t my indecision,
it is true that I myself reproach myself for it, and I pray God every day
to give me, together with wisdom and prudence, strength and courage to
carry out what I believe to be my duty." He had no more commands, in
spite of his entreaties to obtain, in 1709, permission to march against
the enemy. "If money is short, I will go without any train," he said;
"I will live like a simple officer; I will eat, if need be, the bread of
a common soldier, and none will complain of lacking superfluities when I
have scarcely necessaries." It was at the very time when the Archbishop
of Cambrai was urgent for peace to be made at any price. "The people no
longer live like human beings," he said, in a memorial sent to the Duke
of Beauvilliers; "there is no counting any longer on their patience, they
are reduced to such outrageous trials. As they have nothing more to
hope, they have nothing more to fear. The king has no right to risk
France in order to save Spain; he received his kingdom from God, not that
he should expose it to invasion by the enemy, as if it were a thing with
which he can do anything he pleases, but that he should rule it as a
father, and transmit it as a precious heirloom to his posterity." He
demanded at the same time the convocation of the assembly of notables.

It was this kingdom, harassed on all sides by its enemies, bleeding,
exhausted, but stronger, nevertheless, and more bravely faithful than was
made out by Fenelon, that the new dauphin found himself suddenly called
upon to govern by the death of Monseigneur, and by the unexpected
confidence testified in him before long by the king. "The prince should
try more than ever to appear open, winning, accessible, and sociable,"
wrote Fenelon; "he must undeceive the public about the scruples imputed
to him; keep his strictness to himself, and not set the court
apprehending a severe reform of which society is not capable, and which
would have to be introduced imperceptibly, even if it were possible. He
cannot be too careful to please the king, avoid giving him the slightest
umbrage, make him feel a dependence founded on confidence and affection,
relieve him in his work, and speak to him with a gentle and respectful
force which will grow by little and little. He should say no more than
can be borne; it requires to have the heart prepared for the utterance
of painful truths which are not wont to be heard. For the rest, no
puerilities or pettines