It is against this awful personage, before whose frown the boldest cowered, that the little club of preachers introduced in these pages contrive that plot of which Bourdaloue's Good Friday sermon was to be the explosion. Bossuet, as we have said, calls on Bourdaloue the night before the delivery of the sermon and succeeds in persuading him to cut out the prepared peroration, which is an enlogium on the king, beginning with the words, " 1 have nevertheless reason to console myself," and to substitute for it another, taking the king severely to task. This other peroration, curiously enough, is supplied by Claude, who dictates it to Bourdaloue (in circumstances, however, which take away the appearance of improbability attaching to such an incident). With his sermon committed to memory in its thus altered condition, Bourdaloue, the next day, mounts the pulpit of the Royal Chapel, where the king and his court are assembled. The king has been forewarned that he is going to catch it" in the sermon; and hence, he and the preacher, the one in his chair of state and the other in the pulpit, eye each other from the first like two combatants. The following is the description of the ser

The

"I

He will not recite

of the appellation - such a king as his father had | take upon him to have recourse to the method not been, as his successors were not to be-a which he ordinarily used with success against the king whose like we scarcely find two or three treacheries of his memory that of closing his times in all the world's history-where there is eyes. In spite of himself, he sought to read in nevertheless no lack of those men who are called those of the king the effect of his slightest words, kings. and as the king on his side only listened with uneasiness and distrust, it was impossible that a little of his agitation should not pierce through the usual impassibility of his features. It was a curious sight to observe these two men, both so skilful in impressing others, thus mutually impressing and fascinating each other. king was very nearly vanquished — Bourdaloue was still in his exordium, when a desperate tempmind. Here he is in the pulpit; he has no more tation, a bewildering idea took possession of his counsels or orders to receive; he is his own master. What is to hinder him from not delivering this horrible peroration, the cause of all his distraction? He will not take up his former one again, O, no! That is decidedly too inadmissible, and more so at this time than ever. have reason for consolation" for shame! Never, no, never will he say to the king anything like that or approaching_it. that, then, it is settled. He will be able to find a few words to replace it; he will improvise, if he body will be satisfied. And every time that he must; he will finish as he best can- and everyarrived at this conclusion he seemed to hear sounding from the depths of his heart these words of Claude: "Except God !" "Yes," he thought, "except God-and Bossuet, and Montausier, and the queen, and my conscience-and some from piety, and some from curiosity. king himself-the king. Ashamed of having trembled, he will console himself only by despising him who made him tremble-for nothing-and who did not dare to go on-" the sermon went on its way; and all this was whirling through the head of the orator; and the nearer the moment drew when he would be forced to decide, the more terrified he was not to know which side to take. Twenty times he was on the point of losing the thread of his discourse; twenty times he would have lost it had his memory been less tenacious; if, like a circus-rider standing upon a galloping horse, the very rapidity of his course had not tended to preserve his equilibrium. But at the least shock, the least phrase omitted or changed, all would have been broken, upset, lost. He felt this, and it gave only the more vehemence to his utterance. Never had he been in reality so absent in mind, never in appearance so devout. In the arts, a power once discovered, you may apply it to everything; in eloquence, once agitated, all your words receive from this fact a new life, even when the subject of which you speak has nothing, or scarcely anything in common with the primitive cause of this agitation. Agitated, alarmed, so long as emotion and terror do not go so far as to seal your lips, you are eloquent. And thus, he was most eloquent. Since the close of the exordium the greater part of the hearers were his own; but he was still making vain efforts to be theirs. The events of the day- the preoccupations of the next daythe sublime thought of the passion, began to ab

mon:

