of Chartres, in whose diocese was Saint Cyr, the scene of these
impassioned mysteries, became alarmed at its progress; and, with the
deceit which a priest sometimes thinks he is justified in using in what
he deems a righteous cause, he made use of two ladies of great repute
for piety, as spies, and from their accounts of what passed in the
society of Quietists, found sufficient cause of objection to the sect.
Madame de Maintenon listened to his censures, and withdrew her favour.
Fénélon saw the danger that threatened madame Guyon, and, steady in
his attachment to one whom he considered worthy his friendship, he
assisted her by his counsel. Following his advice, and secure in her own
virtue, she applied to Bossuet. His manly and serious mind, strengthened
by age, rejected at once her mysticism, while her personal merits won
his esteem and condescension. It is a singular circumstance, and shows
her candour, that she confided her thoughts and her writings far more
unreservedly to Bossuet than to Fénélon. Bossuet saw her, explained
his objections; and she acquiescing in every thing he suggested, he
administered the sacrament to her; a token at once of her submission and
his good opinion.
Bossuet penetrated the real piety of the lady, and was unwilling to
distress her by opposition, as long as her tenets were confined to her
own mind. For what would be highly injurious if spread abroad, was
innocuous while it related solely to herself. He therefore recommended
retirement and quiet, to which she for a time adhered; but as she had
the spirit of proselytism awake in her, she soon grew weary of
obscurity, and applied to madame de Maintenon to prevail on the king to
appoint commissioners to inquire into her doctrines and morals. The
bishops of Meaux and Chartres, and M. Tronson, were accordingly named.
For six months they held conferences, and discussed the subject. Bossuet
admitted that he was little conversant with the writings of the mystical
saints, whose doctrines and expressions were the model of those of
madame Guyon; and Fénélon made a variety of extracts, at his request,
which were to serve as authorities for the lady's writings. At the
conclusion of the conferences, thirty articles were drawn up, to which
Fénélon added four; in which, without direct allusion to madame Guyon,
the commissioners expressed the doctrines of the church of Rome on the
disputed points. In these they name salvation as the proper subject of a
Christian's desire and prayer; and assert, that prayer does not consist
in a state of mind, but in an active sense of resignation: they do not
reprobate passive prayer; but they regard it as unnecessary; while they
agree in the propriety of direct addresses to the Deity, and frequent
meditation on the sufferings of the Saviour. Although these articles
subverted her favourite doctrine of the holy state of mind being the
life in God necessary to a Christian, Madame Guyon, as a dutiful
daughter of the church, signed the articles without hesitation.
Bossuet's mind, however, was now awakened to the evils of quietism; and
perceiving that it gained ground, he wrote his "Instruction sur les
États de l'Oraison," which he wished Fénélon to approve. The latter
declined, as it denied in too unqualified a manner his belief in the
possibility of a pure and disinterested love of God, and denounced
madame Guy on in too general and severe a manner. His refusal was not
censured by his fellow bishops; but he was required to publish some work
that should prove his adhesion to the thirty-four articles before
mentioned. For this purpose he wrote his "Explication des Maximes des
Saints sur la Vie intérieure." The style of this work is pure,
animated, elegant, and winning; the principles were expressed carefully
and with address. But this very act occasioned contradictions: he feared
at once to be accused of giving too much to charity, too little to hope;
of following Molinos, or of abandoning St. Theresa. The bishops approved
of his book in manuscript, declaring it, in energetic terms, to be a
"book of gold:" but the moment it was printed, the outcry against it was
violent. Bossuet had not seen it previous to publication. Looking on
false mysticism as injurious to true religion and morals, he thought
that nothing should be written on the subject, except to condemn it; and
that the true mystic, whose state was peculiar and unattainable by the
many, should be left in peace with God.
