FENDER, a metal guard or defence (whence the name) for a fire-place. When the open hearth with its logs burning upon dogs or andirons was replaced by the closed grate, the fender was devised as a finish to the smaller fire-places, and as a safeguard against the dropping of cinders upon the wooden floor, which was now much nearer to the fire. Fenders are usually of steel, brass or iron, solid or pierced. Those made of brass in the latter part of the 18th and the earlier part of the 19th centuries are by far the most elegant and artistic. They usually had three claw feet, and the pierced varieties were often cut into arabesques or conventional patterns. The lyre and other motives of the Empire style were much used during the prevalence of that fashion. The modern fender is much lower and is often little more than a kerb; it is now not infrequently of stone or marble, fixed to the floor.
FÉNELON, BERTRAND DE SALIGNAC, seigneur de la Mothe (1523-1589), French diplomatist, came of an old family of Périgord. After serving in the army he was sent ambassador to England in 1568. At the request of Charles IX. he endeavoured to excuse to Elizabeth the massacre of St. Bartholomew as a necessity caused by a plot which had been laid against the life of the king of France. For some time after the death of Charles IX. Fénelon was continued in his office, but he was recalled in 1575 when Catherine de’ Medici wished to bring about a marriage between Elizabeth and the duke of Alençon, and thought that another ambassador would have a better chance of success in the negotiation. In 1582 Fénelon was charged with a new mission to England, then to Scotland, and returned to France in 1583. He opposed the Protestants until the end of the reign of Henry III., but espoused the cause of Henry IV. He died in 1589. His nephew in the sixth degree was the celebrated archbishop of Cambrai.
Fénelon is the author of a number of writings, among which those of general importance are Mémoires touchant l’Angleterre et la Suisse, ou Sommaire de la négociation faite en Angleterre, l’an 1571 (containing a number of the letters of Charles and his mother, relating to Queen Elizabeth, Queen Mary and the Bartholomew massacre), published in the Mémoires of Castelnau (Paris, 1659); Négociations de la Mothe Fénelon et de Michel, sieur de Mauvissière, en Angleterre; and Dépêches de M. de la Mothe Fénelon, Instructions au sieur de la Mauvissière, both contained in the edition of Castelnau’s Mémoires, published at Brussels in 1731. The correspondence of Fénelon was published at Paris in 1838-1841, in 7 vols. 8vo.
See “Lettres de Catherine de’ Médicis,” edited by Hector de la Ferrière (1880 seq.) in the Collection de documents inédits sur l’histoire de France.
FÉNELON, FRANÇOIS DE SALIGNAC DE LA MOTHE (1651-1715), French writer and archbishop of Cambrai, was born at the château of Fénelon in Périgord on the 6th of August 1651. His father, Pons, comte de Fénelon, was a country gentleman of ancient lineage, large family and small estate. Owing to his delicate health the boy’s early education was carried on at home; though he was able to spend some time at the neighbouring university of Cahors. In 1666 he came to Paris, under charge of his father’s brother, Antoine, marquis de Fénelon, a retired soldier of distinction, well known for his religious zeal. Three years later he entered the famous theological college of Saint Sulpice. Here, while imbibing the somewhat mystical piety of the house, he had an excellent chance of carrying on his beloved classical studies; indeed, at one time he proposed to couple sacred and profane together, and go on a missionary journey to the Levant. “There I shall once more make the Apostle’s voice heard in the Church of Corinth. I shall stand on that Areopagus where St. Paul preached to the sages of this world an unknown God. But I do not scorn to descend thence to the Piraeus, where Socrates sketched the plan of his republic. I shall mount to the double summit of Parnassus; I shall revel in the joys of Tempe.” Family opposition, however, put an end to this attractive prospect. Fénelon remained at Saint Sulpice till 1679, when he was made “superior” of a “New Catholic” sisterhood in Paris—an institution devoted to the conversion of Huguenot ladies. Of his work here nothing is known for certain. Presumably it was successful; since in the winter of 1685, just after the revocation of the edict of Nantes, Fénelon was put at the head of a number of priests, and sent on a mission to the Protestants of Saintonge, the district immediately around the famous Huguenot citadel of La Rochelle. To Fénelon such employment was clearly uncongenial; and if he was rather too ready to employ unsavoury methods—such as bribery and espionage—among his proselytes, his general conduct was kindly and statesmanlike in no slight degree. But neither in his actions nor in his writings is there the least trace of that belief in liberty of conscience ascribed to him by 18th-century philosophers. Tender-hearted he might be in practice; but toleration he declares synonymous with “cowardly indulgence and false compassion.”
Meanwhile the marquis de Fénelon had introduced his nephew into the devout section of the court, dominated by Mme de Maintenon. He became a favourite disciple of Bossuet, and at the bishop’s instance undertook to refute certain metaphysical errors of Father Malebranche. Followed thereon an independent philosophical Treatise on the Existence of God, wherein Fénelon rewrote Descartes in the spirit of St Augustine. More important were his Dialogues on Eloquence, wherein he entered an eloquent plea for greater simplicity and naturalness in the pulpit, and urged preachers to take the scriptural, natural style of Bossuet as their model, rather than the coldly analytic eloquence of his great rival, Bourdaloue. Still more important was his Treatise on the Education of Girls, being the first systematic attempt ever made to deal with that subject as a whole. Hence it was probably the most influential of all Fénelon’s books, and guided French ideas on the question all through the 18th century. It holds a most judicious balance between the two opposing parties of the time. On the one side were the précieuses, enthusiasts for the “higher” education of their sex; on the other were the heavy Philistines, so often portrayed by Molière, who thought that the less girls knew the better they were likely to be. Fénelon sums up in favour of the cultivated house-wife; his first object was to persuade the mothers to take charge of their girls themselves, and fit them to become wives and mothers in their turn.
