Ramsay was a Roman Catholic and had been
a servant of the Pretender. Dr. King, Head of S.
Mary Hall, then spoke, summing up his defence of
Ramsay with the words, " Quod instar omnium est,
Ferielonii magni archi-praesulis Cameracensis aluiri-
num prsesento vobis," and carried his audience with
him so entirely on that ground, that Ramsay was
admitted to his degree by a majority of eighty-five
to seventeen votes.
Fenelon's large correspondence, many volumes of
which are preserved, embraced a number of the
eminent men of his day. Pere Lami, a learned
Benedictine, the controversialist of Malebranche,
was one of these;1 Cardinal Quirini2 another; while
Marshal Munich, who had spent some time at
Cambrai as a prisoner of war, and the Chevalier de
Saint George (generally called James III. of Eng
land in his own circle), were no less devoted to the
Archbishop in their respective lines.3
1 See Correspondence, vols. ii. iii. vii. ix. 3 Ibid. vols. iii. iv.
3 The Marshal never could speak with sufficient admiration
and reverence of Fenelon to the end of his days ; and at the
Court of St. Petersburg, in his Crimean campaigns, during his
twenty years' exile in Siberia, or the dignities of his latter days,

CORRESPONDENCE. 429
The Cas de conscience, * which formed so marked a
feature in the Jansenist controversy of Ferielon's time,
led to his writing at some length on the subject, in
the shape of pastoral letters, etc. Louis XIV. hated
the Jansenists, and it was at his request that Pope
Clement XI. put forth the celebrated Bull of 1705,
known as " Vineam Domini Sabaoth."' In the dis
putes which followed this in the Assembly of Clergy,
Cardinal de Noailles attacked Fe'nelon in a way
which delicacy might have forbidden after their
former passages, both of friendship ' and opposition.
Much of the discussion and contest that went on
then turned upon mere verbal and grammatical ques
tions, which are hardly of sufficient general interest
to be entered upon here. It was after the assembly
that Fe'nelon put forth a pastoral in the form of
dialogues concerning some of the great controversies
which had troubled the Church.
he alike loved to dwell upon the long-past time when it had
been his privilege to know that venerable man, and to share in
the charms of his intercourse. If the immediate ancestors of the
Chevalier de Saint George had had as healthy counsel as that
which Fenelon gave their descendant when he visited Cambrai,
and discussed politics with him, they might not have lost their
throne. 1 See Bossuet and his Contemporaries, p. 548.
2 The history of this Bull, all that led to it, and the curious
manoeuvring and mystifications which went on at the time of
its publication, will be found in d'Aguesseau's Memoires sur
les Affaires de I'Aglise de France; — CEuvres, vol. viii. p.
223, etc.

430 FANELON.

We may be excused for passing over the details
concerning Quesnel's Reflexions Morales, and the
Cardinal de Noailles' disgrace. Many of Fenelon's
letters to de Chevreuse turn on these topics, but they
do not sufficiently touch his personal history, and
their chief interest is too much past to make it seem
well to enter upon the subject here.
Fe'nelon's life was drawing to a close, and the
many sorrows which fell upon him doubtless told
upon a constitution enfeebled by hard work and spare
living. Before the Dauphin's death he had lost his
dear friend de Langeron, who died at Cambrai, Nov.
10, 1 710. Fe'nelon's letters are full of allusions to
him during his illness. "Oh, how full of sorrow life is !
God Alone is loving amid His severity," he writes to
de Chevreuse, announcing the Abba's illness ; and on
his death, " I have lost the greatest comfort of my life
{la plus grande douceur de ma vie), and the best helper
God has given me in the service of His Church."'
And to Pere Lami : " I have lost a friend who
has been the delight of my life for thirty-four years.
He died of fever, which at first seemed hardly more
than a passing indisposition. ... He faced death,
giving himself up to God with a peace which seemed
to flow from the One true Source. He was as obedient
as a little child; and even when he wandered, his very
* Correspondence, vol. i. p. 422.

DEATH OF DE LANGERON. 431
wanderings were devout — all sprang from the deep
root of grace and detachment. The more I was
edified, so much the more was I touched, and I must
confess that I have been very weak in my sadness.
I am now in a state of calm sorrow, with a tender
remembrance which often renews my grief, but my
health is good." *
A touching letter, written on the 17th Jan. i7ir,
shows how the sorrow was still telling, in spite of
Fe'nelon's submissive heart :—
"I have not the moral strength you imagine. I
have felt my irreparable loss with a keenness which
shows how weak my heart is. Now my imagination
is somewhat quieted, and there only remains some
sadness and a kind of interior languor. But the
softening of my grief humbles me as much as itself
did, for all that I have felt in both conditions has
been altogether from imagination and self-love. I
confess that it was for myself I mourned in mourning
a friend who was the delight of my life, and whose
loss I feel at every moment. I am comforted, as I
was afflicted, by my weariness of grief and the need
of consolation. Imagination, which was overwhelmed
by the first unexpected grip of sorrow, has grown
used to it, and is calmed. Alas! all in us is vanity,
except that death to self which is the work of grace.
1 Correspondence, vol. iii. p. 283.

432 FANELON.

Moreover, my dear friend died with so simple and
trustful a looking to his end as would have delighted
you. ... I never saw anything more edifying or
loveable. I tell you this that -I may not set my sor
row before you without also setting forth that 'joy of
faith' of which S. Augustine speaks, and which God
has given me to feel on this occasion. God has
worked His Will. He chose to seek my friend's
happiness rather than my comfort; and I should be
wanting alike to God and to my friend if I did not
will what He wills. In the sharpest moment of my
grief I offered up him I so dreaded to lose. . . . " '
These repeated wounds were yet fresh when the
Due de Chevreuse was taken from his family and
friends, Nov. 5, i7r2. "I cannot grow accustomed
to our irreparable loss; I shall feel it bitterly as long
as I live," he writes on the 28th Nov. to the Due
de Chaulnes;2 and on Christmas Day Fe'nelon says to
de Beauvilliers, after imploring him to take care of
his failing health, to go out riding, and to get what
rest he can for his mind: — "May God preserve you,
and enlarge your heart through simplicity and self-
renunciation, which will ever promote your health.
What would I not give for your preservation 1 My
heart has been sore ever since the irreparable loss of
the "petit, Prince;" and that of the cher tuteur has
1 Correspondence, voj. v. p. 385. a Ibid. vol. i. p. 571.

DEATH OF DE CHEVREUSE. 433
opened all my wounds afresh. But God be
praised; be it ours to adore His impenetrable
purposes."' " Let us unite our hearts to him we mourn," he
writes to the widowed Duchess. "He is not gone
from us, because invisible; he sees us, loves us, feels
our needs. Happily in port himself, he prays for us
who are still exposed to shipwreck. He is for ever
calling us with an inner voice to hasten after him.
All pure spirits see, hear, and love their true friends
in their common Centre.2 Their friendship is as
immortal as its Source. Unbelievers love nought save
themselves, and they may well be in despair at the
loss of friends; but a holy friendship only changes
visible companionship for that of faith: it weeps, but
1 Correspondence, vol. i. p. 575.
' Dr. Newman might have read these words before writing
his exquisite poem, the comfort of so many mourners: —
"I still am near;
Watching the smiles I prized on earth,
Your converse mild, your blameless mirth;
Now, too, I hear
Of whispered sounds the tale complete,
Low prayers, and musings sweet.
A sea before
The Throne is spread; its pure, still glass
Pictures all earth-scenes as they pass.
We, on its shore,
Share in the bosom of our rest —
God's knowledge, and are blest."— Lyra Apostolica.
2 E

434 FANELON.

amid tears it is comforted by the hope of rejoining
our beloved ones in the abode of truth, in the very
Bosom of Love itself."
Fe'nelon's letters at this period are full of tender
anxiety about Mme. de Chevreuse, who had always
been one of his most valued friends ; earnest advice
that she should not let herself be overpressed and
smothered in the secular business which the death of
her husband brought upon her, and friendly counsels
to her son the Due de Chaulnes. The measure of
Fe'nelon's friendship with such persons, men of the
world, living amid the stir of politics and Court, may
be taken by the unhesitating manner in which —
evidently certain of being understood and accepted —
he lets drop a few words bearing on their higher
spiritual life, amid wonderfully practical and sensible
advice as to temporal things. Thus he writes to the
Due de Chaulnes: — "For God's sake, dear Duke,
don't drown yourself in details and innumerable
letters. Get help, decide, act promptly, and keep
time for yourself in which to learn how you can best
act in important matters. Attend to all biens'cances,
make suitable acquaintances, fulfil the callings of your
rank; but nevertheless be recollected, detached,
faithful to God. You owe yourself to the public
welfare under the conditions which threaten us;
prepare for its service by studying the things you

THE DUC DE CHAULNES. 435
ought to know, and the connections you ought to
make; do all quietly, in a spirit of faith, and without
ambition. . . . Reserve free times for prayer, reading,
interior nourishment, and also for the claims of your
position, the study of history, general affairs, and
whatever will make you most useful in your day.
A man of your rank is not doing enough, but falls
short in his service to God, if he is absorbed only in
technicalities, collecting curiosities, arranging papers,
details of a regiment or an estate. You owe yourself
to your King and your country, and, ambition apart,
you ought to fit yourself to promote the public good.
. . . Detail is your snare, beware of it. Pray, read,
and learn. See your fellow-men, and be seen of them;
fulfil your vocation, — mine is to torment you ! I love
you so dearly, and I want to see you moulded by
God's Hand to His work." '
In the spirit of the Wise Man's precept for keep
ing up old friendships, Fe'nelon extended his warm
hearted interest to de Chrevreuse's grandchildren,
and in the last summer of his life pressed to have
the Due de Chaulnes' young children with him at
Cambrai : — ¦
" Don't forget that you have promised me the dear
little ones when the warm -. weather comes. ... I
want your children-, whoare mine too, about Whitsun-
1 Correspondence, vol. i. pp. 578, 580, 5S3.

436 FANELON.

tide, when I shall have returned from my visitation.
They will not be in the least in my way; and I shall be
head tutor over M. Gallet, and you may rely on it,
you will get no compliments from me!"
The children .paid their promised visit, and the
Archbishop writes to their father with discriminating
interest about them: —
"The Vidame' is forward as to sense, firmness,
decision, and clearness, and I think he is acquiring
great command over his temper. He is softening, he
wishes to please; sees his faults, acknowledges them
heartily, and is fond of those who reprove him gently.
He is rough and harsh, but, considering his age,
he tries hard to correct that. He is courageous,
practical, feeling, and has a religious mind. He is
a very nice child, and fills one with the best
hopes. " De Piquigny is clever, bold, and chatters readily,
but his temper is strong, and he is not yet reasonable
enough to control it. He is vehement, and is not
easily called to order, but there is so much character
and sense at bottom, that one may look for great
things in him. He needs to be managed with gentle,
' The Vidame d' Amiens was the eldest boy, then nine years
old, the, Comte de Piquigny seven. The Comte de Montfort
was a nephew of the Due de Chevreuse, then eleven. He be
came Archbishop of Sens in after life, and died a Cardinal in
17SS.

