Such were the fearful materials upon which Beauvilliers and Fenelon were to exercise their perseve rance. Let us hear how they pro , ceeded, and with what success. When the prince was in his worst paroxysms of passion, "The governor, the preceptor, the subpreceptor, the gentlemen in waiting, and all the servants in the house, concerted together, to preserve towards him the most profound silence. They avoided answering any of his questions; they waited upon him with averted looks; or if they directed their eyes towards him, it was with an expression of fear, as if they dreaded to be in the company of a being degraded by bursts of rage incompatible with reason. They appeared to attend him only from that kind of humiliating compassion shewu towards persons insane. They merely performed those offices about him which seemed to be simply necessary to the preservation of his miserable existence. They took from him all the books, and all his means of instruction, as if they would be henceforth useless to him, being reduced to such a deplorable state. They then left him to himself. Struck with such an entire desertion, the prince, convinced of his fault, was eager to fly, once more, to the indulgence of his preceptor. He threw himself at his feet, watered with tears the hands of Fenelon, who pressed him to his bosom with the affection of a father, compassionate, and always open to the repenting child. In these violent contests the prince summoned honour in aid of his promises. The originals of two contracts of honour which he placed in the hands of Fenelon, are yet extant. They are as follow: I promise, on the faith of a prince, to M. the Abbé de Fenelon, to do immediately whatever he shall order me; and to obey him the moment he forbids me to do any thing. If I fail in this, I will consent to any kind of punishment and dishonour. Done at Versailles, the 29th of November, 1689. (Signed) LOUIS; who promises again to keep his word better. This 20th of September. I entreat M. de Fenelon to take care of it.-The prince who subscribed these engagements, was only eight years old." (Vol. i. pp. 62—64.) The duke's violence of temper was, however, not to be subdued by ble occasion he rebelled against his preceptor, by saying, "No, no, Sir; I know who you are, and who I am." Fenelon was silent, deferred these treaties. On one remarka reproof till the prince's irritability had subsided, and in the interval discovered his displeasure and sense of injury merely by an unusual solemnity of deportment. "On the following morning, the Duke was hardly awake, when Fenelon entered his room. He would not wait till the usual hour of meeting, in order that every thing he had to say to him might appear more marked, and strike more powerfully the imagination of the young prince. You Fenelon addressed him with a cold and respectful seriousness, very different from his usual manner. I know not, sir,' said he, whether you recollect what you said to me yesterday, that you knew who you were, and who I am. It is my duty to inform you, that you are ignorant of both one and the other. fancy, sir, I suppose, that you are greater than I am some servants, no doubt, have told you so; but I, I do not fear to tell you, since you force me to it, that I am greater than you are. You will easily understand that I do not mean to speak of superiority of birth. You would regard that man as mad, who should aspire to any merit, because the rains of heaven had fertilized his field, and had not wa tered his neighbour's. But you yourself would not be much wiser, if you sought to derive any importance from your birth, which can add nothing to your personal merit. You cannot doubt that I am far above you in knowledge and in mind. You know nothing, but what I have taught you: and what I have taught you is nothing compared to what I could have That is, we suppose, September 1690, or some subsequent year. taught you. As to authority, you have none over me, but, on the contrary, I have an unbounded authority over you. This you have often been told by the king, and the prince your father. You think, perhaps, that I account myself happy, in being appointed to educate you; but undeceive yourself, sir; I undertook the office, only in obedience to the king's commands, and to please your father; not for the laborious advantage of being your preceptor; and, in order to convince you of this, I am now come to conduct you to his majesty, and to beg of him to appoint you another tutor; whose endeavours, I hope, will be more successful than mine have been.'