Fenelon conducted, at the same time, and with equal at tention, the education of the brothers of the Duke of Bur gundy, the Duke de Berry, and the Duke D'Anjou, after wards Philip V. of Spain ; and it may naturally be expect ed, that the most munificent rewards were conferred upon his services. But nothing could equal the disinterestedness of his conduct, except perhaps the want of generosity in his employers. When he entered upon his office, he im posed upon himself two resolutions, from the observance of which he never deviated. The one was, to ask no fa vour for himself; and the other, to ask none for his rela tives and friends, It appears from his letters to his cousin, Madame de Saval, that, after he had been four years at court, he possessed no other ecclesiastical revenue than the small priory of Carenac, which the bishop of Sarlat had re signed to him; and that, by the irregularity with which his stipend as preceptor was paid, he was often reduced to the greatest embarrassments. " I am on the point," he writes to the lady above-mentioned, " of dismissing all my ser vants, 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 as much money as they can, after having, however, distributed the most ur gent alms ; for I would rather live upon dry bread, in the strictest sense of the word, than suffer the poor of my be nefice to be reduced to the extremity of want." Fenelon, at this very period, enjoyed the highest esteem and confi dence of Madame de Maintenon, by whose influence he might easily have supplied his wants, and secured his pro motion. In the year 1694, however, the king himself at tended to the just claims of a servant, in whose behalf he received no solicitations; and, with apologies for the de lay, communicated to him in person his nomination to the Abbe of St Valery. In 1693, he had been admitted a mem ber of the French Academy, and was daily rising in repu tation as a writer of eminence. But, while emoluments and honours were at length rewarding his merit, a storm was beginning to gather, which clouded his future days. The celebrated Madame Guyon, who in 1683 had been imprisoned, on account of her heritical notions, in a con vent near Paris, had been released by the interposition of Madame de Maintenon, and by her introduced to Fenelon, who had expressed a correspondence of sentiments with her general doctrines of divine love. Several ecclesias tics, alarmed by the increasing influence of her tenets, united, and were partly commissioned, to confer together on the subjects, and to disclose the opinions of the church on the difficult points which it involved. These exa minators, at the head of whom was Bossuet, met at the residence of M. Tronson, the early and attached friend of Fenelon ; and Fenelon himself, who began to feel how much he was concerned in the result, was frequently con sulted respecting the sentiments of other writers on the question. In the mean time, before his supposed er rors were made the subject of any enquiry, he was nomi nated, in 1695, to the archbishopric of Cambrai, and gave a striking instance of his distinterestedness of character, and disapprobation of pluralities, by immediately resigning the Abbey of St Valery. He was required by the King still to retain his situation as preceptor, and to reside at Versailles three months of every year, as the laws of the church allowed, while during the other nine he should communicate directions for the education of his pupils. Scarcely, however, had he arrived at Cambrai, when he heard that Madame Guyon was arrested ; and at once per ceived that her enemies were powerful, and that their hos tility might extend to himself. Her imprudences had irritated Bossuet to adopt the harshest measures against her ; and Fenelon's reluctance to concur in the same severe treatment and sweeping censures, rendered him an object of suspicion to many of his ecclesiastical contemporaries, and particulary estranged from him his former familiar friend, the Bishop of Meaux. Having pledged himself, in the course of the various discussions which took place, to give a public declaration of his own sentiments, he wrote his 44 Maxims of the Saints," which he submitted before publication to the Cardinal de Noailles, to M. Tronson, and to M. Perot, a Doctor of the Sorbonne, an acute scholastic theologian, who had been one of the examinators and censurers of Madame Guyon, and who had long been devoted to Bossuet. With a docility, which extorted their admiration, he altered every passage to which they ob jected ; and received their joint declaration, that his book was correct and useful. No sooner, however, did it ap pear, in 1697, than it was denounced as heretical ; and a scene of almost inexplicable persecution commenced against him, under the conduct of Bossuet, who person ally accused him of fanaticism to the king, and determined to be satisfied with nothing less than extorting from him an absolute recantation. The principal question in the controversy was, that Fenelon maintained the existence of a pure and disinterested love towards God ; while Bossuet taught, that this love should always have for its foundation the hope of celestial happiness.