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the　Holy　Ghost。　This　I　have　never　failed　to　do　to　this　day。　To

this　I　owe　the　light　and　faith　which　brought　me　into　the

truefold。　I　bought　all　the　books　I　could　about　the　Holy　Ghost。　I

worked　out　the　truths　about　His　personality；　His　presence；　and

His　office。　This　made　me　understand　the　last　paragraph　in　the

Apostles'　Creed；　and　made　me　a　Catholic　Christian。'



So；　though　Death　came　slowly；　struggling　step　by　step　with　that

bold　and　tenacious　spirit；　when　he　did　come　at　last　the　Cardinal

was　ready。　Robed　in　his　archiepiscopal　vestments；　his　rochet；　his

girdle；　and　his　mozzetta；　with　the　scarlet　biretta　on　his　head；

and　the　pectoral　cross　upon　his　breast；　he　made　his　solemn

Profession　of　Faith　in　the　Holy　Roman　Church。　A　crowd　of　lesser

dignitaries；　each　in　the　garments　of　his　office；　attended　the

ceremonial。　The　Bishop　of　Salford　held　up　the　Pontificale　and　the

Bishop　of　Amycla　bore　the　wax　taper。　The　provost　of　Westminster；

on　his　knees；　read　aloud　the　Profession　of　Faith；　surrounded　by

the　Canons　of　the　Diocese。　Towards　those　who　gathered　about　him；

the　dying　man　was　still　able　to　show　some　signs　of　recognition；

and　even；　perhaps；　of　affection；　yet　it　seemed　that　his　chief

preoccupation；

up　to　the　very　end；　was　with　his　obedience　to　the　rules

prescribed　by

the　Divine　Authority。　'I　am　glad　to　have　been　able　to　do

everything　in

due　order'；　were　among　his　last　words。　'Si　fort　qu'on　soit；'　says

one

of　the　profoundest　of　the　observers　of　the　human　heart；　'on　peut

eprouver

le　besoin　de　s'incliner　devant　quelqu'un　ou　quelque　chose。

S'incliner　devant

Dieu；　c'est　toujours　le　moins　humiliant。'



Manning　died　on　January　14th；　1892；　in　the　eighty…fifth　year　of

his　age。　A　few　days　later　Mr。　Gladstone　took　occasion；　in　a

letter

to　a　friend；　to　refer　to　his　relations　with　the　late　Cardinal。

Manning's　conversion　was；　he　said；　'altogether　the　severest　blow

that　ever　befell　me。　In　a　late　letter　the　Cardinal　termed　it　a

quarrel；　but　in　my　reply　I　told　him　it　was　not　a　quarrel；　but　a

death；　and　that　was　the　truth。　Since　then　there　have　been

vicissitudes。　But　I　am　quite　certain　that　to　the　last　his

personal　feelings　never　changed；　and　I　believe　also　that　he　kept

a　promise　made　in　1851；　to　remember　me　before　God　at　the　most

solemn　moments；　a　promise　which　I　greatly　valued。　The　whole

subject　is　to　me　at　once　of　extreme　interest　and　of　considerable

restraint。'　'His　reluctance　to　die；'　concluded　Mr。　Gladstone；

'may

be　explained　by　an　intense　anxiety　to　complete　unfulfilled

service。'