So far we consider Bossuet to be in the right. Love of God being a duty,
all that exalts and extends the sentiment into a passion, is at once
fascinating and hurtful. The gentle and tender soul of Fénélon could
see no evil in love: he thought to soften and purify the heart by
spiritual passion; but Bossuet knew human nature better, and its
tendency to turn all good to evil, when not tempered by judgment and
moderation. He did well, therefore, to oppose the doctrines of madame
Guyon; and, if possible, to enlighten his friend. Yet, even in
reasoning, he was uncharitable; so that it has been said, comparing his
harshness with Fénélon's benignity, that Bossuet was right most
revoltingly, and Fénélon in the wrong with sweetness. This was the
more apparent, when his conduct on the publication of the book showed
the cloven foot of intolerance and persecution. Henceforward, we love
Fénélon, and condemn his opponent. The latter had right on his side,
on the question of doctrine; in conduct, he was entirely and deplorably
in the wrong. French writers impute to him the base motives of envy and
jealousy. These passions exercise so covert an influence when they
spring up in conscientious minds, that Bossuet might fancy himself urged
by purer feelings. Still he cannot be justified. Either from fear that
the king, who abhorred novelties in religion, would blame him severely,
or wishing to make a deep impression, he threw himself at Louis's feet,
and besought "his pardon for not having sooner informed him of the
fanaticism of his brother." Louis did not like Fénélon.[108] His
elevation of character appeared to him pretension; and in the principles
he instilled into his royal pupil he saw the condemnation of himself.
These principles were so moulded by the spirit of Christianity, that he
could not object; but he gladly availed himself of the archbishop's
error, to destroy, as much as he could, the general esteem in which he
was held, and to visit him with heavy penalties. Madame de Maintenon
also became unfriendly: in matters of religion, she always adopted the
views of Louis. Her good sense made her see the evil of quietism; and
now that Fénélon was accused of it, she withdrew her kindness and
support. Louis XIV. angrily denounced all the adherents of madame Guyon;
he upheld Bossuet in demanding a formal retractation of the doctrines
inculcated in the Maxims of the Saints; he refused to permit Fénélon
to repair to Rome; his work having been referred to the pope, for a
decision on it; but at once exiled him; that is, ordered him to repair
immediately to his diocese, and there to remain. Fénélon wrote to
madame de Maintenon, to deplore the king's displeasure; and declared his
readiness to submit to the decision of the holy see with regard to his
book. He then quitted Paris: he stopped before the seminary of St.
Sulpice, where the years of his early manhood had been spent in
seclusion and peace; but he would not enter the house, lest the king
should manifest displeasure towards its inhabitants for receiving him.
From Paris he proceeded at once to Cambray.
[Sidenote: 1697.
Ætat.
46.]
Although we may pronounce Fénélon's principles to be erroneous, his
conduct was in every respect virtuous and laudable. Circumstances had
engaged him in the dispute, and he believed that neither honour nor
conscience permitted him to yield. As a bishop, it derogated from his
dignity to receive the law from his equals in rank. He esteemed madame
Guyon; she was unfortunate and calumniated; and he felt that it would be
treacherous to abandon her, and much more so to ally himself to her
enemies. He founded his opinion and conduct on the writings and actions
of saints and holy men, and believed himself to be in the right. No
personal interest could bend him; on the contrary, delicacy of feeling
and zeal caused his attachment to his cause to redouble in persecution;
while at the same time he was firm in his resolution to abandon it, if
condemned by the church, his first principle being obedience to the holy
see; looking upon that as the corner stone of the Roman catholic
religion. His exile found him firm and resigned. The duke of Burgundy
was more to be pitied: he threw himself at the king's feet, offering to
justify his preceptor, and answering for the principles of religion
which he had inculcated. Louis coldly replied, that M. de Meaux
understood the affair better than either he or his grandson; and that
therefore he had no power to grant a favour on the subject. To pacify
the duke, he allowed Fénélon to retain for a time the title of
preceptor. With this barren honour he returned to Cambray. Not long
before his palace had been burnt to the ground, together with all his
furniture, books, and papers. When he heard the news, he simply
remarked, that he was glad this disaster had befallen his palace rather
than the cottage of a peasant. On arriving at Cambray, he wrote to his
excellent friend the duke de Beauvilliers, expressing his submission to
the holy see, and his hope that he was actuated by pious and justifiable
motives: "I hold by only two things," he continues, "which compose my
entire doctrine. First, that charity is a love of God, for himself,
independent of the motive of beatitude which is found in him: secondly,
that in the life of the most perfect souls, charity prevails over every
other virtue; animating them, and inspiring all their actions; so that
the just man, elevated to this state of perfection, usually practises
hope and every other virtue with all the disinterestedness that he does
charity itself."
