PQ 1795 A2 F6 1844- A A cz o o cz 8 33 O O 7 3> 1 5 6 3 3 !Z 33 33 ■> O ^ • 4 V '; o* ^ pa, X LONDON BOOK CO 224 vv. Broadway ' GlendaJe, Caiif. 91204 ^'^one: CI 4-0828 Sni/raird by O Tdim SELECTIONS FROM THE WRITINGS OF FENELON A MEMOIR OF HIS LIFE. BY MRS. FOLLEN. FIFTH EDITION. REVISED AND ENLARGED. BOSTON : SAMUEL G. SIMPKINS. 1844. Entered according to Act of Congrrss, in the year 1841, BY SAMUEL G. SIMPKINS, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. I. R. BUTTS, PRINTER, BCBOOI. STREET. PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. BY HENRY D. SEDGWICK. No apology is necessary for giving anything to the public from the pen of Fenelon, Such were the elevation and liberality of his spirit, that it soared above party, to difiuse itself over all the in- terests of humanity. He was in spirit and in truth a Christian ; a lover of God and man. His pure and expansive thoughts could not in their nature be confined to any sect or country. It is true that he was not above all the prejudices and influences of education. Who is ? But his was one of those pure and beneficent spirits, which from their natures belong to the whole of mankind. It is not contended that he has done as much as some others to enlarge the limits of human science. PREFACE. His political maxims were just and pure, and they were fearlessly promulgated at the expense of his highest temporal interests ; and it is scarcely worth consideration, whether he were as well acquainted with all the rules of political economy, as others, whose residence and situation gave them greater advantages in that respect. It is not as a politician, but as a Christian and a man, that we regard his character. Fenelon was born and brought up a Roman Catholic. It was not possible that his thoughts and feelings should not be affected by this circum- stance. What we have to wonder and rejoice at, is, that his pure and expansive affections burst all exclusive bands. His heart belonged to no creed, no country, but embraced the earth, and soared to heaven. He loved all that was lovely on earth, and his aspirations were to all that is elevated above it. This putting forth of the affections from and above himself, was the ennobling and distinctive trait in the character of Fenelon, He loved men, not because they were of the same race as himselfj but because they were susceptible of virtue and happiness. He loved God, not merely as his ben- PREFACE. Vll efactor, but as the great source of felicity to all sen- tient existence. Fenelon was pious, — pious in the highest sense of the term. He did not submit to commands, be- cause the lawgiver was powerful and dould punish disobedience ; nor yet simply because he was just and his commands equitable ; but his spirit volun- tarily went forth to co-operate in all the designs of goodness. His efforts were never retarded or inter- rupted. He threw off, if he ever felt them, the bonds of indolence ; and the mists of selfishness never impaired his vision. The pure and holy in- fluences of such a spirit should surely be diffused as widely as possible, and this is the design of the present volume. The direct influence of such a mind ought not to be confined to those who have acquired a foreign language, and can afford to purchase books exten- sively. It is not invidious to say, that there is no existing translation of Fenelon 's works which ren- ders this volume unnecessary. To render the work as cheap and easily attainable as possible, it is con- fined to a few selections. The translation is a free one ; but sedulous care has been taken never to depart from the spirit of the author, nor to intro- VIU PREFACE. duce any but his ideas. As the productions of a Roman Catholic, and one zealously attached to his church, his writings necessarily contain many things that could not be acceptable to Christians of all denominations. These have been uniformly omitted. The translator has no other ambition than to render the rich treasures of the mind and heart of Fenelon accessible to those of another age and country, nor any other wish than that the reader may imbibe something of the spirit of the author. Boston, 1828. INTRODUCTORY REMARKS FOURTH EDITION I HAVE been requested by the translator to prefix a few lines to the present edition of her '' Selections from Fenelon ] " and though aware that her labors need no recommendation of mine, I cannot deny this expression of sympathy and friendship. To many of the readers of this little work, the name of the translator, given now for the first time, will bring back the memory of that excellent man,* who, were he living, would perform the office to which I am now called. Before he was taken from us, he wished that a new edition of the " Se- lections " should appear ; and it gives me pleasure to associate myself, by this brief introduction, with a friend, who rendered me the highest service man * Charles Follen. INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. can render man, by exalting my conception of per- fection, and my aspirations after it. What he was, and how much we have lost in him, will be better understood by a collection of his works, with a memoir, now passing through the press. It would be presumptuous to think of recom- mending Fenelon to the public at this day. In truth he never needed patronage. By a singular coincidence of circumstances, his rare excellence was revealed at the very beginning of his career. It is the peculiarity of his reputation, that it is as great among Protestants as among Catholics. He belongs to no sect. He is felt to express in his writings and life the universal spirit of Christianity ; and this impression was as strong in his life as at the present moment. He was persecuted and vir- tually banished ; but his fame grew by what was meant to obscure it. He fell under the censure of the church ; but it was remarked at the time, that his whole fault lay " in loving God too much ;" and Catholicism received glory from his unsullied fame at the moment she condemned him. These lines are not written to recommend Fen- elon ; but a word may be said on the subject of the following "Selections." Tiiey consist of por- INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. XI tions of his writings, which, whilst they do justice to his spirit and modes of thought, are least liable to objection. Fenelon is sometimes open to objec- tion. He was distinguished by genius, devotion, and his thirst for perfection, rather than by logical accuracy of thought and expression. He utters great truths, but often without due qualification or restraint ; and accordingly his writings may mis- lead readers of much sensibility and little reflection. The idea of God shone within him so brightly, that sometimes all others seemed to fade before it. The great duty on which he insists, is the absorption of the human will in the Divine. Nothing would satisfy him but entire self-immolation. To promote ''pure love," perfect simplicity of soul, entire free- dom from by-ends and from subtle references to self, this was his aim. He not only assailed the grosser forms of the selfish principle, but its most minute and delicate workings, its jealousies and anxieties, its exaggerations of the good and its ex- tenuations of the evil within us, its shrinkings from the cross, its impatience under the consciousness of defects, its yearnings for perfection without the slow processes of mortification, its slowness to sur- render everything to the will of God, He even XU INTKODUCTOKY EEWAEKS. feared that the pleasures of piety might become a snare, might feed the self-pleasing spirit, and might thus war against the single, all-sacrificing love of God. In all these modes of thought, there is a grand essential truth. He had rare glimpses of the per- fection of the soul. Yet it may be doubted whether he has sufficiently guarded himself against misapprehension. His philosophy belonged more to the heart than the head, and his