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_Men of the Kingdom_
Fénelon: The Mystic
_By_
James Mudge,
Author of "The Saintly Calling," "The Best of Browning," etc.
CINCINNATI: JENNINGS AND GRAHAM
NEW YORK: EATON AND MAINS
copyright 1906, by
Jennings and Graham
_To My Dear Wife._
A wise mother of children,
A faithful missionary in India,
An efficient worker in many Churches.
A WORD TO THE READER
There have been many lives of Fénelon. Four were brought out in the
eighteenth century, and two quite extensive ones were issued as recently
as 1901. In a few cases they have been written in a spirit of cold,
supercilious disparagement and cynical comment by people who evidently
had no experience which would qualify them to understand the character
they rashly attempted to portray. But the endeavor to pull Fénelon down
from the pedestal on which he has so long stood can not succeed. So long
as his own writings remain to bear testimony to the high qualities of
his mind and soul, his fame is secure. It is the chief regret of the
present writer that, owing to the restricted size of the book, he has
not been able to give more of Fénelon's own words. The reader is
recommended to procure the "Spiritual Letters" of Fénelon, published in
two volumes by E. P. Dutton & Co., New York.[1]
It is not claimed that Fénelon was wholly without faults, or was in all
respects ahead of his times. How could that be expected? He took, in the
main, of course, the Roman Catholic view in the questions that arose
regarding heresy and the general affairs of the Church. It is not
necessary to defend him for this. We are concerned, in studying such
persons, not so much with their dogmatic opinions and beliefs, the
result of their environment, as with the spirit of their lives, their
attainments in holiness, and the light which they can shed on the best
means of growth in grace. It is believed that the present volume will be
found helpful to this end. The type of piety exemplified by Fénelon,
Fletcher, Faber, and others of this sort, does not appeal with equal
force to all, owing to difference of mental and physical constitution.
But all, whatever their temperament, can get only good by contemplating
such an example as is presented in these pages. They can not feel the
quick throbs of his deeply loving heart, and note the sincerity of
purpose with which he served his dear Redeemer, without being stimulated
in their zeal, and helped to walk, in their own way, more worthily of
the vocation with which they themselves are called. That this may indeed
be the outcome for every reader of the following chapters, is the
earnest prayer of the author.
JAMES MUDGE.
Jamaica Plain, Mass.
CONTENTS
Chapter Page
I. From Youth to Manhood, 9
II. The Setting of the Picture, 45
III. Preceptor to the Prince, 67
IV. Mysticism and Quietism, 94
V. The Great Conflict, 120
VI. The Good Archbishop, 159
VII. The Spiritual Letters, 193
Fénelon: The Mystic
CHAPTER I.
FROM YOUTH TO MANHOOD.
Christian perfection, or the highest possibilities of Christian grace
and growth, is a theme of intense interest to every true lover of the
Lord. There are many ways of promoting it, widely differing in their
merits and their helpfulness. Without disparaging other methods, it may
be safely said that nothing can be better than example. Christianity
centers around a person; and personal experience perennially appeals.
Better than abstract discussion is concrete practice. More profitable
than speculation and controversy is an actual life on highest levels.
There is also a large advantage in beholding such a life in another age
and land and Church, thus noting how God can magnify and fulfill Himself
in very diverse circumstances, and amid intellectual influences that to
us are quite obnoxious.
We invite, therefore, the attention of the thoughtful reader to a man
who presents one of the most perfect types of human purity that the
world has ever seen; one who for two hundred years has stood among the
choicest few of those universally esteemed to be authorities in
spiritual things; one endowed with a luster which the lapse of time can
not tarnish,--a luster far brighter than can be bestowed by mere worldly
honors or temporal prosperity, however high. He not only had a heart
filled with the love of God and glowing with pure devotion, but also a
mind capable of the closest analysis and the keenest discrimination. He
was not only a saint, but also a scholar and a genius, an original
thinker as well as a pursuer of holiness. Such combinations are very
rare. His thirst for perfection has probably never been surpassed.