Bourdalouc had not yet ascended the pulpit, before everybody was certain that he was going to strike a great blow; if some had doubted it before he made his appearance, his agitation, his paleness could no longer leave them in doubt. It was not that he was still afraid. So long as the uncertainty had remained, and he had been obliged to struggle against the unfortunate desire-entirely mechanical-not to be obliged to preach before the king-he had suffered horribly; the king once arrived, he felt himself quite another person. Who has not felt this? When the danger is uncertain, the bravest are uneasy; if it is there-visible, palpable, and all escape is impossible, the most timid will become bold. And besides, this word timid did not apply to Bourdaloue; it had required a peculiar combination of circumstances to throw him into the distress in which we have seen him. But he seemed destined to experience on this day all the possible alternations of weakness and strength, courage and hesitation. Although accustomed to command an audience eight or ten times as numerous, he found himself at this moment the object of too lively, too piercing an attention, not to be confounded by it. If he had suspected nothing, perhaps he would have perceived nothing, or would have attributed this to an increased interest in himself, in his discourse; but how could be deceive himself? He could not even

and the

And

sorb all, and he, who knew so well how to dis- [Some persons elected as members to the House cover all the miseries in the obscurest folds of of Commons have lost their seats on proof of these hearts which opened at his voice-he al-bribery at the elections. Punch makes Cherubim lowed these miseries to fill and gnaw his own. of them, through some confusion of idens.] O for a moment of solitude! For a corner to pray in to place his insupportable burden at the foot of the Cross! But no, he must go on; he must drag it to the end. He is in the middle of his discourse. He draws near the close and he does not yet know what he shall do. Another page, and hesitation will no longer be possible. Another phrase only two words inore. His head grows dizzy, his knees totter beneath him. He dashes on blindly; with a concentrated violence he lets go the first words which come into his mouth. All is lost! It is not the peroration of Claude; it is his own; the one over which he has groaned; the one which

he wished to efface with his tears and his blood.
It is ns if the devil had whispered in his ear.
But suddenly he stops and grows pale. As he
turned his head, in order at least to spare him-
self the shame of pronouncing, before the king's
very face, these praises which seem like burning
coals upon his lips what does he see there, in
that corner? A grave, motionless, majestic coun-
tenance, which is distinctly defined against the
long folds of a black mantle. It is he- the Prot
estant! It is Claude! Bourdaloue is anni-
hilated. He slowly bows his head; he claps his
hands. But, O wonder! he rises again. The
fire of his eyes breaks forth again; his head is
upright and steady; his voice vibrates. It is
your turn, Louis le Grand! No one save Claude
had perceived the motive of the interruption, no
one imagined it to be anything else but an ora-
torical ruse; but the movement had been too
natural, too true, too terrible, not to have a pro-
digious effect. The orator had perceived, as by
the ray of a flash of lightning, all the advantages
he was going to derive from it. "I have, never-
theless, reason to console myself". It was at
these words that Bourdaloue had perceived
Claude, and that he had risen to fall no more.
"To console myself," he repeated slowly.
my brethren, what was I about to say?"
Then comes the thunder. The preacher
has got upon the right rail and he " gives
it" to the king soundly.

Ah,

ST. STEPHEN AND HIS CHERUBS.
ST. STEPHEN sat late at his new chapel gate,
In a state of resigned expectation
Of the winding up of a lengthy debate,
Not the least affecting the nation.
When, up in the air, the saint is aware
Of a sound as of wings and of voices,
And he lifts up his eyes in pious surprise,
To see what the cause of the noise is.
It comes from a rout of cherubim stout.
Their cheeks once so chubby, beslubbered and
Parliamentary apotheoses -
grubby

With the tears that have run down their noses.
With agonized swings of their poor little wings
They try vainly to wipe their fat faces,
With bitter complaint, o'er the head of the saint,
Flying out from their late pleasant places.
"What means this wild grieving?" said holy St.
Stephen.

Quoth they, "We are victims to law, sir."
"Won't you sit and explain?" But they an-
swered again,

"How sit? when we hav n't de quoi, sir! "The seats are all gone that we late sat upon

Ta'en away by our hard-hearted brothers; And the worst of the ill is, that, do what we will, There's no chance of our meeting with others. "Here's the cherub of Clitheroe, whither, oh whither, oh,

Is he to go look for a borough? Here's the cherub of Chatham, they all went in at him,

Though they'd play just the same tricks to

morrow.

