It will be somewhat seen, we trust, from all this, how great was the care and skill expended by Fénelon on his most responsible and difficult task, and how near an approach he made to imparting a model education to his pupil. To his religious training, of course, as well as to that which was more intellectual, the greatest attention was given. It had a large place in the many conversations held and the many books put into his hands, chief among which were the Sacred Scriptures. The law of self-denial and self-restraint was continually inculcated, that one must learn to imitate the Divine Master if one would fulfill the purpose for which life was given. The early religious impressions thus imparted were so deeply wrought that they influenced his whole after life. He was prepared with greatest care for his first communion, taking it earnestly and devoutly, and for the rest of his life he was a regular and faithful communicant, receiving the sacrament with a recollection and humility of bearing which struck all beholders. A total transformation was wrought in the royal pupil under the training given, a transformation which amazed all who were conversant with it. The Duke de Saint-Simon, speaking of what a prodigy was wrought in a marvelously short space of time, how the most terrible qualities were changed into all the opposite virtues, says: “From the beast which I have described there arose a prince affable, gentle, moderate, patient, modest, humble, austere but only to himself, attentive to his duties and sensible of their great extent. His only object appeared to be to perform all his actual duties as son and subject, and to qualify himself for his future obligations.” Madame de Maintenon, in one of her letters, gives the same testimony: “We saw all those defects which alarmed us so much in the youth of the Duke of Burgundy gradually disappear. Every year produced in him a visible increase of virtue. So much had his piety changed him that, from being the most passionate of men, he became mild, gentle, and complying; persons would have thought that mildness was his natural disposition, and that he was innately good.” So great was the alteration in his character and conduct that, had he lived to ascend the throne, the whole world, as well as France in particular, would have been immensely the gainer. Hence the limitless devotion with which Fénelon gave five or six years of his life at the height of his powers entirely to the royal children and the routine of their schoolroom duties, was by no means a poor use of his great gifts and attainments. These years are extremely important, both in his own history and the history of his country.

One other point deserves mention before we pass from this interesting period of Fénelon’s life. In entering on his office he laid down to himself a rule, to which he rigidly adhered, never to ask of the court a favor for himself, his friends, or his family. The virtue of this stands out the more when we consider how very rare in those days was disinterestedness, and that men were none the less esteemed because they strove to profit themselves and their families to the utmost in whatever position they filled. It is, then, not a little remarkable and creditable that Fénelon actually continued in a state closely approaching destitution; his means were extremely straitened for more than five years after entering upon his honorable and responsible position at court. His private revenue was very small, nothing at all coming to him at this time from Carenac, which he describes as “hopelessly ruined.” No pecuniary income, one writer says, was attached to his office; but this is hardly credible, and there are indications that there was a salary, although, strangely enough, not an adequate one. He kept a very small establishment, and it was with great difficulty that he found means to meet his current expenses. Letters to Madame de Laval, a daughter of his uncle, the marquis, and hence a sister to him, who was his guide and counselor in money matters, show this. He wrote to her, October, 1689, concerning the various economies to which he was subjected, and the sale of his carriage and ponies. Again, in March, 1691, he mentions having repaid one thousand francs out of a debt of twelve hundred due Madame de Laval, and other sums to other people. “I have made retrenchments,” he says, “which are very unusual in my position; but justice comes before all other considerations. I still owe a considerable sum to my bookseller, and I must buy some plate to repay you for the things you have loaned me which are worn out.” He speaks of getting his accounts into order that he may see his way in his small economies and calculate how to go on. Again, in January, 1694, he writes concerning a needy person whom he commends to Madame de Laval, saying: “Although my necessities have never been so pressing as at present, I beg you to take what is wanted for this man. I am tolerably well, though very busy; but my purse is at the lowest ebb, through delays in the payment of my salary, and the exceeding dearness of everything this year. If I do not receive something shortly, I must dismiss nearly all my servants. But I will not have you try to help me. I would rather bear on. All the same, see that any money that can be sent [from Carenac] reaches me after the more urgent alms have been disbursed; for indeed I would rather live on dry bread than let any of the poor of my benefice want.”