Seldom, if ever, has such a remarkable combination of high qualities
tabernacled in the flesh. He had both modesty and majesty, both
simplicity and sublimity, unconquerable firmness in duty, unsurpassed
meekness in society; he was equally eminent for piety and politeness,
for morals and manners; he was sympathetic and chivalrous, severe to
himself, indulgent to others. In the midst of a voluptuous court he
practiced the virtues of an anchorite; with the revenues of a prince at
command he hardly allowed himself ordinary comforts. His abilities
awaken our admiration, his afflictions excite our compassion. Born among
the nobility of earth, he resisted the blandishments of earthly pomp,
and became crowned with the far higher nobility of heaven. He was truly
humble and truly heroic; good as well as great; skillful in teaching,
wise in counsel, master of an elegant style both in composition and
discourse; faithful to his friends and kind to his foes; devoted to his
native land, generous to his family, a man of peace yet ready to fight
for the faith, true to his convictions, tolerant toward those of other
beliefs, tenderly affectionate, vigorously diligent; the glory of his
country, the joy of mankind, the beloved of the Lord. He had an intense
nature, and was, as has been said, "One whose religion must be more
loving than love, his daily life more kind than kindness, his words
truer than truth itself." Lamartine calls him "beautiful as a Raphael's
St. John leaning on the bosom of Christ." He had the imagination of a
woman for dreaming of heaven, and the soul of a man for subduing the
earth. The especially feminine qualities were prominent in him, yet he
strikes no one as effeminate, and when he felt himself set for the
defense of the truth he showed a power that greatly surprised his
enemies. "His soul was like a star and dwelt apart," "alone with the
Alone." And yet he was so deeply interested in the welfare of France and
his fellow-men that he has been called a politician; statesman would be
the word more befitting the facts, for his ideas as to the measures and
policies necessary to make the land prosperous were in the main very
wise, and he had no personal ends to serve. In whatever capacity we
consider him--poet, orator, moralist, metaphysician, politician,
instructor, bishop, friend, persecuted Christian--he excites our keenest
interest, our warmest admiration. He greatly desired to please every
one, and succeeded so far as circumstances allowed; but the desire was
held in strictest control by a strong sense of duty, which compelled him
at times to do and say things most unacceptable to many. He was no
courtier, no flatterer, he could not make his own interests the first
consideration. He was a prophet in Gomorrah, charged with a message
which pressed upon him for utterance, and for the delivery of which the
time was short. At the court of Louis XIV--a spot above all others on
the face of the earth, perhaps, in that century, disgraced by
selfishness, hypocrisy, and intrigue--he bears not a little resemblance
to a seraph sent on a divine mission to the shades of the lost. There is
endless fascination in his story. He was not without faults, but his
faults were those of his age; his virtues were his own. He turned a
haughty, irritable, overbearing young prince, an incipient Cæsar Borgia,
into the mildest, most docile, obedient of men. He possessed his soul in
peace amid provocations that would have been far too much for most of
us. Neither public disgrace nor personal bereavement had power to
embitter him. He listened to the voice of God within him, and marched
straight on, breast forward. In the language of Herder, "His Church
indeed canonized him not, but humanity has." He is a saint in the eyes
of multitudes not attracted by official sanctity; an apostle of liberty
that dared withstand the Grand Monarque; a martyr spending half a life
in exile, through the machinations of a court faction which dreaded his
incorruptible goodness. "Being dead, he yet speaketh." "One of the
noblest men who ever lived," says Dr. John Henry Kurtz, the
distinguished Church historian. Joseph de Maistre exclaims: "Do we wish
to paint ideal greatness? Let us try to imagine something that surpasses
Fénelon--we shall not succeed." Let us, then, putting aside imagination,
endeavor to rescue from the musty record of the misty past, a lifelike
image of this many-sided, multiple, versatile personality.
François de Salignac de la Mothe Fénelon was born August 6, 1651, at the
castle, or chateau, of Fénelon, about three miles from the town of
Sarlat, in the department of Southern France, formerly called Perigord,
now Dordogne, north of the river Garonne. The De Salignacs were of an
ancient and distinguished family, counting in their long pedigree many
of the best names of France--bishops, governors, generals, and
ambassadors. But it is safe to say that they have derived more luster
from the single name of the Archbishop of Cambrai than from all the rest
who through several centuries filled lofty stations in camp and court
and Church.
Very little is known about his parents or his early life. Pons de
Salignac, Count of La Mothe Fénelon, father of Francis, was twice
married, having fourteen children by his first wife and three by his
second. The eldest of the three was Francis. His mother, Mademoiselle
Louise de la Cropte de Saint-Arbre, sister of a celebrated lieutenant
who served under Marshal Turenne, is said to have been unusually pious,
which we can well believe, and to have perpetuated some of her other
traits in her famous son. From his father's side he doubtless inherited
his diplomatic temperament and a goodly degree of worldly wisdom. His
peculiar situation in the household could hardly fail to have had
something to do with his character. The numerous grown-up sons and
daughters of his father's first marriage took umbrage at the second;
hence the precocious and sensitive child had abundant occasion to
practice all possible arts of ingratiation to obtain forgiveness for
having intruded his existence upon them, and to make it pleasant for his
mother. His constitution was delicate, and he had a sickly childhood;
once at least in his early days his life was despaired of, and he only
recovered to be for years the victim of sleeplessness and kindred
ailments. He was the idol of his old father, who, recognizing his
unusual talents, took special pains with his education. It was intrusted
at first to a private preceptor, who seems to have been well fitted for
his task, and gave to his pupil in a few years a better knowledge of
Greek and Latin than is commonly obtained at so early an age, doubtless
laying thus the foundation of his exquisitely finished style. At twelve
he left the paternal roof for the neighboring University of Cahors (a
town about sixty miles north of Toulouse, containing now an obelisk of
Fénelon), where he pursued for some three years philosophical and
philological studies and took his degrees in the arts.
His father probably died about this time, as we hear nothing further of
him, and his uncle, the Marquis Antoine de Fénelon, who had lost his own
son, acted henceforth as the father of his nephew. It was a most happy
circumstance, for the marquis was deeply religious and of an unsullied
private life, as well as very independent in his character. The Grand
Condé, greatest general of his time, described him as "equally at home
in society, war, and the council chamber." When M. de Harlai was
nominated to the Archbishopric of Paris, the marquis remarked to him,
"There is a wide difference, my Right Reverend Lord, between the day
when the nomination for such an office brings to the party the
compliments of the whole kingdom, and the day on which he appears before
God to render Him an account of his administration;" a reflection which,
although much needed, could not have been very agreeable to De Harlai,
for he was a notorious evil liver, who introduced every species of
corruption into the administration of his diocese, and scandalized all
by the iniquities also of his private life. Another indication of the
marquis's truly noble quality is seen in the fact that when M. Olier,
the celebrated founder of the Congregation of St. Sulpice, wished to
form an association of gentlemen whose courage was past impeachment, to
bind themselves with an oath neither to accept any challenge nor act the
part of second in any duel--that the practice of dueling might thus be
checked--he asked M. de Fénelon to take the post of president of the
association, being convinced that there was no one whose reputation was
more firmly established both in court and camp.
