Readers of these letters to Panizzi, and, indeed, of other of Mérimée’s works, can hardly fail to notice how greatly he, in common with his friend and correspondent, was affected by a malady, and that no imaginary one, common enough amongst the Roman Catholic nations, but little known in this country—the hatred of priests. Nor is it much to be wondered at that, in countries where the Church seems to exist for itself alone, and not for that purpose for which it is supposed to have been founded—the benefit of mankind—where it dwells as a foreign authority, ever busied in jealously watching the temporal power, and opposing all that may be done for the cause of civilization and political advancement, simply because done by the State—the well-drilled officials of such a system should be viewed by the patriot and statesman, by a Panizzi, a Mérimée, or a Cavour, with mistrust and dislike. The letter to Panizzi, however, announcing the death and burial of Mérimée, with which this chapter concludes, shows a result not always brought about by this feeling of hatred of priests; yet we cannot but think that Mérimée had ceased to be a Roman Catholic in the strict sense of the term, rather than become a Protestant of any kind, and that his express desire for the place and manner of his burial is to be taken more as a protest against the creed of his birth than as a sign of his acceptance of any other. However this may be, it is hard to acquit the priests of the charge of alienating yet another eminent man from that communion. Mérimée suffered greatly during the last years of his life, and for a long time before his death was, according to his letters to Panizzi, in something like a moribund state, enduring, in fact, a living death:— “Cannes, 24th of September, 1870. “My dear Sir, You loved my dear Prosper well—he loved you. I know you will be grieved to hear he is gone. He died last night without a struggle. All that devoted affection and care could do was done for him. This is a consolation for me to reflect on. The horrid political events have certainly shortened his days. I need not say how miserable I am. We are at Cannes without a friend, for Dr. Maure is at Grasse, and none of our acquaintances have come yet. Dear Prosper often wondered and regretted that you did not write to him since he left Paris. Yours, &c., &c., J. LAGDEN.” And from another friend Panizzi received the following:— “Our poor friend is no more. He passed away in his sleep so tranquilly they thought he was sleeping. He was buried, by his express desire, in our Protestant Cemetery, as a Protestant. I always thought that he would direct this to be done, if he died at Cannes.” [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XXVIII