Relationship At times I feel an ache, an inner loneliness that cripples me. But I forget about God. I forget that God loves me, and actually wants a relationship with me. A Christian friend of mine told me that God has emotions. Not that he’s defensive and unstable, but he loves me and is sad when I turn away from him. He feels sadness when I’m hurt, and feels love and joy at my happiness. I matter to him. He isn’t an emotionless deity, watching from afar and not caring. He doesn’t go about his plans without caring if I’m involved. What I do matters to him. What I say matters. How I treat him. If I spend time with him. He loves me, and just as I would be hurt if someone I love rejected me, he’s hurt when I reject him. Just as I feel sad when someone I love is sad, or I’m in pain when they’re upset — God’s the same. He aches when I’m upset. He actually loves me. He cries when I cry. If only I could see it. Any pain I feel would be diminished in light of God’s love. He cares about every part of me. If only I could see it.
I believe that what separates us all from one another is simply society itself, or, if you like, politics. This is what raises barriers between men, this is what creates misunderstanding. If I may be allowed to express myself paradoxically, I should say that the truest society, the authentic human community, is extra-social — a wider, deeper society, that which is revealed by our common anxieties, our desires, our secret nostalgias. The whole history of the world has been governed by nostalgias and anxieties, which political action does no more than reflect and interpret, very imperfectly. No society has been able to abolish human sadness, no political system can deliver us from the pain of living, from our fear of death, our thirst for the absolute. It is the human condition that directs the social condition, not vice versa.
>Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.
A feeling of sadness and longing That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
This same morning dawned for the prince pregnant with no less painful presentiments,--which fact his physical state was, of course, quite enough to account for; but he was so indefinably melancholy,--his sadness could not attach itself to anything in particular, and this tormented him more than anything else. Of course certain facts stood before him, clear and painful, but his sadness went beyond all that he could remember or imagine; he realized that he was powerless to console himself unaided. Little by little he began to develop the expectation that this day something important, something decisive, was to happen to
As the reader perceives, slang in its entirety, slang of four hundred years ago, like the slang of to-day, is permeated with that sombre, symbolical spirit which gives to all words a mien which is now mournful, now menacing. One feels in it the wild and ancient sadness of those vagrants of the Court of Miracles who played at cards with packs of their own, some of which have come down to us. The eight of clubs, for instance, represented a huge tree bearing eight enormous trefoil leaves, a sort of fantastic personification of the forest. At the foot of this tree a fire was burning, over which three hares were roasting a huntsman on a spit, and behind him, on another fire, hung a steaming pot, whence emerged the head of a dog. Nothing can be more melancholy than these reprisals in painting, by a pack of cards, in the presence of stakes for the roasting of smugglers and of the cauldron for the boiling of counterfeiters. The diverse forms assumed by thought in the realm of slang, even song, even raillery, even menace, all partook of this powerless and dejected character. All the songs, the melodies of some of which have been collected, were humble and lamentable to the point of evoking tears. The pegre is always the poor pegre, and he is always the hare in hiding, the fugitive mouse, the flying bird. He hardly complains, he contents himself with sighing; one of his moans has come down to us: "I do not understand how God, the father of men, can torture his children and his grandchildren and hear them cry, without himself suffering torture."[43] The wretch, whenever he has time to think, makes himself small before the low, and frail in the presence of society; he lies down flat on his face, he entreats, he appeals to the side of compassion; we feel that he is conscious of his guilt.
The idea of being made a fool of and of having thrown away that whole month of arduous melancholy service to Julie, and of seeing all the revenue from the Penza estates which he had already mentally apportioned and put to proper use fall into the hands of another, and especially into the hands of that idiot Anatole, pained Boris. He drove to the Karagins' with the firm intention of proposing. Julie met him in a gay, careless manner, spoke casually of how she had enjoyed yesterday's ball, and asked when he was leaving. Though Boris had come intentionally to speak of his love and therefore meant to be tender, he began speaking irritably of feminine inconstancy, of how easily women can turn from sadness to joy, and how their moods depend solely on who happens to be paying court to them. Julie was offended and replied that it was true that a woman needs variety, and the same thing over and over again would weary anyone.
