tues demanded. The other was the Bishop of Leon, an active and energetic prelate, with an open, noble disposition, and an elevated soul. Being arrested by the police as a former minister of Don Carlos, his release was immediately solicited by M. de Cheverus, and promised on condition that he would give his word not to return to Don Carlos. "At that price," he replied, "I do not wish my liberty; if I gave my word I should keep it; but far from thinking of entering into such a compact, I declare that it is my firm resolve, as it is, in my judgment, my duty, to re-enter Spain as soon as I possibly can." The intrepidity and candour of this answer could not fail to please M. de Cheverus, and short as was the time the prelates passed together, a sincere friendship was formed between them. The Bishop was removed to Strasbourg, whence he wrote a letter full of gratitude and affection to the Cardinal; but the latter had no opportunity of replying, as a few days after receiving the epistle, the journals officially announced the return of the courageous prelate to Spain.

The clergy of the canton of St. Foy, situated at the extremity of his diocese, having requested the Cardinal to visit them and confirm a large number of persons who were desirous of the happiness of receiving the sacrament from his hands, he set out, in spite of the excessive heat of the season, and went through all the parishes of the canton, preaching every day, officiating in all the churches, and administering confirmation to a multitude of the faithful. These ceremonies kept him day after day, for four or five hours, in places where the crowds which thronged them increased to an almost insufferable degree the warmth of the atmosphere, so that he was often obliged to

interrupt the proceedings for a few moments while he retreated into the sacristry to breathe fresh air. Returning to Bordeaux on Saturday, the 2d of July, he confirmed the next day, in the parish of St. Peter, a number of children, preached before and after the ceremony, and then went to the end of the city to officiate pontifically in the church of St. Martial, whose feast day it was. He was tormented the whole time by a thirst so burning that his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. On his return home he was completely prostrated-alas! the prostration was the precursor of the death which was approaching, a death ever to be deplored, but ever glorious for the illustrious Cardinal, since he sank beneath the labours and fatigues of his ministry, dying, as it were, in the breach with arms in his hands.

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BOOK V.

CHARACTER AND DEATH OF THE CARDINAL.

BETWEEN the circumstances detailed in the preceding book, and the terrible blow which at once and for ever deprived Cardinal de Cheverus of all sense and knowledge, but a few days elapsed, and those entirely barren of incident, so that we may now say that we have arrived at the end of his moral and intellectual life. But before narrating his last sickness and death, a task remains to be performed. Hitherto we have only considered the actions which successively filled up the course of his existence; but he would be very imperfectly known, if we should stop there. Public acts often reveal only an apparent and ephemeral virtue, a momentary effort after which the individual falls back, and the hero before the world sinks into a very small man in the detail of his interior and domestic career. To appreciate a man thoroughly, to obtain a clear insight into his merits, it is necessary to be acquainted with the whole course of his life, private as well as public, to view his deportment in every circumstance, when removed from the eye of the world, as well as when under its inspection; in a word, to behold the portrait of his entire soul; and it is in this way that we have now to consider M. de Cheverus. We have not been able to do it before, as the picture does not belong to any particular part of his life, but to the

whole of it; and we deem it proper not to delay it any longer, because by exhibiting M. de Cheverus in all the beauty of his character, we shall better prepare the reader to understand the intense interest which his sickness created, the tears which flowed at his death, the regrets which followed him to the tomb.

The most prominent trait in the life of M. de Cheverus was the uniform regularity of his existence, except when charity or some other duty obliged him to interrupt his habits. He considered a want of method in the employment of the day as a waste of time, a neglect of duty, an indication of a character destitute of energy, and incapable of controlling its moods and caprices-regarding, on the other hand, a Christian life as a life essentially of order which presides over every moment, causes each thing to be done in its proper place and season, and is thus a source of peace, of tranquillity, of happiness to those who observe it, a spectacle of virtue and religion to those by whom it is witnessed, a guarantee for the accomplishment of every duty. He always rose very early, at four o'clock in summer and half past four in winter, in order to perform his devotions in silence without interruption. At six o'clock he said mass, and then studied the Holy Scriptures, reading every day two chapters of the Old and two of the New Testament, in Latin, French, Greek, and English; he often, also, studied the Hebrew text when he had leisure to do so; and it was to this constant practice that he owed the knowledge he possessed of the Sacred Writings-a knowledge which he sought not from the impulse of vain curiosity, but from that sentiment of piety, of religious profit, of respect for the

divine word, which touches, penetrates, and engraves upon the soul its blessed truths. He next busied himself with his correspondence, which he conducted entirely himself, leaving to his subordinates only matters of a purely administrative description. Precisely at mid-day the bell was rung for dinner, to which he immediately repaired, inviting those who were with him at the moment, to share his repast. He began by asking a blessing, and then did the honours of the table with unaffected urbanity and grace. It was always frugally but decently served, with a suitable abundance, but never with any of those rare and costly dishes which are the refinements of luxury or gluttony; all was simple, and the cardinal was wont to give this reason for it to his numerous guests-"If I were only to assemble my friends at great banquets, I should be able to see them but seldom, whilst by thus offering them every day a frugal table, I can see them often, which I delight to do." But something better than the most delicious viands gave an attraction to these repasts-the perfect ease at which every one was placed, and the freedom all enjoyed of sharing in an agreeable intercourse, but especially the charm of his conversation. Nowhere was he more delightful than at table. He there abandoned himself to all the inspirations of his intellect and inexhaustible memory, now relating his recollections of America or some entertaining incident, now indulging in the happiest repartees, and bons-mots, and often in reminiscences of the poets of various languages, from whom he would make the most pertinent quotations. The dinner lasted three quarters of an hour, after which the company repaired on fine days to his garden, or