-The Duke of Burgundy, whom a whole night passed in painful reflections and self-reproach, added to the cold and formal deportment of Fenelon, had overwhelmed with grief, was astonished at this declaration. He burst into tears, while his sighs, his shame, scarcely permitted him to utter these words: -Oh! Sir, I am sincerely sorry for what passed yesterday; if you speak to the king, I shall lose his friendship.....if you desert me, what will be thought of me?.....I promise.... I promise you, that you shall be content with me.....but promise me..... Fenelon would promise nothing: he left him the whole day in a state of anxiety and uncertainty. It was not until he was well convinced of the sincerity of his repentance, that he appeared to yield to fresh supplications, and to the entreaties of Madame de Maintenon, whom he had persuaded to interfere in the business, in order to confer upon it more effect and solemnity." Vol. i. p. 64-66. The classical proficiency which the Duke made under this sagacious preceptor, was very considerable. In his tenth year, he wrote Latin elegantly; and understood, and felt, Cicero's Orations. At eleven he had read through Livy. Fenelon, at the same time, directed his attention to the select letters of St. Jerome, St. Augustine, St. Cyprian, and St. Ambrose. The time at length came, when the Duke of Burgundy, whose character, by the instrumentality of Fenelon, was radically changed, was permitted to approach the holy sacrament. It will be believed, that his preceptor would never haveṛsuf-, fered him to communicate, unless he had been convinced of the vitality of his principles. Indeed, we addressed to him on this occasion. may gather this from the speech "The day which you have so long and so ardently desired, Sir, has at length arrived; a day, which ought to influence every other one of your life, and even that of your death. Your Saviour approaches you now under the appearance of familiar food, that he may nourish your soul, even as bread daily nourishes your body. To you, it will appear only as a piece of common bread; but the grace of God is hidden in it, and will manifest itself to your faith. Say to him, as Isaiah did, Verily thou art a God that hidest thyself. He is a God who conceals himself from love; he hides his glory, lest our weak sight should be dazzled, and in order that we may approach him more easily: you will find there the hidden manua of various fragrance, and containing every celestial virtue. You will eat the bread which surpasses all material substance; it will not assimilate to you, vile and mortal man, but you will assimilate to it, becoming thus a living member of Christ. May faith and love render you sensible of the gift of God. O taste, and see that the Lord is good." Vol. i. p. 72. In after life, the Duke of Burgundy was a regular attendant at the Eucharist, where he behaved with every appearance of devout humiliation. In January 1693, we find Fenelon, although still in possession of his high situation at Versailles, in a state of comparative indigence. He writes to Madame de Laval, "My purse is almost drained, from the delay in my payments, and the extreme dearness of every thing this year. I am on the point of dismissing all my servants, unless I soon receive some help. I will not suffer you to make any efforts for me of your own accord; I shall send back what you would lend me; I prefer to suffer. Let them forward to me from Carenac," (of which he was Prior)" as much money as they can, after having, however, distributed the most urgent alms; for I would rather live upon dry bread, in the strictest sense of the word, than suffer the poor of my benefice to be reduced to the extremity of want.'” Vol. i. p. 82. His connection with the Court introduced him, of course, to an ac quaintance with Madame de Main tenon, who tried the strength of his sincerity, by requiring him to tell her of her faults, and to do this for mally on paper. He obeyed, in a manner which will certainly surprise all who recollect that he was writing to the wife of a king, and that king Louis XIV. The conclusion of his address to her is this: "As the king acts less from consistency of principle, than from the accidental in fluence of persons who surround him, and to whom he intrusts his authority, it be comes an essential consideration, to assemble round him, individuals of approved virtue, who could act in concert with yourself, to induce him to fulfil his duties in their full extent, of which he has, at present, no conception. The great point is, to beset him, since he will have it; to govern him, since he will be governed; and his salvation rests upon being beset by upright and disinterested individuals. You should, therefore, use all your endeavours to inspire him with a love of peace; to make him anxious for the welfare of his people; to give him moderation, equity, and a distrust of violent and harsh counsels; a horror of acts of arbitrary authority; and finally, a love for the church, and a desire to provide holy pastors for it."" Vol. i. p. 90. We must now follow this great man into the perplexities of Quietism, or rather into the controversy excited by the writings of Madame Guyon, who, in 1688, suffered a kind of imprisonment in a convent at Paris; was thence released, by the mediation of Madame de Maintenon, and by her introduced to Fenelon, who had expressed to that lady a high commendation of one of Madame Guyon's works, representing certain of her sentiments as correspondent to his own ideas of divine love. Some ecclesiastics, being alarmed by the general result of these circumstances, conferred for six months at Issy, a countryhouse of M. Tronson, with a view to