CHARACTER OF THE CHILDREN. 437
patient, steady firmness. He must be corrected from
time to time, or he would behave very badly to his
brother, whom he sometimes strikes so as really to
hurt him. And it is not easy to make him feel that he
is wrong; he hardens himself, and treats correction
with contempt : but if he be trained gradually to self-
control, the child's fine qualities will develop. It is
a very strong character naturally, and the only thing
is to temper and soften it. As he grows older, and
his reason stronger, instruction, authority, example,
will all mould and repress his childish impetuosity.
. . . De Montfort is good, reasonable, and open to
religious feeling, though somewhat frivolous and
inattentive through his love of play. But he is
full of grace, and I trust God will mould him to an
ecclesiastical vocation. If he were a little older,
or I younger, I should have designs upon him
for the future: I love him dearly. ... I am de
lighted to have the little troop ; they cheer me up, and
are not in the least in my way. Even if I have to go
away on visitation, they will go on just as if they
were at Chaulnes ; the house goes on in its usual
routine, — I should not be long away, and charmed to
find them on my return. If you think I can be of
any use to them, make use of me in all sincerity. . . .
I am anxious about your health. Do not wear your
self out with petty details and superfluous precision.

438 FANELON.
True precision consists in never neglecting important
things, but it is a mistake to get behindhand in great
matters out of a taste for trifles. If you give yourself
up to trivialities from choice and taste, it is a great
mistake as regards worldly wisdom; and if you do it
to please God, and with a view to your duty, you will
fall short by dint of wishing to be lacking in nothing.
God does not require a false exactitude which pays
such a superstitious reverence to trifles that it quite
loses sight of what is essential. Do those important
duties which you cannot rightly make over to any in
ferior, but do not worry yourself with things which you
can perfectly intrust to others who will be responsible
to you. He who does not know how to relieve himself,
by making others work under him, does not really
know how to work ! The first duty of one in a
superior position is to assign everybody's task, to
keep the whole thing going, and quietly to direct
others' work. . . . You must strive to be as a man
who reads God's Will in a book all day long, and
goes on pursuing it without harass or anxiety. . . .
It is self-will which makes one stiff, confused, and
disheartened, which makes one never have time for
anything." '
The children remained through the autumn at
Cambrai, and the Archbishop's letters to their father
' Correspondence, vol. i. p. 587.

DEATH OF DE BEAUVILLIERS. 439
and mother and the Duchesse de Chevreuse are full
of little remarks about them, which prove the genuine
affection and the keen eye with which he watched
them, as he had watched their father, to whom a great
number of letters were addressed in his earlier life,
which will be found among the Spiritual Letters.
Almost to his very last days Fe'nelon wrote such letters
of affectionate counsel and warning to the Due de
Chaulnes. " See how your lively old friend writes,"
he says playfully (Nov. 23, 17 14), " of the briefest and
most trenchant ! He is stingy of words, and cannot
pause in his course ! . . . You will say I am a rough
customer ! Yes indeed, I shall scold on for very love's
sake, until I see you in your proper place, doing what
God would have you."1
It was during this autumn that another, not unex
pected blow fell, and Fe'nelon lost the last of that
special group of friends who had " stuck" to him
" more closely than brothers." De Beauvilliers died
August 3r, 1714. It was a heavy trial, and Fe'nelon
felt the separation not the less keenly that they had
never met again since he left Versailles so hurriedly
in consequence of what was the King's virtual act of
banishment. " Our best friends," he wrote under his
first grief, " are the source of our greatest sorrow and
bitterness. One is tempted to wish that all great
' Correspondence, vol. i. p. 59"'

440 FANELON.
friends could wait and die on the same day. People
who love no one would be content to bury the whole
human race with calm satisfaction and dry eyes — they
are not worthy to live ! Strong friendship costs a
heavy price; but those who know its joys would not-
give it up, they would far rather suffer than be callous."
" I only live on friendship now," he wrote to the
Abbe de Beaumont in May, " and friendship will be
the cause of my death;'" and a little later : " I know
how dearly I love you, and that is what frightens me,
for God takes away all those I love best. I must love
them amiss, since God's Mercy or His Jealousy sees
need to deprive me of them." 2
The Duchesse de Beauvilliers had been as devoted
a friend as her husband, and whatever tender sym
pathy and fellow-feeling could do to comfort her in
her sorrow Fe'nelon did. " The hope you give me
of being of use to you, madame," he writes (Nov. 16,
1 7 14), " is one of the greatest consolations I can have
for the rest of my life. Meanwhile, I pray God daily
to comfort you. There is a comfort which our hearts
reject, and rightly; for it is hollow, and unworthy the
Spirit of Grace. But there is another comfort which
comes from God Only: He satisfies the cravings of
desolation ; He makes us feel that we have really lost
nothing, and that we may find again in Him all we
' Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 247. ' Ibid. p. 270.

CLOSING DAYS. 441

think to have lost ; He brings our lost back to us in
faith and love ; He shows us how closely we are fol
lowing those who have left us; He dries our tears
with His own Hand. I trust that He Who has laid
this crushing sorrow on you will still your agony;
none save He can do it. Take care of your health,
which must have suffered with all that you have
undergone."' Closely indeed the venerable Archbishop was fol
lowing the dear friends who had left him ! The
atmosphere of another world was becoming more and
more that in which he lived ; very gently and imper
ceptibly the mortal was making ready to put on im
mortality. His bodily health had for some time caused
anxiety to his family, although he was, as he tells the
Marquis de Fe'nelon (May 14, 1713), "good and obe
dient, setting a good example to my children. I began
yesterday to take my milk ; I go out walking, and I
am lessening my work."2 And — " I go on with my
milk ; I amuse myself— it is a sort of second child
hood. God grant us the childhkeness Jesus Christ
has taught us so earnestly !" 3
In the summer of 17 14 he spoke of himself as pass
ing his days without weariness, and finding time all too
short for his occupations; adding, that could he but see
* Correspondence, vol. i. p. 595. 2 Ibid. vol. ii. p. 209.
3 Ibid. p. 217.

442 FANELON.

a few absent dear ones, his desires would be perfectly
fulfilled; and concluding, " But I am at rest, and satis
fied with my daily bread." ' At this time, when his head
and heart were both full of private sorrows and public
cares, he could take the liveliest interest in a visit paid
by his nephew, the young Marquis, to his old home at
Fe'nelon, and in the wellbeing of his old nurse. It
was only the day before de Beauvilliers' death that he
wrote : — " Do not be anxious about me. I am sad,
but at peace, and in full submission to God. Men
suffer greatly through imagination. The heavy sorrows
which we see coming grow familiar by degrees. Our
suffering is protracted, but the actual blow is less
severe, because it does not take us by surprise. I
suffer now in calm languor, not with violence."2 And
(Oct. 4, r7T4) : — " My health is not amiss, in spite of
the sorrow of mind and toil of body which I have
lately undergone."
Public events were still of a vivid interest to him,
in so far as they affected his country and the Church,
or any of the claims of duty, which he fulfilled as
diligently as he pressed them on others; but the
matters which really touched Fenelon's heart now, as
he drew nearer and nearer the border lands, were con
nected with his friends and those he loved. Yet not
even for them would he in the smallest degree depart
* Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 260. " Hid. p. 266.

TO THE SECRETARY OF STATE. 443'
from the line he had laid down for himself; and when
Mme. de Chevry (the sister of de Beaumont, to whose
illness repeated allusions have been made in letters
quoted already) was supposed to be dying, and caused
an effort to be made with a view to her uncle being
permitted to come and see her before she died, he
felt it necessary steadily to explain that any such
efforts had been made without his consent or know
ledge. There is great dignity in the letter which
Fe'nelon wrote on this occasion to the Secretary of
State, Voysin : —
" I have just learnt that some one unknown to me
wrote lately to you intreating you to intercede with the
King that I might be allowed to go to Paris to see a
niece who is dangerously ill. I can quite understand
that I may not be believed when I say that I knew
nothing at all of this request, which I should have
endeavoured to prevent had I been told it was
going to be made. It may even be supposed that I
disavow it now only because it failed : but it matters
not what is thought of me. God knows all these man
oeuvres are not my way of action. And moreover, sir,
I may presume to say that my conduct has not borne
tokens of such indiscreet eagerness. I know, thank
God, how to remain at peace and in silence, without
attempting any such ill-advised steps. No one ever
felt a livelier gratitude for the King's favours, a deeper

444 FENELON.

respect, or more inviolable attachment to his person,
or more ardent zeal for his service ; but no one could
be further than I from worldly anxiety or aspirations.
I daily pray to God for his Majesty's precious life ;
I would willingly sacrifice my own for him. What
would I not do to please him ! But I have neither
inclination nor intention of drawing nearer to the
world. I have no object now save to prepare for
death, striving meanwhile to serve God's Church so
long as I live in the place where I am. Meanwhile,
sir, I do not take the liberty of saying thus much to
you with any desire that you should of your kindness
use it on my behalf at Court You can altogether
suppress it if you think fit. There is nothing in this
world which I desire more earnestly than to fulfil my
every duty towards his Majesty with unalterable zeal;
I have never wavered in this desire, but it is no human
interest which kindles it I rest content with past
kindness, without seeking any possible favours from
the future, and am, with sincere devotion," etc. etc'
The Archbishop was conscious of failing powers
all through that year; indeed, from the period of the
Due de Bourgogne's death he never regained physical
strength or vigour, and, unable to bear that his
diocese should suffer, he greatly desired a coadjutor,
October 14, 17 14, he writes to de Beaumont: —
Correspondence, vol. iv. p. 324.

QUESTION OF A COADJUTOR. 445
" See Pere Le Tellier [the King's Confessor], and
discuss the question of a good coadjutor with him.
It would be an infinite gain to the diocese, and a
relief to me, which I need beyond belief. Moreover,
it is a need which will increase daily. Consult also
with Peres Germon and Lallemant. under promise
of strict silence." ' And, November 26th following :
— " ... It would be well for you to see Pere Le
Tellier, and talk to him about my sincere desire for a
coadjutor : I really need one. But you must make it
clearly understood that I would rather resign and
have a successor appointed, than accept a coadjutor
whom I did not know thoroughly by the test of his
working some time with me. It is a hard test, and
necessarily must delay the result for some time. As
to resignation, the stormy times we live in now make
me unwilling to choose that course, and those which
lie before us are scarcely likely to make it easier. I
should like to know the names of such men as Pere
Le Tellier and Lallemant would suggest for the coad-
jutorship. ... If the Archbishop of Sens dies, I
should be inclined to try and get the Bishop of
Waterford,2 who is now helping him, to come and
1 Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 268.
2 An Irish Bishop, driven from his country by the evil times.
The Archbishop of Sens— Hardouin Fortin de la Hoguette—
survived Fenelon some nine months.

