Jean Pierre Camus came of an illustrious, and much respected family of
Auxonne in Burgundy, in which province it possessed the seigneuries of
_Saint Bonnet_ and _Pont-carré_.
He was born in Paris, November 3rd, 1584.
His grandfather was for some years Administrator of the Finances under King
Henri III. Though he had had the management of the public funds during
a period when fraud and dishonesty were as easy as they were common, he
retired from office without having added a single penny to his patrimony.
On one occasion having received from Henri III. the gift of a sum of 50,000
crowns, which had been left by a Jew who had died intestate, and without
children, this upright administrator sent for three merchants who had lost
all their property in a fire, and distributed it among them.
The father of our Prelate, inheriting this integrity, left an honourable
name, but few worldly goods to his children.
Faithful, and devoted to the interests of his king, Henri IV., he gave part
of his fortune to the support of the good cause, the triumph of which he
had the happiness of witnessing. He died in 1619.
The mantle of paternal loyalty and patriotism undoubtedly descended upon
the young J. P. Camus, for second only to his love for God, and His Church,
was his devotion to France, and its king.
On his mother's side, as well as on his father's, he was well connected.
Her family had given to France chancellors, secretaries of state, and other
distinguished personages, but noble as were the races from which he sprang
their chief distinction is derived from the subject of this sketch.
"This one branch," says his panegyrist, "bore more blossoms and more fruit
than all the others together. In John Peter the gentle rivulet of the
Camus' became a mighty stream, yet one whose course was peaceful, and
which loved to flow underground, as do certain rivers which seem to lose
themselves in the earth, and only emerge to precipitate themselves into the
waters of the ocean."
Books and objects of piety were the toys of his childhood, and his youth
was passed in solitude, and in the practices of the ascetic life. His
physical strength as it increased with his years, seemed only to serve to
assist him in curbing and restraining a somewhat fiery temperament. His
wish, which at one time was very strong, to become a Carthusian, was not
indeed fulfilled, it being evident from the many impediments put in its
way, that it was not a call from God.
Nevertheless, this desire of self-sacrifice in a cloistered life was only
thwarted in order that he might sacrifice himself in another way, namely,
by becoming a Bishop, which state, if its functions are rightly discharged,
assuredly demands greater self-immolation than does that of a monk, and is
indeed a martyrdom that ceases only with life itself.
If he did not submit himself to the Rule of the Carthusians by entering
their Order, he nevertheless adopted all its severity, and to the very end
of his life kept his body in the most stern and rigorous subjection.
This, and his early inclination towards the religious life, will not a
little astonish his detractors, if any such still exist, for it is surely
a convincing proof that he was not the radical enemy of monasticism they
pretend. In his studies he displayed great brilliancy, being especially
distinguished in theology and canon law, to the study of which he
consecrated four years of his life.
After he had become a Priest his learning, piety, and eloquence not only
established his reputation as a preacher in the pulpits of Paris, but soon
even crossed the threshold of the Louvre and reached the ears of Henry IV.
That monarch, moved by the hope of the great services which a prelate might
render to the Church even more than by the affection which he bore to the
Camus family, decided to propose him for a Bishopric, although he was but
twenty-five, and had not therefore reached the canonical age for that
dignity.
The young Priest was far too humble and also too deeply imbued with a sense
of the awful responsibility of the office of a Bishop to expect, or to
desire to be raised to it. When, however, Pope Paul V. gave the necessary
dispensation, M. Camus submitted to the will both of the Pontiff and of the
King, and was consecrated Bishop of Belley by St. Francis de Sales, August
30, 1609.
The fact that the two dioceses of Geneva and Belley touched one another
contributed to further that close intimacy which was always maintained
between the Bishops, the younger consulting the elder on all possible
occasions, and in all imaginable difficulties.
Bishop Camus had already referred his scruples regarding his youth at the
time of his consecration to his holy director. The latter had, however,
reminded him of the many reasons there were to justify his submission,
viz., the needs of the diocese, the testimony to his fitness given by so
many persons of distinction and piety, the judgment of Henry the Great, in
fine the command of His Holiness. In consecrating Mgr. Camus, St. Francis
de Sales seems to have transmitted to the new Prelate some of the treasures
of his own holy soul. Camus was the only Bishop whom he ever consecrated,
and doubtless this fact increased the tender affection which Francis bore
him. John Peter was, what he loved to call himself, and what St. Francis
loved to call him, the latter's only son. There was between the two holy
Prelates a community of intelligence and of life. "Camus," says Godeau, the
preacher of his funeral discourse, "ever sat at the feet of St. Francis de
Sales, whom he called his Gamaliel, there to learn from him the law of God:
full as he himself was of the knowledge of Divine things."
