BX 4705 W75M83 1865 THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES .1^ TPIE LAST ILLNESS HIS EMINENCE ( AEDINAL AHSEMAN. i-oNnoM : ROBSOK AND SOX. OREAT NORTHERX PRtNTINC; WORKS. TAXfRAS ROAD. N.W. THE LAST ILLNESS HIS EMIXEXCE CARDINAL AYISEMAX. JOHN MOiy^IS, CAXON PEXITEXTIARY OP WESTMINSTKR. In fide et lenitate ipsius sanctum fecit ilium. Ecdus. xlv. 4. SECOXD EDITIOX. LONDON : BURNS, LAMBERT, AND GATES, 17 Portman .Street and O'J rateruoster Row. 1865. [fiig/it of tfaiuhdion rcsc/Tcd.] PIETATI . ET- CLEMENTIAE . DIVINAE COMMENDA SANCTISQUE • SACRIFICIIS .ADJUVA ANIMAM CHARISSIMI.IN. CHRISTO . PATRIS. NOSTRI EMINENTISSIMI • ET • RE VE RE NDISSIMI . DOMINI N I CO LA I TITSPUDENTIANAE-S.R-E.PRESB.CARD ARCHIEPISCOPI.WESTMONASTERIENSIS QUI-PLACIDISSIME ■ OBDORMIVIT- IN .DOMINO JAMDIU. SUSPIRATO DIE XVPEBRUARII-MDCCCLXV VALE MAGNE -PRAESUL IN VITA- NOBILIS NOBILISSIME -INMORTE APUD.DEUM. MEMENTO. NOSTRI ET.ECCLESIAE . VIDUATAE .SPONSAE -TUAE 14918G1 CARDIXAL WISE^^IAN'S LAST ILLNESS. The impression made upon my mine! by the few weeks of the CardinaFs hist ilhiess, I cannot hope to convey to others; but the example of A-irtue of which I was a ^^•itness was so striking, that I think it my duty toAvards the memory of one whom I greatly love and venerate, to place this narrative within reach of more than those to whom I can relate it by word of mouth. The Carchnal was in so especial a way the property of Catholics, wherever they are found, that I consider that they have a right to be informed of the grand and holy ending of his useful life ; and for this reason, after much thought, I have come to the conclusion that I might publish, and ought to publish, even those things that I heard from him in confidence relating to himself. This I now feel, looking back upon his ilhiess, that if I could tell it exactly as it happened, I should do him the fullest justice, and render the greatest number par- takers in the pri\ilege that was enjoyetl by a favoured few. There was not a word uttered bv liiiii all throuirh G CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. tliat time that any one could wisli to hide, or that conkl fail to excite edification and affectionate ad- miration, though much less, I regret to think, when read in a narrative such as this, than when heard uttered in the plaintive low tone that his weakness caused him to use. I do not laiow when to date back for the com- mencement of the Cardinal's last illness. On Sun- day the 15tli of January he suddenly sunk so low that he was in imminent danger of death for many hours. But though this complete exhaustion Avas most unexpected, he had been very far from well for some time before, and his state of health had been such as seriously to alarm his experienced medical advisers. A wound had, apparently spontaneously, opened in his right foot, which resulted in mor- tification. The doctors had enjoined upon him complete rest and quiet, and had recjuired that he should be treated as a man whom sickness prevented from attendino- to his work. Those who knew the Cardinal can form an idea of the irksomeness of con- finement to his ever-active nature and fertile brain. It was very difficult for others to appreciate the in- jury that he was doing to himself when he allowed them to bring their cares or their anxieties to him for his ready sympathy, or when they asked his as- sistance in those duties of his pastoral office, in which he took such delight, but which now overtaxed his failinff strength. By the kindness of my good friend Mr. Charles CARDINAL WISEM.VN S LAST ILLNESS. / ILnvkins, Avliose siu'gical sldll and teiuler care lune for so lo»g been of inestimable service to the Car- dinal, I am able to gi^e in a note a short acconnt of the progress of his fatal disease.* I can thns ])nt my imperfect knowledge on one side, and confine myself to that which we who were about him saw and felt. I confess that for some time past my mind had * For the last twelve years the Cardinal has been more or less under medical treatment. In 1853 he was found to he suffering from diabetes. In 18.34. before he left Golden Square, Dr. Robert Fergusson, Dr. Nairne, Mr. Tegart sen., and Mr, Charles Hawkins met in consultation, and au unfavourable opinion of the case was formed. In July 1856 His Eminence received great benefit from the Baths of Vichy ; and, in the following year, he went through a course of the Vichy waters at Leyton. In October 1859 he was seriously ill, and on that occasion Dr. Todd was consulted. He was suffering from irritability of the heart and a weakened state of circulation, with great prostration. The diabetes was then in- creasing. He left for Rome at the beginning of December 185'J. While there he had an intlamniation of the veins of the right leg and an affection of the lungs, accompanied by great debility. The diabetes was then very bad. An operation was performed on a carbuncle on the back on the 23d of June 1800. The Cardinal left Eome on the 11th of August, and on the 17th Mr. Hawkins operated on another carbuncle at Paris. On the 21st he returned to England, and in about six weeks the carbuncle was well. At Christmas he was again in a feeble state. In 1802 the veins of the right leg were affected. In 1803 the swelling returned, and showed some symptoms of mortification. The Cardinal suffered much in August 1804 from want of sleep and affection of the eyes, and during the whole year there was great debility. On the l'0tl» of November, which was the last day he was at Leyton, two blisters appeared on the right foot; and on the 8th of Deceml)er tliere were signs of mortification. My the 11th of January tlie foot was L\N's LAST ILLNESS. 13 hearing him say that he considered it to He, after the facihty of becoming great in any art or science, in an instinctive appreciation of all things that in any way bear upon it, and in the power of vising all such collateral helps accui'ately and happily. His idea was that Shakespeare did not derive his accuracy of desci'iption of various mental states from observation, but from " introspection." In this the Cardinal was only describing, though perhaps unconsciously, his own mental practice ; for few men probably have exercised a more habitual self-analysis, or a more independent self-judgment; and it was but natm'al that he should feel a sympathy with the quality of mind that was so remarkable in himself — the almost intuitive perception of every thing that could be brought to bear from any side in illustration and support of his own beloved science. On Wednesday the 11th of January the Car- dinal went out of doors for the last time, taking a drive in Battersea Park, and there prol)al)ly he caught a cold in his face. On the 12th, for two hours and a half, he dictated his Shakespeare lecture to Dr. Clifford. He directed me to write a letter of sympathy and encouragement to Fatlier Charles Bowden, of the Oratory.* He signed this * Father Charles Bowden has been so kind as to place tlie letter at my disposal. " 8 Yorl: Place, W., Jan. 12th, ISfiS. " Dear Father Charles Bowden, — Although not able to write myself, I cannot longer refrain from exi)ressing to you my 14 CAKDiiS^'^L Wiseman's last illness. letter, wliicli was the last that bore his signature. The next day he wTote his initials to the Imprimatur of a little book that the Servite Sisters of Bond Street, Chelsea, had prepared for publication. On Friday the 13th Dr. Chfford was otherwise engaged, so that the Shakespeare made no progress, which the Cardinal much regretted, though he acknowledged that perhaps it was better for him, as he felt ill and little fit for work. He told me that he saw clearly before him all that he proposed to say ; that he meant to write it very fully for publication, and compress as mvich as possible in the delivery. Saturday came, and he managed to dictate a few pages of Shakespeare, though feeling very weak and ill. At the end. Dr. Clifford tells me that he said smilingly to him, " Eh, hasta cosi, we shall soon get over our Avork. We have got the beginning and the end. It will not require much more for completion. I have in my mind every sentence I am going to dictate of this lecture. So it is only a question of great satisfaction at the happy result of the painful trial to which 5*ou were subjected in the case of the girl M'Dermot. I sincerely congratulate you upon it, and hope you will not be discouraged in doing good by the hard and unjust treatment which it sometimes may bring upon you. I can only say that, if any thing, you were too lenient and sparing of others in j'our vindication of yourself. This, however, only enhances your merits ; and I trust that God will fully requite you for what you have done, and draw from what you have suffered greater good than probably you can have anticipated, " With my blessing, I remain " Yours affectionately in Christ. " N. Card. Wisemax." CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. 