446 FANELON,
help me. I am almost killed with my innumerable
confirmations. . . . The National Council may come
to nothing; but if it is held, and I should be regularly
summoned, like everybody else, what ought I to do ?
I should be very much distressed at being called
upon to be one of the executioners of a man who
executed me as far as he was able. It would seem
like taking vengeance, and would put me in a very
odious position. On the other hand, I owe every
thing to the Church in an urgent time of need.
If I could be sure that all would go smoothly,
I should be very glad to take no part But if the
Council were to be in real danger of division and
difficulty, in which I might be not altogether useless,
I would sacrifice myself, supposing I were really
wished for, and then I should return here by the
most direct route. Discuss this with the very few in
whom we have perfect confidence. I, for my part,
will earnestly ask God's Guidance." *
The coadjutorship never came to pass ; but it is
characteristic of Fene'ion that he never seems to
have thought for one moment of choosing any one of
his own family or immediate friends for the office.
Cardinal de Bausset says he had decided upon a
young Abbe" de Tavanes, who later on became Bishop
of Chalons, and eventually Cardinal Archbishop of
1 Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 271.

ASSEMBLY OF CLERGY. 447
Rouen.' The whole matter was kept in such silence,
that de Tavanes himself did not know of the selection
so much to his honour until many years after, when
he found allusion made to it in a sketch published by
the Marquis de Fe'nelon of his uncle's life (1734).
The Council, or Assembly of Clergy, to which
Fenelon alludes as possibly obliging him in con
science to leave his exile for the first time, was
held in connection with the Bull Unigenitus, which
was promulgated, September 1713, by Pope Clement
XL, condemning one hundred and one propositions
taken from Quesnel's book on the New Testament,
which Cardinal de Noailles had approved, and he
steadily persisted in refusing to recall his approbation.
The King called together the National Ecclesiastical
Assembly to examine and accept this Bull, which was
universally considered as a practical condemnation
of the Cardinal Archbishop's action with respect to
Quesnel's book. A commission was appointed to
examine into the question, consisting of the Cardinal
de Rohan, the Archbishops of Bordeaux and Auch,
and the Bishops of Soissons, Meaux, and Blois. After
three months' close consideration, they unanimously
pronounced that the Bull confirmed the Church's true
doctrine, and that the National Church could but
accept it respectfully. Cardinal de Noailles only, with
1 Histoire de Finelon, vol. iv. p. 244.

U48 FANELON.

a following of eight Bishops, dissented, and declined
to accept the Bull, which was formally accepted by
the rest of the Assembly, February 14, T714, con
firmed by the King's letters patent, and registered by
Parliament the next day. Those who wish to study
the ecclesiastical politics of this period in France,
will find them fully and amply discussed in the Chan
cellor d'Aguesseau's writings (vol. viii.). Suffice it to
say here, that it was to the implied condemnation
of de Noailles (who had been one of his chief pro
secutors) that Fenelon alludes in the letter quoted
above, when objecting to appear at the Assembly
unless imperatively called by duty. He put forth two
mandements on the subject of the Bull, besides several
mimoires on the subject, and a voluminous corre
spondence, which can only be alluded to here.1
This was Fe'nelon's last public exercise of his
archiepiscopal office, excepting, indeed, local ministra
tions, which he continued to the very last, and that far
beyond his strength. The Abbe" Galet says that in
the last visitation Fe'nelon made he was so exhausted
that he entirely lost his voice. Those about him felt
that he was injuring himself; but to all remonstrances
he would only answer that the shepherd whose own
the sheep are is ready to lay down his life for the
flock. " Till then I cannot do too much." Never-
See Correspondence, vol. iv.

AN ACCIDENT. 449
theless, he was ready to listen to reason where the
flock would not suffer; and in a letter from the
Abbe- de Fe'nelon to his cousin de Beaumont (the
"Panta" of all this familiar correspondence) he men
tions their uncle's health as tolerable, adding, that he
is " moderating his work." In a note slipped in by
the Archbishop an allusion is made to his stables, —
he bad lost four good horses, and had nothing left
but unsteady young horses, which shied and were all
but useless.' Probably these horses were the even
tual cause of his death, for Saint Simon (to whom the
Archbishop's last illness was announced by his nephew
the Marquis) says, that while on a short visitation
tour just before Christmas, Fenelon's carriage was
upset in a dangerous place,2 and that although no
one was hurt, the Archbishop saw the whole pro
ceeding and the danger of his attendants, and that
being already so fragile, he felt the shock of the

¦ Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 277.
2 It must have been of another accident that the Abbe Galet
writes as happening in the autumn of 1714, three months before
Fenelon's death, when he was "nearly killed on a bridge cross
ing the river Somme. Some hours after, when I was speaking
of the ten-or I had felt, he said, 'Bon, bon I what use am I of
in this world ? At all events, it is a great warning to be on the
watch, since I might have died when least expecting it.' And
thenceforward he had a special presentiment of death, and pre
pared more especially for eternity." — Vol. xi. p. 190.
2 F

450 FANELON.

accident very seriously, and returned to Cambrai
much shaken.'
In the evening of January i, 1715, he became seri
ously ill. Acute fever set in, accompanied by severe
internal pain, for which the doctors could not account,
but which one would think might easily have been
accounted for by the recent upsetting of his carriage.2
The illness was short, for he died on the seventh day.
Probably from the first Fe'nelon knew that this was
his last illness, and that the journey of life was nearly
ended for him, and he was all but " safe Home at
last." Indeed, one of those in attendance on him, the
Abbe Galet, says that Fenelon told him he felt he
should not recover, and had only to prepare for im
mediate death.3
His last letters are full of cheerful, calm bright
ness. On December 28th he wrote concerning
' Mimoires, vol. xxii. p. 143.
a De Ramsai says that Fenelon had inflammation of the lungs
at this time.
3 Saint Simon, looking at Fenelon's end, as he looked at
everything, through his intensely worldly, courtier-like spectacles,
seems to wonder whether it was a love of fame, or disgust with
the world, or "greatness of soul despising it," or genuine piety,
which made the Archbishop "indifferent to all he was leaving,
and entirely absorbed in what he was going to find : full of
peace and tranquillity, which shut out all anxiety, while leaving
ample room for penitence, detachment, and devoted care for
the spiritual welfare of his diocese, and finally a trust wIiichQose

triumphant over all doubt and fear. '

LETTER TO MME. DE BEAUVILLIERS. 451
various business matters to de Beaumont, expressing
lovingly his hope soon to see him after his long
absence, and quoting Horace : —
" Abes jam nimium diu." *
A letter written on the same day to Mme. de Beau
villiers strikes one with the impression that Fe'nelon
was already aware that his own end was very near.
" I intreat you to let me hear of you," he says. " I
am anxious about your health, which has been long
and sorely tried. Moreover, when the heart is sick
the whole body suffers. I dread the discussion of
affairs for you, and all the things which will revive
your grief. One must try to enter into God's plans,
and help oneself to gain relief. We shall soon find
again those whom we have really not lost. Day by day
we get nearer and nearer to them by rapid strides.
Yet a little while, and there will be no more cause
to weep. It is we ourselves who are dying ; those
we love live to die no more. We all believe this,
but our belief is imperfect: if it were thorough,
we should feel concerning those dearest to us as
Jesus Christ bade His disciples feel when He
ascended into heaven, 'If ye loved Me, ye would
rejoice because I go unto the Father.' But we
mourn for ourselves when we weep for those dear ones
we lose. One may well grieve for those who have
' Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 283.

452 FANELON.

led a worldly life ; but in the case of a true friend
of God, who has been faithful and lowly, one can
think only of his happiness, and the graces he will
win where he is for those he loves and has left
behind. Suffer the Hand of God which has wounded
you to soothe your grief. I am sure our dear one
craves for your consolation, that he asks it of God,
and that you will best enter into his mind by striving
to control your grief." »
The same post carried one of Fe'nelon's affectionate
letters to the Due de Chaulnes, full of the fatherly ad
monitions he would never hear again — a letter which
one would think the Duke must have prized beyond
most things, and have read and re-read many a time.
" Are you using your time as you know God requires
you to do, and as you have promised Him you would
do over and over again ? Would you not be ashamed
if you had failed to keep your word to the meanest
of mankind as often as you have failed to keep
it to God? You say that you love Him; — is it
thus that one loves one's earthly friends, mere men
like ourselves? Would you go on cheating them
with continual, unavailing promises ? Is it too much
for God to require as much good faith and fulfil
ment of a promise as you expect your ploughboy to
demand ? But what will not men prefer to God !
Correspondence, vol. L p. 601.

LAST LETTERS. 453

Wearisome, irksome details, employments which
simply waste health, time spent for which one dare
not attempt to give account, a je ne sais quoi which
clouds your life, and lowers it in the world's sight, —
this is what you prefer to God ! What a horrid be
witchment ! Pray, humble yourself, in order to break
the spell; ask God to set you free from the bonds
of habit and taste which fetter you. Turn against
yourself ; make a persistent, sustained fight ; mistrust
the treachery of your natural disposition, the tyranny
of custom, and the plausible pretexts with which we
so ingeniously deceive ourselves. Listen to none ot
these — begin a new life ; it will be hard at first, but
God will help you, and you will soon taste the fruits.
Happy he who trusts in God, not in himself. What
would I not give to see you a new man ! I ask
it of God in this holy season, when we seek to be
born anew with Jesus Christ. You can, you ought,
you will have to answer for it to our Master. Accus
tom yourself, through recollection, to depend upon
His Holy Spirit. With what zeal am I devoted to
you ! " etc. etc.1
But one letter later than this most characteristic
note remains, and that in its own way is hardly
less characteristic. It consists of a few lines written
to the Marquis de Fe'nelon, and dated, "Saturday
• Correspondence, vol. i. p. 602.

454 FANELON.

evening, Dec. 29, 17 14," full of the endearments
with which the Archbishop always addressed that
cherished son of adoption, begging him to coax
" Panta " to hasten back to Cambrai ; and then, as if
afraid of being selfish, adding, " Don't tease him ;
I don't want him for my own sake, but for his own.
I know how to be happy alone, thank God." Then
comes a request to the Marquis to bring his uncle the
best edition of the Caractires de la Bruyire, a recom
mendation to have further advice about his injured
leg, and ending with " mille amities tendres au cher
Put,1 qu'il me tarde d'embrasser tendrement O que
je t'embrasserai, mon petit Fanfan ! " 2
That busy, graceful pen had finished its work.
From the moment he had to yield to the pressure of
illness on that evening of the Circumcision, Fe'nelon
put aside everything save a calm, happy preparation
for the great change he knew was at hand. So many
years he had said with Job, " All my appointed days
will I wait, until my change come," and now it was
very nigh, even at the door.
The Archbishop would have nothing brought to
1 M. Dupuy, one of the Due de Bourgogne's household, who
was included amongst Fenelon's friends who lost their offices
for his sake. He is generally called Put in Fenelon's inti
mate correspondence, as short for Putens, into which his friends
had Latinized his name.
2 Correspondence, vol. ii. p. 284.