Under the guidance, then, of this admirable relative, who was so
exceptionally well fitted by character, position, and situation to give
his nephew the best possible start in life, and who tenderly loved him,
young Francis came to Paris in 1666, at the age of fifteen. It was not,
of course, the Paris of the present day; but even then it was a great
city, reaching back for its beginning to the Roman times, and recognized
as the seat of government for at least a thousand years. Under Henry of
Navarre (1589-1610) great improvements had been made, and by the
accession of Louis XIV--who began to reign nominally in 1643, at the age
of five, but really took charge of the kingdom in 1661--through the
completion of several bridges, roads, and quays, and the erection of
various public and private palaces, a new face had been put on the old
city. It was already the focus of European civilization, learning, and
eloquence, as well as the center of all that was most attractive and
distinguished in France. The best institutions were there, the best
opportunities for advancement, the highest privileges and advantages of
every sort; so that to it naturally gravitated all who wished to make
the most of themselves under the eye of that Grand Monarch whose favor
was life. Francis, therefore, no doubt counted himself greatly blessed
at this change, and entered upon his Parisian life--which was to last
thirty-one years--with very high, ambitious hopes. His guardian sent him
for two years to the Collége du Plessis, then under the rule of M.
Gobinet, a first-rate principal. There he speedily distinguished himself
as a scholar, and he also gave such tokens of possessing the gift of
eloquence that before he was sixteen he was put forward to preach to an
admiring audience. It is, perhaps, worth noting that Bossuet--who was so
soon to be closely associated with Fénelon, at first in friendship, then
in fierce hostility--also preached at the same age, with similar
applause, before a brilliant assemblage in Paris.
What was the next step? A noble under Louis XIV had two possible careers
open to him, and only two; they were the army and the Church. It is not
probable that the matter was long debated, if at all, in Francis' case.
Everything about him, his gifts of speech, his high scholarship, his
deep piety, his rather delicate health, pointed to the clerical
vocation, and there can be no question but this was with him a divine
calling, to which doubtless his heart gave full assent. So he was
placed, in 1688, at the seminary of St. Sulpice to be trained for the
priesthood.
Since he was to spend no less than ten happy years, in the formative
period of seventeen to twenty-seven, in connection with this
institution, it may be well that we say a few words about it and its
director. It was the principal fruit of the great Catholic revival at
the beginning of the century, the embodiment of all the force of that
movement--a movement marked by very earnest piety and a somewhat unusual
combination of emotionalism and asceticism. It was founded by a group of
devoted men sprung from the upper-middle class; and chief among them was
M. Olier, a man justly celebrated for his saintly life. He was appointed
in 1642 to the parish of St. Sulpice when it was noted as the most
depraved quarter of Paris. He labored unremittingly and very
successfully to reform this unpromising flock, and the young priests who
were associated with him in his task constituted the nucleus of the
seminary and community of St. Sulpice. The necessary building to house
the institution, to the establishment of which Monsieur Olier gave
himself with highest enthusiasm, was completed in 1652--a square edifice
capable of receiving one hundred inmates. This became the center of a
most wholesome and inspiring activity.
The founder had a very high ideal of sacerdotal character. He would not
admit any who embraced the sacred calling from considerations of
ambition or expediency, and those admitted were subjected to the
sharpest kind of tests. Whatever their birth or condition they were
required to perform the menial duties of the house, and to mingle on
terms of absolute equality with their fellow-students. The complete
immolation of self was set as the paramount aim before those who looked
forward to holy orders. The will must be entirely surrendered. The good
priest must become the model of all the virtues. All earthly interests
and ties must be renounced. The closest union with the Divine was to be
cultivated. A very literal interpretation of the teaching of the Master
was followed. The pupils were urged to study the Gospels till they could
bring the Divine life before them at any moment in a series of mental
pictures which should help them in the decision of all perplexing
questions of duty, and were exhorted to keep themselves in such a
disposition that meditation on that model life would never seem strange
or demand a violent mental revulsion whatever their outward
circumstances might be. While the ceremonies of the Church were observed
with minute exactness, and occasional austerities were practiced, and
learning was not neglected, the main thought was that the perfection of
personal character must be secured at all costs; the world was to be
abandoned, the flesh crucified, the devil in all his forms resisted, and
lessons of humility, obedience, and charity were to be most carefully
learned. They were taught that in the silence which succeeds the
struggle of self-abandonment they would find Christ coming to them--the
Christ who had borne all and understood all, and whose presence was far
more worth having than the prizes they had missed or put away.