We must bear this in mind if we wish to know what Camus really was, and
to appreciate him properly. He was by nature ardent, impetuous, and
imaginative, eager for truth and goodness, secretly devoted to the austere
practices of St. Charles Borromeo, but above all fervently desirous to
imitate his model, his beloved spiritual Father, and therefore anxious to
subdue, and to temper all that was too impetuous, excitable, and hard in
himself, by striving after the incomparable sweetness and tenderness which
were the distinguishing characteristics of St. Francis de Sales.
Mgr. Camus was endowed with a most marvellous memory, which was indeed
invaluable to him in the great work to which both Bishops devoted
themselves, that of bringing back into the bosom of the Church those who
had become strangers, and even enemies to her.
His chief defect was that he was over hasty in judging, and of this he
was himself perfectly well aware. He tells us in the "Esprit" that on one
occasion when he was bewailing his deficiency to Francis, the good Prelate
only smiled, and told him to take courage, for that as time went on it
would bring him plenty of judgment, that being one of the fruits of
experience, and of advancing years.
Whenever Mgr. Camus visited the Bishop of Geneva, which he did each year
in order to make a retreat of several days under the direction of his
spiritual Father, he was treated with the greatest honour by him.
St. Francis de Sales gave up his own room to his guest, and made him
preach, and discharge other episcopal functions, so as to exercise him in
his own presence in these duties of his sublime ministry.
This was the school in which Camus learnt to control and master himself, to
curb his natural impetuosity, and to subjugate his own will, and thus to
acquire one, in our opinion, of the most certain marks of saintliness.
The Bishop of Geneva was not contented with receiving his only son at
Annecy. He often went over to Belley, and spent several days there in
his company. These visits were to both Prelates a time of the greatest
consolation. Then they spoke, as it were, heart to heart, of all that they
valued most. Then they encouraged one another to bear the burden of the
episcopate. Then they consoled each other in the troubles which they met
with in their sacred ministry.
It never cost the younger Bishop anything to yield obedience to the elder,
and no matter how great, or how trifling was the occasion which called for
the exercise of that virtue, there was never a moment's hesitation on the
part of the Bishop of Belley.
The latter, indeed, considered the virtue of obedience as the one most
calculated to ensure rapid advance in the spiritual life. He tells us that
one day at table someone having boasted that he could make an egg stand
upright on a plate, a thing which those present, forgetting Christopher
Columbus, insisted was impossible, the Saint, as Columbus had done, quietly
taking one up chipped it a little at one end, and so made it stand. The
company all cried out that there was nothing very great in that trick.
"No," repeated the Saint, "but all the same you did not know it."
We may say the same, adds Camus, of obedience: it is the true secret of
perfection, and yet few people know it to be so.
From what we have already seen of the character of John Peter Camus, we
may imagine that gentleness was the most difficult for him to copy of the
virtues of St. Francis de Sales; yet steel, though much stronger than iron,
is at the same time far more readily tempered.
Thus, in his dealings with his neighbour he behaved exactly like his model,
so much so, that for anyone who wanted to gain his favour the best plan was
to offend him or do him some injury.
I have spoken of his love of mortification, and a short extract from the
funeral discourse pronounced over his remains will show to what extent he
practised it.
Godeau says: "Our virtuous Bishop up to the very last years of his life,
slept either on a bed of vine shoots, or on boards, or on straw. This
custom he only abandoned in obedience to his director, and in doing so I
consider that he accomplished what was far more difficult and painful than
the mortifications which he had planned for himself, since the sacrifice of
our own will in these matters is incomparably more disagreeable to us than
the practising of them."
This austerity in respect to sleep, of which, indeed, he required more than
others on account of his excitable temperament, did not suffice to satisfy
his love for penance, without which, he said, the leading of a Christian
and much more of an episcopal life was impossible. To bring his body into
subjection he constantly made use of hair-shirts, iron belts, vigils,
fasting, and the discipline, and it was not until his last illness that
he gave up those practices of austerity. He concealed them, however,
as carefully as though he had been ashamed of them, knowing well that
such sacrifices if not offered in secret, partake more of the spirit of
Pharisaism than of the gospel. This humility, notwithstanding, he was
unable to guard against the pardonable curiosity of his servants. One of
them, quite a young man, who was his personal attendant during the first
years of his residence at Belley, observing that he wore round his neck the
key of a large cupboard, and being very anxious to know what it contained,
managed in some way to possess himself of this key for a few moments, when
his master had laid it aside, and was not in the room.
