Part 33

So far we consider Bossuet to be in the right. Love of God being a duty, all that exalts and extends the sentiment into a passion, is at once fascinating and hurtful. The gentle and tender soul of Fénélon could see no evil in love: he thought to soften and purify the heart by spiritual passion; but Bossuet knew human nature better, and its tendency to turn all good to evil, when not tempered by judgment and moderation. He did well, therefore, to oppose the doctrines of madame Guyon; and, if possible, to enlighten his friend. Yet, even in reasoning, he was uncharitable; so that it has been said, comparing his harshness with Fénélon's benignity, that Bossuet was right most revoltingly, and Fénélon in the wrong with sweetness. This was the more apparent, when his conduct on the publication of the book showed the cloven foot of intolerance and persecution. Henceforward, we love Fénélon, and condemn his opponent. The latter had right on his side, on the question of doctrine; in conduct, he was entirely and deplorably in the wrong. French writers impute to him the base motives of envy and jealousy. These passions exercise so covert an influence when they spring up in conscientious minds, that Bossuet might fancy himself urged by purer feelings. Still he cannot be justified. Either from fear that the king, who abhorred novelties in religion, would blame him severely, or wishing to make a deep impression, he threw himself at Louis's feet, and besought "his pardon for not having sooner informed him of the fanaticism of his brother." Louis did not like Fénélon.[108] His elevation of character appeared to him pretension; and in the principles he instilled into his royal pupil he saw the condemnation of himself. These principles were so moulded by the spirit of Christianity, that he could not object; but he gladly availed himself of the archbishop's error, to destroy, as much as he could, the general esteem in which he was held, and to visit him with heavy penalties. Madame de Maintenon also became unfriendly: in matters of religion, she always adopted the views of Louis. Her good sense made her see the evil of quietism; and now that Fénélon was accused of it, she withdrew her kindness and support. Louis XIV. angrily denounced all the adherents of madame Guyon; he upheld Bossuet in demanding a formal retractation of the doctrines inculcated in the Maxims of the Saints; he refused to permit Fénélon to repair to Rome; his work having been referred to the pope, for a decision on it; but at once exiled him; that is, ordered him to repair immediately to his diocese, and there to remain. Fénélon wrote to madame de Maintenon, to deplore the king's displeasure; and declared his readiness to submit to the decision of the holy see with regard to his book. He then quitted Paris: he stopped before the seminary of St. Sulpice, where the years of his early manhood had been spent in seclusion and peace; but he would not enter the house, lest the king should manifest displeasure towards its inhabitants for receiving him. From Paris he proceeded at once to Cambray.

[Sidenote: 1697. Ætat. 46.]

Although we may pronounce Fénélon's principles to be erroneous, his conduct was in every respect virtuous and laudable. Circumstances had engaged him in the dispute, and he believed that neither honour nor conscience permitted him to yield. As a bishop, it derogated from his dignity to receive the law from his equals in rank. He esteemed madame Guyon; she was unfortunate and calumniated; and he felt that it would be treacherous to abandon her, and much more so to ally himself to her enemies. He founded his opinion and conduct on the writings and actions of saints and holy men, and believed himself to be in the right. No personal interest could bend him; on the contrary, delicacy of feeling and zeal caused his attachment to his cause to redouble in persecution; while at the same time he was firm in his resolution to abandon it, if condemned by the church, his first principle being obedience to the holy see; looking upon that as the corner stone of the Roman catholic religion. His exile found him firm and resigned. The duke of Burgundy was more to be pitied: he threw himself at the king's feet, offering to justify his preceptor, and answering for the principles of religion which he had inculcated. Louis coldly replied, that M. de Meaux understood the affair better than either he or his grandson; and that therefore he had no power to grant a favour on the subject. To pacify the duke, he allowed Fénélon to retain for a time the title of preceptor. With this barren honour he returned to Cambray. Not long before his palace had been burnt to the ground, together with all his furniture, books, and papers. When he heard the news, he simply remarked, that he was glad this disaster had befallen his palace rather than the cottage of a peasant. On arriving at Cambray, he wrote to his excellent friend the duke de Beauvilliers, expressing his submission to the holy see, and his hope that he was actuated by pious and justifiable motives: "I hold by only two things," he continues, "which compose my entire doctrine. First, that charity is a love of God, for himself, independent of the motive of beatitude which is found in him: secondly, that in the life of the most perfect souls, charity prevails over every other virtue; animating them, and inspiring all their actions; so that the just man, elevated to this state of perfection, usually practises hope and every other virtue with all the disinterestedness that he does charity itself."