"So! But on other moonlight nights, when the sadness and the silence have touched me in a different way--have affected me with something as like a sorrowful sense of peace, as any emotion that had pain for its foundations could--I have imagined her as coming to me in my cell, and leading me out into the freedom beyond the fortress. I have seen her image in the moonlight often, as I now see you; except that I never held her in my arms; it stood between the little grated window and the door. But, you understand that that was not the child I am speaking of?"
Then the landing began. Dantes reflected, as he worked, on the shout of joy which, with a single word, he could evoke from all these men, if he gave utterance to the one unchanging thought that pervaded his heart; but, far from disclosing this precious secret, he almost feared that he had already said too much, and by his restlessness and continual questions, his minute observations and evident pre-occupation, aroused suspicions. Fortunately, as regarded this circumstance at least, his painful past gave to his countenance an indelible sadness, and the glimmerings of gayety seen beneath this cloud were indeed but transitory.
"By degrees I made a discovery of still greater moment. I found that these people possessed a method of communicating their experience and feelings to one another by articulate sounds. I perceived that the words they spoke sometimes produced pleasure or pain, smiles or sadness, in the minds and countenances of the hearers. This was indeed a godlike science, and I ardently desired to become acquainted with it. But I was baffled in every attempt I made for this purpose. Their pronunciation was quick, and the words they uttered, not having any apparent connection with visible objects, I was unable to discover any clue by which I could unravel the mystery of their reference. By great application, however, and after having remained during the space of several revolutions of the moon in my hovel, I discovered the names that were given to some of the most familiar objects of discourse; I learned and applied the words, 'fire,' 'milk,' 'bread,' and 'wood.' I learned also the names of the cottagers themselves. The youth and his companion had each of them several names, but the old man had only one, which was 'father.' The girl was called 'sister' or 'Agatha,' and the youth 'Felix,' 'brother,' or 'son.' I cannot describe the delight I felt when I learned the ideas appropriated to each of these sounds and was able to pronounce them. I distinguished several other words without being able as yet to understand or apply them, such as 'good,' 'dearest,' 'unhappy.'
Injustice had made her peevish, and misery had made her ugly. Nothing remained to her except her beautiful eyes, which inspired pain, because, large as they were, it seemed as though one beheld in them a still larger amount of sadness.
MANNING, HENRY EDWARD (1808-1892), English Roman Catholic cardinal, was born at Totteridge, Hertfordshire, on the 15th of July 1808,[1] being the third and youngest son of William Manning, a West India merchant, who was a director of the Bank of England and governor, 1812-1813, and who sat in Parliament for some thirty years, representing in the Tory interest Plympton Earle, Lymington, Evesham, and Penryn consecutively. His mother, Mary, daughter of Henry Leroy Hunter, of Beech Hill, Reading, was of a family said to be of French extraction. Manning's boyhood was mainly spent at Coombe Bank, Sundridge, Kent, where he had for companions Charles and Christopher Wordsworth, afterwards bishops of St Andrews and of Lincoln. He was educated at Harrow, 1822-1827, Dr G. Butler being then the head master, but obtained no distinction beyond being in the cricket eleven in 1825. He matriculated at Balliol College, Oxford, in 1827, and soon made his mark as a debater at the Union, where Gladstone succeeded him as president in 1830. At this date he was ambitious of a political career, but his father had sustained severe losses in business, and in these circumstances Manning, having graduated with first-class honours in 1830, obtained the year following, through Viscount Goderich, a post as supernumerary clerk in the colonial office. This, however, he resigned in 1832, his thoughts having been turned towards a clerical career under Evangelical influences, which affected him deeply throughout life. Returning to Oxford, he was elected a fellow of Merton College, and was ordained; and in 1833 he was presented to the rectory of Lavington-with-Graffham in Sussex by Mrs Sargent, whose granddaughter Caroline he married on the 7th of November 1833, the ceremony being performed by the bride's brother-in-law, Samuel Wilberforce, afterwards bishop of Oxford and of Winchester. Manning's married life was of brief duration. His young and beautiful wife was of a consumptive family, and died childless (July 24, 1837). The lasting sadness that thus early overshadowed him tended to facilitate his acceptance of the austere teaching of the Oxford Tracts; and though he was never an acknowledged disciple of Newman, it was due to the latter's influence that from this date his theology assumed an increasingly High Church character, and his printed sermon on the "Rule of Faith" was taken as a public profession of his alliance with the