15 a few (lavs now, and a little freedom from other business. If 1 can't deliver it myself, there will be abmidance of matter for somebody to read in my stead." I went dowii with him about two o'clock from his bech'oom to the dramng-room, where his luncheon had been brovight, and sat with him, talk- ing to him. He could eat nothing ; and I hear that in the evening he could not take any food. About five Dr. Clifford left him, at his request, that he might try to sleep, as the night before had been restless. When he got to the door, the Cardinal called to him, " Now remember, you are not to preach at Warwick Street to-morrow. I shall want you early." Earlier in the afternoon, the Cardinal expressed a hope that he might be able to say Mass on Sunday. Dr. Clifford told him that he thought it was impos- sible, as he seemed so ill, and his eye was so bad. He seemed to cling to hope, and remarked, " I must say Mass — and then, there is poor Heneage." Dr. Clif- ford sufTgested that he might ask Father Richards, of the 01)lates of St. Charles, to say Mass for him. He hesitated for some time, and then said, "Very well, just ask Father Richards to have the goodness to come at seven to-moiTOw morning. I will go to Comnnuiion instead of saying !Mass." The last Mass that he said was on the previous Thursday. For a fortnight or more before, he had had as a neighbour, in his dressing-room, his great friend, the liev. 11. P. Heneage, who was confined by illness to 16 CARDINAL "Wiseman's last illness. his bed. This Satiu'day evening, for the first time, the Cardinal sent him word that he was not well enough to sit with him as he usually did, but that he must go at once to bed. About three o'clock in the morning he rang for his servant, and found it necessary to break his fast. Later in the morning, about half-past ten o'clock, he went into ]Mi'. Heneage's room, and sat mth him some time, seemingly much better, speaking with his usual voice, and conversing wath interest on cmTent events. He expressed to Mr. Heneao-e his gratification at the manner in which the proposal to present a testimonial to him on his jubilee was put forward in the Weekly Register of that day. When Dr. Clifford came, accordmg to his promise, he found him in ]VIi\ Heneage's room. In answer to his inquiries, he said that he had passed a very batl nio-ht, had had to call up Eoper, his sei-vant; that he had been very sick, and had in consequence not been able to go to Communion, nor even to go into the chapel. He had heard Mass, as well as he could, from his own room. He then, somewhat suddenly, told Dr. Clifford to follow him into his bedroom. He ap- peared to be concerned about something. He sat down and said, "Do you know, Clifford, such a strange thing happened to me after you left yes- terday. Soon after you went away, I fell into a heav}^, restless sleep on the sofa. I can't say how long it lasted. On awaking from it, I could not make out where I was. I tried to arouse myself, but could not. I had a dim recollection of ha^ang CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. 17 hecn for some time previously engaged upon some work, Init wliat it was, I could not remember. I knew that some one had been helping me, but I could not think who it was. I could not even think of Shakespeare's name. This lasted, I should say, about an hovu*. My mind was a perfect blank. That is verv strange, isn't it? I never experienced any thing like that in my life before." He then took his rosary out of the pocket which hung by the chair, and began to say it. Dr. Clifford bathed his eye, and suggested that, as he was so weak and had had no food, he should take some tea, or a slass of wine. He could not, he said ; he felt low, but could take nothing. He frequently asked what time it was, and remarked that it seemed very long. " Only twelve o'clock ! How slowly the time passes !" About twelve Dr. Clifford and Koper his servant left the room, at his request. Dr. Clifford then went into ]Mi\ Heneage's room, and determined to wait there, to he ready to go to him in case he moved. In about an hour he went in to him again, and found him still in the same position, and almost in a stupor. "What a famous talk you have been having !" he said, after some little while. He then uttered one or two incoherent sen- tences, and Dr. Clifford, rather alarmed, tried to in- tluce him to take some stimulant. He made a feeble effort to take the glass, but could not. Dr. CMift'ord then helped him to take some sherry ; but after hav- ing just tasted it, lie shook his liead, to intiinnte that he coidd take no more. B 18 CARDINAL WISEMAIy^'s LAST ILLNESS. Between two and three ]Mi\ Charles Hawkins came, and he then said that he was very ill, that he was not able to eat any thing, and that he could not imagine why he had not sent for IVIr. Hawkins when he felt so poorly overnight. A medical man had once told him that as lono; as he continued to be able to eat, he Avould do well ; and this had made a considerable im- pression upon him, and loss of appetite always alarmed him. 'Mr. Hawkins caused him to go to bed, and or- dered him strong stimulants. Eetvirning about six, he found that the Cardinal hardly knew him ; and about nine, when Dr. Munk and Mr. Edward Tegart also came. His Eminence had fallen into a state of uncon- sciousness, from which he could only be aroused for a moment by being spoken to in a very brisk, clear voice. It was not at any time, 'Mr. Hawkins tells me, a state of coma, but simply exhaustion ; the languid circulation not carrying sufficient blood to the brain to enable it to perform its vital functions. The un- consciousness continued to deepen ; so that when, at half-past ten. Dr. Hearn made every effort to arouse him, wdien about to administer Extreme Unction, the sole effect produced was a personal recognition of Dr. Hearn, but without the power to attend to what he said or did. The next morning he asked, " Is Dr. Hearn in the house? And what did he do to me?" ]SIr. Hawkins at once sent for the Eeverend Mother of the Hospital, and she remained as the Cardinal's nm'se for the month during which his powerful con- CAEDixAL Wiseman's last illness. 19 stitutlou gradually gave way. ^lore perfect niu'sing than hers I suppose there ne^er Avas. A noiseless step, a gentle hand, a steady, audible voice, but rarely and never imnecessarily heard, a most watchful eye, gi'eat endui-ance of fatigue, and the conviction that in a sick-room nothing is trifling, are qualifications con- f eiTed as a natural gift with the taste for nm\sing, and improved by long practice, as well in the hospitals at Scutari as in the wards of Great Ormond Street ; but there was added the devotedness of a Eeligious en- gaged in her especial vocation, and, as Dr. ^Manning well called it, the " singular reverence' of a daughter enjrao-ed in her laboiu' of love. All the Cardinal's friends owe her a deep debt of gratitude; and I know not how it can be paid, unless it be by render- ing still more efficient the admu-able charity of the Catholic hospital, in which the Cardinal has always taken so great an interest. A great amount of stimulants, administered at short inten-als by ^L\ Hawldns, who remained Avith him all night, presented the Cardinal's life over the immediate danger of death. In the morning he was very feeble, but quite himself. His first thought showed liis usual consideration for others. He urged Eeverend Mother and Eoper to go to bed, say- ino; that he did not desen^e that so much trouble should be taken about him, and tliinking that they had been with him for days. He said, " I have seen ^Ir. Hawkins several times." Keverend Mother an- swered, " Yes, lie has been with you every hour." 20 CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. "Is it only one niglit?" lie asked; "I thought it was a week or two. I must tell IVii'. Hawkins to go to bed. He must not lose his rest for me." In a way that was very characteristic of him, he noticed much more the effect of the weakness on his mind than on his body. He told me, as I knelt by his bed- side on Monday morning, how he felt his inability to string his thoughts together. After his professional visit in the afternoon, Dr. Munk told him, in accord- nnce mth a promise exacted by him when dangerously ill at Ushaw in 1859, that his danger had been very grave, and that he had received Extreme Unction in the night. When so told, he made but little remark, as his way was, simply saying that he was quite un- :aware of what was done. But it dwelt much on his mind, and produced a sense of the nearness of death that did not seem to lessen with any apparent im- provement. The impression was all the greater, for, as he then told me, serious as his previous illnesses had been, it had never been thought necessary to administer the last Sacraments to him. In talking with him about it, on Tuesday morn- ing, I asked him whether if he were to be again in serious danger, there was any one he would wish to be sent for. He said, "No one but Dr. Melia," his confessor. And then after a little silence, he said, " I suppose it was not God's Will that I should go. Perhaps my w^ork was not yet done." I answered, " Ah, my lord, you must be like St. Martin, qui nee mori timuit, nee vivere reciisavit.''' I saw his face hght CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. 