Unlocking the cupboard he found it full of the vine shoots on which he was
accustomed to sleep. The bed which everyone saw in his apartment was the
Bishop's; the one which he hid away was the penitent's. The one was for
appearance, the other for piety. He used to put into disorder the coverings
of the bed, so as to give the impression of having slept in it, while he
really slept, or at least took such repose as was necessary to keep him
alive, on the penitential laths he had hidden.
Having discovered that through his valet the rumour of his austerity had
got abroad, he dismissed the young man from his service, giving him a
handsome present, and warning him to be less curious in future. But for
his failing, however, we should have lost a great example of the Bishop's
mortification and humility.
The latter virtue John Peter Camus cultivated most carefully, and how well
he succeeded in this matter is proved by the composure, and even gaiety and
joyousness, with which he met the raillery heaped upon his sermons, and
writings.
Camus, like the holy Bishop of Geneva, had throughout his life a special
devotion to the Blessed Virgin, and never failed in his daily recital of
the Rosary. Every evening it was his habit to read a portion of either _The
Spiritual Combat_, or the _Imitation of Jesus Christ_; two books which he
recommended to his penitents as next in usefulness to the gospels.
Following him in his Episcopal career we find that as the years rolled
on his reputation passed beyond the confines of France, and reached the
Vatican.
Pope Paul V., who knew him intimately, held him in high esteem, and all the
Cardinals honoured him with their friendship.
Had it not been for his own firm resistance to every proposal made to him
to quit his poor diocese of Belley, Mgr. Camus would assuredly have been
transferred to some much more important See.
And here we may again quote the words of his panegyrist, to indicate the
fruits produced by his zeal in the little corner of the vineyard of the
Divine Master, which had been confided to his skilful hands.
Godeau says, "The interior sanctity which he strove to acquire for himself
by prayer, by reading holy books, by the mortification of his senses,
by the putting aside of all secular affairs when engaged in prayer, by
humility, patience, and charity, were the inexhaustible source whence
flowed all his external works, and whence they derived all their purity and
vigour."
As regarded the poor and needy in his diocese, Mgr. Camus was no less
generous in ministering to their temporal than to their spiritual wants.
He looked upon himself as simply a steward of the goods of the Church. He,
indeed, drew the revenues of his diocese, but only as rivers draw their
waters from the sea, to pay them back again to it with usury.
More than once in years of famine he gave all his corn to the poor, not as
Joseph did in Egypt by depriving them of their liberty, but by depriving
himself of what was necessary for his support, and treating himself no
better than the rest of the poor.
One day he was told that the dearness of wine was the cause of great
distress among working people. He immediately gave orders that his own wine
should be sold, but after a most curious and unusual fashion. He would not
have any fixed price set upon it, but only desired that an open bag should
be held, at the door of the cellar so that purchasers might throw in what
they pleased. You may be sure that the bag was not very full and that the
buyers availed themselves to the utmost of his liberality.
What, however, do you think he did with the small amount of money which he
found in the bag? Even that he forthwith distributed among the poor! Surely
if anything can approach the miraculous transformation of water into wine
it is Bishop Camus' mode of selling it!
After having established in his diocese that order and peace which are
the fruits of the knowledge and observance of the duties of religion, and
having formed a body of clergy remarkable for their piety and learning,
Mgr. Camus thought he ought to advance even a step further.
He felt that it was his duty to have in his Episcopal city a community of
Religious men who by their example should assist both clergy and laity in
their spiritual life. He did this by building, at his own expense, in 1620,
a Capuchin Monastery.
For a long time he supplied these Friars with all that they needed, and
finally gave them his own library, which was both choice and extensive.
He was equally cordial in his relationship with other Orders, welcoming
them gladly to his own house, and often making retreats in their
Monasteries.
Camus was too intimately connected with Francis de Sales not to have with
him a community of spirit.