language cannot always stand the test of rigid criticism. He is charged, and not without reason, with branding as sins, those references to our own good, which are not only innocent, but necessary to our preserva- tion, and with condemning that respect to future rewards, which the Scriptures not only allow, but enjoin. On these and other points a false philoso- phy of human nature obscured his perceptions. He looked with secret distrust on its various senti- ments and faculties, and dared not give them due play. In his most spiritual Avorks which are most read, the power of recognizing God is set forth, not only as the supreme power of the soul, but almost as the only one to be brought into free action. Tlujs, however highly we may reverence Fenelon, INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. XIU his writings are not to be exclusively studied, if we would avoid a partial development of our na- ture. Still, in his own province of thought and feeling, he is grand. His simple words, (and who is so simple?) penetrate to the depths of the soul. He exposes, as hardly any one else does, the great enemy within us, and leads and incites us to those secret conflicts with the profound workings of selfishness, which alone guide to the pnre love of God. There is one consideration which adds inex- pressibly to the worth of Fenelon's writings. They came from his heart. They were transcripts of his own experience. It will not do to call them the works of a visionary. He did not dream them ; he lived them. All our biographies of him, and we have not a few, agree in testifying to the an- ^ gelic sweetness and purity of his spirit. His char- acter was so single ; there was such a harmony in its features, such a unity in the manifestations of his soul ; his light, though so mild and tender, was still so clear, and pure, and penetrating, that he left on all around him one and the same impression ; and the voice of his generation has come down to us uncontradicted, undivided, in attestation of his B* XIV INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. rare sanctity and goodness. This great soul breath- ed itself out with child-like simplicity in his writ- ings. In reading these, we commune not with his intellect alone, but with his whole spirit, not with an author, but with Fenelon, as he spoke and lived in his common walks, and among the men of his own age. Wm. E. Channing. Boston, March 27th, 1841. CONTENTS. Memoir of Fenelon, . 3 On the Existence of God, ..... 29 On the Knowledge and Love of God, ... 75 On Piety, 84 On Prayer, 100 The Spirit of God teaches Within, . . . 117 Upon the Use of Crosses, 120 Upon Daily Faults, 126 Upon the Amusements, that belong to our Con- dition, 129 Against Temptations, ...... 133 Upon Fidelity in Little Things, .... 135 On Simplicity, ....... 138 Directions for the Conscience of a King . . 146 On the Education of Girls, .... 151 Letters, ......... 177 Reflections for every Day in the Month, . 273 Meditations, ........ 309 General Prayer, ....... 324 Evening Prayer, 326 Prayer to God, 327 MEMOIE OF FENELON. PocHE menti vegg' io ricohe di lume ; E quelle poche oscura orgoglio altero : Luminoso intelletto, e uniil pensiero Di star concord! insiem non han costume. Sallo per sue dolor 1' Angiol primiero, Che SI fulgido usci di man del Name ; Ah! spiegherebbe in ciel le aurate piume, Se non toroea superbia il lor sentiero. Quindi in quest' Angiol novo io non ammiro L' ampio saper, che folgorando ascende Per le vie della terra e dell' erapiro ; Allor 1' ammiro, quando in sfe diseende, E quel che gli orna il crin fulgido giro A se Io toglie, e al Donator Io rende. A mind full fraught with intellectual light, Is rarely found ; and oft ivhon found, its beams, Obscured by pride, emit but shadowy gleams ; Humility scarce dwells witli genius bright. The first and brightest of the angel host. Son of the Morning ! still in heaven he might On golden pinions bear his upward flight, Had not his glorious state by pride been lost. Hence this new Angel, my admiring eye Follows with far loss rapture when he soars. In intellectual greatness rising high. And, like the lightning, heaven and earth explores. Than when from his own brow ho takes the golden crown. And at his feet, who gave it, humbly lays it down. Nai. Gaz. MEMOIR OF FENELON.* Francis de Salignac de la Mothe Fenelon was born at the castle of Fenelon, in Perigord, on the sixth day of August, 1651. His family has derived more lus- tre from the single name of the Archbishop of Cambrai, than from a long series of ancestors, who filled the most distinguished stations in the cabinet, in the field, and in the church. Fenelon was brought up under the paternal roof until his twelfth year, for his constitution was very weak and delicate. This circumstance, added to his amiable dis- position, made him an object of peculiar tenderness to his father. There was nothing remarkable attending his early education ; it was entrusted to a preceptor, who appears to have possessed the principles of sound litera- ture, and who knew how to render it acceptable to his * This Memoir is intended to contain all the interesting facts relating to the life of Fenelon. It has been compiled from vari- ous authors, whose own words have been retained wherever it seemed expedient. 4 MEMOIR OF FENELON. pupil. He gave him in a few years a more extensive knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages, than is usually obtained at so early an age. When he was twelve years old, he was sent to the University of Cahors, not far removed from the residence of his family. He there completed his philosophical and his philological studies, and he even took the degrees which were afterwards of sufficient efficacy when he was elevated to ecclesiastical dignities. The Marquis Antoine de Fenelon, his uncle, interested by what he heard of his young nephew, sent for him to Paris and placed him at the college of Plessis, there to continue his philosophical studies, where he also commenced those of theology. It was here he formed a friendship with the young Abbe de Noailles, afterwards cardinal and archbishop of Paris. The young Abbe de Fenelon distinguished himself so much at the college of Plessis, that they suffered him to preach at the age of fifteen ; his sermon had an extra- ordinary success. A similar circumstance is related of Bossuet, who at the same age preached before the most brilliant assembly in Paris with the same applause. It is curious to remark this coincidence of opinion, so prema- turely formed of two men, who were both destined to be the instructers of princes, and to become the ornament and glory of the French church. The Marquis de Fenelon was rather alarmed than grati- fied by the encomiums bestowed upon his nephew. Some idea of the frankness and austerity of his character, may be formed from what he said to M. do Harlay upon his nomination to the archbishopric of Paris. " There is, sir," said he, " a great difference between the day when such a nomination procures you the compliments of all France, and the day of your death, when you will appear MEMOIR OF FENELON. O before God, to render him an account of your office." He had lost his only son at the siege of Candia, and had found in religion the only support that could uphold his courage under so severe an affliction. Such was the man who' acted as the father and guide of Fenelon, in the path of virtue and honor. Providence treasured up for the Marquis de Fenelon the most lenient of all consolations in replacing the son he had lost, by a nephew, who became the object of his tenderest care and affection. This nephew the Marquis hastened to secure from the snares of a deceitful world, by placing him at the seminary of St. Sulpice, under the direction of M. Tronson, there to acquire a just knowledge of himself. It was from the erudition, the example, the tender and affectionate piety of this excellent man, that the youthful Fenelon derived