THE LAST DAYS. 455
his mind during those six days of dying but Holy
Scripture, which he liked to have read continually to
him. There was some idea on the part of his
medical attendants that it was too great a strain on
his attention (probably on account of the severe pain
in his head); but he overruled them all, and found
his greatest solace in death from the Book which had
been his guide and stay through life. Over and over
again, his chaplain tells us, they read S. Paul's words
from 2 Cor. iv. and v. to him : —
"For which cause we faint not; but though our
outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed
day by day.
" For our light affliction, which is but for a moment,
worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal
weight of glory ;
"While we look not at the things which are seen,
but at the things which are not seen : for the things
which are seen are temporal; but the things which
are not seen are eternal.
" For we know that if our earthly house of this taber
nacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, an
house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.
"For in this we groan, earnestly desiring to be
clothed upon with our house which is from heaven :
"If so be that being clothed we shall not be found
naked.

456 FENELON.
" For we that are in this tabernacle do groan, being
burdened : not for that we would be unclothed, but
clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed up
of life.
"Now He that hath wrought us for the selfsame
thing is God, Who also hath given unto us the earnest
of the Spirit.
" Therefore we are always confident, knowing that,
whilst we are at home in the body, we are absent
from the Lord:
" (For we walk by faith, not by sight:)
" We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be
absent from the body, and to be present with the
Lord. "Wherefore we labour, that, whether present or
absent, we may be accepted of Him."
" Repeat that passage again," the Archbishop
would say.
From time to time important papers concerning
urgent diocesan business were brought to him, and
he signed them; and in compliance with a suggestion,
he substituted the Abbe" de Fenelon's name as an
executor of his will for that of de Langeron, who had
died since the will was made, and also answered
certain questions as to some of his writings then in
course of publication; but of his own accord he
turned to no subject of worldly interest, and through

QUOTES S. MARTIN'S WORDS. 457
the last two days and nights he was continually
asking those around to repeat the special passages
of Holy Scripture which were most adapted to his
state. "Say those divine words again!" he often
exclaimed ; and then he would try to repeat them
himself with a failing voice, while (so the bystanders
said) his eyes and whole countenance were lit up
with the bright expression of faith and love which
the sacred words inspired. Several times he asked
those around to repeat S. Martin's dying words,
" Domine, si adhuc populo Tuo sum necessarius, non
recuso laborem; fiat Voluntas Tua," and the antiphon
which the Church has attached to them : " O virum
ineffabile, nee labore victum, nee morte vincendum,
qui nee mori timuit, nee vivere recusavit." '
Once his chaplain ventured to quote the first
antiphon for S. Martin, to which these words are the
answer, and wherein his disciples say, "Cur nos,
Pater, deseris, aut cui nos desolatos relinquis ? Inva-
dent enim gregem tuum lupi. rapaces."2 But the
Archbishop only sighed. In his deep foresight he
1 " Lord, if I am yet necessary to Thy people, I refuse not
labour; Thy Will be done."
" O most worthy man, whom neither toil could weary, nor
death vanquish, who neither feared to die, nor refused to live."
2 "Why dost thou forsake us, Father? and to whom dost
thou leave us in our desolation ? The ravening wolves will in
vade thy flock."— See Office for S. Martin's Day.

458 FANELON.

felt that heavy clouds overhung his country and
Church, and he knew that while he lay powerless there
was One mighty to save.
On the second day of his illness he made his last
confession (he had made his confession as usual on
Christmas Eve, before saying midnight Mass) ; and
early on the morning of January 4th he asked his
chaplain for the Viaticum. An hour later he again
asked if everything was ready for that solemn act.
The chaplain replied that he was scarcely in sufficient
danger to need urgent haste. " In the state in which
I feel myself to be nothing can be more urgent," he
answered. The Blessed Sacrament was brought almost imme
diately after this, Fe'nelon causing himself to be
carried out of the little room {la petite chambre grise)
in which he habitually slept, to the large state bed
room mentioned before, where he frequently sat.
This was in order to have room for his chapter and
others, whom he wished to assist at the last great
religious act of his life; and before receiving the
Viaticum he spoke a few words of tender exhortation
to those around.
In the afternoon of Jan. 5th his favourite nephews,
the Abbe" de Beaumont and the Marquis de Fe'nelon,
arrived at Cambrai. Saint Simon describes the
sudden appearance of the latter at his house, witb the

RECEIVES THE LAST SACRAMENTS. 459

tidings of his uncle's dangerous illness, asking the
Marquis de Saint Simon to get leave from the Duke
of Orleans for his physician Chirac, one of the most
eminent medical men in France, to go with him at
once to Cambrai, and borrowing Saint Simon's
travelling carriage, in which they set out within an
hour from that time.1 The Archbishop showed great
satisfaction when he saw his nephews, and asked who
had given them the alarm. They could not speak
for emotion, and could only point to de Fe'nelon's
younger brother, the Abbe", who was present. Chirac
tried the usual strong treatment of that period — more
bleeding and emetics, which could not relieve the
patient, and probably hastened his end. He submitted
to all patiently and cheerfully, and those who knew
his tenderness of heart, and how he had suffered in
the parting from de Langeron and other friends, were
surprised to see him calm and unagitated while wit
nessing the irrepressible grief of the nephews who
were as sons to him.
On the Epiphany he expressed regret that he was
too weak to say Mass himself, and bade his chaplain
go to say it on his behalf. During that short
interval he grew so much feebler that Extreme
Unction was given. Directly afterwards he bade
every one save his chaplain leave the room, and then
1 Memoires, vol. xxii. p. 134.

460 FANELON.
dictated to him a few lines addressed to Pere Le
Tellier, the King's Confessor. These were as follows : —
"Cambrai, Jan. 6, 1715.
" I have just received Extreme Unction, and it is
in this condition, reverend Father, when making
ready to appear before God, that I earnestly beseech
you to lay my true mind before the King. I have
never felt aught save docility to the Church, and
abhorrence of the novelties attributed to me. I
accepted the condemnation of my book with the most
absolute unreserve. There never was a moment in
my life when I did not entertain the liveliest gratitude
and most honest zeal for the King's person, as also
the most inviolable respect and attachment.
" I take the liberty of asking of his Majesty two
favours, which have no concern with me or mine.
First, that he will vouchsafe to appoint a successor *
who is pious, worthy, orthodox, and firm against
Jansenism, which is very much in vogue on this
* Louis XIV., who survived Fenelon eight months, never
appointed any successor. In 1716 the Regent Duke of Orleans
appointed the Abbe" d'Estrees, who died in 1 718, without having
been consecrated. Apropos of this fact, Saint Simon mentions
a curious prophecy that he would have three successors who
would never take their seat at Cambrai : — "L'Abbe' d'Estre'es
eut Cambrai. Je me souviens tres-bien qu'a la mort du celebre
Fenelon, son predecesseur, il courut une prophetie de je ne sais
qui de ce diocese, que ses trois premiers successeurs n'y entre-
raient jamais. " — Memoires, vol. xxvi. p. 27.

LAST MESSAGE TO LOUIS XIV. 461
frontier. And next, that he will kindly complete
under my successor that which could not be com
pleted under me as to the Community of Saint Sul
pice. I owe to his Majesty the help that Community
has rendered me. Nothing can be more apostolic
or venerable ; and if his Majesty will intimate to my
successor that he would do well to conclude the
arrangement with them which is already so forward
the matter will soon be accomplished. I wish long
life to his Majesty, of whom both Church and State
have so great a need. If it be permitted me to come
before the Presence of God, I will continually ask
this of Him. You know, reverend Father, with what
veneration I am, etc. etc.
" Fn., Archbishop of Cambrai." '
The rest of that day and the night following were
very full of pain, but Fe'nelon was able to soothe his
sufferings by uniting them to those of his Dear Lord.
" I am on the Cross with Christ " (" Christo confixus
sum cruci"), he said. Then those he loved who
stood around repeated in his dying ear the assur
ance, that " the sufferings of the present time are not
worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be
revealed." As his agony increased, they reminded him how
1 Correspondence, vol. iv. p. 595.

462 FANELON.

S. Luke records that in Gethsemane our Lord prayed
ever more and more earnestly : " Factus in agonia
prolixius orabat"
" Three times He prayed the same prayer," Fe'nelon
said — " Oravit tertio eumdem sermonem dicens;" . . .
but here the pain cut short his words, and the by
standers continued them : — " Father, if it be possible,
let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will,
but as Thou wilt."
" Yes, Lord," the Archbishop murmured, taking up
their words with a feeble, broken voice, " Thy Will,
not mine."
Between fever and weakness occasional delirium
came on, of which Fe'nelon was conscious, and he
seemed distressed lest any unseemly or impatient
words should escape him against his will. But nothing
of the sort occurred; and as the paroxysms passed
away, he would clasp his hands fervently, and lift his
eyes upwards, as thpugh in close communion with
God. All through that last night he was surrounded by
those who loved him best : his nephews, Pantaleon de
Beaumont, (the Abbe-) Gabriel, the soldier Marquis,
Francois (Abbe- de Fenelon); the young Chevaliers
Henri, Alexis, and Jacques; the two brothers l'Eschelle,
both dear friends of his Preceptor days, and attached
to the Due de Bourgogne's household; and sundry

DEATH 463
others. All of these profited by the intervals of ease
which came to ask a last blessing ; as did his whole
household, weeping and lamenting the master they
could not but love so well. Many persons out of the
town who had been under his direction obtained
admittance to the death-chamber for the same pur
pose ; and the Superior of Fe'nelon's Seminary (a Saint
Sulpicien, Le Vayer by name), who remained with him
all that night, received his special blessing for the
Seminary and the whole diocese. It was this priest
who said the last prayers for the dying, and continued
to pray and repeat brief passages of Holy Scripture
through the last moments ; amid which, after about
half an hour of seeming unconsciousness, the Arch
bishop passed gently away, at a quarter-past five on
the early morning of January 17, 1715.
So ended a life of unchanging love and union with
God ; or, should one not rather say, so it was merged
into the real life of Love and Union with God for
which all here had been but a making ready,— the
preparation of the mortal to put on that immortality
the thought of which had ever been before Fe'nelon's
eyes and ruled his acts and thoughts.
" The death of this great Bishop at sixty-five, sus
tained with the Sacraments of the Church, surrounded
by his family and clergy, could not but be a great

464 FANELON.
lesson to those who survived, and full of hope for him
who was- called." So says Saint Simon;1 and, after
alluding to the sorrow and consternation generally felt
through Flanders at Fe'nelon's death, he goes on to
remark, what must have astonished the worldly-wise
courtier, that " all M. de Cambrai's affairs were in
such perfect order that he neither owed nor left behind
him a sou."
Fe'nelon's will is dated May 5, 1705. It begins by
saying : — "Though my health is as good as usual, I wish
to prepare for death, and with this view I write this
present will with my own hand." He then reaffirms
his position with respect to his book and the errors
imputed to him, and his entire submission in the
matter of his condemnation, adding that he had cher
ished no thought concerning those who attacked him,
save in sincere prayer for them, and in desiring to
abide in brotherly love with them. There were cer
tain legacies to his servants, and then he directs : —
" I wish my burial to be in the metropolitical church
of Cambrai, as simple as may be and with the least
possible expenditure. This is not a mere conventional
expression of humility, but because I think the money
laid out on funerals other than simple had better be kept
for more useful purposes; and also I think the modesty
of a Bishop's funeral should set the example to the
1 Mimoires, vol. xxii. p. 144.