Tractarians. In 1838 he took a leading part in the Church education movement, by which diocesan boards were established throughout the country; and he wrote an open letter to his bishop in criticism of the recent appointment of the ecclesiastical commission. In December of that year he paid his first visit to Rome, and called on Dr Wiseman in company with W. E. Gladstone. In January 1841 Shuttleworth, bishop of Chichester, appointed him archdeacon, whereupon he began a personal visitation of each parish within his district, completing the task in 1843. In 1842 he published a treatise on _The Unity of the Church_, and his reputation as an eloquent and earnest preacher being by this time considerable, he was in the same year appointed select preacher by his university, thus being called upon to fill from time to time the pulpit which Newman, as vicar of St Mary's, was just ceasing to occupy. Four volumes of his sermons appeared between the years 1842 and 1850, and these had reached the 7th, 4th, 3rd and 2nd editions respectively in 1850, but were not afterwards reprinted. In 1844 his portrait was painted by Richmond, and the same year he published a volume of university sermons, in which, however, was not included the one on the Gunpowder Plot. This sermon had much annoyed Newman and his more advanced disciples, but it was a proof that at that date Manning was loyal to the Church of England as Protestant. Newman's secession in 1845 placed Manning in a position of greater responsibility, as one of the High Church leaders, along with Pusey and Keble and Marriott; but it was with Gladstone and James Hope (afterwards Hope-Scott) that he was at this time most closely associated. In the spring of 1847 he was seriously ill, and that autumn and the following winter he spent abroad, chiefly in Rome, where he saw Newman "wearing the Oratorian habit and dead to the world." He had public and private audiences with the pope on the 9th of April and the 11th of May 1848, but recorded next to nothing in his diary concerning them, though numerous other entries show an eager interest in everything connected with the Roman Church, and private papers also indicate that he recognized at this time grave defects in the Church of England and a mysterious attractiveness in Roman Catholicism, going so far as to question whether he might not one day be a Roman Catholic himself. Returning to England, he protested, but with moderation, against the appointment of Hampden as bishop of Hereford, and continued to take an active part in the religious education controversy. Through the influence of Samuel Wilberforce, he was offered the post of sub-almoner to Queen Victoria, always recognized as a stepping-stone to the episcopal bench, and his refusal of it was honourably consonant with all else in his career as an Anglican dignitary, in which he united pastoral diligence with an asceticism that was then quite exceptional. In 1850 the decision of the privy council, that the bishop of Exeter was bound to institute the Rev. G. C. Gorham to the benefice of Brampford Speke in spite of the latter's acknowledged disbelief in the doctrine of baptismal regeneration, brought to a crisis the position within the Church of England of those who believed in that Church as a legitimate part of the infallible _Ecclesia docens_. Manning made it clear that he regarded the matter as vital, though he did not act on this conviction until no hope remained of the decision being set aside or practically annulled by joint action of the bishops. In July he addressed to his bishop an open letter on "The Appellate Jurisdiction of the Crown in Matters Spiritual," and he also took part in a meeting in London which protested against the decision. In the autumn of this year (1850) was the great popular outcry against the "Papal aggression" (see WISEMAN), and Manning, feeling himself unable to take part in this protest, resigned, early in December his benefice and his archdeaconry; and writing to Hope-Scott, who a little later became a Roman Catholic with him, stated his conviction that the alternative was "either Rome or licence of thought and will." He was received into the Roman Catholic Church by Father Brownbill, S.J., at the church in Farm Street, on Passion Sunday, the 6th of April 1851. On the following Sunday he was confirmed and received to communion by Cardinal Wiseman, who also, within ten weeks of his reception, ordained him priest. Manning thereupon proceeded to Rome to pursue his theological studies, residing at the college known as the "Academy for Noble Ecclesiastics," and attending lectures by Perrone and Passaglia among others. The pope frequently received him in private audience, and in 1854 conferred on him the degree of D.D. During his visits to England he was at the disposal of Cardinal Wiseman, who through him, at the time of the Crimean War, was enabled to obtain from the government the concession that for the future Roman Catholic army chaplains should not be regarded as part of the staff of the Protestant chaplain-general. In 1857 the pope, _proprio motu_, appointed him provost (or head of the chapter) of Westminster, and the same year he took up his residence in Bayswater as superior of a community known as the "Oblates of St Charles," an association of secular priests on the same lines as the