21 up as the familiar Avords coiTcspoiuIecl with his o^\•lL thouglit. After an interval, he added, " I have been think- ing much of that sapng of St. Augustine, that ' no one, however free his conscience may pronounce him of sin, should depart this life without penance ;' and it makes a great inij^ression upon me, coming as it does from a saint. I hope God will take my illness as a part of my penance. But I confess to you that I find it far easier to make an Act of Love than an Act of Contrition, for God knows that I have never deliberately offended against Him." It was this ex])ression of his that I meant Avas so distinctly borne out by the details he had gi\'en me of his early life, into which of course I cannot enter; but I may add a similar expression used by him in Con- fession to a penitent of his, who said that it was a verv difficult thing to make an Act of Contrition ; when he, interpreting the phrase by his own mind, replied : " Yes it is, for one cannot recollect that one's will has ever gone against God." "I have never cared for anything," he said, "but the Church. My sole dehght has been in everything connected with her. As people in the world would go to a ball for their recreation, so I have enjoyed a great function." lie added, " What a curious thing it is, that I should have been anointed when in a state of un- consciousness ! I have made it a i)ractice all my ■ life to i)ray every evening tliat 1 might retain my 22 CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. senses to the last. But I suppose it does not make mueli difference." However, the end was not yet come, and when it did come, the prayer was fully heard. This after]ioon a telegram was sent in the name of Dr. Hearn, the Cardinal's Vicar-General, to Mgr. Talbot at the Vatican, that he might tell the Holy Father that the Cardinal, though now better, had been in extreme danger, and beg him to send him his Apostolic Benediction, in case the danger should re- cur. The Cardinal was very much pleased when he was told of it, and most highly prized the blessing which a telegraphic message from ]\Igr. Talbot on Wednesday conveyed to him. A few days later he telegraphed his warm thanks to the Holy Father, saying, at the same time, that he was gradually im- proving. He told me then that it was the Roman etiquette that when a Cardinal was in danger of death, a priest should be sent to the Vatican in his carriage, with its usual two footmen, as though the Cardinal were him- self there : and he said that he had had a curious instance in his own case of the way in which the Romans noticed such things; for the rumour spread about Rome that he was dying and had sent for the last Blessing, for they had seen Dr. IManning driven up to the Vatican in his carriage, as he happened to have an audience with the Holy Father one day im- mediately after he had been out for a drive with him. On Tuesday the 17th he was evidently better; CARDIXAL WISEMJlN' S LAST ILLNESS. 2d and I do not know that there Avas any other day throuo-h that loner month on whicli we allowed our- selves to entertain much hope. He sat up awliile in his chair, and spoke so cheerfully and so like himself, that if it had not been for the erysipelas in the face, which was then fully out, we might have thought it impossible that he should have been so seriously ill. His right eye was swollen and quite closed, and it was with great difficulty that he was able to o])en it during the next fortnight. He probably never used it again. A painful sore formed in the inner corner, which never healed; and he began now to ask that the inflammation might be bathed with icy-cold water. This was the only thing that gave him any relief ; and during the whole month, almost night and day, kneeling at his bedside, Reverend Mother performed this office for him, when not occupied in her other nursing duties. It was the only thing he asked for all through his illness, except now and then for a little iced water to drink. He would ask for it sometimes mth (|uiet playfulness, sometimes almost plaintively, but never querulously. Once he said: "Reverend Mother, please bathe my eye, or your eye, or some- l)ody's eye, whose-cver it is, for I am sure it does not feel like mine." On this Tuesday he said to me — and he told the story with his own minuteness and accuracy — " I re- member when I had a villa at Albano, Mgv. Ferrari, the Prefect of the Pope's :Master of Ceremonies, who had been sent to the Palace at Castel Gandoll'o by 24 CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. the Pope, for a change of air after a very severe ill- ness, called on me, and said : Ah ! Eminentlssimo, ahhiamo Imssato alia 2^orta, si, ma non ci siamo ancora entrati. ' We have knocked at the door, but we have not been let in yet.'" Dr. Clifford has been so kind as to give me the following accomit of the next morning. " On Wed- nesday, 18th Januar}-, the Cardinal wished me to read him some portions from the New Testament. He took the Bible I had brought upstairs, and, after some time, pointed out to me the thirteenth chapter of St. John's Gospel. The task of finding out the place must have been very tr^dng, as even then he could not use one of his eyes, and the other was very weak indeed. He told me to read slowly; and it seemed to me that while I read from the thirteenth to the end of the sixteenth chapter, he was meditating most intently. " Perhaps I ought to say that, on going into the room, he asked me if there was any news. To this question I replied in the negative, lest I should fa- tio-ue him too much. 'What!' His Eminence an- swered, 'nothing in the papers about the French Bishops f I then told him that they continued to protest against the Cu'cular of the Government for- bidding the Encyclical to be read by the Bishops to then- people, and that, notwithstanchng the prohibi- tion, one or two had read it openly from the pulpit* At this he seemed very much jileased, and said : ' I am very glad the French Bishops are standing out so CAEDIXAL WISEMA^'"S I^\.ST ILLNESS. 25 bravel}- for the liberties of the Chiu'eh. That Avill console the Holy Father very much.' "Wlien speaking of the Encyclical, I think he said that he hoped to say sometlung on it. 'The French Bishops have spoken,' he said; 'but as yet I've said nothing.' " On Thui'sday morning, about four o'clock, I car- ried the Blessed Sacrament into the Cardinal's room, and gave him Communion. He was certainly the worse in health during the following day. The me- dical men, therefore, found it necessaiy to say that he must not tliink of going to Communion for the present. After this he commimicated but once until he received in form of Viaticum. It was this de- privation that led him to say to Keverend INIother the words quoted by Dr. Manning in his funeral sermon: " They little loiow of what they are depri^•ing me. A little fasting would tire me less than this longing." And at another time, " O, how much longer am I to have patience ? How long am I to wait ? They are keeping me from my only consolation." Day now went by after day, for the next fort- niglit, each so like the other that it is impossible to kee]) them apart in one's mind. I saw but little of the CanHiial during this period of his illness. Three or four times in the day I would go to his ante-room and learn from licverend Mothei', or from liis inde- fatigable seiwants, Newman or Ko])er, how he was going on ; but, as tlie doctors particidarly wislied liim to Ijc as little disturl)ed as possil^le, and as, besides, 2Q CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. lie was often asleep when I was there, I but seldom spoke to him. For my own consolation I jot down what I remember of the things he said on those occasions. Once he said, " Have you ever heard Dr. ^leHa's story of the two old Mexican Jesuit Fathers ? They were exiles, and lived at the Noviceship on INIonte Cavallo. Every day they were to 1)6 seen along the road leading to the Porta Pia, taking then' walk a ventidiie ore, and they were as well known there as the gate itself. At last the younger of the two fell ill; and the other, Father Herrera, who was ten years his senior, and his confessor, attended upon him with all assiduity and tenderness. After his illness had lasted a good while, one day Father Herrera said to him : ' Padre mio, it is time for you to go into your agony.' '■ No, not yet,' is Father Eligio's answer ; * go and sleep ; there is full time for you to have a rest, and Brother Grassi shall call you when I want you.' After an interval Father Eligio says, '■ Fratel Grassi, datemi una huona cioccolata, — Give me a good cup of chocolate;' and then, when he had taken it, ^ Adesso, lasciate^ni 2)er mi ova huona, — Leave me now for a good horn-.' At the end of the time he sent for Father Herrera, ^ Adesso si, j^xtdre mio, ehe mi meito in agonia, — Now I am ready to go into my agony;' and so he died." The story struck me very mucli when the Cardinal told it, and still more it strikes me now that I have written it down. Though it was told with his usual CARDINAL WISEMA2s"'s LAST ILLIsT:SS. 27 sense of humour, it tells to me, especially now, a tale of earnest. I have since seen his ovni calm, fearless looking upon death ; his o^^^l forecast, so to speak, of the manner in Avhich he should che ; and Avhcn he told us to leave him alone for a good space of time, especially before and after Communion, we used to say to one another that he reminded us of Father Eligio. I cannot recollect how the conversation came round at another time to the examinations in the Roman Schools, hut I remember his saying, that in one con- corso in his favoui'ite