"And the Lancaster cherub 'll feel his loss ter-
rible,

And the Hull cherubs twain must go canvass
As his seat to get warm was beginnin';

again,

With the cherub of Rye, young Mackinnon.
They who over the same bridge of gold in for

Cambridge

Walked triumphant- one rich and one clever, Before they can meet with as cosy a seat,

Such is the story:-a pure fabrication, of course, of the author; who uses for his" purpose one of the actual sermons of Bourdaloue, in the printed copies of which, however, we still read the eulogistic peroration which the fiction discards. Nothing but this incident, however, is fabricated: :- all else is true to the manners of the time and to the character of Bourdaloue. Altogether, we should say that M. Bungener has shown himself qualified to take a high place either in

historical literature or in the literature of historic fiction. The short sketch appended to the main story of the present volume, under the title of "Two Evenings at the Hôtel de Rambouillet," is equally conclusive of the author's vocation for the practice of historical portrait-painting.

May go wand'ring the kingdom forever!
"And what adds aggravation to our sad situation,
Is the fact which all folks must admit, sir.
That the few thus ill-treated by being unseated,

--

Are no worse than the many who sit, sir!" Then the saint with a grin stroked the beard on

his chin,

And with voice, than which none could be

blander,

Said, "In my house, you see, the proverb should be,

'Sauce for goose is not quite sauce for gander.' 999

From the Athenæum.

L. E. L. AND THE GOLD COAST.

66

popular favorite-and, as the published information on the subject before the public is neither ample in amount nor unimpeachable

sudden death, whose eyes were the last to rest
upon those rigid features so recently beaming
with all the animating glow of a fine intelligence,
and who, with a sorrowful heart, saw her con-
signed to her narrow resting-place.
endeavor to place in its true light a short account
of her too brief sojourn in Africa.

I will

IF there exists anywhere outside the boun-in character, we avail ourselves of such new daries of romantic fable a land which is at lights as Mr. Cruickshank may afford us. once a beauty and a mystery," it is probably His means of knowledge were, in any case, the Gold Coast of Africa. A sky of unclouded first-rate. He speaks of himselfbrightness -a luxuriant Flora, yielding in the garden the most tempting fruits and ris- as one who had the happiness of seeing a good ing in the forest into the grandest forms of deal of this accomplished lady upon the coast, vegetable life-birds of the most gorgeous who enjoyed and keenly felt the fascinations of plumage-animals and insects of almost infi- her society, who only ten hours before her death nite variety-give to the external appearance had sat and listened with a rapt attention to her of this coast an extraordinary charm and gaye-ent at the investigations consequent upon her brilliant sallies of wit and feeling, who was presty. The outward sparkle the voluptuous sense of easy and relaxed enjoyment though common in their degree in all tropical countries, become intensified in Africa, from the lumninous mists which hang over the earth. The story of the land is also singularly in harmony with its outward aspects. Its dismal forests offer themselves as appropriate scenes for those superstitious rites and cruel customs in which the natives are known to indulge. Itself a land of outrage, it is also the fringe of a district which is the slave estate of the vilest of our race. Altogether, there is a lurid harmony of tones and colors on that coast, at once moral and physical. The white cottages of the European residents, which appear from the sea as if about to be swallowed up in the luxuriant vegetation, are but the types of a human story. How weak and wasted seem the white population of the Coast in contrast with the abounding nature-how few the houses how numerous the tombs!

When Mrs. Maclean arrived at Cape Coast, there was no European lady then at the settlement-and her husband was in very bad health. Mr. Cruikshank was also ill. An invitation to visit the governor and his wife found him in bed, and it was some days before he could venture out to the Castle.