It can well be believed that this wholly consecrated man, the first
superior of St. Sulpice, won to himself so large a share of personal
affection and loyalty from his students that when he was removed from
its care many feared its collapse. But this was not to be. A suitable
successor was found in M. Louis Tronson, a man every way as capable as
the first founder--indeed more learned in theology--and fully disposed
to continue the traditions of the institution as already laid down; a
man who coveted no external recognition, joined in no race for
preferment, but gave himself with singleness of eye to the great work
intrusted to him by the Master. It was to his care that Francis Fénelon
was committed, and he speedily won the enthusiastic affection of the
young man. In a few years Fénelon writes concerning his teacher to Pope
Clement XI as follows: "Never have I seen his equal for piety and
prudence, for love of justice and insight into character. I glory in the
thought that I was brought up under his wing." Fénelon was evidently one
of the Abbé Tronson's favorites, for he was a favorite with everybody,
and all could see in the brilliant youth a promise that would do honor
to those who had a share in his development. A high degree of confidence
was given and received on both sides. Francis wrote to his uncle, in a
burst of gratitude, one day: "I earnestly desire to be able to tell you
some part of all that passes between M. Tronson and me; but indeed,
Monsieur, I know not how to do so. I find I can be much more explicit
with him than with you, nor would it be easy to describe the degree of
union we have reached. If you could hear our conversation you would not
know your pupil, and you would see that God has very marvelously helped
on the work which you begun. My health does not improve, which would be
a great trial to me if I were not learning how to comfort myself." This
was very beautiful, very delightful, and though such complete dominance
of one personality by another is not devoid of danger, the results in
this case appear to have justified the experiment. Francis' early bent
to deep piety was greatly intensified during these years, and his views
of disinterested or perfect love, so strongly brought out in later
times, were scarcely more than the natural evolution of the thoughts and
habits drilled into him during this formative period. He greatly enjoyed
this home of piety and study. His love for the seminary never decayed.
He declared on his death-bed that he knew of no institution more
venerable or more apostolic.
It was while at the seminary that Fénelon thought he had a call to the
mission field. The congregation of St. Sulpice had a large missionary
establishment at Montreal, and many of the students from the Paris house
had gone thither. It was natural, with his intense unworldliness, that
he should wish to follow in their footsteps, and in one of his descent
it would not be surprising if the love of adventure was unconsciously
mingled with a more religious ambition to show his love for the Savior
by doing a great work for Him in a difficult field. How many have had
these longings, but have been providentially prevented from carrying
them out! In Fénelon's case difficulties at once sprung up. His uncle,
the Marquis Antoine, strongly objected on account of the delicacy of his
constitution, and another uncle, the Bishop of Sarlat, coincided with
this opinion. A letter on the subject to the bishop from M. Tronson,
dated February, 1667, says, "His strong, persisting inclination, the
firmness of his resolution, and the purity of his intentions have made
me feel that they deserved attention, and led me to give you as exact a
report as may be of our action in the matter." The teacher had done his
very best to dissuade the youth from his purpose. "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 fitted to
work usefully hereafter for the Church." He adds, "I perceive too
confirmed a resolution to have much hope of change." The feelings called
out were so strong that persuasion seemed useless, and so the teacher
appealed to the authority of the guardians; which proved sufficient to
stop the rash enterprise.
But the missionary impulse still burned strongly in the breast of this
enthusiastic youth, and it burst forth again a few years later. He
received the tonsure, and entered holy orders in 1675, at the age of
twenty-four, and went for a while to work in the diocese of his uncle,
the Bishop of Sarlat. It was at this time that his thoughts were turned
to the Levant. A letter of October 9, 1675, sets forth somewhat
rhapsodically his excited feelings: "I long to seek out that Areopagus
whence St. Paul preached the unknown God to heathen sages.... Neither
will I forget thee, O island consecrated by the heavenly visions of the
beloved disciple! O blessed Patmos, I will hasten to kiss the footsteps
left on thee by the apostle, and to imagine heaven open to my gaze!...
Already I see schism healed; East and West reunited; Asia awaking to the
light after her long sleep; the Holy Land, once trodden by our Savior's
feet and watered by 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." This was
decidedly visionary, and somewhat overwrought; but it shows at least a
heart on fire to do something extraordinary for God, and this he had at
all periods of his life. He did not go to Greece and Palestine,
abandoning the project in deference to the wishes of his family, to whom
he was extremely reluctant to give pain. It was a romantic dream rather
than a true vocation.
It is thought by some that he really went to Montreal at a later date.
The _Correspondence Litteraire_ of July 25, 1863,[2] gives a letter from
the archives of the French Ministry of Marine in the handwriting of
Colbert, the great Finance Minister of Louis XIV, who also had charge of
the department of commerce, dated in 1675, to Frontenac, Governor of
Canada, in which Louis XIV says: "I have blamed the action of Abbé
Fénelon, and have ordered him not to return to Canada. But I ought to
say to you that it was difficult to institute a criminal proceeding
against him or oblige the priests of the seminary of St. Sulpice at
Montreal to testify against him; and it was necessary to remit the case
to his bishop or the grand vicar to punish him by ecclesiastical
penalties, or to arrest him and send him back to France by the first
ship." There was not then in France any other abbé of that name, so far
as is known. Somewhat confirmatory of it is the fact that Appleton's
Cyclopedia, in its account of the Society of St. Sulpice says, "In 1668
the Sulpicians, François de Fénelon and Claude Trouvé, founded the first
Iroquois mission at the western extremity of Lake Ontario, but their
labors were confined principally to the Indians near Montreal." The
dates do not harmonize; but it may be that, in some irregular way that
did not commend itself to the authorities, our hero was for a time in
Canada; but if so, it is very singular that it left so little trace upon
his life.
