of Westminster had been due to Pio Nono's shrewd appreciation of
the fact that he was the one man in England upon whose fidelity
the Roman Government could absolutely rely. The voice which kept
repeating 'Mettetelo li, mettetelo li' in his Holiness's ear,
whether or not it was inspired by God, was certainly inspired by
political sagacity. For now Manning was to show that he was not
unworthy of the trust which had been reposed in him. He flew to
Rome in a whirlwind of Papal enthusiasm. On the way, in Paris, he
stopped for a moment to interview those two great props of French
respectability, M. Guizot and M. Thiers. Both were careful not to
commit themselves, but both were exceedingly polite. 'I am
awaiting your Council,' said M. Guizot, 'with great anxiety. It
is the last great moral power and may restore the peace of
Europe.' M. Thiers delivered a brief harangue in favour of the
principles of the Revolution, which, he declared, were the very
marrow of all Frenchmen; yet, he added, he had always supported
the Temporal Power of the Pope. 'Mais, M. Thiers,' said Manning,
'vous etes effectivement croyant.' 'En Dieu,' replied M. Thiers.

The Rome which Manning reached towards the close of 1869 was
still the Rome which, for so many centuries, had been the proud
and visible apex, the palpitating heart, the sacred sanctuary,
of the most extraordinary mingling of spiritual and earthly
powers that the world has ever known. The Pope now, it is true,
ruled over little more than the City itself-- the Patrimony of
St.
Peter-- and he ruled there less by the Grace of God than by the
goodwill of Napoleon III; yet he was still a sovereign Prince,
and Rome was still the capital of the Papal State; she was not
yet the capital of Italy. The last hour of this strange dominion