his relish for virtue and religion, which made him so perfect a model of excellence, in all those various employments with which he was entrusted, and of those elevated functions which he discharged. It was about this time that Fenelon is supposed to have contem- plated devoting himself to the mission of Canada, as the congregation of St. Sulpice had a considerable establish- ment at Montreal ; but his uncle was justly alarmed at the project, which was incompatible with the delicate constitution of his nephew, and he refused his permission. He accordingly, after having been ordained at St. Sulpice, devoted himself to the functions of his holy office, in the same parish. It was during the exercise of this ministry, that Fene- lon, by mixing with all ranks and conditions, by associa- ting with the unfortunate and the sorrowful, by assisting the weak, and by that union of mildness, of energy, and of benevolence, which adapts itself to every character, 1* 6 MEMOIR OF FENELON. and to every situation, acquired the knowledge of tlie moral and physical ills which afflict human nature. It -was by this habitual and immediate communication with all classes of society, that he obtained the melancholy conviction of the miseries which distress the greater part of mankind ; and to the profound impression of this truth through his whole life, we must ascribe that tender com- miseration for the unfortunate, which he manifests in all his writings, and which he displayed still more powerfully in all his actions. He devoted himself for three years to the ecclesiastical ministry; and at the end of that time, he was appointed, by the curate of the parish of St. Sulpice, to explain the Sacred Writings to the people on Sundays and on festival days ; an office which first introduced him to public no- tice, and from which he derived the greatest personal advantages. Fenelon resumed, in 1674, his project of becoming a missionary ; but being convinced that his health would not sustain the rigor of a Canadian climate, he directed his thoughts to the Levant. We have a proof of this intention in a letter written by him, dated at Sarlat, the residence of his uncle, where he was upon a visit. It is so remarkable, that we have thought it worthy of tran- scription. " Several trifling events have hitherto prevented my re- turn to Paris ; but I shall at length set out, sir, and! shall almost fly thither. But compared to this journey, I medi- tate a nnich greater one. The whole of Greece opens before me, and the Sultan flies in terror ; the Peloponnesus breathes again in liberty, and the church of Corinth shall flourish once more ; the voice of the Apostle shall be MEMOIR OF FENELON. 7 heard there again. I seem to be transported among those enchanting places, and those precious ruins, where, while I collect the most curious relics of antiquity, I imbibe also its spirit. I seek for the Areopagus, where St. Paul declared to the sages of the world, the unknown God! But next to what is sacred, I am delighted with what is profane ; and I disdain not to descend to the Piraeus, where Socrates drew up the plan of his Repub- lic. I reach the double summit of Parnassus ; I pluck the laurels of Delphi ; I revel in the charms of Tempe. " When will the blood of the Turks mingle with that of the Persians on the plains of Marathon, and leave the whole of Greece to religion, to philosophy, and the fine arts, who regard her as their country. ' Arva, beata, Petamus arva, divites et insulas.' " Nor will I forget thee, oh thou happy island, conse- crated by the celestial visions of the well beloved disciple. Oh happy Patmos ! I will kneel upon the earth and kiss the steps of the apostle, and I shall believe that the heavens open on my sight. I behold the downfall of schism, and the union of the East and West, and the day-spring again dawning in Asia, after a night of such long darkness. I behold the land which has been sancti- fied by the steps of Jesus, and watered by his blood, de- livered from its profanation and clothed anew in glory ; and I behold also the children of Abraham, scattered over the fiice of the globe, and more numerous than the stars of heaven, assembled from the four quarters of the earth, coming to acknowledge Christ whom they pierced, and to show the resurrection to the end of time. a BIEMOIR OF FENELON. " This is enough, sir, and you will probably be glad to learn, that this is my last letter, and the end of my enthusiasm, which has perhaps wearied you. Excuse the eagerness which prompts me to discourse with you at a distance, while waiting till I can do it in person. " Francis de Fenelon." We perceive from the tone and style of this letter, that it was written during that youthful period of life, when the untamed imagination delights to decorate what it contemplates, and to scatter forth its brightest hues. It was probably addressed to Bossuet. Fenelon, it appears, succeeded in obtaining the consent of his uncle to his going as a missionary to the Levant, who could not allege the same objection as against his going to Canada. There is no doubt, however, that the fear of afflicting pain upon his uncle, and subsequent reflection, made him suspend the execution of his project, and soon after, his friends succeeded in giving his zeal another direction ; he was nominated by the archbishop of Paris, Superior to the society of Nouvelles Catholiques. It had been instituted in 1631 ; its object was to strengthen the faith of newly converted females, and to instruct persons of the same sex, who showed any desire of conversion, in the doc- trines of the church. Fenelon entered upon this path with pleasure, as it had some similarity with his earliest wish of becoming a missionary. It was at this time that he formed an intiniacy with Bossuet, for whom he seems to have had a filial veneration. To enable him to live in Paris, the Bishop of Sarlat, liis uncle, resigned to liim the priory of Carenac. This benefice, which was worth about three or four thousand livrcs a year, was the oidy one which Fenelon had ujitil MEMOIR OF TENELON. 9 his forty-third year. For ten years he devoted himself to the simple direction of a community of women. There may not be wanting those who would say that such an employment, at his time of life, must have circumscribed his mind, by fixing it upon uninteresting details and use- less studies. It was, however, at this period that he wrote his first works, the " Treatise on the Education of Girls," and the " Treatise on the Mission of the Clergy." The first of these was not composed for the public, but for his friend the Duchess of Beauvilliers. Thus, a work which was originally intended for the use of a single family, has become an elementary book, equally adapted to every family, and to all times and all places. Fenelon was called at this time to mourn the death of his uncle, who had directed his first steps in the path of life, and who had been still more useful to him by turning his heart towards the sublime idea of christian perfection. It was under his eyes, it was in his house, and in the in- timacy of that tender confidence which a father delights to show towards a fa-vorite child, that Fenelon imbibed his unshaken conviction of the duties and of the great- ness of his ministry. The next event in the life of Fenelon, was the choice of him by Louis the Fourteenth, as a missionary to con- vert the Protestants of the provinces of Poitou and Saint- onge. Fenelon, in an interview with the king before he set out upon his mission, refused a military escort ; and when the king represented the danger he might be ex- posed to, he answered, " Sire, ought a missionary to fear danger ? If you hope for an apostolical harvest, we must go in the true character of Apostles. I would rather per- ish by the hands of my mistaken brethren, than see one of them exposed to the inevitable violence of the mili- 10 MEMOIR OF FENELON. tary." In a letter to a Duke, he said, " The