There is a mysticism in all this which it is dangerous to admit into a
popular religion; but while we read, we feel wonderstruck and saddened
to think how a man so heavenly good as Fénélon, and so noble minded as
Bossuet, could have drawn matter for hate and pain out of such
materials: charity, love of God, the welfare of man,--such were the
missiles levelled at each other; and human passion could tip with poison
these celestial-seeming weapons. Sir Walter Scott has, with the wisdom
of a sage, remarked, that it is matter of sadness to reflect how much
easier it is to inflict pain than communicate pleasure.[109] The
controversy of Bossuet and Fénélon is a melancholy gloss on so true a
text.
The cause was now carried to Rome. The tenets of Fénélon objected to
by Bossuet were two:--1st, that a person may obtain an habitual state of
divine love, in which he loves God purely for his own sake, and without
the slightest regard to his own interests, even in respect to his
eternal happiness. 2dly, that in such a state it is lawful, and may even
be considered an heroic effort of conformity to the divine will, to
consent to eternal reprobation, if God should require such a sacrifice.
Certainly no general good could arise from men entertaining the belief
that God might eternally punish those submissive to his law; and if we
add to these fundamental objections the exaggerated point of view in
which madame Guyon placed them, and Fénélon in some degree approved,
maintaining the possibility of a state of divine love dependent only on
faith and a kind of mental absorption in the deity, from which prayer
and meditation on divine blessings were absent, and which confounded
resignation with indifference to salvation, and conjoin to this
unnatural supposition, the high-flown and, we may almost say,
desecrating expressions with which it was supposed right to address the
Deity, we cannot help siding with Bossuet's opinions, while we blame his
conduct, and admire that of Fénélon. The former carried on his cause
at Rome through his nephew, the abbé Bossuet, and the abbé de
Phillippeaux, both attached to the bishop de Meaux, but both tainted by
all the violence of party spirit, which is always most virulent in
religious disputes. The abbé de Chanterac, a relation of Fénélon, and
his most intimate and confidential friend, a man of probity, gentleness,
and learning, and inspired by a sincere affection and veneration for the
archbishop, was the agent of the latter at Rome. At first the king and
the bishop de Meaux fancied that the pope would at once condemn a book
they reprobated: but Innocent XII. appointed a commission. The
commissioners stated objections. Bossuet and Fénélon were called upon
to deliver answers. These answers were printed; and hence arose a
controversy, now forgotten, but to the highest degree exciting at the
time, in which Bossuet displayed all his energy and eloquence, and
Fénélon poured forth the treasures of his intellect and his heart. His
writings on this occasion are considered his best.[110] His heart and
soul were in them; yet they are now usually omitted from the editions of
his works, as regarding a question which the church has set at rest for
ever. The delay of the pope, and the popularity which Fénélon gained
by his candour and simplicity, enraged the king. His distaste for his
theories, which were founded on a belief in virtue, grew into a positive
dislike and even hatred for the man, whom he now looked on as dangerous.
With his own hand he erased his name, which had remained on the list of
the royal household as preceptor to the princes; he dismissed his
friends, the abbés Beaumont and Langeron, from their employments as
sub-preceptors; he forbade the court to all his relations and many of
his friends; and, added to these mundane inflictions, was the clerical
insult of the Sorbonne, when it condemned twelve propositions drawn from
his book. Fénélon observed on these indignities,--"Yet, but a little,
and the deceitful kingdom of this world will be over. We shall meet in
the kingdom of truth, where there is no error, no division, no scandal;
we shall breathe the pure love of God; and he will communicate to us his
everlasting peace. In the mean time, let us suffer, let us suffer. Let
us be trodden underfoot; let us not refuse disgrace: Jesus Christ was
disgraced by us; may our disgrace tend to his glory!" Nor would he
listen to any advice to turn the tables on Bossuet, by accusing him, in
his turn, of error; but earnestly replied, "Moriamur in simplicitate
nostra?"
