distinction, found in Fenelon a father, and in his palace a home. Nay, in cases where he had not sufficient accommodation at his own disposal, he hired houses, for the reception of the destitute. He became literally "the servant of all." At the board, which he spread for the homeless and the destitute, he himself served.

He, one day, observed a peasant, dejected and melancholy, whose grief did not permit him, though hungry, to repair decaying nature. "Why," said Fenelon, "do you not eat?"-" Ah! Sir," replied the peasant, "I had a cow, the support of my family, which, when flying from my cottage, I had not time to take along with me! By this time she is in the hands of the enemy, and I shall never find her equal more!" Under the protection of his safeconduct, the venerable archbishop immediately set off, accompanied with a single domestick, found the cow, and restored her to the peasant. "Unhappy those," says D'Alembert, by whom this is related, "to whom this affecting anecdote seems unworthy of being told before this respectable assembly!" He means the French academy, before whom the eloge was delivered.

In 1710, was introduced to Fenelon, Andrew Michael Ramsay, a Scotsman, commonly known by the name of the Chevalier Ramsay, to whom I have been chiefly indebted, in drawing up these memoirs. The elegant author of the "Travels of Cyrus," born in a country where liberty of conscience is not restrained by the laws of the land, and where, of consequence, the human mind discovers itself freely, in all its forms, had not the happiness to turn to advantage this best of privileges. In Scotland, where the earlier part of his life was spent, he embraced, in succession, the tenets of almost every sect of Protestants, and then turned from all.— He became a deist. "I could not, however," says he, "shake off my respect for the Christian religion, the morality of which is so sublime."* Such was the state of his mind, when introduced to the archbishop of Cambray, "who," he says, "received him with that fatherly affection, which immediately gains the heart." For the space of six months, religion was the subject of minute investigation, and careful discussion. It is no small honour to Fenelon's talents for communication, as well as his engaging manners, and indefatigable patience, to add, that he succeeded in persuading Ramsay to embrace the Christian religion. From this period till Fenelon's death, they lived in the closest friendship; and, in his "Life of Fenelon," Ramsay has left on record a testimony of gratitude to him, who was the instrument of effecting what he terms "the happiest occurrence in his life."

The archbishop had now survived his much esteemed pupil, the duke of Burgundy, three years, and had seen himself bereaved of his most intimate friends and confidants, the dukes of Beauvilliers and Chevreuse. His meekness, submission, and inviolable

* Life of Fenelon, p. 191..

attachment both to church and state, made such an impression on the mind of Louis, that, breaking loose from the shackles of his former prejudices and hatred, he resolved to recall him. But of a treasure, of which his former conduct had rendered him unworthy, Heaven now denied him the possession.

In the beginning of the year 1715, Fenelon was seized with an inflammation in his lungs, accompanied with a continued fever. Equally removed from levity, and stoical apathy, he maintained the magnanimity of a Christian. His illness lasted between six and seven days. His last words, uttered amid the rending pangs of dissolving humanity, were, " Not my will, but thine be done." On the 8th of January, 1715, and in the 64th year of his age, the venerable Fenelon breathed his last.

In memory of this virtuous prelate, we are informed by D'Alembert, that there is, in the cathedral of Cambray, a long, but insipid epitaph, which he does not think worth preserving. "Let us dare," says he, "to propose a shorter one:- Under this stone rests Fenelon. Passenger, efface not by thy tears this epitaph, but let others have an opportunity of reading it, and like thee-of weeping."" We are informed by professor Byggé,* that, in the hall where the National Institute holds its meetings, there are a few statues of some of the most illustrious men, whom France ever produced; and that among these few, which have survived the reign of terrour, there is one of Fenelon.

To write the life of Fenelon, is a task, for which the author of these memoirs confesses himself unfit, and could have been induced to it, only from a desire of supplying, in some measure, a defect in the gratitude of the learned to this "greatly good man." To attempt a summary of his character as a man, as a Christian, and as an author, is still more difficult. Enough cannot be said; and what can be said, it is difficult to say, as it ought to be said. The manner, however, in which the narrative of his life has been presented to the reader, will render it the less necessary; and the writer of it flatters himself that he will be excused from entering into a critical examination of works, on the merits of which, the world has so long ago, and so favourably decided. A few sentenees, however, in both respects, may here be permitted.