* The Archbishop of Cam brai resolved to submit his work to the decision of the Pope ; and he made this appeal with the full permission of the King. But this would not satisfy the requisitions of Iris enemies; and, from an amiable desire of conciliation, he entered into a variety of personal discussions and ex planations, of which his opponents availed themselves to effect his disgrace at court. He received a peremptory order to retire to his diocese ; and was, at the same time, refused permission to plead his cause in person at Rome. His most valuable friends retained their attachment to his person in defiance of all considerations, either of fear or flattery ; and the young Duke of Burgundy, having in vain endeavoured to prevent his exile, prevailed at least, (though this favour was soon revoked), that he should be allowed to retain the title of his preceptor. Innocent Xi I. was very desirous to settle the atrair in the most conciliatory man ner; but, in compliance with the requisition of Louis X1V. lie appointed ten examinators of Fenelon's work, five of whom voted in its favour. The Pope himself w as secretly disposed to befriend the accused Archbishop, and is said to have expressed his personal opinion in these words : " The Archbishop of Cambrai has erred from an excess of love to God ; the Bishop of Meaux has sinned from a want of due love to his neighbour." It has also been said of the two characters, " L'un prouve la religion Pautre la fait aimer." But a fresh remonstrance from the King of France prevailed with the Pontiff to refer the examination to the assembly of Cardinals ; and, after a struggle highly honourable to the friends of Fenelon, a formal, but mode rate, condemnation of his book, was issued from the court of Rome in 1699. During the whole course of this enquiry, the mildness and serenity of the Archbishop formed a striking contrast with the asperity and rancour of lug enemies ; and, when lie heard of his sentence, as he was ascending the pulpit on the day of the Annunciation, in stantly changing the plan of the discourse which lie had prepared for that occasion, he delivered a sermon on the duty of passive obedience, which drew tears of admiration from his hearers. Actuated by a principle of religious resignation to the will of God, and love of peace towards his enemies, he published a formal submission to his sen tence. His conduct commanded universal admiration, and the Pope was so touched with his meekness, that he wrote to him a letter with many expressions of respect. In the general feeling of approbation which the whole nation en tertained towards the Archbishop, it was expected that he would again be recalled to court, and reinstated in his for mer functions. But the strongest antipathy against him now appeared to have possessed the minds both of the King and of Mack-me de Maintenon ; and all the circum stances of their conduct concur to confirm the suspicion, that there existed some secret and more powerful cause of his late persecution than his theological opinions. Their refusal to authorise his return to Versailles, has been as cribed to the publication of 44 Telemachus," which a ser vant of Fenelon's had, without his knowledge, first cir culated in manuscript, and afterwards sold to a printer at Paris. This admirable production was denounced by the court as a satire upon the government of Louis XIV. ; and the utmost exertions were made to suppress it for ever. In this opinion, though solemnly disclaimed by Fenelon, Madame de Maintenon coincided ; and, whatever had been the intention of the author, the king could not but feel that its maxims were completely contradictory of those by which he had been guided. The avidity with which it was perused, and the approbation which it received in every nation of Europe, expressed at least an implied con demnation, if not of Louis himself, yet of the political prin ciples by which his reign had been directed. There are strong evidences, however, of an earlier and more invete rate dislike towards Fenelon, in the heart of the favourite Madame de Maintenon, and to which his future disgrace may be considered as principally owing. That lady, not satisfied with being the mistress, aspired to become the wife of Louis ; but the king's confessor, Father la Chaise, referred the point to the archbishop of Cambrai, the ablest casuist at court. His opinions were hostile to the hopes of Madame de Maintenon ; and, from that moment, ' his ruin was meditated.° But whatever may have been the immediate cause of that avowed or secret hostility to which he fell a victim, there can be little doubt that he had become an object of undefined antipathy to the inhabi tants of Versailles ; that the unbending integrity of his political morals, and the undeviating purity of his Christian standard, could never have coalesced with the maxims and manners of that unprincipled court ; and that, sooner or later, though Madame Guyon had never existed, he must have been compelled to withdraw from the scenes of pub lic intrigue. But the persecution to which he was sub jected, only served to proclaim the virulence of his ene mies ; and his banishment from court, only afforded an op portunity of displaying the virtues of his character as a Christian pastor. His manner of life at Cambrai, was