work of God is not effected in the heart by force ; that is not the true spirit of the Gospel." An officer in the army consulted him to know what course he should adopt with such of his soldiers as were Hugonots. Fenelon answered, " Tormenting and teas- ing heretic soldiers into conversion, will answer no end ; it will not succeed, it will only produce hypocrites. The converts so made will desert in crowds." And long afterwards, when he was archbishop of Cambrai, hearing that some peasants in Hainaut who were descended from Protestants, and who held still the same opinions, had received the sacrament from a minister of their own per- suasion, but that when they were discovered, they dis- guised their sentiments and even went to mass ; he said to the reformed minister, " Brother, you see what has happened. It is full time that these good people should have some fixed religion ; go, and obtain their names and those of all their families ; I give you my word, that in less that six months they shall all have passports." This same clergyman, whose name was Brunice, he received at his table as a brother, and treated him with great kindness. This was the spirit that animated Fenelon in his mis- sion to the Protestants. Those who were not converted by him, were charmed with his character ; while they refused to yield to his pathetic exhortations, they never refused him their esteem and their admiration, and we may even say their love and confidence. The reputation which Fenelon acquired by his exer- tions in Poitou, made him an object of public attention, and it was not long after that he was appointed preceptor to the Duke of Burgundy, the heir apparent to the king- MEMOIR OF FENELON. 11 dom. This he owed to the friendship and esteem of the Duke de Beauvilliers, who had been appointed by the king to be the governor to the young prince, and who immediately named Fenelon for his preceptor. The choice of the new governor and preceptor was no sooner made public, than all France resounded with applause. The character of the Duke of Burgundy is described as violent and difficult to manage ; he is said to have given indications in his earliest years, of everything that was to be feared in temper and disposition. " The Duke of Burgundy," says St. Simon, " was unfeeling and irri- table to the last degree, even against inanimate objects. •Passionately addicted to every kind of pleasure, he was often ferocious, naturally cruel, and inordinately proud; he looked upon men only as atoms, with whom he had no sort of similarity whatever. Even his brothers scarce- ly seemed, in his estimation, to form an intermediate link between him and the rest of mankind. But the brilliancy of his mind, and his penetration, were at all times evi- dent, and even in his moments of greatest violence, he shewed proofs of genius. The extent and vigor of his mind were prodigious, and prevented him from steady and direct application." Such was the prince confided to Fenelon. There was everything to be feared, and everything to be hoped from a soul possessing such energy. From the combined efforts of those engaged in his instruction, but principal- ly^ as it seems, from the influence of the religious prin- ciple, as employed by Fenelon, the unruly and violent prince became affable, mild, humane, moderate, patient, modest, humble, and severe only towards himself; wholly occupied with his future obligations in life, which he felt to be great, and thinking only of uniting the duties of the 12 MEMOIR OF FENELON. son and the subject, with those which he saw himself destined afterwards to fulfil. But what incessant vigi- lance, what art, what industry, what skill, what variety in the means adopted, and what delicacy of observation must have concurred to produce such an extraordinary alteration in the character of a child, a prince, and the heir to a throne. Fenelon composed his " Fables," the " Dialogues of the Dead," and " Telemachus," for the use of the Prince ; but as we have before mentioned, it was by keeping alive the feeling of accountability to the King of kings, that he acquired such an influence over the mind of the high- spirited Duke, and succeeded in subduing his passions. He was ever presenting to him that awful day when he was to appear before the Judge of all. He strove by every means to awaken and cherish in the soul of his pupil, sentiments that were truly religious, and to make him feel the solemn truth, that he was ever speaking and acting in the presence of God. This was the secret of the almost miraculous effect produced upon the character of the pupil of Fenelon. During five years, Fenelon received no mark of favor from Louis the Fourteenth, and the small living bestowed upon him by his uncle, was but a scanty means of sup- port to hiin. He is described as being obliged to prac- tice the most rigid economy. At last, at the age of forty- three, he was nominated to the Abbey of St. Valery. The king informed him of this in person, and apologized for so tardy an acknowledgment of his gratitude. His success in the education of the Prince, his excel- lent character, his conciliating manners, had produced him the love and esteem of all who knew him ; and a year after this time, he was elevated to the dignity of MEMOIR OF FENELON. 13 Archbishop of Cambrai. Fenelon showed his disinter- estedness, by immediately resigning the Abbey of St. Valery. Louis at first refused to receive his resignation, but Fenelon insisted, saying the resources of the arch- bishopric of Cambrai were such as made a plurality of livings against the canons of the church. A short time previous to his nomination to the arch- bishopric of Cambrai, his acquaintance commenced with Madame Guyon, which was the cause of his unhappy controversy with his friend Bossuet. The doctrine of dis- interested love, or that God is to be loved for his own per- fections, without any view to the future rewards or punish- ments, which was the doctrine of Fenelon, appears to have been the radical point of controversy. They who sup- posed that they had attained this habitual state of divine love, were called Q,uietists, from the perfect freedom from hope or fear that it produced. They thought that God was to be worshipped in the entire silence and stillness of the soul ; in a perfect renunciation of self to him. Fenelon who was one of four ecclesiastics appointed to examine this doctrine of Madame Guyon, could find noth- ing in it to condemn, and he even defended her as far as he could against her persecutors, who thus were made en- emies to himself When he was accused of holding doc- trines contrary to the true faith, and was called upon to make his defence by a declaration of his true sentiments, he published his " Explication des Maximes des Saints sur la Vie Interieure." Bossuet, who was entirely opposed to Fenelon upon the doctrine of disinterested love to God, used this book as a weapon against him ; he accused Fene- lon to the king of fanaticism. As Louis in his heart had never liked a man whose whole life and character were a tacit reproach upon his own, he readily believed all that 2 14 MEMOIR OF FENELON. was said against him. He was forbidden to remain in Paris, and soon after, the king, with his own hand, struck out his name as preceptor of the Duke of Burgundy. The controversy, which was carried on with great warmth by Bossuet, and supported on the part of Fenelon with great ability, but with unfailing meekness, was finally submitted to the Pope and his Cardinals. The pontiff disapproved of some propositions which were advanced by Fenelon, and the archbishop acquiesced. The Pope is related to have made a remark respecting the contro- versy, which could not have been very pleasing to the op- ponents of Fenelon. " Fenelon," he said, " was in fault for too great love of God; and his enemies were in fault for too little love of their neighbor." As a specimen of Fenelon's style and manner of vindicating himself against the writings of Bossuet, we give the following passage : — " How painful is it to me, to carry on against you this combat of words ; and that, to defend myself against your terrible charges, it should be necessary for me to point out your misrepresentations of my doctrine. I am the writer so dear to you, whom you always carry in your heart ; yet you endeavor to plunge me, as another Moli- nos, into the gulf of duietism. Everywhere you weep over my misfortunes, and while you weep, you tear me in pieces ! What can be thought of tears, to which you have recourse only for the purpose of crimination ! You weep on my account, and you suppress what is essential in my writings. You join together sentences in them which are wide asunder. Your own exaggerated conse- quences, formerly contradicted in my text, you hold out as my jtriiiciples. What is most pure in my doctrine, becom(!s hlasplioiny in your representation of it. Believe me, we have been too long a spectacle to the world, an MEMOIR OF FENELON. 