institute of the Oratory, but with this difference, that they are by their constitution at the beck and call of the bishop in whose diocese they live. The community was thus of the greatest service to Cardinal Wiseman, whose right-hand man Manning thenceforward became. During the eight years of his life at Bayswater he was most active in all the duties of the priesthood, preaching, hearing confessions, and receiving converts; and he was notably zealous to promote in England all that was specially Roman and papal, thus giving offence to old-fashioned Catholics, both clerical and lay, many of whom were largely influenced by Gallican ideas, and had with difficulty accepted the restoration of the hierarchy in 1850. In 1860 he delivered a course of lectures on the pope's temporal power, at that date seriously threatened, and shortly afterwards he was appointed a papal domestic prelate, thus becoming a "Monsignor," to be addressed as "Right Reverend." He was now generally recognized as the able and effective leader of the Ultramontane party among English Roman Catholics, acting always, however, in subordination to Cardinal Wiseman; and on the latter's death (Feb. 15, 1865) it was felt that, if Manning should succeed to the vacant archbishopric, the triumph of Ultramontanism would be secured. Such a consummation not being desired by the Westminster chapter, they submitted to the pope three names, and Manning's was not one of them. Great efforts were made to secure the succession for the titular archbishop Errington, who at one time had been Wiseman's coadjutor with that right reserved to him, but who had been ousted from that position by the pope acting under Manning's influence. In such circumstances Pius IX. could hardly do otherwise than ignore Errington's nomination, as he also ignored the nomination of Clifford, bishop of Clifton, and of Grant, bishop of Southwark; and, by what he humorously described as "the Lord's own _coup d'état_," he appointed Manning to the archiepiscopal see. Consecrated at the pro-cathedral at Moorfields (since destroyed) by Dr Ullathorne, bishop of Birmingham (June 8, 1865), and enthroned there (Nov. 6), after receiving the _pallium_ in Rome, Manning began his work as archbishop by devoting himself especially to the religious education of the poor and to the establishment of Catholic industrial and reformatory schools. He steadily opposed whatever might encourage the admission of Catholics to the national universities, and so put his foot down on Newman's project to open a branch house of the Oratory at Oxford with himself as superior. He made an unsuccessful and costly effort to establish a Catholic university at Kensington, and he also made provision for a diocesan seminary of strictly ecclesiastical type. Jealous of the exclusive claims of the Roman Church, he procured a further condemnation at Rome of the "Association for the Promotion of the Unity of Christendom," which advocated prayers for the accomplishment of a kind of federal union between the Roman, Greek and Anglican Churches, and in a pastoral letter he insisted on the heretical assumption implied in such an undertaking. He also worked for the due recognition of the dignity of the secular or pastoral clergy, whose position seemed to be threatened by the growing ascendancy of the regulars, and especially of the Jesuits, whom, as a practically distinct organization within the Church, he steadily opposed. In addition to his diocesan synods, he presided in 1873 over the fourth provincial synod of Westminster, which legislated on "acatholic" universities, church music, mixed marriages, and the order of a priest's household, having previously taken part, as theologian, in the provincial synods of 1853 and 1859, with a hand in the preparation of their decrees. But it was chiefly through his strenuous advocacy of the policy of defining papal infallibility at the Vatican council (1869-1870) that Manning's name obtained world-wide renown. In this he was instant in season and out of season. He brought to Rome a petition in its favour from his chapter at Westminster, and during the progress of the council he laboured incessantly to overcome the opposition of the "inopportunists." And he never ceased to regard it as one of the chief privileges of his life that he had been able to take an active part in securing the definition, and in having heard with his own ears that doctrine proclaimed as a part of divine revelation. In 1875 he published a reply to Gladstone's attack on the Vatican decrees; and on the 15th of March in that year he was created cardinal, with the title of SS. Andrew and Gregory on the Coelian. He was present at the death of Pius IX. (Feb. 7, 1878); and in the subsequent conclave, while some Italian cardinals were prepared to vote for his election to fill the vacant chair, he himself supported Cardinal Pecci, afterwards known as Leo XIII. With him, however, Manning found less sympathy than with his predecessor, though Manning's advocacy of the claims of labour attracted Leo's attention, and influenced the encyclical which he issued on the subject. After the Vatican council, and more especially after the death of Pius IX., Manning devoted his attention mainly to social questions, and with these his name was popularly associated during the last fifteen years