His chief friends approved his course, but insisted that he must write his views in full. He did so, producing his elaborate work called “The Maxims of the Saints,” published in January, 1697. Without naming Madame Guyon, it was in fact her defense, the exposition of her opinions as he understood them, and as she had explained them to him in private. It was hailed as a golden work by Cardinal de Noailles, M. Tronson, the Bishop of Chartres, and many other leading men of France.[8] But Bossuet was roused to fury. “Take your own measures,” he said to these men; “I will raise my voice to the heavens against these errors so well known to you; I will complain to Rome, and to the whole earth. It shall not be said that the cause of God is weakly betrayed. Though I should stand singly in it, I will advocate it.” But none better knew than he that so far from standing singly in it he had the warmest possible backing from the king. Louis XIV had no love for Fénelon. He had raised him to certain dignities, partly because of his uncommon abilities, and partly because of his favor with the public, rather than as a sign of any personal attachment. Fénelon was, throughout his life, the very embodiment of all that Louis did not like, and this, considering Louis’ character, was one of his chief glories. The two men were so far apart in most things, and their minds were so differently constituted that there was no common bond of sympathy, and the only wonder is how they got along together as well as they did. Fénelon, while possessing a great superiority of genius, exhibited also an elevation of moral and personal character of which the king stood in awe, and he was glad that the accusation of heresy gave him a good opportunity to be rid of his uncomfortable presence.