He gave himself for some three years after his ordination to labors in
the parish of St. Sulpice, living still at the seminary, and endeavoring
to spread the light of his faith among the poor wherever he could reach
them best, whether in prisons and hospitals or their own quarters. It
was good training for him in many ways, enlarging his sympathies,
deepening his views of life, and bringing him into touch with children
as well as women. Doubtless he gathered in these years--for he had quick
powers of observation and a very active mind--much of that amazing
knowledge concerning these classes which surprised his friends when he
came subsequently to pour forth in letters or books the wisest of
counsels on education and kindred topics. M. Languet, curé of the parish
at this time, was said to distribute more than a million francs in alms
yearly, while his own room was furnished with nothing more than a coarse
bed and two straw chairs. Under such guidance Fénelon could not fail to
learn many useful lessons, and to become still more completely fitted
for the great career which was soon to open before him.
It was in 1678 that Fénelon, while attending quietly to his duties at
the parish of St. Sulpice, preaching on Sundays and visiting among the
poor during the week, received the important appointment of superior to
the community called the Nouvelles Catholiques, or New Catholics. He was
twenty-seven at this time, and had developed into a very lovable,
charming, attractive, and every way promising young man. His high birth,
solid education, brilliant parts, spotless life, eloquence of speech,
and influential friends, all tended to bring him forward into the public
eye. The words of the Chancellor d'Aguesseau on Fénelon, found in the
memoirs of the life of his father, although applying perhaps in fullest
measure a little later, may be inserted here, as showing what it must
have been felt, by discerning observers, he would erelong become.
"Fénelon," says the chancellor, "was one of those uncommon men who are
destined to give luster to their age; and who do equal honor to human
nature by their virtues, and to literature by their superior talent. He
was affable in his deportment and luminous in his discourse, the
peculiar qualities of which were a rich, delicate, and powerful
imagination, but which never let its power be felt. His eloquence had
more of mildness in it than of vehemence; and he triumphed as much by
the charms of his conversation as by the superiority of his talents. He
always brought himself to the level of his company; he never entered
into disputation, and he sometimes appeared to yield to others at the
very time that he was leading them. Grace dwelt upon his lips. He
discussed the greatest subjects with facility; the most trifling were
ennobled by his pen; and upon the most barren he scattered the flowers
of rhetoric. The peculiar but unaffected mode of expression which he
adopted made many persons believe that he possessed universal knowledge
as if by inspiration. It might indeed have been almost said that he
rather invented what he knew than learned it. He was always original and
creative, imitating no one, and himself inimitable. A noble singularity
pervaded his whole person, and a certain undefinable and sublime
simplicity gave to his appearance the air of a prophet." His personal
appearance has been well sketched by one of his contemporaries, the Duke
de St. Simon, a satirical, misanthropical, utterly worldly man.
"Fénelon," says St. Simon, "was a tall man, thin, well-made, and with a
large nose. From his eyes issued the fire and animation of his mind,
like a torrent; and his countenance was such that I never yet beheld any
one similar to it, nor could it ever be forgotten if once seen. It
combined everything, and yet with everything in harmony. It was grave,
and yet alluring; it was solemn, and yet gay; it bespoke equally the
theologian, the bishop, and the nobleman. Everything which was visible
in it, as well as in his whole person, was delicate, intellectual,
graceful, becoming, and, above all, noble. It required an effort to
cease looking at him. All the portraits are strong resemblances, though
they have not caught that harmony which was so striking in the original,
and that individual delicacy which characterized each feature. His
manners were answerable to his countenance. They had that air of ease
and urbanity which can be derived only from intercourse with the best
society, and which diffused itself over all his discourse. He possessed
a natural eloquence, graceful and finished, and a most insinuating yet
noble and proper 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 distrust 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, and 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 for their
Messiah."
The community of the New Catholics had been founded in 1634 by
Archbishop Gondi, as a protection for women converted from
Protestantism, and as a means of propagating Church teachings among
those yet unconverted. It was conducted by a community of women who did
the work of Sisters of Charity outside its walls, and was presided over
by a priest selected by the Archbishop of Paris. Marshal Turenne,
himself a recent convert, gave largely to it, and the king, who was
willing to combine gentle means with harsh for the accomplishment of his
purposes in bringing all his subjects into one faith, took great
interest in it. Hitherto the post of superior had been filled by much
older men, but, though only twenty-seven, Fénelon was found to combine
all those qualities which fitted him for the employment--distinguished
talents, education, amiable manners, unusual prudence and discretion,
much love to God, and great benevolence to man. The archbishop who
selected him, M. de Harlai, was, as we have already noted, by no means
of Fénelon's stamp. He was a courtier, a man of the world, regardless of
morality, and ever scheming for his own advancement. Having noted the
capability of Fénelon, perhaps he thought, by making him a sort of
protegé, he could attach him to his interests, obtain credit by his
successes, and use him for his purposes. But if he thought this he did
not show his usual discernment; for Fénelon, though willing to accept
the office assigned, which gave promise of large usefulness, was in no
way attracted by the character of his patron, and no considerations of
expediency could induce him to pay court in that direction.
Consequently, De Harlai's early liking changed erelong to pronounced
enmity. He noticed the absence of Fénelon from his levees, and when he
did present himself at a certain reception, rebuked him with the words,
"It seems that you desire to be forgotten, M. l'Abbé, and you will be."
Fénelon's friendship also with Bossuet became established about this
time, and this doubtless increased the animosity of the archbishop, as
the two were rivals for the favor of the king, on which the coveted
promotion to the cardinalate, which each desired, so largely depended.