15 object of derision to the ungodly, of compassion to the good. " That other men should be men, is not surprising ; but that the ministers of Jesus Christ, the angels of the church, should exhibit such scenes to the profane, to the unbeliever, calls for tears of blood. How much more fortunate would have been our lot, if, instead of thus con- suming our time in interminable disputes, we had been employed in our dioceses in teaching the catechism, in instructing the villager to fear God, and bless his holy name." The enemies of Fenelon finally succeeded in obtaining the condemnation of his book, " Les Maximes." It was with great reluctance that the Pope yielded at last to his enemies ; and in the manner in which he issued the de- cree, he discovers the greatest tenderness and respect for Fenelon. This truly great man was informed that his book was condemned by the Pope, just at the very moment when he was about to ascend the pulpit to preach. Deeply as he must have been affected by a decision so unexpected, yet his religion held such perfect empire over his mind, that he meditated a few moments only, and then, chang- ing the entire plan of his sermon, he delivered one upon perfect submission to the authority of superiors. The news of the condemnation of Fenelon had spread rapidly through the whole congregation ; and this admirable presence of mind, this pious submission, this sublime tranquillity, drew tears of tenderness, of grief, of love, and of admiration from every eye. He immediately pre- pared his public declaration of submission to the decree of the Pope. It was simple, entire, and without any re- serve. We extract from it the following passages : — 16 3IEM0IK OF FEXELOX. " We shall find consolation, my dearest brethren, in what humbles us, provided that the ministry of the word, which we have received for your sanctification, be not enfeebled, and that, notwithstanding the humiliation of the Pastor, the flock shall increase in grace before God." " Heaven forbid that we should ever be spoken of, except to remember that a Pastor thought it his duty to be more docile than the meanest sheep of his flock ; and that his submission was unlimited." The submission of Fenelon was neither a respectful silence, nor a measure of .policy, or any compromise with truth, but, as he himself said to a friend, " An inward act of obedience rendered to God alone, according to the principles of Catholicism. I regarded," says Fenelon, " the decision of my superiors as an echo of the Supreme Will ; I forgot all the passions, prejudices, and disputes which had preceded my condemnation ; I heard God speak to me as he did to Job ; I accepted my condemna- tion in its most extensive sense." He very justly dis- criminated between the meaning he intended to convey in his book, and the actual sense of the text, of which he considered the Pope the infallible judge. While he still solemnly asserted that it had never been his intention to advocate those errors for which his book was con- demned, the Pope's condemnation was sufficient to con- vince him that these errors were there expressed. And in his answer to an unknown friend who wished to i^Tite in defence of his book, he would not consent to have even his own personal attention vindicated from the errors imputed to him, lest it should appear as an indirect vin- dication of liis book, and a want of sincerity in his sub- mission to the Pope. " In tlie name of God," he says, " speak to me only of God, and leave men to judge of MEMOIR OF FENELON. 17 me as they like. As to myself, I shall seek only peace and silence." Fenelon seems not to have regarded his banishment to his diocese as any calamity, except from a fear that it might lessen his usefulness ; he loved the country and rural pleasures. He was particularly fond of walking. He writes to a friend, " I amuse myself, I walk, and I find myself peaceful, in silence before God. O ! bliss- ful communion ! in his presence we are never alone ; as to men, we are alone when we do not wish to be with them." In the course of his walks, he would often join the peasants, sit down with them on the grass, talk with them, and console them. He visited them in their cottages, seated himself at table with them, and partook of their humble meals. By such kindness and familiarity, he won their affections, and gained access to their minds. As they loved him as a father and friend, they delighted to listen to his instructions, and to submit to his guidance. Long after his death, the old people who had the happi- ness of seeing him on these occasions, spoke of him with the most tender reverence. " There," they would say, " is the chair in which our good archbishop used to sit in the midst of us ; we shall see him no more," and then their tears would flow. The diocese of Cambrai was often the theatre of war, and experienced the cruel ravages of retreating and con- quering armies. But an extraordinary respect was paid to Fenelon by the invaders of France. The English, the Germans, and the Dutch, rivalled the inhabitants of Cam- brai in their veneration for the Archbishop. All distinc- tions of religion and sect, all feelings of hatred and jealousy that divided the nations, seemed to disappear in 2* 18 MEMOIR OF FENELON. the presence of Fenelon. Military escorts were offered him, for his personal security ; but these he declined, and traversed the countries desolated by war, to visit his flock, trusting in the protection of God. In these visits, his way was marked by alms and benefactions. While he was among them, the people seemed to enjoy peace in the midst of war. He brought together into his palace, the wretched in- habitants of the country, whom the war had driven from their homes, and took care of them, and fed them at his own table. Seeing, one day, that one of these peasants ate nothing, he asked him the reason of his abstinence. " Alas ! my lord," said the poor man, " in making my escape from my cottage, I had not time to bring off my cow, which was the support of my family. The enemy will drive her away, and I shall never find another so good." Fenelon, availing himself of his privilege of safe conduct, immediately set out, accompanied by a single servant, and drove the cow back himself to the peasant- " This," said Cardinal Maury, " is perhaps the finest act of Fenelon's life." He adds, " Alas ! for the man who reads it without being affected." Another anecdote, showing his tenderness to the poor, is thus related of him. A literary man, whose library was destroyed by fire, has been deservedly admired for saying, " I should have profited but little by my books, if they had not taught me how to bear the loss of them." The remark of Fenelon, who lost his in a similar way, is still more simple and touching. " I would much rather they were burnt than the cottage of a poor peasant." The virtues of Fenelon give his history the air of romance ; but his name will never die. Transports of joy were heard at Cambrai when his ashes were discovered, MEMOIR OF FENELON. 