of his life. From 1872 onwards he was a strict teetotaller, not touching alcohol even as a medicine, and there was some murmuring among his clergy that his teaching on this subject verged on heresy. But his example and his zeal profoundly influenced for good the Irish poor forming the majority of his flock; and the "League of the Cross" which he founded, and which held annual demonstrations at the Crystal Palace, numbered nearly 30,000 members in London alone in 1874. He sat on two royal commissions, the one on the housing of the working classes (1884), and the other on primary education (1886); and in each case the report showed evident marks of his influence, which his fellow-commissioners recognized as that of a wise and competent social reformer. In the cause of labour he was active for many years, and in 1872 he set an example to the clergy of all the churches by taking a prominent part in a meeting held in Exeter Hall on behalf of the newly established Agricultural Labourers' Union, Joseph Arch and Charles Bradlaugh being among those who sat with him on the platform. In later years his strenuous advocacy of the claims of the working classes, and his declaration that "every man has a right to work or to bread" led to his being denounced as a Socialist. That he was such he denied more than once (Lemire, _Le Cardinal Manning et son action sociale_, Paris, 1893, p. 210), nor was he ever a Socialist in principle; but he favoured some of the methods of Socialism, because they alone seemed to him practically to meet the case of that pressing poverty which appealed to his heart. He took a leading part in the settlement of the dockers' strike in the autumn of 1889, and his patient and effectual action on this and on similar occasions secured for him the esteem and affection of great numbers of working men, so that his death on the 14th of January 1892, and his funeral a week later, were the occasion for a remarkable demonstration of popular veneration. The Roman Catholic Cathedral at Westminster is his joint memorial with his predecessor, Cardinal Wiseman. Entry: MANNING
ELIOT, GEORGE, the pen-name of the famous English writer, _née_ Mary Ann (or Marian) Evans (1819-1880), afterwards Mrs J.W. Cross, born at Arbury Farm, in Warwickshire, on the 22nd of November 1819. Her father, Robert Evans, was the agent of Mr Francis Newdigate, and the first twenty-one years of the great novelist's life were spent on the Arbury estate. She received an ordinary education at respectable schools till the age of seventeen, when her mother's death, and the marriage of her elder sister, called her home in the character of housekeeper. This, though it must have sharpened her sense, already too acute, of responsibility, was an immense advantage to her mind, and, later, to her career, for, delivered from the tiresome routine of lessons and class-work, she was able to work without pedantic interruptions at German, Italian and music, and to follow her unusually good taste in reading. The life, inasmuch as she was a girl still in her teens, was no doubt monotonous, even unhappy. Just as Cardinal Newman felt, with such different results, the sadness and chain of evangelical influences from his boyhood till the end of his days, so Marian Evans was subdued all through her youth by a severe religious training which, while it pinched her mind and crushed her spirit, attracted her idealism by the very hardness of its perfect counsels. It is not surprising to find, therefore, that when Mr Evans moved to Coventry in 1841, and so enlarged the circle of their acquaintance, she became much interested in some new friends, Mr and Mrs Charles Bray and Mr Charles Hennell. Mr Bray had literary taste and wrote works on the _Education of the Feelings_, the _Philosophy of Necessity_, and the like. Mr Hennell had published in 1838 _An Enquiry concerning the Origin of Christianity_. Miss Evans, then twenty-two, absorbed immediately these unexpected, and, at that time, daring habits of thought. So compelling was the atmosphere that it led to a complete change in her opinions. Kind in her affection, she was relentless in argument. She refused to go to church (for some time, at least), wrote painful letters to a former governess--the pious Miss Lewis--and barely avoided an irremediable quarrel with her father, a churchman of the old school. Here was rebellion indeed. But rebels come, for the most part, from the provinces where petty tyranny, exercised by small souls, show the scheme of the universe on the meanest possible scale. George Eliot was never orthodox again; she abandoned, with fierce determination, every creed, and although she passed, later, through various phases, she remained incessantly a rationalist in matters of faith and in all other matters. It is nevertheless true that she wrote admirably about religion and religious persons. She had learnt the evangelical point of view; she knew--none better--the strength of religious motives; vulgar doubts of this fact were as distasteful to her as they were to another eminent writer, to whom she refers in one of her letters (dated 1853) as "a Mr Huxley, who was the centre of interest" at some "agreeable evening." Her books abound in tributes to Christian virtue, and one of her own favourite characters was Dinah Morris in _Adam Bede_. Entry: ELIOT