subject, the Scripture, he had ■written a full paper, Avhich, by some accident, had been mislaid, and the class-list had been made out ^Wthout his name, when some of the professors said {as he gave it), " Surely So-and-so has written ;" when his paper was looked for and found, and the whole list was moved down a place ; that of Fra'stantissimus solus, with the gold medal, being assigned to him. One afternoon he said to me, " I am sm'e it would do me more good to have a long talk about INlontc Porzio than to be kept so much alone." I answered, " Well, let's have a good talk about Monte Porzio ;" and then he straightway flung himself into it. "I can see the colour of the chestnut-trees, and Camal- doli, and the top of Tusculum. What a beautiful view it is from om' Refectory window! A new-comer does not value Monte Porzio properly. It takes a hard year's work in Home to enable you to appreciate it. I loved it dearly. .1 keep a picture; of it in my 28 CAiiDix^M. wisejian's last illxess. betli-oom, botli liere and at Leyton. They have kept the Rector's chair in the phice where I used to sit. I got that gokl cliair for Pope Leo's reception, and I always used it afterwards. I used to sit there writing for hoiu\s after every one was in bed, and then I would refresh myself by a look out of the open win- dow into the moonlight niffht." There was one immense consolation that God was pleased to give to the Cardinal during his last illness. He had insisted that the first Mass said by the liev. Richard Waldo Sibthorp, after his long absence of twenty years from the altar, should be celebrated in his private chapel. A\lien that ]\Iass was said, on the Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul, the Cardinal was too ill to see Mr. Sibthorp, but his gratification at the good news was heartfelt. On that day, the 25th, Islv. Heneage retm-ned to the Convent of the Good Shepherd at Hammersmith, of which he is the Chaplain. He saw the Carthnal before he left, and went away thinking him to be much better. He did not know that in a few hom-s' time the surgeon's knife Avas to o|)erate on a small carbuncle that had formed in the right eyebrow. The courage with which he bore these most pain- ful operations was heroic. He uttered no sound, he did not even wince, and no one could have formed an idea of the severity of the jiain. When in Rome, as the very fearful wound produced by the operation on his back was being dressed with caustic (a proceeding that, I have heard Mr. Hawkins say, must have been CARDES'AL WISEJIAN'S LAST ILLNESS. 29 as painful day by day as the original operation), lie heard one day the Italian surgeons say to one another, " J/a lion sente, — He does not feel." In telling me of it aftenvards, just before he was taken ill, he said, " I could assm-e them that there was no fear of mortification on the score of my not feeling the pain." He wrote of it thus, at the time : "Home, SOtli June LSCO. " It is a week to-day since I underwent a terrible operation. Two cuts were made in the fomi of the Cross on my back, each the length of this paper, the four flaps then dissected under (like a muffin) and a large piece cut out of the inside. It was for a most malignant carbuncle; and the operation was quite successful, and I have no doubt brilliant. I will not say what I suffered, but our good God strengthened me to bear it without complaint. The doctors said it must have been awful pain ; but I tried to take my Cross in the spirit of a better one, and, thaidv God, succeeded. For a few days all was doubtful, till the tumour got fairly circumscribed and isolated by caus- tic, which has been freely applied, so that the dress- ings have sometimes recalled to me the operation. My strength has not given way. I ha\'e regained my appetite; every thing looks faNourable, and to- morrow ^Ir. Hawkins arrives. The tumour is com- ing away, and if nothing new occurs, I may hope in God and our Blessed Lady to be convalescc'it. Pray, 30 CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. therefore, to Almiglity God for me, and thank Ilini for all His goodness, especially for having made me suffer so acutely Avith His Blessed Son, and for having given me strength. My blessing to . God bless you and . This is the first letter I ^ATite, and the only one to England. What a scrawl !" He bore pain so well, that it was difficult to be- lieve that there was so much pain to bear ; but wdien all operations were over, and there was nothing left for us but to wait at his bedside for the death that came so slowly, the tender-hearted surgeon, whose steady, sldlful hand had so often prolonged his life by these very operations, said, as he looked at him, " Ah, w^e never acknowledged how much pain he had to bear." In Eorae, wdiile undergoing all this pain, he held in his hand the little silver crucifix from his portable altar, the same that so many saw in his hands when they were closed in death. No one who saw him take his medicine would have formed any idea that it w^as distasteful. It w^as extremely bitter, and he never lost the taste of it day or night. Once before he was taken seriously ill, when the remark was made that it must be very disagreeable, he said, " No ; on the contrary, I am very glad of it. Is it not well to have some- thing to suffer ? I have not any real pain with my foot, and so I am very glad to have this little cross." Afterwards he said that whatever he eat or drank had the same taste, and that he liked to have a CARDINAL WISEjMAN's LAST ILLNESS. 31 perpetual offering to make. '* It is not worse than gall." Reverend ^lotlier lias gi\en me the following in- terestmg note of a conversation with him on his endurance of pain : "The night of the 2Gtli January, the Cardinal said something about the operation, and told me to pray he might be patient. I said he was patient, and that his courage and patience were both wonderful. ' I am so glad you think I bear pain well. I was al- ways considered such a coward about pain. I believe I feel less than others, and make more fuss.' I said I thought it was the other way. ' When I was young they alwa}'s told me I was a coward : do you think some people feel pain more than others?' I said yes, I felt sure of it. ' I lia^'e asked doctors, and all don't asree. As there are different degrees of muscular strength, I think there might be of sensitiveness in the nerves ; but perhaps it is that some are braver than others.' I said, as to talking of pain and show- ing it, I thought a good deal depended on what one was taught as a child. ' Yes, I know a gi'eat deal is in one's own power. I have always tried to fight against my cowardice. ]SIany years ago I determined never to call any thing pain, or mention it till it was unendurable ; and I am very glad you think I bear pain well, for you must see so much suffering.' I said, ' You bore the operation beautifully, and surely you had great pain before, though you did not C(jm- plain.' 'AVell, not bad pain, — only weight and a dull 32 CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. burning feel, as I had before that carbuncle in Rome.' *That must have been dreadful.' * It was sharp enough. "When I knew it was to be done, I sat on the chair, with my hands over the back, and laid my head on them. I couldn't help giving two great gasps ; but Monsignor Manning, who was outside, never heard any thing. You know they cut so deep,' and then he gave one of his smiles ; ' they thought I was so quiet they could not have done enough, and there must be more to cut.' ' The dressmgs were worse, weren't they T ' The dressings were worse than the operation, — harder to bear. They bm-nt away, and thought there was mortification because I kept quiet.' * Why didn't you tell them how it pained you V ' Oh, it only made a little more to suffer, and it was better to have it done thoroughly. I did not want to turn coward again.' " I do not remember to have heard any details of this portion of the Cardinal's illness. It was impos- sible for us who saw how great an amount of noui'ish- ment and stimulant was daily administered to him by the directions of the medical men, and who saw no corresponding increase of strength, or any thing more than a very partial and temporary rally, not to have our hearts fail us as we looked at the futm*e. The change for the worse was so gi'adual, that it could not be seen between day and day, and better or worse rest at nio-ht naturally produced corresponding variations of strength. Though, tlierefore, there was probably not one of us who, by the beginning of February, re- CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. 