retired, peaceful, and uniform in a remarkable degree. Ile rose early, as he had been accustomed from his youth, and performed mass every clay in his chapel. He dined at noon, according to the practice of those times, and par took only of the simplest food. All the ecclesiastics of his household were admittee, to his table, where he promoted chearful conversation, while he preserved the most de corous behaviour. After dinner, he dispatched the more formal business of his diocese ; and unless he was induced by the weather, or called in duty, to go abroad, generally retired till half past eight o'clock. About nine, he appear ed at supper, where he ate nothing but an egg or pulse ; and about ten, his domestics were assembled in the prin cipal room, where an almoner read the evening prayers, and the archbishop pronounced the benediction. The only recreation in which he indulged, was walking ; and he took great delight in the placid views of nature, the pious meditations when alone, and the pleasing conversations with his friends, which lie enjoyed amidst these rural • scenes. In the course of his walks, he would sit down upon the grass to converse with the peasants whom he met, or would visit them in their cottages, to offer the con solations which they required, and would often accept their invitation to place himself at their table, and partake of their homely meals. He preached regularly during Lent in some of the churches of Cambrai ; and there was not a single parish or town in his diocese where he had not made a personal visit, and publicly instructed the people. Even the desolations of war did not interrupt his assiduity in the duties of his office ; and while his diocese was in the possession of the allied armies of Marlborough and Eugene, he was not only permitted, without molestation, to visit every quarter, but protected by escorts, and received with honours wherever he appeared. When they were inform ed that any of his property was in their neighbourhood, they placed a guard for its preservation ; and the towns and villages under his jurisdiction, became asylums to the inhabitants of the surrounding country. In 1711, when the allied armies approached within sight of Cambrai, the little town of Chateau Cambresis, the principal domain of the Archbishop, was guarded by a detachment of Marl borough's soldiers; but perceiving that as his own forces were in want of provisions, he should no longer be ahle to prevent them from seizing the stores of grain which it contained, and which the neighbouring inhabitants had deposited there' under the protection of Fenelon's name, he informed him of the necessity for removing it, and escorted the carriages which conveyed it to the outposts of the French head-quarters. The worthy prelate availed himself of the security granted to his property, and the safe conduct provided for his person, to furnish relief and consolation to the suffering people under his care. His progress was attended with a temporary suspension of the honors of war, and the season of his pastoral visits, ob serves one of his biographers, might justly have been de nominated " the truce of God." He opened his granaries to feed the soldiers of his king, and afforded an asylum to the wretched wanderers, whom hostilities had deprived of a home. When his own residence could no longer afford them accommodation, he hired houses for their reception, and often distributed their food with his own hands. He made frequent excursions in order to recover their effects; and even paid from his own purse, the contributions levied by the French government on the curates of his diocese. The French courtiers who served in the army which de fended Flanders, carefully avoided him, and even sought to please their superiors by sliming contempt lor his character ; but his pupil, the Duke of Burgundy, still re tained for his preceptor all that affection and respect which his virtues had inspired ; and in the first letter which he was permitted to write to him, dated in 1701, strongly ex pressed the continuance of his esteem, and the disgust with which he had regarded the treatment to which he had been exposed.