19 which, it was thought, had been scattered by the tempest of the Revolution ; and to this moment the Flemings call him " the good Archbishop." The kindness and humanity of Fenelon to the sufferers in the war, endeared him to the whole nation. His char- ity embraced the rich and the poor, his friends and his enemies. " It is impossible," says his biographer, "to conceive how much he was the idol of the military, and how Versailles, in spite of her stern master, resounded with his name. His charity and polite attentions extended equally to the prisoners of war, as to his own countrymen. Virtue herself became more beautiful from Fenelon's manner of being virtuous." One of the curates of his diocese complained to him that he was unable to put a stop to dances on the feast days. " Mr. Curate," said Fenelon to him, " let us abstain from amusement ourselves, but let us permit these poor people to dance. Why prevent them from forgetting for a moment their poverty and wretchedness?" The simplicity of Fenelon's character obtained for him a triumph on one occasion, which must have been most gratifying to his feelings, if it were only as a testimony in favor of the irresistible charm and power of virtue. His enemies (for to the reproach of human nature, Fenelon had his enemies) were mean enough to practise the shameful artifice, of placing about him an ecclesiastic of high birth, whom he considered only as his grand vicar, but who was to act as a spy upon him. This man, who had consented to undertake so base an office, had, however, the mag- nanimity to punish himself for it. Subdued by the purity and gentleness of spirit that he witnessed in Fenelon, he threw himself at his feet, confessed the unworthy part he had been led to act, and withdrew from the world, to con- ceal, in retirement, his grief and his shame. 20 MEMOIR OF FENELON. Fenelon, so indulgent to others, required no indulgence to be exercised to himself. Not only was he willing to have his failings treated with severity, he was even grate- ful for it. Father Seraphin, a Capuchin missionary, of more zeal than eloquence, preached at Versailles before Louis the Fourteenth. The Abbe Fenelon, at that time the king's chaplain, being present, fell asleep. Father Seraphin perceived it, and stopping iri the midst of his discourse, " Wake that Abbe," said he, " who is asleep, and who seems to be present here only to pay his court to the king." Fenelon was fond of relating this anecdote. With the truest satisfaction, he praised the preacher, who was not deterred from exercising such apostolic liberty, and the king who approved of it by his silence. So tender and so delicate, if the expression may be allowed, was Fenelon's love of virtue, that he considered nothing as innocent that could wound it in the slightest degree. He censured Moliere for having represented it in " The Misanthrope," with an austerity that exposed it to odium and ridicule. The criticism may not be just, but we must respect the feeling which dictated it, and more especially as the gentle and indulgent virtue of Fenelon was far from bearing any resemblance to the savage and inflexible virtue of " The Misanthrope." On the con- trary, Fenelon relished highly " The Hypocrite," by the same author ; for the more he loved genuine virtue, the more he detested the aftectation of it (which he com- plained of meeting so often at Versailles,) and the more he commended those who endeavored to expose it. He did not, like Baillct, make it a crime in Moliere, to have usurped the right of the clergy to reprove hypocrites. Fenelon was persuaded that they who complain of en- MEMOIR OF FENELON. 21 croachments on this right, which, after all, is only the right of every good man, are commonly slow to make use of it themselves, and are even afraid to have others exer- cise it for them. He dared to blame Bourdaloue, whose talents and virtues he otherwise respected, for having at- tacked, in one of his sermons, that excellent comedy, where the contrast between true and false piety is so well paint- ed. " Bourdaloue," said he, with his usual candor, " is not a hypocrite ; but his enemies will say that he is a Jesuit." Fenelon showed his magnanimity as well as his chari- ty during the war. He was then an exile in his own dio- cese, and in disgrace with the king ; but the enemy had been his protectors and friends, and while all France was suffering from famine, his magazines were filled with grain. He distributed it among the soldiers of his unjust master, and refused to receive any pay for it, saying, " The king owes me nothing, and in times of calamity it is my duty, as a citizen and a bishop, to give back to the state what I have received from it." It was thus he avenged himself for his disgrace. His mind, dead to vanity, was in conversation entirely given up to the person with whom he conversed. Men of every profession, proficients in every branch of knowl- edge, were at ease in his company. He directed every one first to the subject he best understood, and then he disappeared at once, thus giving them an opportunity to produce, out of their own stock, the materials they were most able to furnish. Thus every one parted from him well pleased with himself. The different writings in philosophy, theology and belles-lettres, that came from the pen of Fenelon, have made his name immortal. The most powerful charm of 22 MEBIOIR OF FENELON. his writings, is that feeling of quiet and tranquillity which they excite in the reader. It is a friend, who approaches you and pours his soul into yours. You feel that you are holding an intimate communion with a pure and highly gifted mind. He moderates, ^and suspends, at least for a while, your worldly cares and your sorrows ; you enter for a time into that spirit of self-sacrifice and self-oblivion which seems to be the key-note of all his writings. Your whole heart seems to expand with the christian love that inspired him. We are ready to forgive human nature so many men who make us hate it, on account of Fenelon, who makes us love it. In the authors whom he quotes in his Dialogue upon Eloquence and Letter to the French Academy, and cites as models, those touches of feeling which go to the soul, are those upon which he loves to repose. He there seems, if we may so speak, to breathe sweetly his native air, and to find himself in the midst of what is most dear to him. His sermons were always the outpourings of his heart ; it was not his object to be brilliant ; he retired to his orato- ry, and there in the presence of God, he called up to his mind all those pure conceptions and affectionate senti- ments with which his discourses were filled. Like Moses, the friend of God, he went to the holy mountain, and re- turned to the people to communicate to them what he had learned iu that ineffable communion. He would begin by instructing bis flock njion the reasons of our faith, and of our liojie, and then hasten to inculcate that charity which produces and perfects all the virtues. Wlien the question was discussed before the Queen of Poland, which of the two champions, Bossuet or Fenelon, had rendered the greatest services to religion, " The one," said that Princess, " has proved its truth, the other has MEMOIR OF FEx\ELON. 23 made it to be loved." Although the spirit of love is man- ifest in all his writings, it is most deeply impressed on those that were composed for his pupil. He seems, in writing them, to have ever repeated to himself, " What I am going to say to this child, will be the occasion of hap- piness or misery to twenty millions of people." He said, that, not having been able to procure for the Duke of Bur- gundy the privilege of actually travelling himself, he had made him travel over the world with Mentor and Telem- achus; "If he ever travel," added he, "I should wish that it might be without an equipage. The less retinue he had, the easier would