FANELON' S WLLL. 465
laity, and lead them to diminish the useless outlay in
their burial arrangements."
Fe'nelon goes on to nominate his nephew the Abbe"
de Beaumont (" who has been to me all his life as the
best of sons to a father") as his residuary legatee,
giving him no special directions, but leaving to him,
with perfect confidence, the disposal of whatever pos
sessions might be found.
He named de Chanterac (" my counsellor in this
diocese, whose friendship has been proof against every
trial, and for whom I have a great veneration ") and de
Langeron (" the precious friend whom God gave me
while we were yet both young, and who has been
one of the greatest comforts of my life ") as his exe
cutors. The last clause says : — " While I love my family
deeply, and am aware of the needy state of their
affairs, I do not think it right to leave anything to
them. Ecclesiastical property is not meant to supply
family wants, and ought not to pass out of the hands
of those who minister in the Church. I trust that
God will bless the nephews I have educated, and love
dearly, by reason of the uprightness and religion in
which they seem to me to be confirmed."
According to the Archbishop's express commands,
his letter to Pere Le Tellier was sent off immediately
that he was dead, and was doubtless speedily laid by
2 G

466 FANELON.
him before the King. Of what Louis XIV.'s feelings
may have been in reading it we have no record. The
Marquis de Fe'nelon, in a brief sketch of his uncle's life,
says that on hearing of the Archbishop's death, Louis
XIV. exclaimed bitterly, "II nous manque bien au
besoin !" Mme. de Maintenon alludes coldly enough
to it in a letter to the Cure" de Saint Sulpice. Saint
Simon speaks of the Archbishop's letter as dignified
and touching in a way which probably indicates the
general feeling concerning it at Court. Little enough it
signified to him who wrote it what reception his parting
words might meet with. To few could S. Paul's words
have come home with more force : — " With me it is
a very small thing that I should be judged of you, or
of man's judgment : yea, I judge not mine own self
. . . but He that judgeth me is the Lord . . . Who
both will bring to light the hidden things of darkness,
and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts :
and then shall every man have praise of God" (i Cor.
iv- 3-5)-
Warm and well-deserved regrets for their Archbishop
were expressed by the Chapter of Cambrai ; but it is
noticeable that they threw on the executors (de
Chanterac and the Abbe" de Fe'nelon) the responsi
bility of deciding whether it were expedient to pro
nounce the customary oraison funebre over him, a
hesitation probably arising from the fear of displeasing

BURIAL. 467

the King. Those who knew Fe'nelon's mind best had
no hesitation in dispensing at once with a ceremony
which they no doubt rightly felt could add no lustre
or grace to the memory of one who was certain to live
in the hearts of those of his own time, and in the
future history of the Church through his own merits,
better than through any oratory, however eloquent or
well conceived. So Fe'nelon was the only Archbishop
of Cambrai who was laid in the grave without a
funeral oration ; and it was also remarked that in the
Academic Frangaise, neither Dacier the Directeur,
nor de Boze, Fe'nelon's successor, dared mention
Tilimaque, albeit in those days considered as one of
the greatest chefs-d'ceuvre of literature.
Cardinal Quirini stated that Pope Clement XI,
wept when he heard that the Archbishop of Cambrai
was dead, partly for the Church's loss, and partly for
his own weakness in not having carried out his wish
to make Fe'nelon a Cardinal, because of his fear to
offend Louis XIV.
The King never made the least expression of
interest or sympathy for any of Fe'nelon's family,
although one might have thought that when the
Archbishop himself and the Due de Bourgogne had
both passed beyond the reach of his jealousy, it
would have been a graceful act, reflecting more credit
upon the King than any one else, had he made some

468 FANELON.

reparation for long years of unkindness and petty
revenge. In 1716, the Duke of Orleans appointed de Beau
mont to the Bishopric of Saintes; Saint Simon says at
his suggestion, not from any personal friendship, but
because de Beaumont was a worthy man, who had
been about the Princes, and a nephew of Fenelon's ;
above all, out of affection for the Due de Beauvilliers'
memory.1 Fe'nelon was laid to rest, then, as he had desired,
in all simplicity and without ostentation, beneath the
High Altar of his Cathedral; nor was it till 1724 that
his nephew the Marquis placed an inscription to him
in the Cathedral of Cambrai, written by a Jesuit
Father Sanadon, in the somewhat pompous, ponderous
style that was popular at that day, and which we may
be excused for repeating here.
In 1793, during the mad fury of the Revolution,
the Cathedral was destroyed, and Fe'nelon's tomb was
torn up, and the popular idea is that the body was
thrown aside, and the leaden coffin melted into
bullets. But this was not the case. There are
official documents describing the finding of the body
by the Mayor of Cambrai, the leaden coffin being
unsoldered and damaged, the wooden one within
in a state of decomposition. The skull was found
Mimoires, vol. xxvi. p. 28.

REMOVAL OF THE BODY. 469

whole, many of the bones, and a white silk tunicle
and cincture much decayed, and near, the broken
fragments of a monumental stone bearing the in
scription — " HlC JACET
Franciscus De Salignac de la Mothe de Fenelon,
Archiepiscopus Cameracensis, defunctus die septima
Januarii 1715; E priori tumulo translates
Die 28 Martii 1720."
These remains were reverently sealed up, and replaced
in a vault, until in the year 12 of the Republic (a.d.
1800), it being discovered that the coffin was suffer
ing from damp, and there being no proper place on
the site of the old Cathedral for the preservation of
the body, it was removed by the Mayor and Com
missary of Police to the Oratory of the " Maison de
Vanderburch" until a fitting resting-place should be
prepared. There is an arrit issued 21 Thermidor, An
12, by the PreTet of the Department du Nord, in con
sequence of the Emperor's orders that " a monument
or mausoleum be erected to receive the ashes of the
immortal Fe'nelon," to which they were to be trans
ferred in due time.
It does not seem as if this had been carried out, as
the existing monument to Fe'nelon is in the new
Cathedral (a poor modern church), of the date of
1825. 2 G 2

470 FE'NELON.

But the noblest monument to Fe'nelon's memory
will ever be the veneration and affection felt for him
by the whole of Christ's Church, and the gratitude of
many souls helped on their heavenward journey by
his graceful, albeit stringent words.
" How is he numbered among the children of God,
and his lot is among the saints I " (Wisd. v. 5.)

INDEX.

Ac ADEMiEFrancalse, Fenelon chosen
a member of, 75.
Aguesseau, D% 141, 180, 210, 240,
24.7-
Albani, Cardinal, 222, 243.
Albert, Chevalier de, death of, 307.
Anjou, Due d', 71.
Assembly of Clergy at Saint Ger-
main-en-Laye, 250.
Beaumont, De, 40, 193, 287, 465,
468 ; letters to, 297, 362, 391-395,
440, 444, 451.
Beauvilliers, Due de, letters to, 12,
*73> *75> *79» 233» 306* 320, 321,
350, 415, 432 ; letters from, 152 ;
character of, 32, 85; Due de,
172 ; death of, 439.
Beauvilliers, Duchesse de, 433, 440,
451-
Bern, Due de, 72.
Bossuet, 15, 84, 101, 105, 109, 133,
IS3» 159> I7°» *8i, 197, 208, 251,
293 ; letters to, 27, 138 ; letters
from, 35 ; answer to, 203.
Bossuet, Jacques, 132, 135, 184, 192,
204, 209, 225.
Bouillon, Cardinal de, 182, 208, 225.
Bourdaloue, 75, 96.
Bourgogne, Due de, childish charac
ter, 45 ; grief at Fenelon's exile,
171 ; letters to Fenelon, 261, 316,
§28, 329, 330, 342, 346; from
'enelon, 263, 266, 272, 33^6, 337,
344. 34°> 399> 4TS ; meetings at
Cambrai, 315, 319, 329; recalled
from Flanders, 319 ; character,
321 ; Saint Simon's views of, 324 ;
sent to the German campaign,
327 ; campaign of 1708, 331 ;
cabal against, at Court, 354;
succeeds his father as Dauphin,
390 ; credit at Court, 405 ; warned

against poison, 409 ; sickens,
412; death, 413; papers left,
421.
Bretagne, Due de, death of, 414.
Brief of Condemnation issued, 225 ;
how received in France, 244.
Brisacier, De, letter from, 143 ; letter
to, 169.
Cambrai, appointment to, 105 ; fire
at, 142 ; Fe'nelon retires to, 170 ;
life at, 275, 277, 408.
Carenac, Priory of, 16.
Cas de Conscience, 429.
Casanata, Cardinal, 235, 225.
Chanterac, De, 182, 205, 218, 296,
465 ; letters from, 147, 188, 190,
196 ; 200, 205, 207, 226 ; letters
to, 164, 184, 189, 191, 195, 199,
208, 220, 230, 237, 248.
Chaulnes, Due de, 421, 434, 439,
452 ; character of his sons, 436.
Chevremont,De,letterfrom Fenelon,
249.
Chevreuse, Due de, 33, 138, 151,
3°7, 3«t 356, 396, 399, 407, 408 ;
letters to, 308, 309, 318, 350, 401,
405, 406, 418, 430; death of,
432-
Chevry, Mme. de, 443.
Coadjutor, need of, 444.
Colloredo, Cardinal, 155.
Combe, Pere La, 88.
Conde*, Grand, 4.
Congregation, Extraordinary, of Car
dinals, 223.
Consecration, 109.
Dauphin, death of, 397.
Dauphine, the, last illness and death
410.
Death, 463.
Dialogues des Morts, 70.

472

INDEX.

Dialogues sur 1'Eloquence, 301.
Directions pour la Conscience d'un
Roi, 423.
Education, plan of the Due de
Bourgogne's, 66.
Eugene, Prince, respect for Fenelon,
275-
Fantasque, le, 50.
Fenelon, Antoine de, 3-6 ; death of,
Fenelon, Archbishop, portrait by
Saint Simon, 42, 276 ; by
D'Aguesseau, 43 ; appointed
-Preceptor to the Due de Bour
gogne, 34 ; Archbishop of Cam
brai, ' 105 ; dismissal of friends,
193; appeal to Rome, 153 ; reply
tothe Rilation, 204 ; final dis
missal, 217 ; receives tidings of
condemnation, 229 ; letter to
Mgr. d'Arras, 235; daily life
described by Le-Dieu, 284;
dress, etc., 283; habitual tem
perance, 287; unremitting la
bour, 290 ; interview with the
Due de Bourgogne, 318.
Fenelon, Marquis de, 356; letters
to, 357, 359, 3°3» 365-383, 386,
387-390, 44i. 453-
Fleury, 15, 25, 40, 193 ; character of
the Due de Bourgogne, 57.
Fontaine, La, 56.
Gamaches, Mme. de, letter to, 177.
Godet-des-Marais, Bishop of Char
tres, 75, 93, 157, 244, 255.
Guyon, Mme., 87, 114, 117, 126)
130; letters from, 100.
Harlay, De, Archbishop, 6, 15, 29,
112; opposition to Mme. Guyon,
8g.
Illness, last, 450.
Innocent XII., 183, 188, 190, 196,
20X, 205, 211, 217, 218, 242.
Issy Conferences, 103.
Joseph, Emperor, death of, 397.
King, the, letters to, 158 ; letters to
the Pope, 165, 216 ; dismissal of
Fenelon,2i7; menaces the Pope,
724 ; last messages to the, 460.