Of the active benevolence of Fenelon we have few parallels. He was anxious to do good, and no less so to conceal it. Of BartheJemy, the Nestor of French literature, it is said by his friend Dussaulx, that he used frequently thus to express his philanthropy: "Why is it not permitted to a mortal, to bequeath prosperity to his fellow-creatures?" Could such a wish be realized, the brightest displays of virtue would be impossible. The language of Fenelon's heart appeared in his conduct. It was this: "Let us anticipate the future, by doing the most good we can in the present." In one line of Lucan all is summed up:

VOL. I.-No. I.

Travels in France, p. 316. Lond. 1800.

E

Nil actum reputans, si quid superesset agendum.
While aught remained, esteeming nothing done.

Though a member of the church of Rome, his mind was seldom warped by her prejudices; and his heart was never debased by her principles. He beheld a brother in every country, and Christians in every church.

"He held every thing," says Ramsay, "in common with his friends, and was but one heart and one mind with them. 'O! what a beautiful spectacle would it be,' said he, frequently, te see all sorts of goods in common, nobody looking upon his own knowledge and his virtues, his joys and his riches, as his peculiar property. 'Tis thus the saints in heaven possess every thing in God, without having any thing of their own.'

Warm in his piety, pure in his morals; in his intercourse with men, generous, benevolent, sympathetick; inflexibly steady in what he deemed the cause of truth and virtue; and in suffering, possessed of an equanimity and fortitude, which detraction could not disturb, nor malice shake, he enforced the doctrines and precepts which he taught, by the most powerful of all incentives,living example.

As a preceptor he realized what, to many, has appeared a dream; and what, it must be confessed, has seldom existed but in theory. To correct the headstrong propensities of impetuous youth, he has shown us, is possible; but that for the performance of the task are requisite, prudence in a degree that is rare, and patience indefatigable.

As a writer, he is certainly one of "those whose works shall last for ages," and will cease to be read, only when elegant simplicity ceases to be admired. By his works, the philosopher will be taught to blend the agreeable with the useful, and to strew with flowers the paths of science and virtue. The poet will do well to keep Fenelon in view, whilst he labours up the steep ascent of Parnassus, and, like him, endeavours to instruct by pleasing.

Omne tulit punctum, qui miscuit utile dulci.

The preceding life of the archbishop of Cambray, we publish from a work which we have not yet seen printed in this country. We anticipate the pleasure it will give our readers to take a general view of the life of the Abbé Fenelon, and to be introduced to his character through the medium of the charms and graces of style which adorn this narrative.

* Life of Fenelon, p. 30.

But how great soever the pleasure has been which we have derived from the perusal of this "Life of Fenelon," we could wish his biographer had expatiated more minutely on two circumstances of his life which displayed such signal excellence and loveliness of character, as are rarely seen connected even with the most exalted goodness: we allude to the education of the duke of Burgundy, the heir apparent to the throne; and to Fenelon's contest with the bishop of Meaux.

'The duke of Burgundy,' says the duke de St. Simon, was born terrible, and during his first years, continued an object of terrour. Hard hearted; angry, to the extreme of passion, even against inanimate objects; impetuous to a degree of fury, incapable of bearing the least opposition to his wishes, even from time or climate, without putting himself into paroxysms of rage that made one tremble for his existence; (a condition in which I have often seen him;) stubborn in the highest degree; passionate in the pursuit of every kind of pleasure; addicted to the gratifications of the table, and violent hunting; delighted, to a degree of ecstacy, with musick, and with deep play, in which he could not endure to lose, and in which it was personally dangerous to be engaged with him; in fine, abandoned to all the passions, and transported by every kind of pleasure; often ferocious; naturally born to cruelty; barbarous in his raillery, seizing the ridiculous with astonishing justness; high as the clouds in his own opinion, considering other men as atoms with which he had no resemblance, and regarding his brothers, though they were educated on an equality with him, as intermediate beings between him and the rest of the human race:-But even in his passions talent beamed from him; his repartees were surprising; in his answers, there was always something of justness and depth; he seemed to play with the most abstruse subjects; the extent and vivacity of his genius were astonishing-but they always kept him from attending to any one thing at a time, and thus made him incapable of learning any thing-The prodigy was, that, in a short space of time, religion and the grace of God, (by means of Fenelon,) made him a new man, and changed those terrible qualities into all the opposite virtues. From the abyss which I have described, there arose a prince, affable, gentle, moderate, patient, modest, humble, austere only to himself, attentive to his duties, and sensible of their great

extent.'