It was probably owing, somewhat at least, to this unfriendly influence
on the part of De Harlai that Fénelon received no appointment which
could supply him with funds; for the post of Superior carried no salary,
and until 1681 he continued to be entirely dependent for everything upon
his uncle, the marquis. In that year his uncle, the Bishop of Sarlat,
resigned to him the deanery of Carenac, at Quercy, on the Dordogne, and
this small benefice, producing between 3,000 and 4,000 livres
annually--about $2,000 a year of modern money--was the only revenue
Fénelon possessed for a long time, until, indeed, his forty-third year.
On leaving the Sulpician seminary, he took up his abode with his uncle,
the Marquis de Fénelon, in the Abbey of St. Germain, and gave 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 uncle
was able to introduce him into a rare circle, prominent in which were
the Duke and Duchess of Beauvilliers, and the Duke and Duchess of
Chevreuse (the two ladies were sisters, daughters of the great finance
minister, Colbert), Bossuet, Bishop of Meaux, and Madame de Maintenon.
We must say a few words about these people, for they had much to do with
Fénelon through all his subsequent life.
"The Duke de Beauvilliers," says St. Simon, "was early touched by God,
and never lost His presence, but lived entirely in the future world,
indifferent to place and cabal and worldly advantage, content, when
called to the council-board, simply to state his true opinion, without
much caring whether it was followed or not." Punctual and orderly almost
to excess, he controlled his household with vigilant kindness, and took
on his shoulders, as the king himself bore witness, a load of
administrative details that would have killed four other men. In society
he was rather shy and stiff by nature, as well as on principle
exceedingly careful to set a close guard on eyes and ears and lips, so
that even when, as a principal minister, he was the observed of all
observers, surrounded by princes and nobles, he repelled by his reserve.
He had been at court nearly all his life, having early succeeded Marshal
Villeroy as head of the Council of Finance, and being also first
gentleman of the chamber. He had also been governor of Havre. He was
called to the treasury in 1685, and to the council-board in 1691. He was
acknowledged on all sides to be a man of remarkable piety and purity of
life, and, as a courtier, without reproach--a very rare thing in those
days. His chief fault was his timidity, and his excessive subserviency
to the king. But when his conscience was aroused he could show a
boldness that was most admirable, and all the more to be commended
because somewhat foreign to his nature. He remained true as steel to
Fénelon to his dying day, his friendship never wavering or showing
diminution, even when the latter was banished from court, and all his
friends were in a measure under the ban because of the king's fierce
anger. In later years the king did his best to separate the two, even
sending for the duke and explicitly threatening him with a like fate to
that of his friend if he did not give him up. But the duke replied, 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."
This manly, uncompromising stand made a deep impression on the king,
who, in spite of his liking for his own way, knew that he could hardly
afford to spare so faithful and conscientious a servant; nothing more
was said about the matter.
His brother-in-law, the Duke de Chevreuse, was different in disposition,
though equally devoted to religion. He was abler, broader-minded, better
informed, more genial and witty, but less systematic, and a very poor
business man. He had no fixed hours for anything, and was always
behindhand. Had it not been for the king he must have died a beggar; for
he had little of his own, and his wife's large fortune was wasted on
costly but futile experiments, such as canals made at enormous expense
to float down the timber from woods which he sold before even a tree was
felled. He was charming in his manners, and was not simply loved, but
adored by his family, and friends, and servants. Throughout his
troubles, which were many, he was never for a moment cast down, but
offered up his all to God and fixed his eyes on Him. "Never man
possessed his soul in peace as he did," wrote St. Simon, "as the
Scripture says, 'He carried it in his hands.'" He was even nearer to
Fénelon in some ways than the other duke, and equally stanch in his
attachment. He had no special portfolio in the ministry, but was
consulted by the king about most departments, and was very highly
esteemed by him.
The two sisters, wives of these dukes--there were indeed three, the
third having married the Duke de Mortemart, but of this family we hear
almost nothing--were linked by the strongest bonds of sympathy and
affection, and the three families lived in the closest union of
principle and action, which gave them great strength amid the
profligate, time-serving court. Twice a week there were dinners at the
Hotel de Beauvilliers, where the society was at once select,
intellectual, and devout. A bell was on the table, and no servant was
present, that they might converse without restraint. It was in this
society that Fénelon, being introduced, became speedily the leader. He
was accepted by the two dukes, not as director simply but as spiritual
master, as the mind of their mind, says St. Simon, the soul of their
soul, the sovereign ruler of their heart and conscience. Such he
remained all his days. Fénelon and the Beauvilliers had not been long
acquainted before the duchess, mother of eight daughters, begged him to
set down some rules for the guidance of their education. This request is
a proof not only of the versatility of his powers, but of the strength
of his faculty of intuition, that a court lady should have turned to him
for help in such matters. He had been educated from childhood to his
sacred calling, shut off from any experience of some of the strongest of
life's influences, and therefore on some accounts might seem poorly
fitted to prove an apt adviser; but it was strongly felt that he
possessed the secret of truest wisdom, that what he taught was drawn
from too high a source to be greatly affected by the limits of personal
experience. Throughout his life, indeed, it was his power of sympathy,
of entering into the difficulties of others, of realizing temptations
that can never have been present with him, that made his influence so
comprehensive--a power rarer and more marvelous than the greatest of
intellectual gifts.