Knox, Alexander, criticisms on
Fenelon, 384.
Lami, Pere, 251, 428, 430.
Langeron, 15, 24, 40, 193, 430.
Languet, Cure* of St. Sulpice, n.
Laval, Marquise de, letters to, 16,
. *8, 35. 72. 74-
Le>Dieu, Abbe, 226, 259 ; visit to
Cambrai, 281.
Le Tellier, Archbishop of Rheims,
107.
Le Tellier, Pere, last letter to, 460,
465.
Louis, S., character of, 272.
Maintenon, Mme. de, 33, 75, 141,
148, 165, 166, 197, 254; letters
to, 76, 124, 127, 165, 212 ; letters
from, 94, 95, 100, 101, 113, 114,
116, 140, 151, 422.
Maisonfort, Mme. de, go, 94, 152 ;
letter to, 102.
Mandement on his condemnation,
238.
Marlborough, Duke of, generous
conduct, 355.
Martin, S-, quotes, 457.
Martineau, Pere, letter to, 424.
Maximes des Saints, 134, 138, 142.
147, 154, 156, 210, 221 ; censure
by the Sorbonne Doctors, 216;
condemned at Rome, 225.
Miramion, Mme. de, 90.
Missions of Poitou and Saintonge, 24.
Molinos, 86.
Montfort, Due de, killed, 311,
Moyen Court, the, 96, 98, 100.
Munich, Marshal, 428.
Noailles, De, Bishop of Chalons,
96, 104, 207, 254., 429, 430;
appointed Archbishop, 113;
letters from Fenelon, 136, 160,
164 ; letters to Mme. de Main
tenon, 149; Pastoral Instruction,
192.
Noailles, De, and Quesnel, 447.
Olier, M., 4, 10.
Omer, Saint, Bishop of, 246.
Orleans, Duke of, 425, 468.
Oudenarde, battle of, 332.
Paris Assembly, 245.
Pastoral work, 305.

INDEX.

473

Pirot, Dr., 137, 21G.
Pope Innocent XII., appeal to, 153.
Preaching, Fe'nelon's, 300.
Preceptorship, appointment to, 34.
Quietism, 86 ; false accusation of,
in later life, 384.
Ramsai, De, 426 ; reception at
Oxford, 428.
Ranee, De, letter to, 148.
Religious Houses, advice to, 298.
Sacraments, Last, 459.
Salignac, Abbe de, letters to, 362,
390, 391.
Salignac de Fenelon, family, 2.
Sarlat, Bishop of, 7, 11.
Seignelai, Marquis de, letters to,
25, 27.
Seminary at Cambrai, 294, 298,
463-

Serry, Pere, letters from, 185.
Sulpice, Saint, 7, 294, 295.
Telemaque,2s6; treacherously pub
lished, 258 ; not intended as a
satire, 261.
Traite" de 1'Education des Filles, 20 ;
du Ministere des Pasteurs, 23.
Treatise on the Existence of God,
426.
Tronson, 6, 157; letters from, 8, 36,
294; letters to, from Fdnelon,
118, 137, 168, 294 ; from de
Beauvilliers, 122.
VendSme, Due de, 331.
Voltaire, remarks on Fe'nelon, 284.
Voysin, Secretary of State, letter to,
443-

Will, altered, 456 ;
464.

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Hollings. — Works by the Rev. G. S. Hollings, Mission Priest of
the Society of St. John the Evangelist, Cowley, Oxford.
THE HEAVENLY STAIR ; or, A Ladder of the Love of God for Sinners.
Crown Svo. 3s. bd.
PORTA REGALIS ; or, Considerations on Prayer. Crown Svo. limp cloth,
is. bd. net ; cloth boards, zs. net.
MEDITATIONS ON THE DIVINE LIFE, THE BLESSED SACRA
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CONSIDERATIONS ON THE SPIRITUAL LIFE. Suggested by
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CONSIDERATIONS ON THE WISDOM OF GOD. Crown Svo. 4s.
PARADOXES OF THE LOVE OF GOD, especially as they are seen in
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ONE BORN OF THE SPIRIT ; or, the Unification of our Life in God.
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Hutchings.— Works by the Ven. W. H. Hutchings, M.A. Arch
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SERMON SKETCHES from some of the Sunday Lessons throughout
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THE LIFE OF PRAYER : a Course of Lectures delivered in All Saints'
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THE PERSON AND WORK OF THE HOLY GHOST : a Doctrinal
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SOME ASPECTS OF THE CROSS. Crown Svo. 4s. bd.
THE MYSTERY OF THE TEMPTATION. Lent Lectures delivered at
St. Mary Magdalene, Paddington. Crown Svo. 4s, bd,
A2

to A SELECTION OF WORKS
Hutton.— THE CHURCH OF THE SIXTH CENTURY.
Six Chapters in Ecclesiastical History. By William Holden
Hutton, B.D., Birkbeck Lecturer in Ecclesiastical History, Trinity
College, Cambridge. With n Illustrations. Crown Svo. bs.
INHERITANCE OF THE SAINTS ; or, Thoughts on the
Communion of Saints and the Life of the World to come. Col
lected chiefly from English Writers by L. P. With a Preface by the
Rev. Henry Scott Holland, M.A. Seventh Edition. Crown Svo.
7s. bd.
Jameson. — Works by Mrs. Jameson.
SACRED AND LEGENDARY ART, containing Legends of the Angels
and Archangels, the Evangelists, the Apostles. With 19 Etchings and
187 Woodcuts. 2 vols. Svo. 20s. net.
LEGENDS OF THE MONASTIC ORDERS, as represented in the
Fine Arts. With n Etchings and 88 Woodcuts. Svo. ios. net.
LEGENDS OF THE MADONNA, OR BLESSED VIRGIN MARY.
With 27 Etchings and 165 Woodcuts. Svo. ios. net.
THE HISTORY OF OUR LORD, as exemplified in Works of Art.
Commenced by the late Mrs. Jameson ; continued and completed by
Lady Eastlake. With 31 Etchings and 281 Woodcuts. 2 Vols.
Svo. 20s. net.
Jennings.— ECCLESIA ANGLICANA. A History of the
Church of Christ in England from the Earliest to the Present Times.
By the Rev. Arthur Charles Jennings, M.A. Crown Svo. 7s. bd.
Jukes.— Works by Andrew Jukes.
THE NEW MAN AND THE ETERNAL LIFE. Notes on the
Reiterated Amens of the Son of God. Crown Svo. bs.
THE NAMES OF GOD IN HOLY SCRIPTURE : a Revelation of
His Nature and Relationships. Crown Svo. 4s. bd.
THE TYPES OF GENESIS. Crown Svo. 7s. bd.
THE SECOND DEATH AND THE RESTITUTION OF ALL
THINGS. Crown Svo. 3s. bd.
THE ORDER AND CONNEXION OF THE CHURCH'S TEACH
ING, as set forth in the arrangement of the Epistles and Gospels
throughout the Year. Crown Svo, zs. bd.
THE CHRISTIAN HOME. Crown Svo. 3s. bd.

IN THEOLOGICAL LITERATURE. n
Enoz Little.— Works by W. J. Knox Little, M.A., Canon
Residentiary of Worcester, and Vicar of Hoar Cross.
THE HOPES AND DECISIONS OF THE PASSION OF OUR
MOST HOLY REDEEMER. Crown Svo. 2S. bd.
CHARACTERISTICS AND MOTIVES OF THE CHRISTIAN
LIFE. Ten Sermons preached in Manchester Cathedral, in Lent and
Advent. Crown Svo. zs. bd.
SERMONS PREACHED FOR THE MOST PART IN MANCHES
TER. Crown Svo. 3s. bd.
THE MYSTERY OF THE PASSION OF OUR MOST HOLY
REDEEMER. Crown Svo. 2s. bd.
THE WITNESS OF THE PASSION OF OUR MOST HOLY
REDEEMER. Crown Svo. zs. bd.
THE LIGHT OF LIFE. Sermons preached on Various Occasions.
Crown Svo. 3s. bd.
SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW IN THE CHRISTIAN LIFE.
Sermons preached for the most part in America. Crown Svo. 3s. bd.
Lear. — Works by, and Edited by, H. L. Sidney Lear.
FOR DAYS AND YEARS. A book containing a Text, Short Reading,
and Hymn for Every Day in the Church's Year. ibmo. zs. bd. Also a
Cheap Edition, 32OTO. is. ; orclothgilt, is. bd. ; or with red borders, zs. bd.
FIVE MINUTES. Daily Readings of Poetry, ibmo. 3s. bd. Also a
Cheap Edition, 3zmo. is.; or cloth gilt, is. bd.
WEARINESS. A Book for the Languid and Lonely. Large Type.
Small Svo. 5-r.
JOY : A FRAGMENT. With a slight sketch of the Author's life. Small
Svo. zs. bd.
CHRISTIAN BIOGRAPHIES. Nine Vols. Crown Svo. 3s. bd. each.
The Revival of Priestly Life
in the Seventeenth Century
in France.
a Christian Painter of the
Nineteenth Century.
Bossuet and his Contempora
ries.
Fenelon, Archbishop of Cam
brai.
Henri Dominique Lacordaire.

Madame Louise de France,
Daughter of Louis XV., known
also as the Mother T&ese de
St. Augustin.
A Dominican Artist : a Sketch of
the Life of the Rev. Pere Besson,
of the Order of St. Dominic.

Henri Perreyve. By Pere
Gratry.
St. Francis de Sales,- Bishop and
Prince of Geneva.

[continued.

12 A SELECTION OF WORKS
Lear. — Works by, and Edited by, H. L. Sidney Lear —
continued.
DEVOTIONAL WORKS. Edited by H. L. Sidney Lear. New and
Uniform Editions. Nine Vols. ibmo. zs. bd. each.

Fenelon's Spiritual Letters to
Men.
Fenelon's Spiritual Letters to
Women.
A Selection from the Spiritual
Letters of St. Francis de
Sales. Also Cheap Edition, 32mo,
bd. cloth limp ; is. cloth boards.
The Spirit of St. Francis de
Sales.