Knowing how useful the newly-formed Order of the Visitation would be to the
Church, he also founded at Belley, in 1662, a Convent, to which he invited
some nuns of the New Congregation. This Institution of the holy Bishop
of Geneva was vigorously attacked from its very beginning. It was called
in derision, _the Confraternity of the Descent from the Cross_, because
its pious founder had excluded from this order corporal austerities, and
had adapted all his rules to the reforming of the interior. The Bishop
of Belley declared himself champion of this new Institution. Indeed, his
ardent soul was always on fire to proclaim and to maintain the glory of the
Church. At whatever point She was attacked or threatened there Camus was to
be found armed _cap-a-pie_ to defend her.
As for his own temporal interests, they were to him matters of absolute
indifference when weighed in the balance of that beloved Church. His own
words, however, speak best on this subject.
On one occasion, when a Minister of State wrote to ask him something
contrary to those interests, backing up his request with the most liberal
promises, the Bishop of Belley, after courteously excusing himself from
complying with the request, wound up his answer to the statesman with these
remarkable words: _This is all that can be said to you by a Bishop who, as
regards the past, is under no obligation to anyone; as regards the present
without interest; and as regards the future has no pretentions whatever._
We have said that the Bishop of Belley was indefatigable in labouring for
the sanctification of his people, but this did not in any way prevent him
from bestowing due care upon the interests of his own soul.
With this object in view he considered that after long years of toil for
his flock he ought to retire from the world, so as to have more time to
devote to himself. To live in solitude had been the desire of his youth, as
we know it was ever his desire through all the period of his Episcopate;
but his spiritual guide, the holy Bishop of Geneva, always succeeded in
dissuading him from laying down the pastoral staff to take refuge in the
cloister.
However, after the death of his illustrious friend and counsellor, this
desire returned to Camus with redoubled force. For seven years, out of
respect for the advice of his dear dead friend, he abstained from carrying
out his purpose, and during that time of waiting, relaxing nothing in the
ardour of his love for his people and his zeal for the Church, he devoted
himself to the work of repairing and restoring his Cathedral, which was
accomplished in the year 1627.
When in 1837 this ancient edifice was pulled down in order to be rebuilt,
an inscription was discovered stating this fact, which is not otherwise
mentioned in any extant writings, probably because those in which it was
recorded were among the rich archives of the Chapter destroyed by the fury
of the vandals of 1793.
At last, in 1628, Camus finally decided to give up his Episcopal charge to
one who was indeed worthy of such a dignity.
This was Jean de Passelaigne, Abbot of Notre Dame de Hambic, Prior of St.
Victor of Nevers, and of La Charité-sur-Loire, Vicar-General of the Order
of Cluny.
Then, having obtained the King's consent, Camus retired from the diocese
of Belley, which he had ruled so happily and so well for twenty years, to
the Cistercian Abbey of Annay, there to exercise in the calm of solitude
all those virtues to the practice of which he said the stir and bustle
inseparable from the episcopal functions had not allowed him to devote
himself. This he did, it would seem, towards the end of 1628, or the
beginning of 1629.
The Abbey of Annay, which the King gave to him on receiving his resignation
of the See of Belley, was situated in Normandy, near Caen. There Camus
dwelt for some time, not, however, leading an idle life, for we find that
a great many of his works were printed at Caen. He also succeeded in
introducing into this Religious House, and into the neighbouring one of
Ardaine, that reform which it was the desire of his heart to bring back to
all the Monasteries of France. It was while in Normandy that he made the
acquaintance of Père Eudes, and between these two holy Priests the closest
friendship sprang up, founded on a mutual zeal for the salvation of souls.
The Bishop of Belley was not long allowed to enjoy his quiet retreat at
Annay. François de Harlay, Archbishop of Rouen, being unable at that time,
owing to ill health, to exercise his duties as a Bishop, felt convinced
that Providence had sent Mgr. Camus into his diocese on purpose that he
might share his labours. His earnest entreaties prevailed upon the good
Bishop to emerge from his retreat and help to bear the burden which pressed
so heavily upon a sick and failing Prelate.
At Belley he had been accountable to God alone for the discharge of those
duties which he had for a time laid aside; now at the call of charity
he did not hesitate to take up the burden again to ease another. He was
appointed Vicar-General to the Archbishop of Rouen, renouncing, like St.
Paul, his liberty in order to become the servant of all men, and thus gain
more souls to Jesus Christ.