The work on the education of girls, which grew out of the duchess's
request, swelled into a considerable compass, and was first published in
1687. It greatly increased his reputation, revealing a knowledge of
child-nature which was most remarkable, and taking advanced ground in
many particulars. He showed himself a thoroughgoing reformer, breaking
away from the trammels of mediæval education that so long and so
disastrously had ruled. There is hardly a page of it which might not
afford profitable study for parents at the present day. It still holds a
high position among works on this subject. His deep love for children
sharpened his keen observation of all that concerned them. He severely
reprobated the fashion of leaving them with uneducated persons; for he
regarded the earliest years as of unspeakable importance in the
formation of character.
"Never let them show themselves off," he says, "but do not be worried by
their questions; rather encourage them; they are the most natural
opportunities of teaching." He discovered that children are always
watching others, endowed with a great faculty of imitation, so that it
is impossible to over-estimate the responsibility of their first
guardians. He recognized the necessity of discipline; but if the child
has merited disgrace, he pleads that there should be some one to whom
she can turn for sympathy, thus showing that he had fathomed that
overwhelming sense of loneliness which is one of childhood's chief
terrors. He says: "Make study pleasant, hide it under a show of liberty
and amusement. Let the children interrupt their lessons sometimes with
little jokes; they need such distraction to rest their brain. Never fear
to give them reasons for everything. Never give extra lessons as a
punishment." His method was to treat children as reasonable beings
instead of unruly animals whom it was necessary to coerce against their
will; and his object was to make them regard learning as a privilege and
delight, not as a penance forced upon them by the tyranny of their
elders. He made religion the groundwork of all education, but he would
have it guarded against superstition. He stood strongly for the true,
best rights of women, counting their occupations no less important to
the public than those of men. He would give the young girl useful solid
tastes that would fill her mind with real interests and prevent idle
curiosity and the dissipations of romance-reading. "Give them something
to manage, on condition that they give you an account of it," he pleads;
"they will be delighted with the confidence, for it gives an incredible
pleasure to the young when one begins to rely upon them and admit them
to serious concerns."
This will suffice to show something of the trend of his work. Much that
he urged is, of course, commonplace now, but it was not so in his day.
He shows in his book so much knowledge of the needs and characteristics
of little children not only, but of the special difficulties and
infirmities of women, that it remains a marvel where, at this period of
his life, he could have gained such insight into both. And all is
illumined with his beautiful style and gentle spirit. Mr. John Morley
remarks, "When we turn to modern literature from Fénelon's pages, who
does not feel that the world has lost a sacred accent, as if some
ineffable essence had passed out from our hearts?"
Madame de Maintenon has been mentioned as one of the little circle to
whose intimacy Fénelon was introduced when beginning his Parisian
career. The full particulars of her remarkable history must be sought in
larger works. Yet it is essential that we know something concerning her,
since for a while she was one of Fénelon's best supporters, and then
became one of his most persistent foes. She was the grandchild of
Theodore Agrippa d'Aubigne, a noted Protestant warrior and a noble
friend of Henry of Navarre, who died at Geneva in 1630.[3] Her father
was a scamp, her mother a jailer's daughter. She was a stout Protestant
in her younger days, but being left penniless at an early age, and
wholly dependent upon charitable relatives, she was placed in a Parisian
convent, and there converted to Catholicism. She was still only
seventeen and uncommonly good-looking when, to escape the pressure of
dependence, she consented to become the wife of Scarron, a writer of
comic poetry and a cripple. So Frances d'Aubigne became Madame Scarron,
and somewhat improved her position. Her husband died in five years,
leaving her a pension. Falling in with Madame de Montespan, the king's
mistress, that lady took a liking to her, and it was not long before she
was established at a fine house in one of the suburbs, with a large
income and a numerous staff of servants, as governess of the king's
illegitimate children by this mistress. At the end of four years the
children, with their governess, were housed in the palace, and the
influence of the said governess over the king, who was naturally thrown
much in contact with her, steadily increased. By the savings from her
salary and the presents of the king she was able to purchase the estate
of Maintenon, not far from Paris, and the king, who never had liked the
harsh name of Scarron, soon began to call her Madame de Maintenon, which
henceforth became her title. In the midst of all the vicissitudes of her
life she had maintained a good character, inheriting much from her
grandfather, and now she became yet more austere in her piety. The Abbé
Gobelin, a severe Jesuit confessor, directed her conscience, and Bossuet
impressed his strong personality upon her. They persuaded her that she
was the chosen instrument for the conversion of the king. So she set
herself to the task, finding it on many accounts congenial, and
achieving a remarkable degree of success. There seems to have been in
the complex character of the king, in spite of his many sins, no little
regard for religion--it is said that he never missed going to mass but
once in his life--and he was already weary of Montespan, whose influence
on him was unquestionably evil. So the new influence more and more
prevailed; the mistress was dismissed to a convent, and the wise,
devout, good-looking governess became a power at court, first lady in
waiting to the crown princess, and female friend to the monarch. The
king spent hours daily in her company, and was the better for it. She
was a strict moralist, and none of the slanders rife about her seem to
have any good foundation. She enjoyed the respect of the best people
about the court, and was a friend of the neglected queen, who cried,
"Providence has raised up Madame de Maintenon to bring my husband back
to me." And this new favorite, who was not a mistress, believed
abundantly in the divine nature of her mission. She accepted the king's
friendship to give him good counsels and end his slavery to vice. The
care of his salvation became the first and most absorbing of her duties.