I sent in my name by the servant, and immediately afterwards Mrs. Maclean came to the hall and welcomed me. I was hurried away to his bed-room, Mrs. Maclean saying, as she tripped through the long gallery: "You are a privileged person, Mr. Cruickshank, for I can Mr. Brodie Cruickshank, a member of the assure you, it is not every one that is admitted here. I took a seat by the side of his bed, upon Legislative Council of Cape Coast Castle, has which Mrs. Maclean sat down, arranging the here given us in two small volumes the story clothes about her husband in the most affectionof his eighteen years' residence at this beauti-ate manner, and receiving ample compensation ful but insalubrious point of Africa. It is for for her attentions by a very sweet and expressive the most part a weary and monotonous record smile of thankfulness. We thus sat and chatted of petty wars, miserable intrigues and bar-together for some hours, Mrs. Maclean laughbarian customs: -a record of minute inci-ingly recounting her experiences of roughing it dents, which, should the capital of an Anglo- in Africa, and commenting, with the greatest African empire ever rise on the site of the good-humor and delight, upon what struck her Castle, will doubtless be interesting to the as the oddities in such a state of society. She antiquary of that country. There is, how-pointed to a temporary bed which had been made ever, one chapter in Mr. Cruickshank's narra- for her upon the floor, and said, Mr. Maclean's tive which has a present interest that in which he describes the arrival, colonial life, mysterious death, and sudden burial of Mrs. Maclean. This chapter adds some new particulars to the painful and romantic story of L. E. L.

Few passages in the personal history of modern literature have been more discussed than the various circumstances connected with the sudden and mysterious death of this

* Eighteen Years on the Gold Coast of Africa, including an Account of the Native Tribes, and their Intercourse with Europeans. By Brodie Cruickshank. Hurst & Blackett. 42

CCCCLXXIII. LIVING AGE. VOL. I.

sufferings had been so great for some nights, taken there. I declined to occupy an apartment that the little sleep which she had got had been in the Castle, but promised to call daily during my stay in Cape Coast to pass a few hours with them.

We pass the daily record of social intercourse. Mr. Cruickshank was about to return to England for his health; Mrs. Maclean was employed in writing sketches of Scott's heroines for the Book of Beauty," and as she sometimes found it difficult to fix her thoughts on a particular subject," she seemed to have some alarm that the climate was affecting her." Mr. Cruickshank writes

As the day drew near for my departure, she | When she returned, she found difficulty in openoccupied herself more and more in writing to her ing the door, on account of a weight which apfriends in England. It had been arranged that peared to be pressing against it. This she disthe vessel should sail on the forenoon of the 16th covered to be the body of her mistress. She of October, and I agreed to dine and spend the pushed it aside, and found that she was senseevening of the 15th with the governor and his less. She immediately called Mr. Maclean. lady. It was in every respect a night to be re- Dr. Cobbold was sent for; but from the first membered. At eleven o'clock I rose to moment of the discovery of the body on the floor, leave. It was a fine clear night, and she strolled there had not appeared any symptom of life. into the gallery, where we walked for half-an- Mrs. Bailey farther asserted that she found a hour. Mr. Maclean joined us for a few minutes, small phial in the hand of the deceased, which but not liking the night air, in his weak state, she removed and placed upon the toilet-table. he returned to the parlor. She was much struck Mrs. Maclean had appeared well when she sent with the beauty of the heavens in those latitudes her to fetch the pomatum. She had observed in at night, and said it was when looking at the her no appearance of unhappiness. Mr. Maclean moon and the stars that her thoughts oftenest stated, that his wife had left him about seven reverted to home. She pleased herself with o'clock in the morning, and that he had never thinking that the eyes of some beloved friend seen her again in life. When he was called to might be turned in the same direction, and that her dressing-room, he found her dead upon the she had thus established a medium of communi- floor. After some time, he observed a small cation for all that her heart wished to express. "But you must not," she said, "think me a foolish, moonstruck lady. I sometimes think of these things oftener than I should, and your departure for England has called up a world of delightful associations. You will tell Mr. F however, that I am not tired yet. He told me I should return by the vessel that brought me out; but I knew he would be mistaken." We joined the governor in the parlor. I bade them good night, promising to call in the morning, to bid them adieu. I never saw her in life again.