Great indeed were the indignities that were heaped on Fénélon; if the
untainted can be said to receive indignity from insult. A miserable
maniac, who pretended to an improper intercourse with madame Guyon, was
brought forward. She, then imprisoned in the castle of Vincennes, heard
the accusation with calm contempt, and the confirmed madness of the poor
wretch soon caused it to fall to the ground. Bossuet then published his
"Account of Quietism," which brought forward many private letters,
papers, and conversations, which tended to throw light on the characters
of the partisans, which entertained all Paris, and excited a curiosity
which this great man ought to have despised. The work, however, is
decisive as to the folly and injurious nature of Quietism. Bossuet said
that he had long condemned Fénélon's notions concerning prayer, and
was glad when madame Guyon referred to him, as this would afford him an
opportunity to express his own opinions. She confided to him all her
manuscripts, and a history of her life, which for some reason she kept
back from Fénélon. Bossuet saw much in her ecstacies and enthusiasm to
disapprove, especially when rendered public, as well as in her pretended
spirit of prophecy and of working miracles. He saw still more to condemn
in her principles with regard to prayer, when she said that it was
contrary to her doctrine to pray for the remission of her sins. Bossuet
expressed his disapprobation to Fénélon, who defended her; and the
writer remarks, that he was astonished to see a man of so great talent
admire a woman of such slender knowledge and small merit, who was
deceived also by palpable delusions. Bossuet then goes on to express his
opinion of the dangerous tendency of the "Maxims of the Saints," against
which the outcry had been spontaneous and general. "Can it be said," he
continues, "that we wish to ruin M. de Cambray? God is witness! But
without calling so great a testimony, the fact speaks. Before his book
appeared, we concealed his errors, even to meriting the reproaches of
the king. When his work came out, he had ruined himself. My silence was
impenetrable till then. How can we be accused of jealousy? Could we envy
him the honour of painting madame Guyon and Molinos in favourable
colours? We desire and we hope to see M. de Cambray soon acknowledge at
least the inutility of his speculations. It was not worthy of him, nor
of the reputation he enjoys, nor of his character, his position, nor
understanding, to defend the books of a woman of this kind; and we
continually hear his friends lament that he displayed his erudition, and
employed his eloquence, on such unsubstantial subjects."
Such an exposition confounded even Fénélon's friends: they drooped
till his answer came, whose gentle, unaffected, yet animated eloquence
convinced the public, and prevented it from any longer confounding his
cause with that of madame Guyon. He called to witness those eyes that
enlighten earthly darkness, that he was attached to no person nor book,
but to God and the church only, and that he prayed unceasingly for the
return of peace and the shortening the period of scandal, and that he
was ready to bestow on M. de Meaux as many blessings as he had heaped
crosses on him. He declared that he had long ago rejected his book, and
been willing to be thrown into the sea to calm the storm, had he thought
that his work could foster illusion or occasion scandal; but that he
could not allow himself to be disgraced for the sake of his sacred
calling. He appealed to Bossuet against himself, and showed with
dignity, how injuriously he was treated, on being held up as an impostor
by a man who once had called him, "his dear friend for life, whom he
carried in his heart." He then proved that he had not supported madame
Guyon[111], nor approved her visions, concerning which Bossuet knew much
more than he; and asserted that he had excused the intention, not the
text, of her works. He proceeds, "Whatever conclusion the holy pontiff
may give to this affair, I await it with impatience, desirous only of
obeying; not fearing to deceive myself, only seeking peace. I hope that
my silence, my unreserved submission, my horror for delusion, my dislike
for every suspected book or person, will make manifest that the evil you
deprecate is as chimerical as the scandal created is real."
He concludes by throwing himself upon the support of God alone: single
and destitute of human help, oppressed by the sovereign of a great
nation, and its hierarchy, he declared that he should stand firm till
the word should be pronounced by which he promised to abide.
[Sidenote: 1699.