She held herself a monitress, charged to encourage and console him, or
to check him with reproaches that none but she dared utter. He called
her "Your Seriousness." She never annoyed him with opposition, never
encroached, had no will of her own, but became, as it were, the king's
conception of his better self, his second conscience, a magnet quick to
draw him, sometimes into the really worthier of two opposing courses,
always into the more ecclesiastically virtuous. The queen died in her
arms in 1683. Two years after, she was privately married to the king by
the Archbishop of Paris in the presence of Père Lachaise, the king's
confessor, after whom the famous cemetery in Paris is named. Such was
the woman who ruled at Versailles when Fénelon came into office. He
excited her interest on their first meeting, at or before 1683; for she
wrote, under that date, to Madame de St. Geran: "Your Abbé de Fénelon is
very well received; but the world does not do him justice. He is feared;
he wishes to be loved; and is lovable."
We must briefly introduce one more personage to our readers before we
can safely resume the current of the narrative. Jacques Bénigne Bossuet,
who was for a while Fénelon's friend and then became the bitterest of
his foes, was born at Dijon, 1627. In his boyhood he was a brilliant
scholar. At Paris he soon surpassed his teachers in acquirements. He
took the Doctor's bonnet in 1652, and in the same year was received into
priest's orders. He was first canon to the cathedral of Metz; in 1669,
Bishop of Condom; in 1681, bishop of Meaux. In 1670 he was appointed
preceptor to the dauphin, and gave most of his time for ten years to
this office, resigning his bishopric for the purpose. In the pulpit his
oratorical powers elicited universal applause. His celebrated Funeral
Discourses, six in number, were, and still are, accounted masterpieces
of rhetorical skill. Two words, strength and majesty, describe the
dominant characteristics of his oratory. He had a mind well stored with
noble sentiments. His sermons were almost entirely extempore, springing
from a mind filled with his subject, guided by a few notes on paper.
Attracted by the strength and sublimity of the Bible he moved largely
within its circle of thought, rather than with saints, relics, and
images, which were for the most part below the plane of his vision.
Besides being one of the first preachers of the age, he was a celebrated
polemic and a powerful writer, having also a Roman aptitude to rule. One
of the strongest personalities which the French Church has produced, he
exercised a commanding influence in various directions. The principles
of Gallicanism as opposed to Ultramontanism found in him their stalwart
champion. He was a famous apologist. His knowledge was completely at
command, so that he did not shrink from oral disputation with the most
learned adversaries. And he wielded a very strong pen. His "Exposition
of the Catholic Faith" presents the doctrines of Rome in a liberal and
plausible form. In his "History of the Variations of the Protestant
Churches," and also in other treatises, he made out what was considered
at the time a very strong defense of the Roman Catholic faith, but he
has since been convicted, not merely of inaccuracy, but of false and
garbled quotations. He died in 1704.
Bossuet, it will be seen, was twenty-four years older than Fénelon, and
for a time was almost a father to him. At the zenith of his great
reputation he was much attracted by the younger man and took great pains
to attach him to himself. He invited him often, with one or two others,
to his country residence at Germigny. They had stated hours of prayer
and private study and relaxation, and in these last periods the bishop
took pleasure in unfolding to his humbler companions all his sacred and
literary stores of knowledge. Nothing could exceed the bishop's regard
for Fénelon, or Fénelon's fondness for the bishop. The intercourse with
a masculine intellect so much more developed than his own was, no doubt,
a benefit to Fénelon, as well as a high compliment to him, for it
compelled him to think for himself and brace himself somewhat in order
to take a worthy part in the conversation. One can but regret that the
friendship which seemed so suitable, and was prolific of such advantage
to the Church, as well as mutual pleasure between these two great and
good men, should in a few years, largely through misapprehensions and
verbal disagreements, have been turned to bitterness and scandal.
It is probable that the ten years during which Fénelon held the post of
superior at the New Catholics was the sunniest of his life. It was at
least the freest from difficulties and complications. He was discovering
the large possibilities of his own powers, developing healthfully in all
directions, with a pleasant occupation, bright prospects, and an
ever-widening circle of friends, who looked to him as an influence for
good, and increasingly hung upon his words. He was called in this period
to mourn the loss of his dear uncle, the marquis, who had been in many
ways, both spiritually and temporally, such a help to him, and who
passed away October 8, 1683. Just how much he had to do in these years
at the convent is not clear. It seems likely that he was little more
than warden or visitor, in general charge of the instruction, the other
matters being managed by the mother superior acting under the minute
directions of the government. For converting to the old faith those who
had been born and trained in heresy--many of them, it would appear,
brought there early, against their will, or in violation of the proper
rights of their parents--Fénelon was marvelously equipped, knowing the
controversy perfectly, and knowing also what points to touch upon with
infinite tact, what appeals would be most effective in individual cases,
what arguments to use, what influences to exert, what spirit to exhibit.
He undoubtedly proved himself the tenderest and most persuasive of
advocates and ministers, modifying, so far as possible, the harshness of
the state which he was powerless to prevent.
It was his success at the head of this institution which called forth
the next commission with which the king honored him, and which brought
him into yet closer connection with the troubled current of affairs. In
order the better to understand it we shall do well to pause at this
point and consider for a little the ecclesiastical and political
condition of France, and to some degree of the world at large.