The book brought its author more than literary glory. In 1689 Fénelon was gazetted tutor to the duke of Burgundy, eldest son of the dauphin, and eventual heir to the crown. The character of this strange prince has been drawn once for all by Saint-Simon. Shortly it may be said that he was essentially a mass of contradictions—brilliant, passionate to the point of mania, but utterly weak and unstable, capable of developing into a saint or a monster, but quite incapable of becoming an ordinary human being. Fénelon assailed him on the religious side, and managed to transform him into a devotee, exceedingly affectionate, earnest and religious, but woefully lacking in tact and common sense. In justice, however, it should be added that his health was being steadily undermined by a mysterious internal complaint, and that Fénelon’s tutorship came to an end on his disgrace in 1697, before the pupil was fifteen. The abiding result of his tutorship is a code of carefully graduated moral lessons—the Fables, the Dialogues of the Dead (a series of imaginary conversations between departed heroes), and finally Télémaque, where the adventures of the son of Ulysses in search of a father are made into a political novel with a purpose. Not, indeed, that Fénelon meant his book to be the literal paper Constitution some of his contemporaries thought it. Like other Utopias, it is an easy-going compromise between dreams and possibilities. Its one object was to broaden Burgundy’s mind, and ever keep before his eyes the “great and holy maxim that kings exist for the sake of their subjects, not subjects for the sake of kings.” Here and there Fénelon carries his philanthropy to lengths curiously prophetic of the age of Rousseau—fervid denunciation of war, belief in nature and fraternity of nations. And he has a truly 18th-century belief in the all-efficiency of institutions. Mentor proposes to “change the tastes and habits of the whole people, and build up again from the very foundations.” Fénelon is on firmer ground when he leads a reaction against the “mercantile system” of Colbert, with its crushing restrictions on trade; or when he sings the praises of agriculture, in the hope of bringing back labour to the land, and thereby ensuring the physical efficiency of the race. Valuable and far-sighted as were these ideas, they fitted but ill into the scheme of a romance. Seldom was Voltaire wider of the mark than when he called Télémaque a Greek poem in French prose. It is too motivé, too full of ingenious contrivances, to be really Greek. As, in Fénelon’s own opinion, the great merit of Homer was his “amiable simplicity,” so the great merit of Télémaque is the art that gives to each adventure its hidden moral, to each scene some sly reflection on Versailles. Under stress of these preoccupations, however, organic unity of structure went very much to the wall, and Télémaque is a grievous offender against its author’s own canons of literary taste. Not that it altogether lost thereby. There is a curious richness in this prose, so full of rhythm and harmony, that breaks at every moment into verse, as it drags itself along its slow and weary way, half-fainting under an overload of epithets. And although no single feature of the book is Greek, there hangs round it a moral fragrance only to be called forth by one who had fulfilled the vow of his youth, and learnt to breathe, as purely as on “the double summit of Parnassus,” the very essence of the antique.
Télémaque was published in 1699. Four years before, Fénelon had been appointed archbishop of Cambrai, one of the richest benefices in France. Very soon afterwards, however, came the great calamity of his life. In the early days of his tutorship he had met the Quietist apostle, Mme Guyon (q.v.), and had been much struck by some of her ideas. These he developed along lines of his own, where Christian Neoplatonism curiously mingles with theories of chivalry and disinterestedness, borrowed from the précieuses of his own time. His mystical principles are set out at length in his Maxims of the Saints, published in 1697 (see [Quietism]). Here he argues that the more love we have for ourselves, the less we can spare for our Maker. Perfection lies in getting rid of self-hood altogether—in never thinking of ourselves, or even of the relation in which God stands to us. The saint does not love Christ as his Redeemer, but only as the Redeemer of the human race. Bossuet (q.v.) attacked this position as inconsistent with Christianity. Fénelon promptly appealed to Rome, and after two years of bitter controversy his book was condemned by Innocent XII. in 1699. As to the merits of the controversy opinion will always be divided. On the point of doctrine all good judges agree that Fénelon was wrong; though many still welcome the obiter dictum of Pope Innocent, that Fénelon erred by loving God too much, and Bossuet by loving his neighbour too little. Of late years, however, Bossuet has found powerful defenders; and if they have not cleared his character from reproach, they have certainly managed to prove that Fénelon’s methods of controversy were not much better than his. One of the results of the quarrel was Fénelon’s banishment from court; for Louis XIV. had ardently taken Bossuet’s side, and brought all the batteries of French influence to bear on the pope. Immediately on the outbreak of the controversy, Fénelon was exiled to his diocese, and during the last eighteen years of his life he was only once allowed to leave it.