truth be able to approach him. He would be able to see good and evil, so as to adopt the one, and avoid the other, much better abroad than at home ; and, delivered for a while from the cares and anx- ieties of being a prince,' he would taste the pleasure of being a man." Let us not forget the most interesting fact relative to the education of this Prince, and which bound him by the strongest tie of affection to his instructer. When Fene- lon had committed any fault, even the slightest, in the ex- ecution of this trust, he never failed to accuse himself of it to his pupil. What an authority, founded in love and confidence, must he have acquired over him by this in- genuous frankness ! What a lesson of uprightness must it have taught him ; — openness and ingenuousness even at the expense of his self-love, indulgence towards the faults of others, readiness to confess his own, the courage even to accuse himself, the noble ambition of knowing, and the still more noble ambition of conquering himself " If you wish," said a philosopher, " to have your son listen to stern, unbending truth, begin by speaking it to him when it is against yourself" 24 MEMOIR OF FENELON. The enemies of Fenelon have insinuated, most falsely, that he took side in the controversy against Jansenism, only because the Cardinal de Noailles had declared him- self against Quietism. But his noble and ingenuous soul was incapable of such a motive. The sweetness of his disposition, and the idea which he had formed to himself of the goodness of God, made him averse to the doctrine of Quesnel, which he considered as leading to despair. He consulted his own heart for arguments against it. " God," said he, " is to them only a terrible being ; to me he is a being good and just. I cannot consent to make him a tyrant who binds us with fetters, and then commands us to walk, and punishes us if we do not." But in proscribing principles, which seemed to him too harsh, and the consequences of which were disavowed by those who held them, he would not permit them to be persecuted. "Let us be to them," said he, " what they are unwilling that God should be to man, full of compas- sion and indulgence." He was told that the Jansenists were his declared enemies, and that they left nothing un- done to bring him and his doctrine into discredit. " That is one farther reason" said he, " for me to suffer and for- give them." Thus passed Fenelon's life till the melancholy death of the Duke of Burgundy, in 1712. His death was a sad blight upon the fairest hopes of the nation. Fenelon's highest wishes seemed to be realized in him ; the eyes and hopes of all were upon him. His veneration and love for his preceptor had continued, and when he was allowed, he did not fail to express it. When Fenelon heard the afllicting intelligence of his death, he exclaim- ed, " All my tics arc broken ; nothing now remains to bind me to the earth." Shortly after, the Duke de MEMOIR OF FENELON. 25 Chevreuse, his intimate friend, died, and this was also a great sorrow to him. He writes thus to a friend, when he was deeply oppressed by these calamities. "Real friends are our greatest joy and our greatest sorrow. It were almost to be w ished that all true and faithful friends should expire on the same day." All his letters written during this period, show how deeply he suffered. Fenelon had one more severe trial to endure. The Duke de Beauvilliers, to whom he was tenderly attached, and who, being governor to the Duke of Burgundy, was not permitted to see him after his banishment, died in 1714. Fenelon survived him but four months. The death of the Duke de Beauvilliers was the severe blow that finally subdued the tender heart of Fenelon. His frame was feeble; a severe shock, that he received from the upsetting of his carriage, induced a fever, and he died on the first of January, 1715. In the last letter he wrote with his own hand, which was to the Duchess of Beau- villiers, he says to her, " We shall soon find again that which we have not lost ; we daily approach it with rapid strides ; yet a little while and there will be no more cause for tears." He was taken sick and died three days after, aged sixty-five. In his last sickness, he displayed the most admirable fortitude and submission. There Wiis the same sweetness of temper, composure of mind, lo\ e for his fellow-creatures, and confidence in God, which became the Christian and the friend of God and man, and which had distinguished his whole life. The death of Fenelon was deeply lamented by all tlie inhabitants of the Low Countries. So extensive had been his charities, and yet so well balanced his worldly affairs, that he died without money and without a debt. Tiie following portrait of this celebrated prelate, is given by 3 2G MEMOIR OF FENELON. the Duke de St. Simon in his Memoirs. " He was a tfill, lean, well made man, with a large nose, eyes full of fire and intelligence ; a physiognomy resembling none which I have elsewhere seen, and which could not be forgotten after it had been once beheld. There was such a sub- lime simplicity in his appearance, that it required an eftbrt to cease to look at him. His manners correspond- ed to his face and person. They were marked with that ease which makes others easy ; there was an inexpressi- ble air of good taste and refinement in them. He pos- sessed a natural eloquence, a ready, clear, and agreeable elocution, and a power of making himself understood up- on the most perplexed and abstract subjects. With all this, he never wished to appear wiser or wittier than those with whom he conversed, but descended to every one's level with a manner so free and so captivating, that it was scarcely possible to leave him." When we speak of the death of Fenelon, we realize the truth of what we all acknowledge, though few feel, that the good man never dies ; that, to use the words of one of our eloquent divines, " death was but a circum- stance in his being." We may say, as we read his writings, that we are conscious of his immortality : he is with us ; his spirit is around us ; it enters into and takes possession of our souls. He is at this time, as he was when living in his diocese, the fiimiliar friend of the poor and the sorrowful, the bold reprover of vice, and the gentle guide of the wanderer ; he still says to all, in the words of his Divine Master, " Come to me, all ye that are heavy laden, and T will give you rest." In the houses of the unh-arued, where the names of Louis the Fourteenth -.md Bossuet have never entered, except as connected with Fenclon's, where not a word of BIEMOIR OF FENELON. 27 liis native tongue would be understood, his spirit has entered as a minister of love and wisdom, and a well-worn translation of his Reflections, with a short Memoir of his life, is laid upon the precious word of God. What has thus immortalized Fenelon ? For wliat is he thus cher- ished in our hearts? Is it his learning? his celebrity? his eloquence ? No. It is the spirit of christian love, the spirit of the Saviour of mankind that is poured forth frcmi all his writings; of that love that conquers self, that binds us to our neighbor, that raises us to God. This is Fenelon's power, it is this that touches our souls. We feel that he has entered into the fall meaning of that sublime passage in St. John, and made it the motto of his life : " Beloved, let us love one another ; for love is of God ; and every one that loveth, is born of God, and knoweth God. He that loveth not, knoweth not God ; for God is love." SELECTIONS FROM FENELON. UPON THE PROOFS OF THE EXISTENCE OF GOD, DRAWN FROM A VIEW OF NATURE, AND OF THE MIND OF MAN. I CANNOT open my eyes without admiring the skill that evei-ything in nature displays. A single glance enables me to perceive the hand that has made all things. Men accustomed to meditate upon abstract truths, and recur to first principles, recog- nise the Divinity by the idea of him they find in their minds. But the more direct this