This cousin became Fénelon’s sister actually, as well as in name, by her second marriage with his eldest brother, the Compte de Fénelon; and probably it never cost him more to refuse anything than when he refused her request that he would obtain a valuable military post for her son, a child four years old. But, while eager to do anything he deemed right to please her, he steadily refused to make the application she desired. He writes: “I can not relax the strict rule to which I feel it right in my position to adhere. I would do anything on earth for you or your son that I can, but not to save my life would I ask for anything from the king.” Other letters that might be quoted speak the same language. It was not till 1694 that the king seems to have remembered or discovered how badly his grandsons’ preceptor was provided for. In that year, at last, he gave Fénelon the Abbey of St. Valery, which sufficiently filled his purse. The king informed him of this in person, and apologized for so tardy an acknowledgment of his gratitude. And the year before, 1693, he was chosen a member of the French Academy, a high distinction; his reception speech was made March 31st of that year. It was at this time, also, that he became a considerable factor in the management of the celebrated community at St. Cyr, known as the ladies of St. Louis, who were pledged to a devout and holy life. Madame de Maintenon had originated the idea of this foundation, with the special object of educating and training five hundred girls, daughters of the poorer nobility. It occupied a large share of her thoughts. Fénelon was associated with Bourdaloue, the Abbé Godet des Marais, subsequently Bishop of Chartres, and other eminent ecclesiastics in its government.

It was on February 4, 1695, that the king announced to Abbé de Fénelon that he had nominated him Archbishop of Cambrai, one of the richest and most important sees in the kingdom. He was taken entirely by surprise, but at once replied, after expressing his thanks, that he could scarcely rejoice in an appointment that would remove him from the preceptorship to the princes. Whereupon Louis graciously answered that the abbé was much too useful to be spared, and that his intention was that he should retain both offices. Fénelon represented that the laws of the Church and his own conscience made this impossible, as both required residence in the diocese. But the king bore witness to his appreciation of Fénelon’s services by overruling this difficulty, and replying, “No, no; the canons only require nine months’ residence; you will spend three months with my grandsons, and during the rest of the year you must superintend their education from Cambrai just as you would at Versailles.” This point settled, Fénelon went on to say that if he was indeed to accept the archbishopric he must resign the Abbey of St. Valery, an act of disinterestedness which Louis altogether refused to allow. But Fénelon quietly persisted, pointing out to the king that the revenues of Cambrai were such as to make it an infringement of canonical law to hold any other preferment with it. Such conscientious indifference to his own interest excited a great deal of astonishment and gossip at court. The Bishop of Rheims remarked that it was all very well for M. de Fénelon, thinking as he did, to act thus, but that thinking as he did, it was better for him to keep his revenues. The age was thoroughly accustomed to this plurality of benefices. In the previous century John of Lorraine was at one and the same time Archbishop of Lyons, Rheims, and Narbonne, Bishop of Metz, Toul, Verdun, Theroneune, Lucon, Alby, and Valence, and Abbot of Gortz, Fecamp, Clugny, and Marmontier. He was also made a cardinal a year or two before attaining his majority. This was doubtless an extreme case, but there were plenty somewhat similar. So that Fénelon’s self-denying course meant a good deal more than it would at the present day.

He was consecrated archbishop June 10, 1695, in the chapel of St. Cyr, in the presence of a distinguished throng, among whom were Madame de Maintenon and his three royal pupils. Bossuet was chief consecrator, the Bishop of Chalons being first assistant, and the Bishop of Amiens second. Fénelon’s friends were delighted at this great advancement for him; yet it was felt by many of them that he should have had the Archbishopric of Paris, for already the popular voice had widely and loudly nominated him. Some thought that he was sent to Cambrai by the king for the express purpose of forestalling this clamor, and avoiding any necessity for putting him in the more conspicuous and influential place; for it was known that the post at Paris would soon be vacant, and, if, at its vacancy, Fénelon had been still unplaced, the pressure for his appointment there would have been very strong. As it was, M. de Harlai died August 6, 1695, less than two months after Fénelon’s consecration. M. de Noailles, Bishop of Chalons, through the influence of Madame de Maintenon, was given the position.