When passing through Cambrai in 1708, to take the command of the army along with Marshal de Boufflers, he obtained permission to visit the Archbishop, but only upon condition that a third person should be present. Their interview was therefore short, and their conversation re strained ; but, with a voice and manner full of meaning, the Duke said before his departure, " I know what I owe you ; you know what I am to you." This excellent prince, who, by the death of the Dauphin, had become heir ap parent of the throne of France, died on the 18th of Fe bruary 1712 ; and for many days the anguish of Fenelon's mind was so great, as to alarm his friends with apprehen sions for his life. When he received the afflicting intel ligence, the only words which he uttered were these, " Every tie is snapped asunder ; nothing now holds me to the earth." Yet his resignation to the will of was unreserved ; and he was known to have declared, " If there needed no more than to move a straw to bring him to life again, contrary to the divine pleasure, I would not do it." Nine months after this calamitous event, the Duke de Chevrcuse, one of his most intimate associates, was carried to the grave ; and in 1714, the last of his early friends, the Duke de Beauvilliers, finished the journey of life. The good Archbishop, enfeebled in body, and overwhelmed with afflictions, survived only four months. In the begin ning of the year 1715, he was seized with an inflammation in his lungs, accompanied with continued fever. He anti cipated the event, and appeared utterly indifferent to all sublunary things. During the continuance of his illness, which lasted seven days, and occasioned him extreme suf fering, he was wholly engaged in listening to the reading of the sacred scriptures ; and shelved peculiar interest in attending to the last verses of the fourth, and the first nine of the fifth chapters of the second epistle to the Corin thians. He died in the 64th year of his age, on the 7th of January 1715.
In the character of Fenelon, there appears an extraor dinary union of intellectual greatness and of moral excel lence. The governing principle of his whole mind and conduct was the spirit of Christianity, pure and fervent, which preserved his integrity uncontaminated amidst the snares of a licentious court, and his affections undchased by the superstitions of a corrupted church. But his piety, while unequalled, was of the most conciliating and at tractive nature ; and his talents, scarcely less unrivalled, were exerted with a degree of modesty and affability, which are not often found to accompany superior endowments. This, indeed, may be considered as the characteristic fea ture of his mind, that it was compounded of a variety of the rarest qualities, which are so seldom found united in one individual, as to be thought utterly incapable in their very nature. Learning, enlivened by genius, tempered by humility, consecrated by devotion, supported by inflexible integrity, softened by mild benevolence, and graced by attractive manners: this is more like a character which imagination might draw, than human nature realize ; yet such, by the testimony of his contemporaries, and by the acknowledgment even of his enemies, was the character of Fenelon. So fascinating was the charm of these com bined attractions, that, in the words of the Duke de St Simon, "il falloit faire effort pour cesser de le regarder ;" and he obtained so irresistible an ascendancy over every one who approached him, that all his friends, however exalted in rank, or distinguished by talents, became in a manner his disciples. " The Archbishop of Cambrai," says the Chancellor D'Aguesseau, "was one of those un common men, who are destined to give lustre to their age, and who do equal honour to human nature by their virtues, and to literature by their superior talents. He was affable in his deportment, and luminous in his discourse; the pe culiar qualities of which were a rich, delicate, and a pow erful imagination, but which never let its power be felt. his eloquence had more of mildness in it than vehemence; and he triumphed as much by the charms of his conversa tion, as by the superiority of his talents. He always brought himself to the level of his company. He never dispu ted, and appeared to yield to others at the very time that he was leading them. Grace dwelt upon his lips ; he seemed to discuss the greatest subjects with facility, the most trifling were ennobled by his pen ; and upon the most barren topics he scattered the flowers of rhetoric. A noble singularity pervaded his whole person ; and a certain un definable and sublime simplicity, gave to his appearance the air of a prophet. The peculiar but unaffected mode of expression which he adopted, made many persons be lieve that he possessed universal knowledge as if by in spiration : 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 him self inimitable." The same man who could ascend the pulpit of a country church, to preach to the Flemish pea santry in a language suitable to the simplicity of their manners, and to the weakness of their understandings, and afterwards descend to explain the catechism to children, shewed himself capable of conducting the concerns of a kingdom. When the affairs of Louis XIV. were in a state of derangement approaching to ruin, the archbishop of Cambrai generously rendered him the most valuable political assistance. Amidst the labours of his diocese, he applied himself to devise measures for re-organizing the cabinet, and repairing the resources of France, and dis played all the promptitude and sagacity of the most expe rienced statesman. He even controuled in some degree the military operations of the Duke of Burgundy, whose errors as a general had made him unpopular ; and, in short, proved himself fully capable of apprehending and illus trating whatever subject presented itself to his considera tion.