phial upon the toilet-table, and asked Mrs. Bailey where it had come from. She told him that she had found it in Mrs. Maclean's hand. This phial had contained Scheele's preparation of prussic acid. His wife had been in the habit of using it for severe fits or spasms to which she was subject. She had made use of it once on the passage from England, to his knowledge. He was greatly averse to her having such dangerous medicine, and wished to throw it overboard. She entreated him not to do so, as she must die without it. There had been no quarrel nor unkindness between him and his wife. - Dr. Cobbold, who had been requested to make a post-mortem examination, did not consider it at all necessary to do so, as he felt persuaded she had died by prussic acid. He was led to this conclusion from the appearance of the eyes of the deceased; and he believed he her person. My own evidence proved, that I could detect the smell of the prussic acid about had parted from Mr. and Mrs. Maclean at a very late hour on the evening before, and that they We entered the room, where all that was appeared then upon the happiest terms with each mortal of poor L. E. L. was stretched upon the other. There was found upon her writing-desk bed. Dr. Cobbold rose up from a close examin-a letter not yet folded, which she had written ation of her face, and told us all was over; that morning, the ink of which was scarcely dry she was beyond recovery. My heart would not at the time of the discovery of her death. This believe it. It seemed impossible that she, from whom I had parted not many hours ago so full of life and energy, could be so suddenly struck down. I seized her hand, and gazed upon her face. The expression was calm and meaningless. Her eyes were open, fixed, and protruding.

At breakfast next day Mr. Cruickshank was alarmed by a summons "You are wanted at the Castle-Mr. Maclean is dead," said the messenger. Hurrying to the Castle, he found that it was not Mr. but Mrs. Maclean whom he had left the previous night so well who was no more. "Never," he says, "shall I forget the horror-stricken expression

of Mr. Maclean's countenance.".

An inquest was immediately held ;

letter was read at the inquest. It was for Mrs.
Fagan, upon whom she had wished me to call.
It was written in a cheerful spirit, and gave no
indication of unhappiness. In the postscript
the last words she ever wrote-

- she recommended me to the kind attentions of her friend. With the evidence before them, it was impossible for the jury to entertain for one instant the idea that the unfortunate lady had wilfully destroyed herAll that could be elicited, upon the strictest self. On the other hand, considering the evidence investigation, was simply this: It appeared that respecting the phial, her habit of making use of she had risen, and left her husband's bed- this dangerous medicine, and the decided opinion room about seven o'clock in the morning, and of the doctor that her death was caused by it, proceeded to her own dressing-room, which was it seemed equally clear that they must attribute up a short flight of stairs, and entered by a her death to this cause. Their verdict, thereseparate door from that leading to the bed-room. fore, was, that she died from an overdose of Before proceeding to dress, she had occupied her- Scheele's preparation of prussic acid taken inadself an hour and a half in writing letters. She vertently. then called her servant, Mrs. Bailey, and sent

her to a store-room to fetch some pomatum. Mr. Cruickshank concurred in this verdict Mrs. Bailey was absent only a few minutes. at the time-but since his arrival in England

