Fénelon: The Mystic

by James Mudge

The laity adored him for his charities, for the gentle firmness of his government, for the natural grace of manner that enhanced a hundred-fold the value of everything he said and did. Always ready to help, yet always modest in offering assistance, he seemed when about some kindly action to be receiving rather than doing a favor. He was always a perfect gentleman, a high-bred man of rank, a model of politeness, and was equally adapted to every grade of society. Men of all classes were at ease in his company. He directed every one to the subject he best understood, and then disappeared himself, thus giving them an opportunity to produce out of their own stock the materials they were most able to furnish. Thus every one parted from him well pleased with himself. Perhaps no one ever possessed in a higher degree the happy talent of easy conversation. His mind was entirely given up to the person with whom he conversed. No one felt his superiority; every one found him on his own level. In visits to the sick at home, to the hospitals and wounded soldiers, he was indefatigable, nor was he a stranger to the Cambrai prisons. He went into the cottages of the poor, and spoke to them of God, and comforted them under the hardships which they suffered. If, when he visited them, they presented him with any refreshments in their unpretending and unpolished manner, he pleased them by seating himself at their humble table and partaking cheerfully and thankfully of what was set before him.

Various anecdotes illustrate his benevolence. In one of his rural excursions he met with a peasant in great affliction. Inquiring the cause, he was informed by the man that he had lost his cow, the only support of his indigent family. Fénelon attempted to comfort him, and gave him money to buy another. The peasant showed gratitude, but still was sad, grieving for the cow he had lost, to which he was much attached. Pursuing his walk, Fénelon found at a considerable distance from the place of the interview the very cow which was the object of so much affection. The sun had set, and the night was dark, but the good archbishop drove her back himself to the poor man’s cottage.

In February, 1697, before Fénelon had permanently left Versailles, news came that a fire had burned to the ground the archiepiscopal palace at Cambrai, and consumed many or all of his books and writings. His friend, the Abbé de Langeron, seeing Fénelon conversing at ease with a number of persons, supposed he had not heard these unpleasant tidings, and began with some formality and caution to inform him. But Fénelon, perceiving his solicitude, interrupted him by saying that he was fully acquainted with what had happened, adding further that, although the loss was a very great one, he would much rather they were burned than the cottage of a poor peasant. This has been adjudged a more touching and pious rejoinder than that of the literary man whose library was destroyed by fire and who replied to the tidings, “I should have profited little by my books if they had not taught me how to bear the loss of them.” Fénelon was taught compassion for men and acceptance of the Divine will from a higher source than books. At his own expense he rebuilt the palace and furnished it in a suitable style of magnificence, but he did not allow the arms of his family to be affixed or painted on any part of it.

The archbishop’s day was very carefully laid out, and has been quite minutely described. After the early rising, the private devotions, and the public services, he was visible until nine o’clock to those only who attended him by appointment. After that, till he dined, his doors were open to all persons who had business with him. Noon was the hour for dinner. His table was suitable to his rank, handsomely dressed, with a great variety and abundance of good food, that his many guests might enjoy themselves, but he himself was extremely abstemious, eating only the simplest and lightest viands, and of them but sparingly. Contrary to the custom of most prelates, his chaplains, secretaries, attendants, and all officers of the household, sat with him at the same table, making a very harmonious household, among whom conversation was briskly carried on, Fénelon taking his part, but leaving every one full scope. After dinner all went to the great state bedchamber, which was very finely furnished, but was used mainly as a sitting-room, Fénelon himself sleeping in a little room adjoining, furnished simply with some gray woolen materials and only adorned with a few engravings. General conversation was continued in the large room; but a small table was placed before Fénelon, on which he signed his name to papers which required immediate dispatch, and took opportunity to give directions to his chaplains on the affairs of the diocese. He said grace both before and after dinner. He spent the evening with those that were in the house, whoever they might be, supping with the people who happened to be present. Supper was at nine. At ten the whole of the household assembled. One of his chaplains read the night prayers, and at the end of them the archbishop rose and gave his general blessing to the company.

His chief amusement, when he found it necessary to relax a little from his arduous toils, was that of walking and riding. He loved rural scenes. “The country,” he says in one of his letters, “delights me. In the midst of it I find God’s holy peace.” Everything seemed to him to be full of infinite goodness; and his heart glowed with purest happiness as he escaped from the business and cares which necessarily occupied so much of his time, into the air and the fields, into the flowers and sunshine, of the great Creator.

Many visitors came to him from far and near, attracted by his great reputation, and the results of the visits were always the same. Whatever the previous sentiments or opinions, or indifferent or hostile attitude, all were enchanted and moved to highest admiration. The Abbé le Dieu, Bossuet’s secretary, and Canon of Meaux, in September, 1704, was a guest at the palace, and noted everything with the most minute and insatiable curiosity. He found himself treated with the utmost consideration, and given every opportunity to pry into all that interested him, and came away with none but words of hearty praise for all he saw.

A Scotchman, Andrew Ramsay, sometimes called the Chevalier de Ramsay, scion of an old Scotch family, exiled for his sympathy with the Stuarts, sickened by many aspects of the Protestantism in which he had grown up, wandered over all Holland and Germany, hoping to find rest amid the philosophers of those countries, but finding it not. In this condition he came to Cambrai, where the archbishop received him with his wonted fatherly kindness, and speedily won his heart. The combination of spiritual religion and practical wisdom which he found in Fénelon, the height of his personal holiness, and the daily-watched beauty of his life, even more than the clear and helpful teachings received, made so deep an impression oh him that he became a convert to the Roman Church, and, even when permitted to return to England, he remained faithful to the doctrines which he had learned at Cambrai. He continued there for many months, never wearying of studying his host’s mind and soul, and eventually writing the first life of him ever published. His literary powers proved of great value in arranging the writings of his master and defending him from calumny. Subsequently Ramsay became teacher to some of the Pretender’s family; and there is an interesting story on record telling how the friendship of Fénelon stood him in good stead at Oxford some years after, showing how in England the good archbishop’s virtues attracted highest esteem and his name had more influence than even in France itself. In 1730 Ramsay came to England under a safe conduct, and was received as a member of the Royal Institution on the strength of his connection with the Archbishop of Cambrai. He further desired to take the Doctor’s Degree at Oxford. The Earl of Arran, then chancellor of the university, proposed him for that honor. Opposition arose in Convocation on the double ground that he was a Roman Catholic and had been a servant of the Pretender; but the opposition ceased when Dr. King, head of St. Mary’s Hall, observed, “I present to you a pupil of the illustrious Fénelon, and this title is a sufficient guarantee to us.” Ramsay was admitted to his degree by a vote of 85 to 17.

Another Britisher, the eccentric Earl of Peterboro, in whom the hero, skeptic, and profligate were mingled in about equal proportions, being among the visitors to Marlborough’s headquarters in the Netherlands during the war, turned aside to Cambrai to make its master’s acquaintance. He could have had very little sympathy with the saintly Mystic there, but he could no more resist his charm than could other men. He wrote subsequently to the philosopher, John Locke, that Fénelon “was cast in a particular mold that was never used for anybody else. He is a delicious creature, but I was forced to cut away from him as fast as I could, else he would have made me pious.” He is also reported to have written while there, “On my word, I must quit this place as soon as possible, for if I stay here another week I shall be a Christian in spite of myself.”

Count Munich, afterwards known as Marshal Munich, one of the most distinguished commanders in the armies of Russia, when young was a lieutenant-colonel in the forces contending in Flanders. Being taken prisoner in battle and conducted to Cambrai, he was deeply affected by what he saw of the peaceful mind and truly Christian generosity of Fénelon. In all the vicissitudes of his after life, in court and camp, he delighted to the very end of his stormy career to remember the happy days which he passed as a prisoner or ward in the society of Fénelon. He found the recounting of the things he had witnessed at Cambrai a help in soothing the agitations of his own wild and turbulent spirit and a means of permanent instruction in righteousness.

The celebrated Cardinal Quirini, whose life was devoted to learned researches and useful studies, and who visited all parts of Europe in the prosecution of literary purposes, speaks in the following language of his interview with Fénelon: “I considered Cambrai as one of the principal objects of my travels in France. I will not hesitate to confess that it was toward this single spot, or rather towards the celebrated Fénelon, who resided there, that I was powerfully attracted. With what emotions of tenderness I still recall the gentle and affecting familiarity with which that great man deigned to discourse with me, and even sought my conversation; though his palace was then crowded with French generals and commanders-in-chief, towards whom he displayed the most magnificent and generous hospitality. I have still fresh in my recollection all the serious and important subjects which were the topics of our discourse. My ear caught with eagerness every word that issued from his lips. The letters which he wrote me from time to time are still before me; letters which are an evidence alike of the wisdom of his principles and of the purity of his heart. I preserve them among my papers as the most precious treasure which I have in the world.”