The Hidden Life of the Soul.
The Light of the Conscience.
Also Cheap Edition, 3zmo, bd.
cloth limp ; and is. cloth boards.
Self-Renunciation. From the
French.
St. Francis de Sales' Of the
Love of God.
Selections from Pascal's
' Thoughts.'

Liddon.— Works by Henry Parry Liddon, D.D., D.C.L.,LL.D.
LIFE OF EDWARD BOUVERIE PUSEY, D.D. By Henry Parry
Liddon, D.D., D.C.L., LL.D. Edited and prepared for publication
by the Rev. J. O. Johnston, M.A., Principal of the Theological
College, and Vicar of Cuddesdon, Oxford; the Rev. R. J. Wilson,
D.D., late Warden of Keble College; and the Rev. W. C. E.
Newbolt, M.A., Canon and Chancellor of St. Paul's. With Portraits
and Illustrations. Four Vols. Svo. Vols. 1. and II., 3bs. Vol. III.,
iSs. Vol. IV. iSs.
SERMONS PREACHED ON SPECIAL OCCASIONS, 1860-1889.
Crown Svo. 5J.
EXPLANATORY ANALYSIS OF ST. PAUL'S FIRST EPISTLE
TO TIMOTHY. 8™. 7s. bd.
CLERICAL LIFE AND WORK : Sermons. Crown Svo. &.
ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES : Lectures on Buddhism— Lectures on the
Life of St. Paul — Papers on Dante. Crown Svo. $s.
EXPLANATORY ANALYSIS OF ST. PAUL'S FIRST EPISTLE
TO TIMOTHY. Svo. 7s. bd.
EXPLANATORY ANALYSIS OF PAUL'S EPISTLE TO THE
ROMANS. Svo. 14s.
SERMONS ON OLD TESTAMENT SUBJECTS. Crown Svo. 55.
SERMONS ON SOME WORDS OF CHRIST. Crown Svo. &¦
THE DIVINITY OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR JESUS CHRIST.
Being the Bampton Lectures for 1866. Crown Svo. 51.
ADVENT IN ST. PAUL'S. Two Vols. Crown Svo. 3s. bd. each.
Cheap Edition in one Volume. Crown 8vo. t,s.
CHRISTMASTIDE IN ST. PAUL'S. Crown 8vo. &.
PASSIONTIDE SERMONS, Crown Svo. 5*. [continued.

IN THEOLOGICAL LITERATURE. 13
Liddon.— Works by Henry Parry Liddon, D.D., D.C.L.,
LL.D. — continued.
EASTER IN ST. PAUL'S. Sermons bearing chiefly on the Resurrec
tion of our Lord. Two Vols. Crown Svo. 3s. bd. each. Cheap
Edition in one Volume. Crown Svo. 3s.
SERMONS PREACHED BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY OF
OXFORD. Two Vols. Crown Svo. 3s. bd. each. Cheap Edition in
one Volume. Crown Svo. 3s.
THE MAGNIFICAT. Sermons in St. Paul's. Crown Svo. zs. bd.
SOME ELEMENTS OF RELIGION. Lent Lectures. Small Svo.
zs. bd. \The Crown Svo. Edition ($s.) may still be had.]
SELECTIONS FROM THE WRITINGS OF. Crown Svo. 3s. bd.
MAXIMS AND GLEANINGS. Crown ibmo. is.

Luckock. — Works by Herbert Mortimer Luckock, D.D.,
Dean of Lichfield.
THE HISTORY OF MARRIAGE, JEWISH AND CHRISTIAN, IN
RELATION TO DIVORCE AND CERTAIN FORBIDDEN
DEGREES. Crown Svo. bs.
AFTER DEATH. An Examination of the Testimony of Primitive
Times respecting the State of the Faithful Dead, and their Relationship
to the Living. Crown Svo. 3s. bd.
THE INTERMEDIATE STATE BETWEEN DEATH AND
JUDGMENT. Being a Sequel to After Death. Crown Svo. 3s. bd.
FOOTPRINTS OF THE SON OF MAN, as traced by St. Mark. Being
Eighty Portions for Private Study, Family Reading, and Instruction
in Church. Crown 8vo. 3s. bd.
FOOTPRINTS OF THE APOSTLES, as traced by St. Luke in the
Acts. Being Sixty Portions for Private Study, and Instruction in
Church. A Sequel to • Footprints of the Son of Man, as traced by
St. Mark.' Two Vols. Crown Svo. izs.
THE DIVINE LITURGY. Being the Order for Holy Communion,
Historically, Doctnnally, and Devotionally set forth, in Fifty Portions.
Crown Svo. 3s. bd.
STUDIES IN THE HISTORY OF THE BOOK OF COMMON
PRAYER. The Anglican Reform — The Puritan Innovations — The
Elizabethan Reaction — The Caroline Settlement. With Appendices.
Crown 8vo. 3s. bd.
THE BISHOPS IN THE TOWER. A Record of Stirring Events
affecting the Church and Nonconformists from the Restoration to the
Revolution. Crown 8vo. 3s. bd.
LYRA GERMANICA. Hymns translated from the German by
Catherine Winkworth. Small Svo. $s.

M

A SELECTION OF WORKS

MacColl.— Works by the Rev. Malcolm MacColl, M.A., Canon
Residentiary of Ripon.
CHRISTIANITY IN RELATION TO SCIENCE AND MORALS.
Crown Svo. bs.
LIFE HERE AND HEREAFTER : Sermons. Crown Svo. 7s. bd.
Mason. — Works by A. J. Mason, D.D., Lady Margaret Professor
of Divinity in the University of Cambridge and Canon of Canterbury.
THE CONDITIONS OF OUR LORD'S LIFE UPON EARTH.
Being the Bishop Paddock Lectures, 1896. To which is prefixed part
of a First Professorial Lecture at Cambridge. Crown Svo. $s.
THE PRINCIPLES OF ECCLESIASTICAL UNITY. Four Lectures
delivered in St. Asaph Cathedral. Crown Svo. 3s. bd.
THE FAITH OF THE GOSPEL. A Manual of Christian Doctrine.
Crown Svo. 7s. bd. Cheap Edition. Crown Svo. 3s. bd.
THE RELATION OF CONFIRMATION TO BAPTISM. As taught
in Holy Scripture and the Fathers. Crown Svo. 7s. bd.
Maturin. — Works by the Rev. B. W. Maturin, sometime Mission
Priest of the Society of St. John the Evangelist, Cowley.
SOME PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICES OF THE SPIRITUAL
LIFE. Crown Svo. 4s. bd.
PRACTICAL STUDIES ON THE PARABLES OF OUR LORD.
Crown Svo. 3s.
Monro.— SACRED ALLEGORIES. By Rev. Edward Monro.
In Six Parts, Small Svo. is. each. The Fine Edition complete in One
Volume, with Illustrations, crown Svo. 3s.

The Dark River.
The Vast Army.
The Combatants.

The Revellers, etc.
The Journey Home.
The Dark Mountains.

Mortimer.— Works by the Rev. A. G. Mortimer, D.D., Rector
of St. Mark's, Philadelphia.
CATHOLIC FAITH AND PRAC-
A Manual of Theological

TICE :
Instruction for Confirmation and First
Communion. Crown Svo. js. 6d.
HELPS TO MEDITATION: Sketches
for Every Day in the Year.
Vol. 1. Advent to Trinity. 8vo. ys.6d.
Vol. n. Trinity to Advent. Svo. is. 6d.
STORIES FROM GENESIS : Sermons
for Children. Crown &vo. 4s.
THE LAWS OF HAPPINESS; or,
The Beatitudes as teaching our Duty
to God, Self, and our Neigli our.
1 Zmo. 'zs.
THE LAWS OF PENITENCE : Ad
dresses on the Words of our Lord from
the Cross. i6ttto. is. td.

SERMONS IN MINIATURE FOR
EXTEMPORE PREACHERS :
Sketches for Every Sunday and Holy
Day of the Christian Year. Crown
Svo. 6s.
NOTES ON THE SEVEN PENE-
TENTIAL PSALMS, chiefly from
Patristic Sources. Fcp. Svo. 3J. 6d.
THE SEVEN LAST WORDS OF
OUR MOST HOLY REDEEMER:
with Meditations on some Scenes in
His Passion. Crown Svo. 5s.
LEARN OF JESUS CHRIST TO
DIE : Addresses on the Words of our
Lord from the Cross, taken as Teach
ing the way of Preparation for Death.
i6mo. 2s.

IN THEOLOGICAL LITERATURE. t$
Mozley.— Works by J. B. Mozley, D.D., late Canon of Christ
Church, and Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford.
SERMONS PREACHED BEFORE
THE UNIVERSITY OF OX
FORD, and on Various Occasions.
Crown Svo. 3s. 6d.
SERMONS, PAROCHIAL AND
OCCASIONAL. CrownSvo. 31. bd.
A REVIEW OF THE BAPTISMAL
CONTROVERSY. Crown Svo.
3s 6d.

ESSAYS, HISTORICAL AND THEO
LOGICAL. Two Vols. Svo. 24s.
EIGHT LECTURES ON MIRACLES.
Being the Hampton Lectures for 1865.
Crown Svo. js. 6d.
RULING IDEAS IN EARLY AGES
AND THEIR RELATION TO
OLD TESTAMENT FAITH.
Svo. 6s.
Neale and Littledale. — A COMMENTARY ON THE
PSALMS. From Primitive and Mediaeval Writers ; and from
the various Office-books and Hymns of the Roman, Mozarabic,
Ambrosian, Gallican, Greek, Coptic, Armenian, and Syriac Rites. By
the Rev. J. M. NEALE, D.D., and the Rev. R. F. Littledale, LL.D.
Crown Svo. 4 vols. ios. bd. each.
Newbolt.— Works by the Rev. W. C. E. NEWBOLT, M.A., Canon
and Chancellor of St. Paul's Cathedral.
THE GOSPEL OF EXPERIENCE ; or, the Witness of Human Life
to the truth of Revelation. Being the Boyle Lectures for 1895.
Crown Svo. 3s.
COUNSELS OF FAITH AND PRACTICE : being Sermons preached
on various occasions. New and Enlarged Edition. Crown Svo. 3s.
SPECULUM SACERDOTUM ; or, the Divine Model of the Priestly
Life. Crown Svo. 7s. bd.
THE FRUIT OF THE SPIRIT. Being Ten Addresses bearing on
the Spiritual Life. Crown Svo. zs. bd.
THE MAN OF GOD. Small Svo. is. bd.
THE PRAYER BOOK : Its Voice and Teaching. Crown Svo. zs. bd.
Newman. — Works by John Henry Newman, B.D., sometime
Vicar of St. Mary's, Oxford.
PAROCHIAL AND PLAIN SERMONS. Eight Vols. Cabinet Edition.
Crown Svo. §s. each. Cheaper Edition. 3s. bd. each.
SELECTION, ADAPTED TO THE SEASONS OF THE ECCLE
SIASTICAL YEAR, from the ' Parochial and Plain Sermons,'
Cabinet Edition. Crown Svo. 3s. Cheaper Edition. 3s. bd.
FIFTEEN SERMONS PREACHED BEFORE THE UNIVERSITY
OF OXFORD Cabinet Edition. Crown Svo. 3s. Cheaper Edition.
3s. bd.
SERMONS BEARING UPON SUBJECTS OF THE DAY. Cabinet
Edition. Crown Svo. 3s- Cheaper Edition. Crown Svo. 3s. bd.
LECTURES ON THE DOCTRINE OF JUSTIFICATION. Cabinet
Edition. Crown Svo. 3s. Cheaper Edition. 3s. bd.
V It Complete List of Cardinal Newman's Works can be had on Application.