We have reached now what was, in a worldly point of view, the very summit of Fénelon’s prosperity and glory. It might seem that, humanly speaking, he had very little, if anything, left to wish for, although, of course, the cardinalate might fairly have been expected in a few years. But the clouds were already beginning to gather which were soon to break over his head in a storm never to clear away, so far as court favor and the good things of this world were concerned. So a new chapter must be devoted to these new experiences which had so very much to do both with his temporal and spiritual affairs.

CHAPTER IV.
MYSTICISM AND QUIETISM.[4]

In order that we may properly apprehend the next period in Fénelon’s life it is absolutely essential for us to take a survey of the general subject of Mysticism, for with that he became now very intimately concerned. And, happily, it is a subject of perennial importance, having no less close connection with the present day than with the centuries past. Indeed the present age has in some respects very special need of just this element. It is a commercial, materialistic, money-grabbing age, devoted to the outward and the practical; it is a time when the triumphs of machinery and invention and industrial progress are sounded as never before—an extremely busy, bustling time of immense external activity, when man hastens to get rich and rushes through life at railroad speed, scarcely finding leisure so much as to eat, much less for the quiet contemplation of the things of the spirit. And it is the contemplative, interior, spirit-filled life with which Mysticism has pre-eminently to do.

The term, it is true, has come to be widely regarded with suspicion, and used, more or less vaguely, as a word of reproach. With many, perhaps with most, it carries an unpleasant, offensive suggestion. Its associations in their minds are with that which is misty or recondite, visionary and unintelligible; also with that which is fanatical, extravagant, unreasonable, and somewhat dangerous. That there is some ground for this impression can not be denied, because under the general name of Mysticism much has been included, in the long sweep of the centuries, which can not be admired or defended; much which does not commend itself to that level-headed common sense according to whose dictates we like to think that our religion can be and should be squared. But we are persuaded that this extreme objectionable development, or manifestation, of the Mystic spirit has been much less frequent than is commonly supposed, and has no sufficient claim to be identified with it in the public mind anywhere near as largely as it usually is. There is a true Mysticism, and a false Mysticism. There are Mystics every way worthy of highest honor, and there are those not at all points deserving imitation. It surely is a mistake to lay the chief stress on the latter, as is so frequently done, and thus to stamp a stigma upon all. Christian Mysticism is something of which no one can afford to be ignorant. The Church which neglects it or despises it, whether through misapprehension or some less honorable cause, is certain to be a large loser.

What is Mysticism? As has been pointed out by several, it is something which from its very nature is hardly susceptible of exact definition, does not readily lend itself to the most precise forms of language. It is a phase of thought or feeling which continually appears in connection with the endeavor of the human mind to grasp the Divine essence, and to enjoy the blessedness of actual communion with the Highest. It springs inevitably from intense desire for intimate fellowship with God, from the hottest possible pursuit of the highest ideals. It is a sort of name for the realization of God as transfused throughout the universe, as being immanent in material things and in mankind alike. The Century Dictionary defines Mysticism as “any mode of thought or phase of intellectual or religious life in which reliance is placed upon a spiritual illumination believed to transcend the ordinary powers of understanding.” The Standard Dictionary says that Mysticism is “the doctrine and belief that man may attain to an immediate direct consciousness or knowledge of God as the real and absolute principle of all truth. The term is applied to a system of thought and life of which the chief feature is an extreme development of meditative and intuitive methods as distinguished from the definitive and scholastic.” Similarly Dr. J. P. Lange, in the Schaff-Herzog Cyclopedia, says: “Mysticism has been defined as belief in an immediate and continuous communication between God and the soul which may be established by certain peculiar religious exercises.... There is a mystic element in all true religion.” Cousin says: “Mysticism is the belief that God may be known face to face without anything intermediate. It is a yielding to the sentiment awakened by the Infinite, and a summing up of all knowledge and all duty in the contemplation and love of Him.” Nitzsch, in his “System of Christian Doctrine,” declares “that the religious man, the man of faith, is, as such, a Mystic; for he in whose consciousness God does not appear, certainly does not feel God, nor can he know or honor Him; but he who only thinks Him, without loving Him and becoming pure in heart, can not know Him vitally; much less can he behold Him spiritually who desires to see Him with the outward sense. The inner life of religion is ever Mysticism.”