heart, that they were destined to eternal woe. Brought up in the atmosphere in which he was, he could not possibly sympathize with their position, could not regard their heroism as other than obstinacy. But such was the natural mildness of his disposition and his acquaintance with the demands of genuine religion, that he could in no way be content with a merely nominal acquiescence or consent, and with the use of that force by which such acquiescence was obtained. His mission to Saintonge has been called a dark page in his life. Yet the strongly prejudiced writer who so characterizes it says in the same connection, after referring to Fénelon’s firm stand against violence and the forcing of conscience: “To us this measure of clemency seems bare and scanty enough; in Fénelon’s own time it was both unusual and effective. His counsels of mercy had weight with the minister, and led to the suppression of various abuses, civil as well as ecclesiastical. They manifestly gained for him the affection of his proselytes, and, stirring up against him the bile of the more rigid Catholics, seem to have stood in the way of his promotion to the bishopric.” It was a little after this that he was appointed to the See of Poitiers, which was the chief city of Poitou, but De Harlai, who by this time was anything but a friend, succeeded in getting it immediately revoked; and the next year the archbishop was again successful in his unworthy maneuvers. The Bishop of Rochelle had been greatly impressed by the zeal and gentle wisdom of the young missioner, and he now came to Paris, without giving Fénelon any hint of his intention, to ask the king to appoint him as Coadjutor Bishop of Rochelle. It would have been done but for the insinuations of De Harlai that the attraction between the two men was a mutual leaning to Jansenism, and as this was always a sore point with Louis, he at once refused to make the appointment. Fénelon might easily have refuted these assertions—for there was not a word of truth in them, as his close friendship with Bossuet, Tronson, and others, showed—but he did not take the trouble so to do. He was not ambitious of dignities. Was his mission to Saintonge and Poitou a dark page in his history? We can hardly look upon it in this light. It seems to us that he comes out of it with considerable credit. Can we take it amiss in him that he was a stanch adherent of the Roman Catholic Church, not only at this time, but throughout all his life? Not if we are reasonable, and do not demand miracles where there is no occasion for expecting them. Shall we withhold our admiration from those who do not rise entirely superior to all their surroundings, and see things as we, in totally different conditions, see them? In that case, dealt with after so harsh a judgment, we ourselves might come off badly, and we should most certainly have to bar out from our favor a very large proportion of the men who have done the most for the world’s advancement.