In those warm latitudes interment follows

he has found reason "to doubt of its correct- | knowledge pervades the whole; but personal
ness. He now entertains the opinion, that incidents or the results of particular observa-
death was caused by "some sudden affection tion are rarely met with. This mode of com-
of the heart." We refrain from any comment position perhaps imparts value as an instruct-
on either facts or opinions and will content ive exposition, but rather detracts from the
ourselves with adding a picture of the last popular character. Mr. Cruickshank, more-
scene of all from the narrative of this eye-over, is rather too prone to reflection or dis-
witness :-
cussion, which often gives to his pages the
air of a sermon or lecture. In spite of these
death with a haste which often cruelly shocks drawbacks, the book is a full and lifelike pic-
the feelings. Mrs. Maclean was buried the ture of a people whose hardships as planta-
same evening within the precincts of the castle. tion-slaves have brought them more fully
Mr. Topp read the funeral service, and the whole before the world than their own importance
of the residents assisted at the solemn ceremony. or deeds would have accomplished; whose
The grave was lined with walls of brick and character and condition at home has been the
mortar, with an arch over the coffin. Soon after subject of much dispute; and whose social
the conclusion of the service, one of those heavy position is well worth study. The institu-
showers only known in tropical climates suddenly tions and civil state of the Negroes seem to
came on. All departed for their houses. I re- bear a closer resemblance to that of the Ger-
mained to see the arch completed. The brick-manic tribes than might have been expected;
layers were obliged to get a covering to protect
them and their work from the rain. Night had
come on before the paving stones were all put
down over the grave, and the workmen finished
their business by torchlight. How sadly yet
does that night of gloom return to my remem-
brance! How sad were then my thoughts, as,
wrapped up in my cloak, I stood beside the grave
of L. E. L., under that pitiless torrent of rain!
I fancied what would be the thoughts of thou-
sands in England, if they could see and know
the meaning of that flickering light, of those
busy workmen, and of that silent watcher! I
thought of yesterday, when at the same time I
was taking my seat beside her at dinner, and
now, O, how very very sad the change!

while some of their customs and laws are
counterparts of those of the Hebrows as re-
corded in the Mosaic writings.

discusses are Fetish - their religion or super-
The subjects Mr. Cruickshank most fully
stition; laws, and usages having the effect of
laws; slavery, and the results of missionary
teaching, with the future prospects of this
part of Africa. The systein of Fetish has
often been handled before, but never so fully
or so philosophically, with such a complete
exposure of the arts of Fetish men, or so fair
an estimate of its results. Bad and fraudu-
lent as is the system, it was held by the
principal and best-informed natives that its
abolition, without something to put in its
place, would be dangerous, since it still exer-
cised a control over the conduct of the people
by means of fear. Circumstances, however,
have lately enabled the government to thor-
oughly expose the fraud, and they have done
so, without apparent evil consequences.
the contrary, it has extended a nominal Chris-
tianity, and led to the building of chapels.

On

MR. CRUICKSHANK has passed the last eighteen years of his life at Cape Coast Castle, or The extent of African slavery, the tyranny the settlements under its influence, engaged which the native master can exercise over his for a considerable portion of the time in the slave, and very often does, except when discharge of public duties which brought checked by British influence, give some counhim into constant connection with the natives tenance to the planter's argument, ridiculous in matters of law and custom. His book is as it sounds, that the Negro is worse off at the result of his long opportunities and expe- home. Slavery is interwoven with the whole rience; and it contains the most thorough system of life. Almost every man is born & and complete account of the character, cus-slave, or is liable to become a slave. In the toms, superstitions, laws, and social state of the Western Negroes, that we have seen. To this survey Mr. Cruickshank has added a history of our settlements on the Gold Coast, with a geographical sketch of the region.

The book is full of stories or cases illustrative of the topics in hand, but it is rather a series of essays upon classes of subjects than anything approaching to what is understood by travels. Here and there the author throws in a description, and an evidently living

case of captured, purchased, or slaves born of slaves, the case is intelligible enough. The peculiarities of African law render almost every one a slave, or so deeply indebted that his freedom is unsubstantial. By a singular and rather complex system of marriage-laws, children are not often born free; but besides, the father or mother may belong to the father's or mother's family. As in many other nutions, a debt which cannot be discharged! reduces a man to slavery. There is also