forgetting his past friendship, and only consulting his irritated feelings, fell on his knees before Lewis, and asked pardon for having, till then, neglected to acquaint him with the pernicious tenets which Fenelon had imbibed. He lost no time in preparing a reply to the "Maximes des Saints;" and a final appeal was made to the decision of Innocent XII., who at that time filled the papal chair. The tide now ran strongly against Fenelon. Some opinions resembling those which his book contained, had been lately condemned at Rome. In the affair of Molinos, &c. Bossuet, in addition to the high authority of his own name, obtained the concurrence of several distinguished prelates of the Gallican church, and shewed the king a protest against the obnoxious publication, to which their signatures were annexed, together with those of many other ecclesiastics of rank and influence. Mad. de Maintenon now deserted the man in whose company she had once found so much improvement and delight. The Père de la Chaise, who was confessor to Lewis, and was rather friendly to the principles of Fenelon on the subject in dispute, was afraid to speak much in his behalf; and the king wrote to the pope, stating the charges brought against the archbishop, and urging the supreme pontiff to settle the controversy without delay. A circumstance is related, which, while it does honour to Fenelon, helps to account for the facility with which the king listened to the mis influenced by pique and jealousy on this occasion. So far as he really sacrificed private feeling for cor science sake, and felt it a solemn duty, when officially appealed to, to make, though with reluctance, the statements which inculpated his former friend, he is to be pitied and respected rather than blamed. But I think the attentive reader will perceive throughout the whole transaction, especially as we proceed, more of the rival or partizan than of the reluctant actor in a scene to which public duty alone impelled him to take an active part. representations of his enemies. Soon after he became archbishop of Cambrai, Lewis had some conversation with him on the subject of state policy. During this interview, Fenelon took occasion to extol those lofty unyielding principles of morality, in the government of nations, which he afterwards unfolded with so much eloquence in his Telemachus; upon which the king told some of his courtiers, that he had been conversing with the greatest but most romantic genius in France. Whatever might be the merit of Fenelon's speculative maxims on the subject of government, (and certainly they could not be in reality either unwise or impolitic for being built upon Christian principles) it is certain that the policy of Lewis had often run counter to the plainest dictates of justice and humanity; and Voltaire, who will not be suspected of any scrupulous regard for the interests of virtue, acknowledges that the king was fearful lest the Duke of Burgundy should imbibe from his preceptor opinions of too severe a cast; and lest the conduct of his successor should one day stand forward as a silent, but powerful, satire on the cruel and unprincipled ambition, disguised under the pretence of martial glory, the profligate expenditure, and the taste for luxury and voluptuousness, which had so strikingly contaminated the annals of his own reign. It is certain that Lewis, after this conversation with Fenelon, was easily brought to believe him to be as great an enthusiast in religion as in matters of national policy. In August, 1697, Fenelon received a mandate from the king peremptorily forbidding him to go to Rome, and requiring him to quit Paris, and confine himself to his diocese of Cambrai. This was meant as a kind of exile and imprisonment; and there is every reason to believe that these orders were issued under the secret influence of Bossuet. In the beginning of the year 1699, his name was erased from the list of the royal household, with the king's own hand. The examination was protracted at Rome, during a period of nearly two years. This delay was owing chiefly to the high reputation of Fenelon, and the reluctance of Pope Innocent to censure him. At length, however, after repeated discussions and innumerable delays, thirty-seven propositions, selected from the "Maximes," were adjudged, by a majority of voices, to be erroneous and reprehensible; and the pope's brief, to this effect, was proclaimed and posted at Rome, on the 13th of March, 1699. The meek and pious Archbishop no sooner heard of the result than he determined to submit to the decision of the holy see. This he did, not only without murmuring or he sitation, but with an air of cheerful, unaffected humility, of which very few examples are to be found. He announced the decree from his own pulpit at Cambrai, condemned his own book, and desired that none of his friends should attempt to justify or defend it;-a noble instance of candour, modesty, and self-denial, which, in Fenelon, sprung assuredly from the powerful operation of Christian principles, He was doubtless mistaken in yielding such unreserved submission to the papal sway; but he was not mistaken in submitting to what he deemed an imperious act of duty, wholly uninAuenced by that common, but odious and fatal, pride which will endure any thing sooner than the acknow ledgment of an error. It is not my intention to examine the merits of the controversy respecting Quietism. Such an inquiry would carry me far beyond the allotted limits of the present memoir, as well as involve in it the discussion of a difficult and intricate sub ject. It will be more to my purpose to take a view of the conduct of Bossuet, in this most unhappy dispute. He professed, throughout the whole of the controversy, to consi der the question at issue as one of the greatest importance, and to be actuated, in his opposition to Fenelon, solely by that paramount regard for the defence of truth which ought to overpower all considerations of private friendship. He professed this; nor is it improbable that for a time he so far deceived himself as really to believe that his motives were only pure, upright, and