Ætat.
48.]
That word came. The pope condemned his book. With all the childlike
simplicity that he so earnestly recommended to others, the learned and
wise archbishop yielded instant obedience to a fiat which it was a
portion of his faith to deem infallible. He was in the act of ascending
his pulpit to preach, when he received a letter from his brother, which
conveyed intelligence of the pope's brief. Fénélon paused for a few
moments to recollect himself; and then, changing the plan of his sermon,
preached on the duty of obedience to the church. His calm and gentle
manner, the sentiments it expressed, the knowledge that was abroad of
how sorely his adherence to his doctrine was about to be tried, deeply
moved his audience, inspiring it at once with respect, regret, and
admiration.
He did not delay a formal and public announcement of his obedience. He
addressed a pastoral letter to all the faithful of his district, saying
in it, "Our holy father has condemned my book, entitled the 'Maxims of
the Saints,' and has condemned in a particular manner twenty-three
propositions extracted from it. We adhere to his brief; and condemn the
book and the twenty-three propositions, simply, absolutely, and without
a shadow of reserve."[112] He sent his pastoral letter to the pope, and
solemnly assured his holiness, that he could never attempt to elude his
sentence, or to raise any objections with regard to it. To render his
obedience clear and universal to the unlettered and ignorant of his
diocese, he caused to be made for the altar of his cathedral a sun borne
by two angels, one of whom was trampling on several heretical books,
among which was one inscribed with the title of his own.
There is something deeply touching in this humility and obedience. We
examine it carefully to discover its real merits; what the virtues were
that dictated it, and whether it were clouded by any human error. We
must remember that Fénélon opposed the jansenists, who had sought to
elude the papal decrees; that he supported the infallibility of his
church, and considered that the pure Catholicism rested chiefly on the
succession of pastors who had a right to exact obedience from all
Christians; that the language he thought due to the papal authority was,
"God forbid that I should ever be spoken of, except to have it said that
a shepherd thought it his duty to be more docile than the last sheep of
his flock." Supporting these opinions, he had but one course to
pursue,--unqualified and instant submission. This his conduct displayed;
yet it remains as a question, whether his heart acknowledged the justice
of the condemnation of a book which he wrote in a fervent belief in its
utility, and had defended with so much zeal. His meaning in his
submission was this,--that the book contained nothing heretical, nothing
that the saints had not said; and that he might adhere to the principles
it enounced: but that the expression and effect of the book was faulty;
and that he believed this in his heart ever since the pope's brief had
so declared it. His own account of his sentiments, rendered several
years after to a friend, gives this explanation:--"My submission," he
said, "was not an act of policy, nor a respectful silence; but an
internal act of obedience rendered to God alone. According to the
catholic principle, I regarded the judgment of my superiors as an echo
of the supreme will. I did not consider the passions, the prejudices,
the disputes that preceded my condemnation; I heard God speak, as to
Job, from the midst of the whirlwind, saying to me, _Who is this that
darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge?_ And I answered from the
bottom of my heart, _What shall I answer thee? I will lay my hand upon
my mouth._ From that moment I have not entrenched myself in vain
subterfuges concerning the question of fact and right; I have accepted
my condemnation in its whole extent. It is true that the propositions
and expressions I used, and others much stronger, and with much fewer
correctives, are to be found in canonised authors, but they were not fit
for a dogmatic work. A different style belongs to different subjects and
persons. There is a style of the heart, and another of the
understanding; a language of sentiment, another of reason. What is a
merit in one is an imperfection in another. The church, with infinite
wisdom, permits one to its untaught children, another to its teachers.
She may, therefore, according to the variation of circumstances, without
condemning the doctrine of the saints, reject their fanatic expressions,
of which a wrong use is made."[113]
Such was Fénélon's explanation of his feelings several years after.
His letters at the time are full of that gentle spirit of peace and
resignation which was his strength and support in adversity. In general,
however, he avoided the subject. He had struggled earnestly in the cause
of his book, while its fate was problematical; but he considered the
question decided, and he wished to dismiss the subject from his own
thoughts and the minds of others.