road is, the more is it untrodden and neglected by common men, who follow their own imagination. It is so simple a demonstration, that from this very cause^ it escapes those minds that are incapable of a pure- ly intellectual operation. And the more perfect this way of discovering the Supreme Being is, the fewer are the mnids that can folloAV it. But there is an- other method less perfect, and which is adapted to 30 ON THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. the capacity of all. Those who exercise their rea- son the least, those who are the most affected by their senses, may at a single glance discover Him who is represented in all his works. The wisdom and power that God has manifested in every thing that he has made, reflects the name, as in a mirror, of him, whom they have not been able to discover in their own minds. This is a popular philosophy, addressed to the senses, which every one without prejudice or passion is capable of acquiring. A man whose whole heart is engaged in some grand concern, might pass many days in a room at- tending to his affairs, without seeing either the pro- portions of the room, the ornaments on the chim- ney, or the j^ictures that surrounded him. All these objects would be before his eyes, but he would not see them, and they would make no impression up- on him. Thus it is that men live. Everything presents God to them, but they do not see him. He was in the world, and the world was made by him ; and nevertheless the world has not known him. They pass their lives without perceiviug this representation of the Deity ; so completely do the fascinations of life obscure their vision. Saint Augustin says that the wonders of the uni- verse are lowered in our estimation by their repeti- tion. Cicero says the same thing. '' Forced to witness the same things every day, the mind as well as the eye is accustomed to them. It does not admire, or take any pains, to discover, the cause of ON THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. 31 events that it always observes to take place in just the same way ; as if it were the novelty rather than the grandeur of a thing that should lead us to tliis investigation." But all nature shows the infinite skill of its Au- thor. I maintain that accident, that is to say, a blind and fortuitous succession of events, could never have produced all that we see. It is well to adduce here one of the celebrated comparisons of the ancients. Who would believe that the Iliad of Homer was not composed by the effort of a great poet ; but that the characters of the alphabet being thrown confusedly together, an accidental stroke had placed all the letters precisely in such relative situations, as to produce verses so full of harmony and vari- ety ; painting each object with all that was most noble, most graceful, and most touching in its fea- tures ; in fine, making each person speak in charac- ter, and with such spirit and nature ? Let any one reason with as much subtilty as he may, he would persuade no man in his senses that the Iliad had no author but accident. Why then should a man, possessing his reason, believe with regard to the universe, a work unquestionably more wonder- ful than the Iliad, what his good sense will not allow him to believe of this poem ? But let us take another comparison, which is from Gregory Nazianzen. If we heard in a room behind a curtain, a sweet 32 ON THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. and harmonious instrument, could we believe that accident produced it ? Who would doubt serious- ly whether some skilful hand did not touch it? Were any one to find in a desert island, a beauti- ful statue of marble, he would say. Surely men have been here. I recognise the hand of the sculptor ; I admire the delicacy with which he has proportioned the body, making it instinct with beauty, grace, majesty, tenderness, and life. What would this man reply, if any one were to say to him, No, a sculptor did not make this statue. It is made, it is true, in the most exquisite taste, and according to the most perfect rules of symmetry ; but it is accident that has produced it. Among all the pieces of marble, one has happened to take this form of itself. The rains and the wind detached it from the mountain ; a violent storm placed it upright upon this pedestal, that was already pre- pared and placed here of itself. It is an Apollo as perfect as that of Belvidere ; it is a Venus equal to that of the Medicis ; it is a Hercules which re- sembles that of Farnese. You may believe, it is true, that this figure walks, that it lives, that it thinks, that it is going to speak. But it owes nothing to art, it is only a blind stroke of chance that has formed it so well, and placed it here. What should we say to a man who should pride himself upon superior knowledge and philosophy, and who, entering a house, should maintain that it was made by chance, and that art and industry ON THE KXISTENCE OF GOD. 33 had done nothing to render it a commodious habi- tation for men ; and wlio should give as a reason, that there were caverns that resembled it, which tlie art of man had not made ? We should sliow to him who reasoned in this way, all the dilferent parts of the house and their uses. It must be, we should say to this philoso- pher, that this work has been conducted by some able architect ; for all parts of it are agreeable, pleasing to the eye, well proportioned, convenient ; he must also have employed excellent workmen. Not at all, this philosopher would say ; you are ingenious in self-deception. It is true that the house is pleasant, well proportioned, and commo- dious , but it is self-formed, with all its ingenious contrivances. Chance has collected and arranged these stones in this beautiful order. It has raised these walls, pierced these windows, placed the stair-cases. Do not believe that the hand of man had any thing to do with it. Men have only occu- pied it when they found it finished. They imag- ine it is made for them, because they find in it things that they can turn to their accommodation ; but all that they attribute to the design of an archi- tect, is only the effect of their inventions after- wards. This house, so regular and so well arrang- ed, was made just as caverns are made ; and find- ing it convenient, they have occupied it just as they would a cave that they should happen to find under a rock, during a storm, in the midst of a desert. 34 ON THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. What would you think of this whimsical philos- opher, if he were to persist in it seriously, that this house did not discover any art ? When we read the fable of Amphion, who by a miraculous harmony raised the stones one upon another, in order and symmetry, to form the walls of Thebes, we smile at the fiction of the poet ; but this fiction is not so incredible as that which this philosopher maintains. But why do we smile less at hearing that the world is a work of chance, than we do that this fabulous house is. We do not compare the world to the cavern which we suppose made by accident, but we may to a house in which is displayed the most perfect architecture. The smallest animal has a construction that is more ad- mirable than that of the most perfect house. A traveller entering Sa de, which is the place that was once ancient Thebes, with its hundred gates, and which is now a desert, would find there columns, pyramids, obelisks, and inscriptions in unknown characters. Would he say. Men have never inhabited this place ; the hand of man has never been employed here ; it is chance that has formed these columns, and placed them upon their pedestals, and crowned them with capitals in such beautiful proportions ; it is chance that has hewn these obelisks out of single stones, and that has engraved upon them all these hieroglyphics? Would he not, on the contrary, say with all the certainty of which the mind of man is capable, ON THE EXISTENCE OF GOD. 0