commendable. But let us see whether this pretence can be at all borne out by the known circumstances of the case. Had he been influenced solely by a love of truth, he would assuredly have acted in a very different manmer. In all his conflicts with the Protestants, he had spoken and written with his characteristic ardour indeed, but at the same time with an exemplary moderation of sentiment and language. Yet now, when he had to contend, not with an open enemy, but with one of the dearest and most cherished of his friends, he betrayed an irritation, a rancour, a persevering bitterness of spirit, which would have disgraced a man devoid of all true principles of religion. We behold him hunting down his innocent rival with un wearied persecution; disdaining no artifice which might contribute to his degradation and disgrace; outrunning the zeal of Lewis and the holy see; forestalling the infallible decision of the pope; accusing even Rome herself of needless hesitation and delay in giving sentence against his adversary; ingeniously garbling the publications of that adversary, in order to turn them to his purpose; and even violating the secresy of private letters, by publishing expressions of respect and reverence, which Fenelon, in the warmth of his heart, had formerly adopted, in corresponding with his distinguished friend. We behold the very man who had eagerly sought to preside at the consecration of the Archbishop of Cambrai, afterwards denouncing him to the king, begging pardon, on his knees, for not having before revealed his monstrous here sies, and calling him the Montanus of a new Priscilla-a fanatic and a hypocrite, the champion of errors towards which no mercy or moderation could be shewn. Even admitting, for a moment, that Bossuet was perfectly orthodox in his view of the controverted points, and Fenelon perfectly erroneous, is it possible that the conduct above described could have proceeded from a pure and simple regard for truth, without any mixture of bad feelings, or base unworthy motives? The supposition cannot possibly be maintained. The most expansive charity that ever warmed a Christian bosom will be slow to admit that such behaviour could spring from right principles or from the fountain of a pure mind. Bossuet might, perhaps, justify his ardour by the apostolic precept to contend earnestly for the faith once delivered to the saints. But he should have recollected that the victor is not to be crowned, unless he strive lawfully; and it would be difficult indeed to reconcile his warfare, in this particular instance, with the dictates of common justice and humanity; and far more so with the precepts of the Gospel, and the genuine spirit of Christ's religion. Truth therefore compels us to look for another explanation of his conduct; an explanation which affords a mournful example of the mighty prevalence of human frailty which is to be found sometimes even in good men. Whoever has attentively perused the full, and apparently impartial, account of this contest, given in Bausset's life of Fenelon, will find, it is to be feared, but little difficulty in tracing the origin and progress of that bitter spirit which armed the Bishop of Meaux against his brother prelate and most intimate friend, and which seems to have possessed him, for the time, with a sort of demoniacal infatuation quite at variance with all the other passages of his life. If Bossuet had entertained any jealousy of Fenelon's great and rising reputation before the commencement of the present controversy, it was by no means sufficiently strong to induce any breach of friendship, or even greatly to impair that intimacy by which they had been long endeared to each other. Still he could never forget the extent of his own influence and abilities. He could never forget that he was almost the acknowledged arbiter of disputes in the Gallican church, or that he was older by more than twenty years than the individual whom he saw fast rising into notice, and who was the delight of all who knew him. Under these circumstances, he doubtless expected that, how much soever Fenelon might be exalted, he should still retain, by many degrees, the upper place. It would appear, from his eagerness to be the consecrator of the Archbishop of Cambrai, that he did not suppose the new rank of his friend would at all operate to stand in the way of his own paramount dominion. The advice which Fenelon gave to Mad. Guyon, to submit herself to his wisdom and instructions, must have rather tended to confirm this opinion. It is probable, however, that he no sooner observed Fenelon to be inclined to views similar to those of that lady, and strongly disposed to be come her protector, than he felt angry and alarmed. Even this looked something like a tendency to rebellion on the part of his friend. Still he seems to have expected that Fenelon would not venture to withstand his decision when fully and finally expressed. Proportionably great, therefore, were his anger and disappointment, when he found his peremptory orders and instructions met by a mild but firm refusal on the part of the Archbishop. From this moment a thoroughly bad spirit took possession of his heart. He had reigned long, and could "bear no brother near the throne." That Fenelon should oppose him was a thing not to be endured. H publication of the "Maximes des Saints" filled up the measure of the offence. Much correspondence ensued between them, conducted with admirable temper on the part of Fenelon, but growing more and more bitter, on the part of Bossuet, every day. The appeal to Rome, which the latter reckoned upon as a certain and speedy triumph, for a long time disappointed his expectations. Pope Innocent was in no such violent hurry to decide. Fenelon had friends at Rome, as well as at Paris. He began to be looked upon with pity, as a persecuted man, even by many who dissented from his opinions. He continually published answers, in vindication of his conduct, to the bitter reproaches and misrepresentations of his opponent; and every successive letter only served to heighten the general admiration for his character, and