33 tained miicli liope for his life, still it came ii])()n us suddenly Mdien lie himself was the first to speak plainly about his state. On the evening of the Purification, Thursday the 2d of February, he asked Eeverend ^Mother how he really was. She answered, "You do not gain strength."' " What do the doctors say of me ?" " They told me there was a possibility of recovery, if your strength could be kept up." "Tell me what you really think of my state." She said, " I do not belieA'e you will recover. I know it is possible, but nothing seems to do you any good, and you sink every day." Then he said, "I feel myself that I am sink- ing and losing strength. I will ask the doctors to- morrow how I really am." Durino; the nio-ht he was conscious of a loss of con- trol over his mind. It alarmed him, as any s\nnptom relating to the brain ever did, and it strengthened his determination to ask the doctors Iiow he really was. Accordingly, when ]Mi'. Hawkins and ]\f r. Tegart came in the morning he said to them, " I will ask you to go into tlie next room and consider what you have to say to me, for I have a question to put to you."' When they were gone, seeing Mgr. Scarle by his side, he said to him, " Won't you go in with them ?" lie answered, "Xo, your Eminence, I am ne^er ])resent at the doctors' consultations, and indeed it is not ne- cessary, for I have already told them all that I ha\e to sa}'." The Cardinal replied, " I am glad oi' that, for I want them to know e\ery thing." C 34 CAiiDiNAL Wiseman's last illness. When they came in again, he said to them, "I have felt what it was in the night to be subject to iUnsions. I had the strength to know that they were ilUisions, and to pnt them away ; bnt I feel that the time might come when I shonld not have this strength. I therefore Avant yon to tell me exactly how I am." Mr. HaAvkins answered, " Yonr Eminence, if it were only yovir face, there would be nothing in that for us to be afraid of. What really is serious is that yon do not rally or gain any strength. You remember that Avlien I performed that operation on 3'ou in Paris, you rallied so fast that in foui' days you were able to cross the Channel. But now, though so many more days have elapsed, you have not gathered any strength." " Is there any thing that you. can do to me to gWe me strength ?" On hearing that every thing had already been done that their knowledge suggested, he said, "Thank you, I understand." Then after a pause he said, " I have a few tem- poral matters to arrange — thank God, very fcAv; shall I be safe in leaving them for a day or two?" Mr. Tegart's reply was, "Your Eminence was never clearer in your life than you have shown yourself to be in the account you have just given us of }our feelings duriug the night. Why not use that clear- ness for any thing you may have to do? If yon grow weaker, you will certainly not get clearer." Thank you," he said again, " I understand." After a pause, he said that he should like to be taken doANiistairs to the drawiun;-room that dav ; and CARDINAL WISEJL\N S LAST ILLNESS. oCt jNIi'. Hawkins promised to order a proper cliair to be sent, and to come liimself to see him moved. lie said, "Leave the chapel-door open, tliat I may look in as I pass, for perhaps I shall not see it again." Instead of looking into his chapel throngh the open door, he was taken into it on his way downstairs. He remained for a few minutes before the Blessed Sacrament, all around him kneeling ; and then the chair was turned for him to face the image of the Blessed Virgin, a beautiful marble bust by Benzoni, which he had brought from Rome, as an ex voto for his recovery there in I860. He was then carried doAAii to the drawing-room, where the bed had l)een placed against the middle window, facing the folding- doors. I believe that he expressed his Ansh to be moved, because he thought that the larger room would be so much more convenient on such an occasion as re- ceiving the Chapter, and again, for the Office of the Dead after his decease. My belief is that he thought beforehand of every thing, and that he arranged the proper place and time of each thing in his own mind. When the doctors had left him, and Reverend Mother had returned, he said to her, " Well, did you hear what tliey said?" She answered, "No, father; but I can guess." " They tell me I am going home. Is it not nice f " For you," sKe said, " but not for us." "Oh, it is so nice: it is like going home for the holidays after working hard at school. Do not you know the feeling of going home? I am going to be with my Father. I am going to rest ; — no more 36 CARDESTAL WISEMAN'S LAST ILLNESS. Avork, no more troubles, no more scoldings, all peace. I am just like a child going home to rest and be with its Father." In the evening I had been out to give Benedic- tion, and ^Yhen I returned I was told that he had asked for Dr. Hearn and myself. Dr. Hearn tells me that on this occasion he asked him to take care that, if there was any sermon at his funeral, it might be preached by his friend Dr. Manning. When I .went into the room, I found him sitting in his arm- ■chair. It was a rest to him to be moved occasionally to the chair from his bed. " Oh, I am so glad you are come," he said ; " come close to me. I am like a child going home from school for the holidays. This has been a most eventful day " for me. I felt last nio'ht that I must not think of the health of ni}^ body, but of my soul." And then he told me what had passed between himself and the doctors in the morn- ing, as I have given it above, except that in relating it he twice said " London" by mistake for " Paris.'' He then went on with, " Now I have a question I wish to ask of you. How often do you think I may receive in the form of Viaticum ?" I so little under- stood that it was a question that he was putting to me for solution that I did not answer. On which he looked up in his old, sharp way, and said quite quickly, " What was that you settled awhile ago about one of your nuns T Then I knew that he was speaking to me, for I had consulted him about a month before on this very point, telling him what St. Alphonsus said. CARDINAL WISEMA]S''S LAST ILLNESS. 37 and asking lum whether in his judgment I was right in the course I was pursuing. I answered him accord- ingly : '• In rav opinion, your Eminence is perfectly- justified in communicating under the form of Via- ticum every day." "Ah/' he said, "that was the conclusion I came to in Kome." After a long pause I said to him, "Did you not very much enjoy yom' little visit to the Blessed Sacrament on your way down stau-s to-day?" He answered, "Oh yes, and my ]\Iadonna, and my relics, and all lit up too." After a little while he assented, when I asked, " Your Eminence proposes to receive the Holy Com- munion to-night ?" Then I said, " Shall I put the things ready?" "No," he answered, "be quiet." And then, "Is Monsignor Searle in the house?" "Yes, he is upstairs." "I think he would like to give it me," he added, and most tenderly and affec- tionately it was said. I then saw that when I had offered to put the table ready, he had thought that I meant to bring him the Holy Communion ; but in- deed it was very far from me, now or ever during this sad time, to be unmindful of the prior claims of one who for five-and-twenty years has been in so intimate a i-elation to him, and whose personal loss in his dcatli is far greater than that of any of lis. It must be no liglit consolation to him to remenibi'i- that the dvino- Cardinal said to him, " Certainlv, if ever I am where I am able, I will be witli you." This day, Friday the 8d of February, was to us the beiiinninii- of the last stage of the Canhnars ill- 38 CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. ness. We could not now liide from ourselves tlie imminence of our danger, and every little word began to assume a tenfold value in our eyes. Happily for me, I was now admitted into the circle of his nurses, on whom the succession of sleepless nights Avas begin- ning to tell. A portable altar Avas brought into the ante-room, and when the folding-doors were opened, he could see the priest at the altar from his bed. Here, with the exception of the Sundays, I said my Mass, to my great consolation. After his professional interview on Saturday, Dr. Munk returned to the Cardinal, at his own request, and then told him of his approaching death, and that his state was so precarious that it was impossible to answer for his life for twenty-four hom's. In the evening of the same day, while hearing Confessions, for which duty I had most reluctantly left the house, I received a message that he wanted me, and that he was to be waked when I came. Ke- verend Mother tells me that he said to her, " Let me be Avaked if any body comes whom I ought to see. Sleep now does me no good, so it is oidy waste of time." I was alone with him for a long while. He began by telling me he had settled his temporal affairs with Mr. Harting that day; " and now," he said, "I shall have no more anxiety on this side." He spoke about his funeral, saying, as quietly and unconcern- edly as if it had been some function he was himself ■jibout to perform, " I shall look to you and Patter- CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. 