Although in this new sphere Camus laboured with the utmost devotion and
untiring energy, living a life of ascetic severity, fasting, sleeping on
straw, or spending whole nights in prayer, while his days were given to
preaching, confirming, hearing confessions, visiting the sick, consoling
the afflicted, advising, exhorting, patiently listening to the crowds who
flocked to consult him, yet he still felt certain that the voice of God
called him to solitude and to a perpetual retreat.
Desiring to spend the rest of his days among the poor whom he loved
so well, he came to Paris, and took up his abode in the Hospital for
Incurables, situated in the Rue de Sèvres. He reserved for himself out of
his patrimony and benefices only 500 livres, which he paid to the hospital
for his board and lodging, distributing the remainder among the needy.
In this hospital he passed his time in ministering to the sick, dressing
their wounds, consoling, and instructing them, and performing for them all
the functions of an ordinary Chaplain.
Even if he went out to visit friends in the vicinity of Paris, he never
returned later than five o'clock in the evening. Occasionally he preached
in the chapel of the Duke of Orleans before His Royal Highness, and at
such times denounced vehemently the luxury and indolence of Princes and
courtiers.
There was at this time a diocese in a no less pitiable condition than was
Belley when Mgr. Camus was, at the King's desire, placed in charge of
it. This diocese was that of Arras, and on the 28th of May, 1650, he was
appointed by Louis XIV., acting under the advice of the Queen-Regent, to
administer all the affairs of the diocese until such time as a new Bishop
should be nominated to the vacant See by His Majesty and our Holy Father
the Pope. Into this laborious task of sowing, ploughing, cultivating a vast
weed-grown, and unpromising field, Camus threw himself with all his old
ardour and energy. He did so much in a very short time that his name will
long be remembered among the descendants of those from whom the troubles
of the times snatched him so suddenly, but not before he had bound them to
France while leading them to God by bands of love stronger than citadels or
garrisons.
Political disturbances and the calamities of war having prevented this
indefatigable servant of God from carrying on his work at Arras, he
withdrew again in the following year to the Hospital of the Incurables at
Paris, there to await better times, and also doubtless the expected Bull
from the Sovereign Pontiff. However, the great Rewarder called Camus to
Himself before the Pope had sanctioned his appointment to the Bishopric of
Arras.
But ere we close this slight sketch of the life of the good Bishop, and
speak of its last scenes, we must say a word about the gigantic literary
labours which occupied him more or less from the time of his retirement to
the Abbey of Annay, in 1628, till his death, in 1652.
It was his great love for the Church which made him take pen in hand.
Varied as were the subjects on which he wrote, his writings, whether
controversial, dogmatic, devotional or even light and entertaining, had but
one single aim and end--the instruction of mankind and the glorification of
Catholicism.
If we bear this in mind we shall be ready to forgive the bitterness and
harshness which we may admit characterised many of his writings. To reform
the Monasteries of France, and to deal a death blow to the abuses which had
crept into some of them, was the passionate desire of his heart.
This, and not a personal hatred of monks, as his enemies have averred, was
the moving spring of his actions in this crusade of the pen. At the same
time we do not deny that his natural impetuosity and keen sense of humour
made him too often, in accordance with the bad taste of the day, present
the abuses which he wished to reform, in so ridiculous and contemptible a
light, as to provoke and irritate his enemies, perhaps unnecessarily.
Yet, if in this he showed the lack of judgment which he had years before
lamented in himself, can anyone who knows what those times were, and who is
as jealous for the honour of God as he was, blame him? There was another
evil of the day which the good Bishop witnessed with grief and indignation,
and set himself zealously to reform. This was the publishing of romances,
or novels, which, as then written, could only poison the minds of their
readers, inflame their passions, and weaken their sense of right and wrong.
He pondered the matter, and having made up his mind that it would be
absolutely useless to endeavour to hinder their being read, as this would
only increase the obstinacy and perversity of those who took pleasure in
them, he decided on adopting another method altogether, as he himself said,
he "tried to make these poor diseased folk, with their depraved taste and
morbid cravings, swallow his medicine under the disguise of sweetmeats."
That is to say, he himself began to write novels and romances for them;
romances which, indeed, depicted the profligacy of the age, but in such
odious colours as to inspire aversion and contempt. Vice, if described, was
held up to ridicule and loathing. The interest of the story was so well
kept up as to carry the reader on to the end, and that end often showed
the hero or heroine so entirely disabused of the world's enchantment as to
retire voluntarily into convents, in order, by an absolute devotion of the
heart to God, to repair the injury done to Him, by giving to the creature
the love due to Him alone.