There is a mysticism in all this which it is dangerous to admit into a popular religion; but while we read, we feel wonderstruck and saddened to think how a man so heavenly good as Fénélon, and so noble minded as Bossuet, could have drawn matter for hate and pain out of such materials: charity, love of God, the welfare of man,--such were the missiles levelled at each other; and human passion could tip with poison these celestial-seeming weapons. Sir Walter Scott has, with the wisdom of a sage, remarked, that it is matter of sadness to reflect how much easier it is to inflict pain than communicate pleasure.[109] The controversy of Bossuet and Fénélon is a melancholy gloss on so true a text.

The cause was now carried to Rome. The tenets of Fénélon objected to by Bossuet were two:--1st, that a person may obtain an habitual state of divine love, in which he loves God purely for his own sake, and without the slightest regard to his own interests, even in respect to his eternal happiness. 2dly, that in such a state it is lawful, and may even be considered an heroic effort of conformity to the divine will, to consent to eternal reprobation, if God should require such a sacrifice. Certainly no general good could arise from men entertaining the belief that God might eternally punish those submissive to his law; and if we add to these fundamental objections the exaggerated point of view in which madame Guyon placed them, and Fénélon in some degree approved, maintaining the possibility of a state of divine love dependent only on faith and a kind of mental absorption in the deity, from which prayer and meditation on divine blessings were absent, and which confounded resignation with indifference to salvation, and conjoin to this unnatural supposition, the high-flown and, we may almost say, desecrating expressions with which it was supposed right to address the Deity, we cannot help siding with Bossuet's opinions, while we blame his conduct, and admire that of Fénélon. The former carried on his cause at Rome through his nephew, the abbé Bossuet, and the abbé de Phillippeaux, both attached to the bishop de Meaux, but both tainted by all the violence of party spirit, which is always most virulent in religious disputes. The abbé de Chanterac, a relation of Fénélon, and his most intimate and confidential friend, a man of probity, gentleness, and learning, and inspired by a sincere affection and veneration for the archbishop, was the agent of the latter at Rome. At first the king and the bishop de Meaux fancied that the pope would at once condemn a book they reprobated: but Innocent XII. appointed a commission. The commissioners stated objections. Bossuet and Fénélon were called upon to deliver answers. These answers were printed; and hence arose a controversy, now forgotten, but to the highest degree exciting at the time, in which Bossuet displayed all his energy and eloquence, and Fénélon poured forth the treasures of his intellect and his heart. His writings on this occasion are considered his best.[110] His heart and soul were in them; yet they are now usually omitted from the editions of his works, as regarding a question which the church has set at rest for ever. The delay of the pope, and the popularity which Fénélon gained by his candour and simplicity, enraged the king. His distaste for his theories, which were founded on a belief in virtue, grew into a positive dislike and even hatred for the man, whom he now looked on as dangerous. With his own hand he erased his name, which had remained on the list of the royal household as preceptor to the princes; he dismissed his friends, the abbés Beaumont and Langeron, from their employments as sub-preceptors; he forbade the court to all his relations and many of his friends; and, added to these mundane inflictions, was the clerical insult of the Sorbonne, when it condemned twelve propositions drawn from his book. Fénélon observed on these indignities,--"Yet, but a little, and the deceitful kingdom of this world will be over. We shall meet in the kingdom of truth, where there is no error, no division, no scandal; we shall breathe the pure love of God; and he will communicate to us his everlasting peace. In the mean time, let us suffer, let us suffer. Let us be trodden underfoot; let us not refuse disgrace: Jesus Christ was disgraced by us; may our disgrace tend to his glory!" Nor would he listen to any advice to turn the tables on Bossuet, by accusing him, in his turn, of error; but earnestly replied, "Moriamur in simplicitate nostra?"