The　funeral　was　the　occasion　of　a　popular　demonstration　such　as

has　rarely　been　witnessed　in　the　streets　of　London。　The　route　of

the　procession　was　lined　by　vast　crowds　of　working　people；　whose

imaginations；　in　some　instinctive　manner；　had　been　touched。　Many

who　had　hardly　seen　him　declared　that　in　Cardinal　Manning　they

had　lost　their　best　friend。　Was　it　the　magnetic　vigour　of　the

dead　man's　spirit　that　moved　them？　Or　was　it　his　valiant

disregard　of　common　custom　and　those　conventional　reserves　and

poor　punctilios　which　are　wont　to　hem　about　the　great？　Or　was　it

something　untameable　in　his　glances　and　in　his　gestures？　Or　was

it；　perhaps；　the　mysterious　glamour　lingering　about　him；　of　the

antique　organisation　of　Rome？　For　whatever　cause；　the　mind　of　the

people　had　been　impressed；　and　yet；　after　all；　the　impression　was

more　acute　than　lasting。　The　Cardinal's　memory　is　a　dim　thing

today。

And　he　who　descends　into　the　crypt　of　that　Cathedral　which

Manning　never　lived　to　see；　will　observe；　in　the　quiet　niche　with

the　sepulchral　monument；　that　the　dust　lies　thick　on　the　strange；

the　incongruous；　the　almost　impossible　object　which；　with　its

elaborations　of　dependent　tassels；　hangs　down　from　the　dim　vault

like　some　forlorn　and　forgotten　trophy　the　Hat。





BIBLIOGRAPHY



E。　S。　Purcell。　Life　of　Cardinal　Manning。

A。　W。　Hutton。　Cardinal　Manning。

J。　E。　C。　Bodley。　Cardinal　Manning　and　Other　Essays。

F。　W。　Cornish。　The　English　Church　in　the　Nineteenth　Century。

Dean　Church。　The　Oxford　Movement。

Sir　J。　T。　Coleridge。　Memoir　of　the　Rev。　John　Keble。

Hurrell　Froude。　Remains。

Cardinal　Newman。　Letters　and　Correspondence　in　the　English

Church。

Apologia　pro　Vita　Sua。

Wilfrid　Ward。　Life　of　　Cardinal　Newman。　W。　G。　Ward　and　the　Oxford

Movement。　W。　G。　Ward　and　the　Catholic　Revival。　Life　of　Cardinal

Wiseman。

H。　P。　Liddon。　Life　of　E。　B。　Pusey。

Tracts　for　the　Times；　by　Members　of　the　University　of　Oxford。

Lord　Morley。　Life　of　Gladstone。

Lives　of　the　Saints；　edited　by　J。　H。　Newman。

Herbert　Paul。　Life　of　J。A。　Froude。

Mark　Pattison。　Autobiography。

T。　Mozley。　Letters　from　Rome　on　the　Occasion　of　the　Oecumenical

Council。

Lord　Acton。　Letters。

H。　L。　Smith　and　V。　Nash。　The　Story　of　the　Dockers'　Strike。







Florence　Nightingale



EVERY　one　knows　the　popular　conception　of　Florence　Nightingale。

The　saintly；　self…sacrificing　woman；　the　delicate　maiden　of　high

degree　who　threw　aside　the　pleasures　of　a　life　of　ease　to　succour

the　afflicted；　the　Lady　with　the　Lamp；　gliding　through　the

horrors　of　the　hospital　at　Scutari；　and　consecrating　with　the

radiance　of　her　goodness　the　dying　soldier's　couch。　　The　vision

is　familiar　to　all　but　the　truth　was　different。　The　Miss

Nightingale　of　fact　was　not　as　facile　as　fancy　painted　her。　She

worked　in　another　fashion　and　towards　another　end；　she　moved

under　the　stress　of　an　impetus　which　finds　no　place　in　the

popular　imagination。　A　Demon　possessed　her。　Now　demons；　whatever

else　they　may　be；　are　full　of　interest。　And　so　it　happens　that　in

the　real　Miss　Nightingale　there　was　more　that　was　interesting

than　in　the　legendary　one；　there　was　also　less　that　was

agreeable。



Her　family　was　extremely　well…to…do；　and　connected　by　marriage

with　a　spreading　circle　of　other　well…to…do　families。　There　was　a

large　country　house　in　Derbyshire；　there　was　another　in　the　New

Forest；　there　were　Mayfair　rooms　for　the　London　season　and　all

its　finest　parties；　there　were　tours　on　the　Continent　with　even

more　than　the　usual　number　of　Italian　operas　and　of　glimpses　at

the　celebrities　of　Paris。　Brought　up　among　such　advantages；　it

was　only　natural　to　suppose　that　Florence　would　show　a　proper

appreciation　of　them　by　doing　her　duty　in　that　state　of　life　unto

which　it　had　pleased　God　to　call　herin　other　words；　by

marrying；　after　a　fitting　number　of　dances　and　dinner…parties；　an

eligible　gentleman；　and　living　happily　ever　afterwards。　Her

sister；　her　cousins；　all　the　young　ladies　of　her　acquaintance；

were　either　getting　ready　to　do　this　or　had　already　done　it。



It　was　inconceivable　that　Florence　should　dream　of　anything　else；

yet　dream　she　did。　Ah！　To　do　her　duty　in　that　state　of　life　unto

which　it　had　pleased　God　to　call　her！　Assuredly；　she　would　not　be

behindhand　in　doing　her　duty；　but　unto　what　state　of　life　HAD　it

pleased　God　to　call　her？　That　was　the　question。　God's　calls　are

many；　and　they　are　strange。　Unto　what　state　of　life　had　it

pleased　Him　to　call　Charlotte　Corday；　or　Elizabeth　of　Hungary？

What　was　that　secret　voice　in　her　ear；　if　it　was　not　a　call？　Why

had　she　felt；　from　her　earliest　years；　those　mysterious

promptings　towards。。。　she　hardly　knew　what；　but　certainly　towards

something　very　different　from　anything　around　her？　Why；　as　a

child　in　the　nursery；　when　her　sister　had　shown　a　healthy

pleasure　in　tearing　her　dolls　to　pieces；　had　SHE　shown　an　almost

morbid　one　in　sewing　them　up　again？　Why　was　she　driven　now　to

minister　to　the　poor　in　their　cottages；　to　watch　by　sick…beds；　to

put　her　dog's　wounded　paw　into　elaborate　splints　as　if　it　was　a

human　being？　Why　was　her　head　filled　with　queer　imaginations　of

the　country　house　at　Embley　turned；　by　some　enchantment；　into　a

hospital；　with　herself　as　matron　moving　about　among　the　beds？　Why

was　even　her　vision　of　heaven　itself　filled　with　suffering

patients　to　whom　she　was　being　useful？　So　she　dreamed　and

wondered；　and；　taking　out　her　diary；　she　poured　into　it　the

agitations　of　her　soul。　And　then　the　bell　rang；　and　it　was　time

to　go　and　dress　for　dinner。



As　the　years　passed；　a　restlessness　began　to　grow　upon　her。　She

was　unhappy；　and　at　last　she　knew　it。　Mrs。　Nightingale；　too；

began　to　notice　that　there　was　something　wrong。　It　was　very　odd

what　could　be　the　matter　with　dear　Flo？　Mr。　Nightingale　suggested

that　a　husband　might　be　advisable；　but　the　curious　thing　was　that

she　seemed　to　take　no　interest　in　husbands。　And　with　her

attractions；　and　her　accomplishments；　too！　There　was　nothing　in

the　world　to　prevent　her　making　a　really　brilliant　match。　But　no！

She　would　think　of　nothing　but　how　to　satisfy　that　singular

craving　of　hers　to　be　DOING　something。　As　if　there　was　not　plenty

to　do　in　any　case；　in　the　ordinary　way；　at　home。　There　was　the

china　to　look　after；　and　there　was　her　father　to　be　read　to　after

dinner。　Mrs。　Nightingale　could　not　understand　it；　and　then　one

day