These books passed from hand to hand in the gay world, were read, were
enjoyed, and the fruit gathered from them by the reader was the conviction
that God being Himself the Sovereign God, all other love but that of which
He is the object and the end, is as contrary to the happiness of man as it
is opposed to all the rules of justice.
Let us hear what Camus himself says as to his motive and conduct in the
matter of novel writing.[1]
"The enterprise on which I have embarked of wrestling with, or rather
contending against those idle or dangerous books, which cloak themselves
under the title of novels, would surely demand the hands of Briareus to
wield as many pens, and the strength of Hercules to support such a burden!
But what cannot courage, zeal, charity, and confidence in God accomplish?"
He goes on to say that though he sees all the difficulties ahead, his
courage will not fail, for he holds his commission from a Saint, the holy
Bishop of Geneva, in whose intercessions, and in the assistance of the God
of Saints, he trusts, and is confident of victory.
He tells us in several of his works, and especially in his "Unknown
Traveller," that it was St. Francis de Sales who first advised him to use
his pen in this manner, and that for twenty-five years the Saint had been
cogitating and developing this design in his brain.
In the same little pamphlet Camus points out the methods he followed as a
novel writer.
"It consists," he says, "in saying only good things, dealing only with good
subjects, the single aim of which is to deter from vice, and to lead on to
virtue."
He was an extraordinarily prolific and rapid writer, scarcely ever
correcting or polishing up anything that he had put on paper. This was a
defect, but it was the natural outcome of his temperament, which was a
curious combination of lightness and solidity, gaiety and severity.
Few people really understood him. He was often taken for a mere man of the
world, when in truth he was one of the stoutest champions of the Church,
and in his inner life, grave and ascetic, macerating his flesh like a
monk of the desert. He wrote in all about 200 volumes, 50 of these being
romances.
In the latter, which drew down upon him such storms of bitter invective,
owing to his freedom of language in treating of the vices against which
he was warning his readers, we do not pretend to admire his work, but
must remind readers that his style was that of the age in which he lived,
and that Camus was essentially a Parisian. We have said that he wrote at
least fifty novels; we may add that each was cleverer than that which had
preceded it. Forgotten now, they were at the time of their appearance
eagerly devoured, and it is morally impossible but that some good should
have resulted from their production.
And now old age came upon the busy writer--old age, but not the feebleness
of old age, nor its privileged inaction. As he advanced in years he seemed
to increase in zeal and diligence, and it was not till suddenly stricken
down by a mortal malady that his labours ceased.
Then on his death-bed in a quiet corner of the Hospital for Incurables in
humility, patience, and a marvellous silence, only opening his lips to
speak at the desire of his confessor, calm and peaceful, his eyes fixed
upon the crucifix which he held in his hands, Jean Pierre Camus gave up his
soul to God. This was on the 25th of April, 1652. He was 67 years old.
He had in his will forbidden any pomp or display at his funeral, and his
wishes were strictly obeyed.
Some time after his death a stone was placed by the Administrators of
the Hospital over the tomb of the good Bishop, who had been so great a
benefactor to that Institution, and who rests beneath the nave of its
Church in the Rue de Sèvres.
When he felt the first approach of illness, about six weeks before his
death, he made his will, in which he left the greater part of his money to
the Hospital, founding in it four beds for the Incurables of Belley.
And now our work is done.... The object has been to make John Peter Camus
known as he really was, and to cleanse his memory from the stains cast upon
it by the jarring passions of his contemporaries.
If we have succeeded in this the reader will recognise in him a pious
Bishop, armed with the scourge of penance, an indefatigable writer in the
defence of good morals, of religion, and of the Church--a reformer, and not
an enemy of the Monastic Orders; finally a Prelate, who laboured all his
life to copy the Holy Bishop of Geneva, whom he ever regarded as his
father, his guide, and his oracle.
One word more. Those pious persons who wish to know better this true
disciple of the Bishop of Geneva have nothing to do but to read the _Spirit
of Saint Francis de Sales_. There they will see the Bishop of Belley as
he really was. There they can admire his ardent piety, the candour of his
soul, the fervour of his faith and charity; in a word, all that rich store
of virtues which he acquired in the school of that great master of the
spiritual life who was for fourteen years his Director.
[Footnote 1: In the preface of his book, entitled "Strange Occurrences."]