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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 

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