39 son for the ceremonial. See that every thing is done {|mte right. Do not let a rubric be broken." After some other details he added, "And, of course, the religious vdW say the office here in the I'oom."' And so they chd, — representatives of eleven reli- gious orders of men, including the Congi'egations of Secular Priests, but, according to Roman etiquette, not including the Fathers of the Society of Jesus: and of those eleven orders, all, if I am not mistaken, received from him the work in the diocese in "which they are engaged; and very nearly all Avere intro- duced into London by him. From the beginning of his more serious illness in January, the prayer for him had been inserted in the ^lass. At first it was the prayer which is said on the Bishop's Anniversary-days ; but this was soon changed, at his request, to the prayer for the sick, Avhich he made me read over to him, to see whether it Avas the one that he remembered to have said in Rome during the illness of one of the Popes. He now thought that the time was come Avhen the other, and more urgent prayer, for "a sick man near to death" should be substituted for it. He also requested that the Chapter should be sunnnoned for the next day, to receive his soleimi profession of faith. As it was past post-time on Saturday evening, tliese notices were sent by hand, and special messengei-s went down by night to enable Canons Weathers and I.,ast, \\ ho lived the furthest off, to be present, lie als() re- quested me to telegraph to Home to Dr. Mniiniiig to 40 CABDiNAL Wiseman's last illness. return at once. "Whom will you send it to?" he said. I answered that Dr. Manning's adcbess was in the Via del Tiitone, as before. He rej^lied, " Better go to head-quarters. Send it to Mgr. Tall)ot. He will be able to tell the Holy Father how I am." He rehearsed to me what he intended to say to the Canons on the following day, and told me that lie did so to enable me to follow him more readily, and to jot down, as far as possible, his very words. I will give them as I wrote them down immediately afterwards, and as each one who heard them remem- bers them to have been spoken, in their proper place in my record of the Sunday. This I am permitted to do by the Chapter to wdiom they were adcbessed. From these subjects he went on to speak more of himself. " I do not wish any one to read to me Avhen I am dying," he said; "but I had rather be left to my own meditations." I remarked, " But you would like to have the Litany, my lord r " What, the ' Commendation of a Departing Soul,' the Church's w^ords," he answered, quite In-ightening up. "I want to have every thing the Church gives me, down to the Holy Water. Do not leave out any thing. I want every thing." On Frida}', and again on Saturday, the Cardinal received the Holy Viaticum. He passed, I think I mav say in consequence, a quieter night on Friday, and on Saturday there was not much change for the worse. On Sunday, however, he seemed much weaker than on the previous day. CARDINAL "WISEM^VN's LAST ILLNESS. 41 111 the morning' he received the Holy Coiniimnion in the ]Mass which was celebrated in his ante-room by Monsignor Searle. The Connt de Torre Diaz served that Mass ; and after it the Cardinal took an affectionate farewell of hinij enconraging him to con- tinne his zealous interest in every thing good and Catholic. At about three o'clock in the afternoon of Sun- day the 5th of February, the Canons assembled at his house. The onh' two members of the Chapter who were absent were Dr. Manning, the Provost, who ^^■as in Rome, and Canon 8hej)herd, at Bermuda. On the previous evening the Cardinal had spoken to me of his desire to receive the Sacrament of Ex- treme Unction a second time. His own feeling was, that he had sufficiently rallied from the pressing dan- ger in which he was first anointed, to constitute this a new danger. When he mooted it to me, I said to him, " Well, my lord, as this is a question of fact, had we. not better refer it to the doctors f " Yes, you can ask them," he said. "And shall we go l)y what they say?" "Oh, I don't see that at all," he answered ; " it's our business, and not theirs." He was vested, as he lay in bed, by Mgr. Searle, who had so often vested him before. He had on his rochet, his red mozzetta and zucchetto, his pectoral cross and gold stole; and he wore the sa])pliire ring which, when he was made a Cardinal, he received from the College of the Proi)aganda, in return for the offering which it is llieir ])rl\ ilege to receive fiMiii 42 CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness, all newly-created members of the Sacred College. I said to him, " Canon Hunt, as the Missionary Kector, will anoint your Eminence." He bowed his head. I added, "And will you have the Asperges from the Senior Canon?" He answered, looking round at me, " I want every thing." The Canons then came into the room, wearing their choir dress, and formed a semicircle around him, on his left side. IVIi'. Patterson Avas there, as his Master of Ceremonies. He had pre\dously re- quested Mgr. Searle to assist him on his right hand ; and he told me to be on his left, and to rea'^ the Pro- fession of Faith for him. The large picture of Pope Pius IX., which all who have been in his drawing- room will remember, looked down upon us, and seemed to form part of the group, who were engaged in one of the most solemn acts the Chm'ch has devised. The Archiepiscopal Cross yvas placed at the foot of the bed ; and there it remained for the days of his life that w^ere yet left. Canon Maguire, as the Senior Canon, in the ab- sence of the Provost, having sprinkled the Cardinal with holy w^ater, I knelt by his side and read the Creed of Pope Pius JV. When it was ended, the book of the Gospels was handed to him to kiss, for the oath with which it concludes. He put his hand upon it, and said, " Put it down." And then, " I wish to express before the Chapter that I have not, and never have had in my whole life, the very slightest doubt or hesitation of any one of the Articles of this CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. 43 Faith; I have always endeavoiu'ed to teacli it; and I transmit it intact to my successor." The ]\Iissal was then lifted up to him, and he kissed it, saying, " *S/c' me Dens adjiivet et Iiaec Scincta Dei Evantjelia'^ He then added, " I now wish to re- ceive Extreme Unction at your hands, as tlie seal of my Profession of Faith," Canon Hunt then took off his Canon's mo/.zetta, and put on a surplice and stole. The Cardinal knew, and had remarked long before, that Canons ought not to achninister the Sacraments in their chou* dress ; and he o^ddently saw this little obser^ ance of rule ■with satisfaction. If he had recovered sufficiently, I doubt not that he would have made some remark upon it. When he had received Extreme Unction, he said, in so low a tone of voice that I doubt whether any one save myself, who was kneeling close to him, heard every word, " Ha\ing noAv received from you ^\ hat the Chiu'ch has to give, I have a few words to address to you. I fear that I cannot S2)eak loud enough for you all to hear, but one or two of _\()U will hear uie, and Avill tell what I say to the others. "I feel that the time has come when \ am about to resign into the hands of Almighty God the care of the Diocese that I lune so long adniinisteivd. I W\A\ you to understand that I have not myself intei'fercd, nor have any who are about me, or who lune spoken in my name, evei' interfered Avith that onlcr tor mak- ing pi"o\ ision which God has constituted liciX'. Jt is 44 oAiiDixAL Wiseman's last illness. left to tlie appointment of tlie Holy See, and to that system of election wliicli I strove hard to establish, and to which it is now intrusted. I am very anxious for the good of the Diocese ; and you will choose that name that you consider most fit and worthy to fill this high office. " I have one word to say, and it is to beg you to cherish peace, and charity, and unity, even though it may be at the price of om* occasionally having to give up our o\vn individual opinions for the sake of peace. And if in the past there has been any thing that has made against charity and unit}", in God's name let it pass into oblivion ; let us put aside all jealousies, and let us forgive one another and love one another. " I knoAv that I have not been worthy to succeed to the great Bishops whom you have had, and I have not promoted piety towards God and to His Blessed Mother, and devotion to the Holy Eucharist, as I should have done; and I have not edified you by my personal piety. I ask God to forgive me ; I beg of you to forgive me ; and I beg of you to pray for forgiveness for me." Then in a very faint voice he began Sit nomen Domini henedictum, and gave his Pontifical Blessing. Afterwards each Canon, in his rank, came up to liim^ and kissed him on botli cheeks, and witluh-ew. The medical men were able to say, in the evening, that he had borne this strain upon his little stock of strength better than could have been hoped for. I tliiidc that the Canons, accustomed as they are to see CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. 45 dying persons, left liini Mitli a better hope, from his appearance, than tliey had entertained before they saw liim. He had not at all the appearance of a dying man ; but his countenance continued florid until just before his death. Mr. Herbert, who saw liim when asleep only two or three days before he died, said that he should haye thought from his ap- pearance that he might recoyer. That same Sunday evening another painfid oper- ation was requisite. For some time before he left his bedroom, a large carbuncle had formed on the right temple. Mr. Hawkins had tried, if possible, to pre- A'ent its gi-owth by burning it with caustic ; but the use of the knife became necessary ; and in the even- ing, after he had received the Chapter, it was opened with three cross cuts, in the fonn of a star. There had been two cuts in each fonner operation, the third was therefore vmexpected, but he only very slightly winced. Dangerous as it was, the knife passing the arteries of the temple within the dis- tance of the thickness of the paper on which I write, and though he Avas so weak that not a drop of blood could be spared, the operation was quite necessary, as the doctors said, in order " to give him a chance." To Mr. Hawkins he said, "What you think it riglit to do, it is my duty to submit to. liemember that." His remark to the medical men, Avhen the time came, was " I am in your hands ; do with me as you like." in the night after this operation, the Cardinal 4G CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. called Reverend Mother to him, and said, " How da I come to he here"?" She thought he meant in that room, and answered, " You came doAvn on Friday. "" " I mean how do I come to be here ? They promised me I should be in Heaven to-night." She said, " They are trying to keep you mth us a little longer. It is very selfish, but we want you a little longer." And then he said very Ioav, as if he did not wish any one to hear, " Do you know I could not help thinking, while they were cutting me, that it was very unkind to try to keep me out of Heaven. I had been hoping all day that I should go home to-night." Afterwards he said, " Will this make me well V Eeverend Mother answered that it was the only chance. " If I do re- co^er at all, shall I be fit for work ? Because if not, I shall be only in the Avay." She said that she sup- posed that if he got better he would be fit for Avork, l)ut not for a long time. " I do not think I shall set better. I feel my strength going out of me, and no- tliino; does me auA' ^ood." And then he said some- thing about being disappointed, but that he must haA'e patience. " Pray that I may be patient." ]\Ionday the 6th Avas a day of considerable ex- haustion. I can only find a record of a single sen- tence uttered by him. It AA'as this, "My mind is noAV quite clear, and I only Avish to go home as soon as God pleases." In the night he said to me, " Nondnm statbii finis. Hoav long am I to AA'ait ?" I ansAvered, " Ah, my lord, you have many long hours of patience before you yet." " Do you think so f he said. CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. 47 On the Ttli, I find that I -wrote of him that lie was not only not Avorse, but certainly better, — by which I meant brighter, and that he took some food more readily. The wound in the temple looked more healthy, and the sAvelling in the face was reduced to some extent, though the right eye remained closed; his voice, too, was certainly clearer, which told of a clearer throat. But there were other symptoms that were unfavoiu'able. It seems wonderful to me now how I could have said of this day, and again of the 9th, that I had a tiny ray of hope. One felt at the time how foolish it was, and yet it was impossible to prevent one's spirits rising with any little change for the better. He was perplexed at his o^vn rallying, and from time to time doubts came over him as to whether he Avas really dying. Sometimes he would say that if God meant him to live a little longer, he would be glad for the sake of the work. He did his best to li^e, sa^-ing once that if he could add a week to his life he was bound to do so : but the thought that was tlie deepest and most prevalent during the last twelve days was the wish to die. Just before he was taken ill, a new marble altar for his private chapel arriA'ed from Home. Unfor- tunately it was broken on the vo}-age; and from this cause he never saw it in its proper place. His bedi'oom was so near to the chapel that it could not be erected while he was lying ill; but when he was carried dowiistali's, he expressed to Monsignor Scarle his wish tliat it might be [)ut up, saying, "If any 48 cARDmAL Wiseman's last illness. tiling happens, it will be done ; and if I get better, it mil serve as a tliank-offering." He was quietness itself, and his patience and obedience were perfect. He had not said a queru- lous word diu-ing the three weeks he had been so ill, and he was ever ready with gentle thanks for any- little service. He passed whole days in silence, ut- tering only a very few sentences ; but all the while he was quite recollected and himself. He seemed to us like a man who was calmly meditating, and he occasionally gave us a glimpse of the subjects that were occupying his mind. Some of them are shown in the two conversations I subsequently had with him, which I have yet to record. But I Avas most touched when I heard him Avliisper to himself, think- ing aloud, " He showed no mercy to Himself." His obedience was very striking: he would move im- mediately exactly as he was told; and it was a touching sight to see him, when so weak that he could hardly swallow, obeying like a child what ISIr. Tegart told him to do, in that voice of quiet authority that doctors of body and soul are alike obliged at times to use. A day or two before this, when we were giving him some food, he said, " I do this from pure obechence, for it does me no good." But we never once saw him dejected or in low spirits. Once I was giving him a mixtm'e that must have been very disagreeable, — strong beef-tea with brandy in it^ — but I thought that he had ceased to be able to distinguish one thing from another. To my great CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness, 49 amusement he said, " That is what I call dull — beef and brand}'." I laughed ; and he said, '' ^\'hat*s that?" Dr. Hearn, who Avas leaning o^er the head of his bed, said, " You set him off by something you said." "That was American," he answered; mean- ing, I suppose, the use of the Avord "dull." About half-past Aa'c in the morning of Tluu's- day the 9th, he said, "ReA^erend Mother, take hold of my hand. I AAant you to promise that you \\\\\ obey me." "Yes," she said, she Avould. "Promise to tell me AA-hatcAer I tell you to tell me, Avhether you Hke it or not ;" Avitli something more about obedience that Reverend Mother could not catch. " I aaisIi to die as an act of simple obedience, and I desire you tq tell me to die. But first ask me, Do you desire to be dissolA'ed and to be AAith Christ ? And I shall say. Yes. Do you desire nothing on earth but the enjoy- ment of God ? When I say Yes to that, you are to say. If you desire nothing more on earth, go to God. Now say it. I A\'ish my death to be an act of pure obedience." Then RcA^erend Mother put the first question to him ; and he answered " Yes ;" and she broke down in the middle of the second. In about fiA'e minutes he said, " You did not do Avhat I told you, or I should not be here now. Where's Canon Morris ?" I AA'as sleeping on the sofa at his feet, Avhen Reverend Mother called me. He said, "I wish to die out of pure obedience. Cupio dissolvi et esse cion Christo. Could you tell me to die?" I answered, D 50 CAEDINAL Wiseman's last illness. " You must wish to die wheu God wills, and to live as long as God wills." " Yes," he said, " that is what I wish ; but melius est mori et esse cum Christo ;" and I shall never forget the plaintive touching tone in which the last words were uttered. I rejoined, " You will get all the merit of the obedience. Shall I tell you to wish to live as long as God chooses, and to die when He chooses f ' He said, " Yes." " Then I bid you wish to live as long as God wills, and to die when He wills." After a pause, I added, " Will you say. Give me here my Purgatory ; in this sense, that you wish to be with Christ, and have to waitT' He answered, "I will, I do. I say it from all my heart. That is just what I say." Then, with long pauses, he went on thus : " Is this a prophetic calmf ' . . . "I think a good many vidll be sorry for me." " I know some who will," I answered, "Protestants, I mean," he continued; "I don't think they will always think me such a monster." This led him to the thought of his in- tended lecture ; but he only said, " Give my blessing to Dr. Clifford. He was very kind in helping me. He will miss me." . . . "I hope they won't cut up my papers much. I think I have left a good many papers that will do good. You and Manning* will see to them. I hope they won't want much cutting up. There are some papers from my boyhood. I hope they may be found useful." * The Cardinal's literary executors are the Right Rev. Provost Manning, D.D., and the Very Rev. Canon Thompson. CARDiXAL Wiseman's last illness. 51 When I asked him for his blessing for Reverend Mother, who never spoke to him unnecessarily, but who was very anxious to get his blessing before he died, he said, " God bless you. Reverend Mother. God bless you," — making the sign of the cross over her, — " and reward you for all you have done for me. Persevere to the end." I said, "When you see God, will you think of usf He answered, "I will try to think of all then. But oh ! what am I ? I am unworthy even to think of God. What have I done for God?" I suggested to him that he should use his clear- ness of mind to make the Acts of Faith, Hope, Charity, and Contrition. He said, " I will. Make them for me out loud, slowly and distinctly." I did so in the fewest possible words. He then said, " I charge you, dear Canon Morris, as a notary of the Roman Catholic Church, to record what I have just done in a solemn document, and to sign it in my name, to be kept always in the archives of the Church of Westminster ; and say that I die in the faith and Communion of the Roman Cathohc Church; and add to it that I have never doubted or wavered, and have always had those Acts in my heart that I have made with my dying lips. Add it to that more solemn Act I made," — referring to his Profession of Faith before the Chapter. " Do you accept my com- mission, and do you remember all I have said r' 1 answered, " I remember every line of it, and will do all you have told me." 52 CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. He went on after a while : " There is one thing that is a mortification to me. I should have liked to have had my people about me with tapers at the last ; but in this country I suppose I must give it up." I said : " Oh, you shall have them about you." " Do you remember the glorious death of that Bishop — a Benedictine, an exile from Spain — who was d}dng all alone, when a whole colony of his people, going, I think, to Australia — Benedictine monks in their habits — knelt all around him with their tapers?" I said, " See how God answers prayers, even in things like these." He said, "I want every body to know that on this, which will be probably the last day of my life, my mind is quite clear. I think God sent me the last two days to prepare me for to-day." Finding him so clear, I asked him for a matrimonial dispensation, which he gave. " What sort of a report will the doctors make when they come V I answered : " They will say your mind is clearer, but yoiir body weaker." " Do you think I am weaker? What is my pulse like?" I said, "It is very quiet." "Is not quiet, strength?" " If I recover, I Avill tell you some curious mental phenomena which have never been before observed." " How shall I die ?" I answered : " You will grow weaker, and then fall asleep, and when you wake you will see our Divine Lord." "Why will they say that?" " Because you have been sinking so steadily." During the night, whenever he woke he wandered ; CAKDINAL WISEMAN S LAST ILLNESS. Do but even his M-aiulerinr he did not speak of it again." This same night he spoke to Reverend Mother about the glorious work that God was performing for 58 CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. Ireland and England ; that he was willing to stop to work, but he did not see how it was possible for him to recover ; that G od did not want any one, but could make something better and brighter : and then some- thing about the resun'ection, but his memory refused to supply him with the right words. Soon after, on saying something the Reverend Mother could not understand, he called Roper, and said to him, " Tell Reverend Mother what I mean to say;" thinking no doubt that one of them might guess his meaning. After a pause, he said to her, " Have you been pray- ing as I told you ? Have you prayed that I may be dissolved and be with Christ?" She answered, "I have been praying for you — we always are." "Did you pray," he said, " that I might go home '? Do you remember what I told you to sayf Thinking he referred to what he had said on Thursday morning, she said nothing in reply. The Cardinal's own description of himself, before he was reduced quite so low, was that he was like a pendulum ; and the doctors said that no comparison could be more apt. Several times it seemed as if death could not be far off ; but each time he rallied, though each time it was to a distinctly lower level of strength. On Wednesday night, a week before he died, the medical men thouo;ht that he would not survive the night, and then the prayers for the departing were first said by Dr. Melia. They were repeated several times afterwards. Early in the week he had asked CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. 59 for the last blessinfT, and Monsio;nor Seai'le bad given it him ; and by his wish it was repeated at inten'als. On Sunday the 12th he spoke three or four times ; but only a few words each time. That morning Dr. Manning arrived, after a long and fatiguing winter's journey from Rome. When he first went into the Cardinal's room, he did not re- cognise him at all. About half-an-hom' later, to the request, " Will you give Dr. Manning yom' blessing, my Lord?" he answered, "Yes, when he comes." WTien told " Here he is," he looked towards him and stretched out his hand, which Dr. jManning, who knelt beside him, placed upon his head, and then said to him : " The Holy Father sends }ou his special blessing, and bids me tell you of his gi*eat love for you, especially at this point." The Cardinal said tlu-ee times, " I thank him ;" and then, after a short interval, " Thank him," also three times. Soon after, while Mass was being said in his ante-room, he turned to me and said, "Is not Mass going on 1 " He did not speak again before a quarter-past seven in the evening, when he said to Reverend Mother, " Wliat is this great peace f At the same time he Hfted his hand to the wound on his right temple, when she said, " Don't touch it." He con- tinued, "I don't mean the cut, — I moan of soul. What is this great peace of soul 1 Where does it come from ?" On one occasion Monsignor Searle asked him 60 CAEDiNAL Wiseman's last illness. whether he knew him ; and his answer was, " I have never unknown you." On the following day, Monsignor Thompson, one of the Cardinal's dearest friends, arrived. He en- tered the room very cautiously'; but the Cardinal per- ceived that some one was there, and, when IMonsignor Searle drew near him, he said, " I am to be kept quiet — quiet — quiet." And later on in the day he said to lioper, " Quiet, quiet," He only spoke once again this day. The light from the blessed candle that burned at the head of his bed pained his eye, and he said : " Blind me, blind me !" At midnight, as I was standing beside him, I chs- tinctly heard him pronounce my name. I instinctively answered, and he uttered a whole sentence, of which, to my great gi'ief, I could not distinguish a single word. His mouth and tongue were so burnt and parched from the rapid passage of the chy hard breathing, that, except at rare intervals, he could not articulate. At half-past two in the morning of Tuesday the 14th, ]\ii\ Hawkins, who had him in his arms, assist- ing him to turn, heard him say : " The agony." There was probably an increase of difficulty in breathing, and though he was not immediately dy- ing, we said, for his consolation, the prayers for the agonising. He raised his hand to shelter liis eye from the light of a candle that pained him. At four o'clock he said to Reverend Mother, " I am going fast." At a quarter-past seven, he asked what o'clock CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. G1 it was. At half-past seven, I said to liim, '' I am going to say !Mass for you — for a happy death. You can hear it from where you are." He answered: " Thank you : God bless you !"' I do not know that he spoke again. Reverend Mother tliinks that she heard him say, during the day, "My God, my God." This was his constant ejaculation during his illness. And now begins that portion of the past that 1 need not recall. To be so powerless to help him was the hardest of all to bear; painfvil as the previous days of his utter weakness had been to those who reverenced and loved him. Why should I dwell upon , these things now ? For six-and-thu*ty hours, and perhaps longer, he was gradually dying ; and at eio;ht o'clock in the mornino; of Wechiesdav the loth of February, \A-itli the Church's words sounding in his ears, as he had desired, he passed away to his rest. The end was without a struggle. Calmly, peacefully he departed. Monsignor Thompson and ^lonsignor Manning had jiist said their Masses for his happy death. After the prayer for a departed soul, I offered the Holy Sacrifice for his repose ; and my Mass was immediately followed by Monsignor Searle's. He died in the midst of prayers and sacri- fices. " Constituat te Christus Filius Dei vivi intra Paradisi sui semper amana virentia, et inter oves suas te verus ille Pastor agnoscat. liedemptorenv tuiini facie ad faciem videas, et priesens semper 62 CARDINAL Wiseman's last illness. assistens, manifestissimam beatis oculis aspiclas veri- tatem. Constitutus igitur inter agmina Beatorum, contemplationis diviuse dulcedine potiaris in sgecula sEeculorum." The following inscription was composed by the Cardinal in 1860 for a slab of marble to be laid in the choir of the Pro-Cathedral at Moorfields, A few days before his death he referred to it, requesting me to remind Dr. Gilbert to fill in the blank left for the date. NICOLAVS • S • R • E • PR • CARD • WISEMAN PRIMYS • ARCHIEPVS • WESTMONAST NE . DE . MEMORIA . DEVM . PRECANTIVM MERITO • EXCIDERET HVNC • LAPIDEM . VIWS • SIBI . POSVIT QVI . CVM • AB . INEVNTE • ADOLESCENTIA APVD . ANIMVM • S\^M • STATVISSET IN • CHRISTIANA . RELIGIONE • VINDICAJSfDA IN . FIDE . CATHOLICA . ILLVSTRANDA JVRIBVSQVE . ECCLESIAE . ET • S . S . TVENDIS VITAM • INSVMERE . AB • HOC • PROPOSITO VSQVE . AD . EXTREMVM . SPIRITVM SCIENS . NVNQVAM . DECLINAVIT A . SOLO . DEO . MERCEDEM . EXPECTANS QVAM AD . PEDES • INDVLGENTISSIMI • DOMINI • ROGATVRVS DIEM • SVVM • OBIIT [XV • FEBR . MDCCCLXV] ORATE . PRO . EO UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. INTERLIBRARY LOAJN^ ■JAN 27 1975 two WEEKS /-KUr.l UAfE O MQIf-RENEWABl F APR 41975 REcmi 150m 7,'68(J1895s4:) — C-12()