“That was neatly put for an Englishman,” said O’Flynn. “I like a clean give and take, all in good manners. Did ye ever hear of Cardinal Z.’s rebuff at his installation? There is a custom, you may have heard, that when a Cardinal Bishop is appointed he takes his title from a particular church in Rome. Cardinal Newman, for instance, was this way associated with the church of St. Giorgio in Velabro, down by the Arch of Janus, is it not, Father O’Dowd? And the story goes that Z., who had at one time aspired to be the head of a certain church in the Immortal City, which we may call St. Apollinaris, and had at that time been unsuccessful, eventually received the purple, and took his title from that same church. In due course he attended the church in full pomp to be installed; and it gave him the keenest delight to see at the head of the local clergy the man who had led the opposition against him. As he descended from his state carriage, he bowed formally to his enemy, and said as if it were part of the ceremony:
“‘Lapidem quem reprobaverunt aedificantes, hic factus est in caput anguli.’[34]
“The other bowed almost to the ground, and responded:
“‘A Domino factum est istud, et est mirabile in oculis nostris.’[35]
“I doubt if history can produce a better thrust and parry.”
“In the upper circles of Rome,” said Father B., who seemed to be, like Mr. C., an admirer of Newman, “they cultivate these amenities. The inspector may not know Monsignor Talbot’s remark to Cardinal Howard. You remember that Cardinal Manning’s life is full of allusions to those two great men; and you will not have forgotten how Manning relied on Talbot’s help, and how, when Talbot broke down in mind and body, Manning neglected him.[36] At one time both Howard and Talbot were in great favour at the Vatican; but while Talbot was well aware that he owed his position simply to the fact that he was a Talbot, the Cardinal was secretly certain that, besides his personal appearance (which at one time added lustre to the Life Guards) and his connection with ‘the blood of all the Howards,’ there was intrinsic merit. It was therefore the delight of Talbot to poke fun at his fellow countryman, and the Inner Circle greatly enjoyed these scenes. At last the climax was reached. The Pope sent for both grandees, and informed them that he had determined to send them on a special mission to Goa, in S.W. India. Full particulars were promised: meanwhile he proffered his blessing.
“The two returned to their gorgeous carriage, and when it moved on, Howard lay back in his corner, meditating triumphantly that his time had come: obvious merit had at last been recognised, and the Catholic world would admit it. Goa was only a starting-point; and then—. Beneath the dome of St. Peter’s a dense crowd of the faithful cheering, a blare of trumpets, an atmosphere thick with incense, and a fifteen stone Pontiff borne on a sedia gestatoria—all these floated before his eyes, ears, nose; why should Nicholas Breakspear be the last Englishman to ascend the Papal throne?—and then came a chuckle by his side, and a familiar voice:
“‘I say, Howard, I expect this isn’t much of a job, or they wouldn’t have sent you and me.’”
“There were many stories of Talbot,” said Mr. C.; “my uncle knew Cardinal Newman well at Birmingham, and heard many, for Talbot was, of course, too nearly allied to Cardinal Manning to be a persona grata to the other great ecclesiastic. I remember one story illustrating the simplicity of his character:
“Talbot came over to London to preach for a special fund in some church, and there was a vast congregation to hear ‘the intimate and constant attendant’ of Pio Nono.[37] He began by informing them that he had only on the previous day received a letter from the Holy Father himself upon the very topic which had brought them together that day. He would read it to them, and he begged that they would remember that, the Pope being the vicegerent of the Almighty, they should regard it as a voice from the unseen world. He would now begin: