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.