examine and disclose the opinions of their church on the points at issue. Before, however, any measures were taken in regard to the supposed doctrinal obliquities of Fene lon, he was, in 1695, nominated to the archbishopric of Cambrai, and consecrated on the 10th of June, in the presence of Madame de Maintenon and the Duke of Burgundy, Louis XIV. would not suffer this preferment altogether to remove him from the situation of preceptor; but, contrary to the new prelate's views of episcopal duty, insisted on his remaining three months of the' year at Versailles, and directing the education of his grand - children during the other nine. The four commissaries at Issy proceeded to draw up a set of articles, containing their decisions on the mystical questions, and virtually condemning the opinions of Fenelon. The account of the various proCeedings on this occasion is long, and we think rather tedious. Suifice it to say, that Fenelon became an object of jealousy to numbers of the French clergy, and particu larly to the famous Bossuet, who headed the council at Issy, and ultimately became estranged from his once familiar friend, the Archbisbop, of Cambrai. In 1697 appeared the Archbishop's celebrated book, Explication des Maximes des Saints sur la Vie interieure. The long-gathering tempest at length discharged itself; and in the autumn of that year, Louis XIV. peremptorily commanded Fenelon to retire to his diocese, and never to quit it. This removal is called, in the technical language of the Frenchecclesiastics and courtiers, his exile. The excellent Duke of Burgundy, when informed of his preceptor's fate, hastened to the king, and adduced the religious maxims, which had been infused into his own mind by the fallen prelate, as a proof of the latter's orthodoxy. Louis pleaded the decisions of the Bishop of Meaux (Bossuet), and would not relent. He however granted to his grandson's tears, that Fenelon should retain the title of Preceptor. At this crisis, the Duke of Beauvilliers displayed all the dignity of Christian friendship. Neither fear nor flattery could persuade him to renounce Fenelon, though the king personally expressed his disquietude at the connection still retained with the disgraced prelate. "Sire," said Beauvilliers, "I am the work of your Majesty; your power has raised me up; it may again degrade me; in the will of my prince I acknowledge the will of God. I will withdraw from your court, Sire, regretting that I have displeased you, and hoping that I may lead hereafter a life of greater tranquillity." Vol. i. p. 185. When Fenelon left the court, he addressed a letter to this illustrious nobleman, containing a declaration of his innocence. The duke printed this vindication, dispersed copies among the courtiers, and actually delivered one to the king himself. Fenelon's heresies (such they were called in France) were ultimately referred to the decision of the Pope, who delegated certain persons to examine the book of Maximes. They held sixty-four conferences for this purpose; and each time sat six or seven hours. Of the ten examiners, five voted in favour of the book. Consequently, Louis was dissatisfied, and accordingly compelled Innocent XII. to refer the examination to the assembly of Cardinals. Innocent was privately disposed to befriend Fenelon; and it is related, that, during this dispute, he said, in relation to Bossuet and Fenelon,-"The Archbishop of Cambrai has erred from an excessive love to God; the Bishop of Meaux has siuned from a want of due love to his neighbour." Vol. i. p. 250. In 1699, Louis could no longer endure even the nominal connection of Fenelon with the court, and erased with his own hand the name of the archbishop as preceptor. In the same year, Madame Guyon being reported dead, Fenelon wrote,- I will say now the same as when she lived, that I never observed any thing in her but what edified me." Vol. i. p. 256. In the same year also, came forth from " Rome, after a struggle highly honourable to the partisans of Ferrelon, a formal condemnation of his book. The ecclesiastical instrument framed on this occasion was, however, moderate. The Pope had indeed frequently called the archbishop, a very holy, and very learned man. The Abbé de Chanterac (one of Fenelon's friends, and formed in the mould of the Duke of Beauvilliers) wrote to him as follows: "I have always been remarkably touched by those affecting words which I have so often heard you pronounce, I hold as nothing, neither my book, nor myself; and I know how much you have in your whole conduct remembered the Author of our faith, who, from the sole pleasure of giving glory to God, endured the cross, and despised the shame. Jesus Christ, nailed to the cross, exposed to the various opinions of mankind, and abandoned by his Father, seems to me to be the true model which religion proposes for your imitation, and to which the Holy Spirit would exalt you. It is principally in such circumstances as this in which Providence has placed you, that the just live in faith, and that we ought to be fixed and rooted in the love of Jesus Christ. What shall separate us? Never was