16 A SELECTION OF WORKS
Osborne. — Works by Edward Osborne, Mission Priest of the
Society of St. John the Evangelist, Cowley, Oxford.
THE CHILDREN'S SAVIOUR. Instructions to Children on the Life
of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Illustrated, ibmo. zs. bd.
THE SAVIOUR KING. Instructions to Children on Old Testament
Types and Illustrations of the Life of Christ. Illustrated, ibmo. zs.bd.
THE CHILDREN'S FAITH. Instructions to Children on the Apostles'
Creed. Illustrated, ibmo. zs. bd.
Ottley— ASPECTS OF THE OLD TESTAMENT: being the
Bampton Lectures for 1897. By Robert Lawrence Ottley, M.A.,
successively Student of Christ Church and Fellow of Magdalen College ;
sometime Principal of the Pusey House. Svo. lbs.
OUTLINES OF CHURCH TEACHING : a Series of Instruc
tions for the Sundays and chief Holy Days of the Christian Year. For
the Use of Teachers. By C. C. G. With Preface by the Very Rev.
Francis Paget, D.D., Dean of Christ Church, Oxford. Crown Svo.
3s. bd.
Oxenden.— Works by the Right Rev. ASHTON OXENDEN,
sometime Bishop of Montreal.
PLAIN SERMONS, to which is prefixed a Memorial Portrait. Crown
Svo. 3s.
PEACE AND ITS HINDRANCES. Crown Svo. is. sewed ; zs. cloth.
THE PATHWAY OF SAFETY ; or, Counsel to the Awakened. Fcap.
Svo, large type. zs. bd. Cheap Edition. Small type, limp, is.
THE EARNEST COMMUNICANT. New Red Rubric Edition.
3zmo, cloth, zs. Common Edition. 3zmo. is.
OUR CHURCH AND HER SERVICES. Fcap. Svo. zs. bd.
FAMILY PRAYERS FOR FOUR WEEKS. First Series. Fcap. Svo.
zs. bd. Second Series. Fcap. Svo. zs. bd.
Large Type Edition. Two Series in one Volume. Crown Svo. bs.
COTTAGE SERMONS ; or, Plain Words to the Poor. Fcap. Svo. zs. bd.
THOUGHTS FOR HOLY WEEK, ibmo, cloth, is. bd.
DECISION. iSmo. is. bd.
THE HOME BEYOND ; or, A Happy Old Age. Fcap. Svo. is. bd.
THE LABOURING MAN'S BOOK. i8mo, large type, cloth, is. bd.
Oxenham.— THE VALIDITY OF PAPAL CLAIMS : Lectures
delivered in Rome. By F. Nutcombe Oxenham, D.D., English
Chaplain at Rome. With a Preface by the Archbishop of York.
Crown Svo. zs. bd.

IN THEOLOGICAL LITERATURE. i,
Paget.— Works by Francis Paget, D.D., Dean of Christ Church.
STUDIES IN THE CHRISTIAN CHARACTER : Sermons. With an
Introductory Essay. Crown Svo. bs. bd.
THE SPIRIT OF DISCIPLINE : Sermons. Crown 8vo. bs. bd.
FACULTIES AND DIFFICULTIES FOR BELIEF AND DIS
BELIEF. Crown Svo. bs. bd.
THE HALLOWING OF WORK. Addresses given at Eton, January
16-18, 1888. Small Svo. zs.
Percival.— SOME HELPS FOR SCHOOL LIFE. Sermons
preached at Clifton College, 1862-1879. By J. Percival, D.D., LL.D. ,
Lord Bishop of Hereford. New Edition, with New Preface. Crown
Svo. 3s. bd.
Percival.— THE INVOCATION OF SAINTS. Treated Theo
logically and Historically. By Henry R. Percival, M.A., D.D.,
Author of 'A Digest of Theology,' 'The Doctrine of the Episcopal
Church,' etc. Crown Svo. 3s.
POCKET MANUAL OF PRAYERS FOR THE HOURS,
Etc. With the Collects from the Prayer Book. Royal 3zmo. is.
Powell.— THE PRINCIPLE OF THE INCARNATION.
With especial Reference to the Relation between our Lord's Divine
Omniscience and His Human Consciousness. By the Rev. H. C.
Powell, M.A. of Oriel College, Oxford ; Rector of Wylye and Pre
bendary of Salisbury Cathedral. 8vo. lbs.
PRACTICAL REFLECTIONS. By a Clergyman. With
Piefaces by H. P. Liddon, D.D., D.C.L., and the Bishop of

Lincoln. Crown Svo.
The Book of Genesis. 4s. bd.
The Psalms. 5*.
Isaiah. 4s. bd.

The Minor Prophets. 4s. bd.
The Holy Gospels. 4*. bd.
Acts to Revelations, bs.

PRIEST'S (THE) PRAYER BOOK. Containing Private
Prayers and Intercessions ; Occasional, School, and Parochial Offices ;
Offices for the Visitation of the Sick, with Notes, Readings, Collects,
Hymns, Litanies, etc. With a brief Pontifical. By the late Rev. R. F.
Littledale, LL.D., D.C.L., and Rev. J. Edward. Vaux, M.A.,
F.S.A. New Edition, Revised, zoth Thousand. Post Svo. bs. bd.
Pullan.— LECTURES ON RELIGION. By the Rev. Leighton
Pullan, M.A., Fellow of St. John's College, Lecturer in Theology at
Oriel and Queen's Colleges, Oxford. Crown Svo. bs.

18 A SELECTION OF WORKS
Pusey.— LIFE OF EDWARD BOUVERIE PUSEY, D.D.
By Henry Parry Liddon, D.D., D.C.L., LL.D. Edited and pre
pared for publication by the Rev. J. O. Johnston, M.A., Principal
of the Theological College, and Vicar of Cuddesdon, Oxford ; the
Rev. R. J. Wilson, D.D., late Warden of Keble College; and
the Rev. W. C. E. Newbolt, M.A., Canon and Chancellor of St.
Paul's. With Portraits and Illustrations. Four Vols. Svo. Vols. I.
andll.,3bs. Vol. III., 18s. Vol. IV. iSs.
Randolph.— Works by B. W. Randolph, M.A., Principal of the
Theological College and Hon. Canon of Ely.
THE THRESHOLD OF THE SANCTUARY : being Short Chapters
on the Inner Preparation for the Priesthood. Crown 8vo. 3s. bd.
THE LAW OF SINAI : being Devotional Addresses on the Ten Com
mandments delivered to Ordinands. Crown Svo. 3s. bd.
Rede.— Works by Wyllys Rede, D.D., Rector of the Church
of the Incarnation, and Canon of the Cathedral, Atalanta,
Georgia.
STRIVING FOR THE MASTERY : Daily Lessons for Lent. Cr. Svo.
THE COMMUNION OF SAINTS : a Lost Link in the Chain of the
Church's Creed. With a Preface by Lord Halifax. Crown Svo.
3s. bd.
Reynolds.— THE SUPERNATURAL IN NATURE : A Veri
fication by Free Use of Science. By Joseph William Reynolds,
M.A., Past President of Sion College, Prebendary of St. Paul's
Cathedral. New and Cheaper Edition, Revised. Crown Svo. 3s. bd.
Sanday.— INSPIRATION : Eight Lectures on the Early His
tory and Origin of the Doctrine of Biblical Inspiration. Being the
Bampton Lectures for 1893. By W. Sanday, D.D., Margaret Pro
fessor of Divinity and Canon of Christ Church, Oxford. New and
Cheaper Edition, with New Preface. Svo. 7s. bd.
Scudamore.— STEPS TO THE ALTAR : a Manual of Devotion
for the Blessed Eucharist. By the Rev. W. E. Scudamore, M.A.
Royal 32mo. is.
On toned paper, with red rubrics, zs : The same, with Collects, Epistles, and
Gospels, zs. bd \ Demy iSmo. cloth, is ; Demy iSmo. cloth, large type, is. 3d ;
Imperial 32mo. limp cloth, bd.
Simpson.— THE CHURCH AND THE BIBLE. By the Rev.
W. J. Sparrow Simpson, M.A., Vicar of St. Mark's, Regent's Park.
Crown Svo. 3s. bd. [continued.

IN THEOLOGICAL LITERATURE. 19
Strong.— CHRISTIAN ETHICS : being the Bampton Lectures
for 1895. By Thomas B. Strong, M.A., Student of Christ Church,
Oxford, and Examining Chaplain to the Lord Bishop of Durham.
New and Cheaper Edition. Svo. 7s. bd.
Tee.— THE SANCTUARY OF SUFFERING. By Eleanor
Tee, Author of 'This Everyday Life,' etc. With a Preface by the
Rev. J. P. F. Davidson, M.A., Vicar of St. Matthias', Earl's Court;
President of the 'Guild of All Souls.' Crown 8vo. 7s. bd.
Williams. — Works by the Rev. Isaac Williams, B.D.
A DEVOTIONAL COMMENTARY ON THE GOSPEL NARRA
TIVE. Eight Vols. Crown 8vo. 3s. each.

Thoughts on the Study of the
Holy Gospels.
A Harmony of the Four Gospels.
Our Lord's Nativity.
Our Lord's Ministry (Second Year).

Our Lord's Ministry (Third Year).
The Holy Week.
Our Lord's Passion.
Our Lord's Resurrection.
FEMALE CHARACTERS OF HOLY SCRIPTURE. A Series of
Sermons. Crown Svo. 3s.
THE CHARACTERS OF THE OLD TESTAMENT. Crown Svo. 3s.
THE APOCALYPSE. With Notes and Reflections. Crown Svo. 3s.
SERMONS ON THE EPISTLES AND GOSPELS FOR THE SUN
DAYS AND HOLY DAYS. Two Vols. Crown Svo. 3s. each.
PLAIN SERMONS ON CATECHISM. Two Vols. Cr. Svo. 3s. each.
Wirgman— THE DOCTRINE OF CONFIRMATION CON
SIDERED IN RELATION TO HOLY BAPTISM AS A SACRA
MENTAL ORDINANCE OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH:
with a Preliminary Historical Survey of the Doctrine of the Holy
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20 A SELECTION OF THEOLOGICAL WORKS.
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THE NEW TESTAMENT, in the Original Greek. With Notes, Intro
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LECTURES ON INSPIRATION OF THE BIBLE. Small 8vo.
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A CHURCH HISTORY TO A.D. 451. Four Vols. Crown 8vo.
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