Great indeed were the indignities that were heaped on Fénélon; if the untainted can be said to receive indignity from insult. A miserable maniac, who pretended to an improper intercourse with madame Guyon, was brought forward. She, then imprisoned in the castle of Vincennes, heard the accusation with calm contempt, and the confirmed madness of the poor wretch soon caused it to fall to the ground. Bossuet then published his "Account of Quietism," which brought forward many private letters, papers, and conversations, which tended to throw light on the characters of the partisans, which entertained all Paris, and excited a curiosity which this great man ought to have despised. The work, however, is decisive as to the folly and injurious nature of Quietism. Bossuet said that he had long condemned Fénélon's notions concerning prayer, and was glad when madame Guyon referred to him, as this would afford him an opportunity to express his own opinions. She confided to him all her manuscripts, and a history of her life, which for some reason she kept back from Fénélon. Bossuet saw much in her ecstacies and enthusiasm to disapprove, especially when rendered public, as well as in her pretended spirit of prophecy and of working miracles. He saw still more to condemn in her principles with regard to prayer, when she said that it was contrary to her doctrine to pray for the remission of her sins. Bossuet expressed his disapprobation to Fénélon, who defended her; and the writer remarks, that he was astonished to see a man of so great talent admire a woman of such slender knowledge and small merit, who was deceived also by palpable delusions. Bossuet then goes on to express his opinion of the dangerous tendency of the "Maxims of the Saints," against which the outcry had been spontaneous and general. "Can it be said," he continues, "that we wish to ruin M. de Cambray? God is witness! But without calling so great a testimony, the fact speaks. Before his book appeared, we concealed his errors, even to meriting the reproaches of the king. When his work came out, he had ruined himself. My silence was impenetrable till then. How can we be accused of jealousy? Could we envy him the honour of painting madame Guyon and Molinos in favourable colours? We desire and we hope to see M. de Cambray soon acknowledge at least the inutility of his speculations. It was not worthy of him, nor of the reputation he enjoys, nor of his character, his position, nor understanding, to defend the books of a woman of this kind; and we continually hear his friends lament that he displayed his erudition, and employed his eloquence, on such unsubstantial subjects."

Such an exposition confounded even Fénélon's friends: they drooped till his answer came, whose gentle, unaffected, yet animated eloquence convinced the public, and prevented it from any longer confounding his cause with that of madame Guyon. He called to witness those eyes that enlighten earthly darkness, that he was attached to no person nor book, but to God and the church only, and that he prayed unceasingly for the return of peace and the shortening the period of scandal, and that he was ready to bestow on M. de Meaux as many blessings as he had heaped crosses on him. He declared that he had long ago rejected his book, and been willing to be thrown into the sea to calm the storm, had he thought that his work could foster illusion or occasion scandal; but that he could not allow himself to be disgraced for the sake of his sacred calling. He appealed to Bossuet against himself, and showed with dignity, how injuriously he was treated, on being held up as an impostor by a man who once had called him, "his dear friend for life, whom he carried in his heart." He then proved that he had not supported madame Guyon[111], nor approved her visions, concerning which Bossuet knew much more than he; and asserted that he had excused the intention, not the text, of her works. He proceeds, "Whatever conclusion the holy pontiff may give to this affair, I await it with impatience, desirous only of obeying; not fearing to deceive myself, only seeking peace. I hope that my silence, my unreserved submission, my horror for delusion, my dislike for every suspected book or person, will make manifest that the evil you deprecate is as chimerical as the scandal created is real."

He concludes by throwing himself upon the support of God alone: single and destitute of human help, oppressed by the sovereign of a great nation, and its hierarchy, he declared that he should stand firm till the word should be pronounced by which he promised to abide.

[Sidenote: 1699. Ætat. 48.]

That word came. The pope condemned his book. With all the childlike simplicity that he so earnestly recommended to others, the learned and wise archbishop yielded instant obedience to a fiat which it was a portion of his faith to deem infallible. He was in the act of ascending his pulpit to preach, when he received a letter from his brother, which conveyed intelligence of the pope's brief. Fénélon paused for a few moments to recollect himself; and then, changing the plan of his sermon, preached on the duty of obedience to the church. His calm and gentle manner, the sentiments it expressed, the knowledge that was abroad of how sorely his adherence to his doctrine was about to be tried, deeply moved his audience, inspiring it at once with respect, regret, and admiration.

He did not delay a formal and public announcement of his obedience. He addressed a pastoral letter to all the faithful of his district, saying in it, "Our holy father has condemned my book, entitled the 'Maxims of the Saints,' and has condemned in a particular manner twenty-three propositions extracted from it. We adhere to his brief; and condemn the book and the twenty-three propositions, simply, absolutely, and without a shadow of reserve."[112] He sent his pastoral letter to the pope, and solemnly assured his holiness, that he could never attempt to elude his sentence, or to raise any objections with regard to it. To render his obedience clear and universal to the unlettered and ignorant of his diocese, he caused to be made for the altar of his cathedral a sun borne by two angels, one of whom was trampling on several heretical books, among which was one inscribed with the title of his own.