I so closely bound to you. I will not quit you, and I shall even feel some consolation in remaining firm and tranquil at the foot of your cross, in order to give that public proof of the confidence which I have always had in your picty." Vol. i. p. 266. Fenelon heard of his condemnation on the 25th of March, at the very moment when he was ascending the pulpit to preach on the subject of the day (the Annunciation.) He instantly changed the entire plan of the sermon he had prepared, and delivered one on passive obedience. The news of his condemnation spread rapidly through his congregation, and his behaviour drew from them tears of tenderness and admiration. On the 9th of April he published a formal submission to his sentence, part of which follows:-" We shall find consolation in what humiliates us, provided that the ministry of the word, which we have received from the Lord for your sanctification, be not enfeebled, and that, notwithstanding the humiliation of the pastor, the flock shall increase in the grace of God." Vol. i. p. 272. The Pope was touched by this conduct, and, but for fear of the King, would have written to Fenelon with warm expressions of respect. A letter however was written, and concluded thus :-" After having given, in the name of the Lord, due praise to the zeal with which you submitted yourself voluntarily to our pontifical decision, we implore God, in the fulness of our heart, to bestow his grace upon you, to protect you in the labours which you will undertake for the guidance of your flock, and to fulfil your wishes. We give you, venerable brother, our apostolic benediction with much kindness." Vol. i. p. 285. The Duke of Burgundy having been separated from his beloved preceptor for four years, during which time he was not suffered even to correspond with him, was able in 1701 to give vent to his feelings in these terms: “ At last, my dear Archbishop, a favourable opportunity presents itself of breaking the silence in which I have remained for four years. I have suffered many evils during that period: but one of the greatest has been the impossibility of telling you what I have felt for you during that time, and that your misfortunes only increased my friendship towards you instead of weakening it. I look forward with real pleasure to the time when I shall be able to see you again, but I am afraid that time is yet far distant. We must commit it to the will of God, from whose great mercy I am continually receiving new testimonies of grace. I have been often unfaithful to him since I saw you last; but he has always been graciously pleased to recal me to him, and, thank God, I have never been deaf to his voice. For some time past, I have, I think, kept myself with greater success in the path of virtue. Implore of him his grace to conirm me in my good resolutions, and not to permit me to become his enemy again, but o teach me himself to do his holy will in wery thing. I continue to study alone, and i have a greater ardour than ever. Nothing ives me so much pleasure as morals and betaphysics, and I never know when to give CHRIST. OBSERV. No. 107. them up. I have written some little things, which I wish I could send you, that you might correct them as you used to do my themes. This is but a rambling letter; however, you must excuse it. I will not tell you here, how much I was disgusted with all that has been done to you; but we must submit to the will of God, and believe that every thing which happens is for our good.-Adieu, my dear Archbishop. I embrace you with all my heart. I shall not, perhaps, have another opportunity for some time, of writing to you. I entreat your prayers and your benediction.-Louis." Vol. i. p. 311. I The conclusion of Fenelon's reply is the following:-"I speak to you only of God and of yourself; of me there is nothing to say. have, thank God, a heart in peace. My greatest affliction is not seeing you; but I unceasingly behold you before God, in a manner more inward than the senses. I would give a thousand lives as cheerfully as a drop of water, to see you such as God would have you." p. 312. Fenelon's life at Cambrai was quiet and retired. He rose early, performed mass in his chapel daily, and on Saturdays at the cathedral. He dined at noon, and ate sparingly and simply. The party generally consisted of thirteen or fourteen, some of whom were the officers of the see. Their table talk was always decorously cheerful. Strangers were placed at the Archbishop's right hand; and the faithful Abbé de Chanterac always sat on his left. After dinner he dispatched the formal business of the diocese; and till half past eight. then retired About nine appeared supper, where Fenelon almost literally" enjoyed a radish and an egg." Prayers we e at ten: they were read by an almoner; and the Archbishop gave the benediction. His only recreation was walking. In a letter to the Marquis de Fenelon, he says, "I walk; and I find myself peaceful in silence before God. Oh blessed communion! In his presence we are never alone: with men we are alone when we do not wish to hear them.-I pass my days in peace, and without lan4 T |