With the cause of his contest with the bishop of Meaux-a contest which shook the church of Rome to its centre-the world is well acquainted. We hesitate not to say, whatever may be the opinion of some of his biographers, that Fenelon was here the subject of much unjust persecution.

Soon as Fenelon had accepted the archbishoprick, he resigned the abbey of St. Valery, without asking it for any of his friends and relations; the king was surprised, and pressed him to keep it: but he represented to his majesty, that as the revenues of the archbishoprick were sufficient for him, he thought himself in the case, where a plurality of livings is against the canon. At the same time he resigned the priory also, which his uncle gave him. He had no idea of uniting in the same person, the archbishop, the abbot, and the prior; or of holding preferments, the duties of which were wholly incompatible. This uncommon generosity gained him great applause; but it exasperated against him several persons, whom he condemned by his example; who were so far from intending to imitate it, that they were anxiously grasping after

every appointment; and were therefore desirous to remove, if possible, so disagreeable an opprobrium to them, as the archbishop of Cambray.

Amongst these was Bossuet, bishop of Meaux; a man of great learning and abilities; much indebted to the archbishop on many accounts; but, eclipsed by his superiour splendour, jealousy and envy,* it is to be feared, had too strong a prevalence over his mind: and he failed not to seize that occasion, and to use it, with all diligence, which the archbishop himself administered to the hatred of his enemies.

Madam Guion was, at this time, much talked of in France; she aspired to a very high and exalted devotion; to a pure, but ideal, love of God, merely for its own sake: she wrote several pieces, and amongst the rest a mystical exposition of Solomon's Song; and in short passed for a downright Quietist. The archbishop was suspected of favouring her. And upon the publication of bis book, entitled, " An explication of the Maxims of the Saints concerning the interiour life," he was charged with maintaining in it the fanatical and dangerous opinions of the Quietists.

In this book, it is certain, he becomes a champion for the doctrine of the contemplative life," the pure and disinterested love of God." He has divided his work into forty-five articles. In those which he calls the true articles, he sets down the sound doctrine of pure love; he collects the expressions of the saints, gives their true meaning, and determines the sense of every word. In the articles which he styles false, he shows where the danger of errour lies, and how far the erroneous principles may be carried under a show of perfection.

The idea doubtless is noble, and worthy the greatness of God, who ought to be served for his own sake, without any view of interest. And it is to be lamented, that the nature of man is so weak, as to be unable to arrive at such a degree of excellence. Several divines,† however, in the church of Rome, have taught the very

*The bishop of Meaux was very importunate for the post of chief almoner to the dutchess of Burgundy. And the archbishop's book of the Maxims was published at the time when this matter was in agitation. It was natural to expect, that the person who had been tutor to the duke her husband, and who had acquitted himself perfectly well in that post, would be made her almoner. An infallible method to prevent it was, by raising suspicions of heresy against him. For it has been observed a great while ago, that it is with divines, as with maidens. It is not enough for the latter, that they be honest; they must also have the reputation of being so. We may extend this maxim further, and say, that, with regard to the advantages of this world, it is better for a divine to appear orthodox, and for a maid to appear honest, without being so, than to be so without having the reputation of it. However it be, it is asserted, that to get the archbishop out of the way, his competitors charged him with heresy. The bishop of Meaux obtained the place. Others assign all this matter to the maxims of his Telemachus, as we have mentioned at the conclusion.

†The bishop's book was brought before the consultators of the inquisition to be examined. The examiners, who were ten in number, were not all of the same opinion. Five of them were for censuring the book, and five maintained, that it contained a sound doctrine.-By the way, a famous doctor of the Sorbonne, and a