There is something deeply touching in this humility and obedience. We examine it carefully to discover its real merits; what the virtues were that dictated it, and whether it were clouded by any human error. We must remember that Fénélon opposed the jansenists, who had sought to elude the papal decrees; that he supported the infallibility of his church, and considered that the pure Catholicism rested chiefly on the succession of pastors who had a right to exact obedience from all Christians; that the language he thought due to the papal authority was, "God forbid that I should ever be spoken of, except to have it said that a shepherd thought it his duty to be more docile than the last sheep of his flock." Supporting these opinions, he had but one course to pursue,--unqualified and instant submission. This his conduct displayed; yet it remains as a question, whether his heart acknowledged the justice of the condemnation of a book which he wrote in a fervent belief in its utility, and had defended with so much zeal. His meaning in his submission was this,--that the book contained nothing heretical, nothing that the saints had not said; and that he might adhere to the principles it enounced: but that the expression and effect of the book was faulty; and that he believed this in his heart ever since the pope's brief had so declared it. His own account of his sentiments, rendered several years after to a friend, gives this explanation:--"My submission," he said, "was not an act of policy, nor a respectful silence; but an internal act of obedience rendered to God alone. According to the catholic principle, I regarded the judgment of my superiors as an echo of the supreme will. I did not consider the passions, the prejudices, the disputes that preceded my condemnation; I heard God speak, as to Job, from the midst of the whirlwind, saying to me, _Who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge?_ And I answered from the bottom of my heart, _What shall I answer thee? I will lay my hand upon my mouth._ From that moment I have not entrenched myself in vain subterfuges concerning the question of fact and right; I have accepted my condemnation in its whole extent. It is true that the propositions and expressions I used, and others much stronger, and with much fewer correctives, are to be found in canonised authors, but they were not fit for a dogmatic work. A different style belongs to different subjects and persons. There is a style of the heart, and another of the understanding; a language of sentiment, another of reason. What is a merit in one is an imperfection in another. The church, with infinite wisdom, permits one to its untaught children, another to its teachers. She may, therefore, according to the variation of circumstances, without condemning the doctrine of the saints, reject their fanatic expressions, of which a wrong use is made."[113]

Such was Fénélon's explanation of his feelings several years after. His letters at the time are full of that gentle spirit of peace and resignation which was his strength and support in adversity. In general, however, he avoided the subject. He had struggled earnestly in the cause of his book, while its fate was problematical; but he considered the question decided, and he wished to dismiss the subject from his own thoughts and the minds of others.

There were several accompanying circumstances to mitigate the disgrace of defeat. The expressions used by the pope in his condemnation were very gentle. His propositions and expressions were declared rather as leading to error, than erroneous; they were pronounced to be rash, ill sounding, and pernicious in practice; but not heretical. While condemning the book, the pope had learned to respect the author; and said of him, to his opponents, "Peccavit in excessu amoris divini; sed vos peccastis defectu amoris proximi;" an antithesis that caught the ear, and was speedily in every body's mouth. His enemies were nettled. They endeavoured to find flaws in his pastoral letter; they tried to induce the pope to condemn the various writings which Fénélon had published in defence of his work; but this Innocent XII. peremptorily refused.

The king and the inimical bishops continued inveterate. The brief was received and registered according to form. The metropolitan assemblies applauded Fénélon's piety, virtue, and talents: some of his own suffragans had the indecency and servility to make irrelevant objections to his pastoral letter; but these were overruled. Bossuet drew up a report of the whole affair, to be presented at the next assembly of the clergy. Considerable want of candour is manifest in his account. He does what he can to weaken the effect of Fénélon's submission, while he insinuates excuses for his own vehemence. The report is remarkable with regard to the testimony it gives to the innocence of madame Guyon. "As to the abominations," it said, "which seemed the necessary consequences of her doctrine, they were wholly out of the question; she herself always mentioned them with horror." No reconciliation ever took place between Fénélon and Bossuet, who died in 1714.[114]

Louis XIV. was inexorable. Fénélon continued in exile and his friends in disgrace; such displeasure was shown, that the servile courtiers, among whom we must rank, on this occasion, madame de Maintenon, kept aloof from him. His friends, however, were true and faithful. They took every opportunity of meeting together; it was their delight to talk of him, to regret him, to express their wishes for his return, and to contrive means of seeing him.