As a sincere Christian and a priest, Fenelon saw from the first that religion alone could triumph over this terrible nature; the Duke of Beauvilliers, as sincere and as christianly as he, without much wits, modestly allowed himself to be led; all the motives that act most powerfully on a generous spirit, honor, confidence, fear and love of God, were employed one after the other to bring the prince into self-subjection.  He was but eight years old, and Fenelon had been only a few months with him, when the child put into his hands one day the following engagement:—­

“I promise M. l’Abbe de Fenelon, on the honor of a prince, to do at once whatever he bids me, and to obey him the instant he orders me anything, and, if I fail to, I will submit to any kind of punishment and disgrace.”

“Done at Versailles the 29th of November, 1689.  “Signed:  Louis.”

[Illustration:  Fenelon and the Duke of Burgundy——­610]

The child, however, would forget himself, and relapse into his mad fits.  When his preceptor was chiding him one day for a grave fault, he went so far as to say, “No, no, sir; I know who I am and what you are.”  Fenelon made no reply; coldly and gravely he allowed the day to close and the night to pass without showing his pupil any sign of either resentment or affection.  Next day the Duke of Burgundy was scarcely awake when his preceptor entered the room.  “I do not know, sir,” said he, “whether you remember what you said to me yesterday, that you know what you are and what I am.  It is my duty to teach you that you do not know either one or the other.  You fancy yourself, sir, to be more than I; some lackeys, no doubt, have told you so, but I am not afraid to tell you, since you force me to it, that I am more than you.  You have sense enough to understand that there is no question here of birth.  You would consider anybody out of his wits who pretended to make a merit of it that the rain of heaven had fertilized his crops without moistening his neighbors.  You would be no wiser if you were disposed to be vain of your birth, which adds nothing to your personal merit.  You cannot doubt that I am above you in lights and knowledge.  You know nothing but what I have taught you; and what I have taught you is nothing compared with what I might still teach you.  As for authority, you have none over me; and I, on the contrary, have it fully and entirely over you; the king and Monseigneur have told you so often enough.  You fancy, perhaps, that I think myself very fortunate to hold the office I discharge towards you; disabuse yourself once more, sir; I only took it in order to obey the king and give pleasure to Monseigneur, and not at all for the painful privilege of being your preceptor; and, that you may have no doubt about it, I am going to take you to his Majesty, and beg him to get you another one, whose pains I hope may be more successful than mine.”  The Duke of Burgundy’s passion was past, and he burst into sobs.  “Ah! sir,” he cried, “I am in despair at what took place yesterday; if you speak to the king, you will lose me his affection; if you leave me, what will be thought of me?  I promise you.  I promise you . . . that you shall be satisfied with me; but promise me . . .”