to lower, the credit of the Bishop of Meaux. In these letters he displayed a promptitude of reply, a facility of composition, a force and dexterity of reasoning and a calm consciousness of rectitude, accompanied with a spirit of unfeigned humility, which captivated the public mind, and actually threw Bossuet, with all his vast abilities, somewhat into the shade. This increased his fury. The evil spirit within him seems now to have leagued with seven other spirits still more malevolent. He urged the Abbé, his nephew, who was his representative at Rome, and, if possible, still more bitter than himself against Fenelon, to use all means to forward the condemnation of the obnoxious treatise. In short, dis-, appointed pride, and growing jealousy, a passion cruel as the grave, appear to have been the main springs of his conduct throughout this lamentable contest. In saying this, I mean not to call in question the sincerity of his doctrinal opinions. He no doubt thought the views of Mad. Guyon both erroneous and pernicious; and he considered Fenelon to be at once her, disciple and her champion. But that his zeal, for what he conceived: to be the truth, was polluted, in the present instance, with a most disgusting mixture of wounded pride, passion, envy, and malignity, can only be denied, I should ima gine, by those who are resolved to shut their eyes against the plain. evidence of indisputable facts. The conduct of Fenelon upon this occasion forms in most respects a beautiful contrast to that of Bossuet. Bossuet, with all his pene-: tration, seems not to have been fully aware of the various opposite virtues: which met together in the charac-` ter of this extraordinary man. A. greater completeness of character, in point of moral excellence, was perhaps never found in any human being. With all the suavity, and urbanity of a finished gentleman, and all the meek and humble virtues of an exalted Christian, Fene-. lon possessed a firmness of spirit, a self-respect, a dignity and independence of mind, which only wanted: a proper opportunity in order to be. displayed to the highest advantage. That opportunity had now arrived. In his correspondence with Bossuet on the subject of their quarrel, the humility of the Christian is admirably combined with the dignified resolution of a man resolved to assert his fair and equitable rights, and prepared to defend his character. against every unjust aggression.. His tone is always calm, always modest, yet always manly. His style is forcible, and sometimes pointed, but without any mixture of angry or illiberal sarcasm. His expressions are indeed occasionally severe; but a certain degree of severity was called for; or, to say. the least, was very excusable, in reply to such reproaches and accusasions as he had to encounter. Bossuet seems to have been a little disconcerted and surprized, He had no idea of the spirit of the man, He had long known him as an agreeable and edifying companion; but, till now, he had never known him as praises and performing the will of So terminated this bellum plusquam civile-this more than civil discord between two men who had long lived together in the closest and most brotherly intercourse. It brought disgrace upon religion, and grief to every pious and charitable mind; but Bossuet, I am afraid, must bear the whole weight of this burden. It was hardly possible that so wide a breach should be completely repaired in the present world. The flame of mutual animosity subsided; but the kindly glow of past friendship and affection had departed, to return no more. There can be no doubt but that Fenelon cordially forgave his persecutor, though his former reverence for him must have been materially diminished. Bossuet, also, it is to be hoped, deeply repented of his outrageous conduct towards the friend of his bosom. Peace ensued; but the delights of familiar intercourse, the ease and freedom of conversation, the sweet repose of mutual confidence, all that constitutes the charm of friendship, were at an end. Yet let us charitably hope that love is now rekindled between these two distinguished characters, with greater purity and perfection, in that blissful world where sorrow and anger are alike unknown, and where no rivalry exists but what may be implied in a common zeal for uttering the CHRIST. OBSERV. No. 257. One grand lesson to be learned from this unhappy dispute is the uncertainty of all earthly enjoyments. If any temporal good were beyond the reach of every enemy but death, we might conclude friendship to be that blessing. But how often does it cool, and almost die away, with absence! How often is it gradually loosened, or suddenly torn asunder, by the wakings of pride, passion, and prejudice! Again; if any friendship could promise a lasting continuance through life, we might suppose that which subsisted between Fenelon and Bossuet to have been a friendship of this description. But how suddenly and how terribly was it dissolved! These reflections may well teach us to cease from man; to seek the favour and forgiveness of that God who will never disappoint the hopes of his faithful servants, and to build upon that Rock of Salvation which will sustain us and stand for ever. Let the separation of these two distinguished individuals teach us also to guard with ever-watchful care against the first advances of wrathful, envious, and malevolent tempers. Here is a man of learning, prudence, and devotional spirit found yielding to these unchristian propensities in his old age, when it might have been supposed that years had cooled his passions and matured his wisdom, and when the near prospect of the grave should have banished every ambitious and revengeful feeling from his bosom. This man quarrels with his dearest friend, and devotes himself with persevering industry to the ruin of his reputation; apparently forgetful for a time of past friendship, Christian charity, and common justice, candour, and benevolence. This is truly a sad and humiliating picture of human nature. May it lead us to seek more earnestly that grace which alone can subdue the unruly wills and affections of sinful 20 |