Wiseman

In ten days, the Most Reverend Vincent Nichols will be enthroned as Archbishop of Westminster, taking formally taking possession of England's de facto primatial see and sitting upon the magnificent throne in the Byzantine-style cathedral. This man - who was consecrated bishop in this Cathedral, though whose home diocese is Liverpool - will return to this place to a warm welcome. As a little token, I'd like to write a short article on each of his predecessors in the archiepiscopal see every day from now until his installation. There have been ten of them, so it should fit perfectly!

Before we start with our subject, something must be said of another man. Blessed Pius IX resurrected the Catholic hierarchy in England and Wales in 1850, a move which angered both Queen and Parliament, though the Prince of Apostles, Father of Kings, obviously didn't not care about such petty issues. Cardinal Allesandro Barnabo, Prefect of the Propaganda Fide, declared that another man, Bishop Thomas Walsh should be England's first metropolitan, living or dead. This man served for many years as Vicar Apostolic of the Midland District, and was a key figure in the foundation of Oscott college and St Chad's Basilica in Birmingham. He had served as an early president of Oscott (which at that time was a school, later becoming Maryvale) and a spiritual director, and was a key figure in the foundation of the present institution. He was a popular man in Rome, though they were largely ignorant of his disabilities by the 1840s. Despite his zeal, he was infirm and almost blind, but to Westminster he would go, and was translated to the Vicariate Apostolic of London. He died shortly before he could be made Archbishop. I have included mention of him here due to the Pope's intention in the heart.

Now we shall come to our main subject, who succeeded Walsh as Vicar Apostolic of London in 1849.

Nicholas Patrick Stephen Wiseman was born in Spain in 1802, shortly before the violent collapse of the Spanish state and the long, devasting war in that country which concluded ten years after his birth-year. He was the son of Irish merchants, who lived in this port city due to the father's work. However, his father, James, died when Nicholas was aged only 3. He did not remain on the Emerald Isle for long, however (just enough time to learn English however), he was sent by his mother to Ushaw, which had opened as the French lopped off the head of Marie Annetoinette. It was here he discerned a vocation to the priesthood.

By descriptions from the school staff, he reminds me a little of myself, often to be found on his own, reading. Otherwise, he would be walking the corridors with a book under his arm, avoiding all sports. This habit of his clearly made an impact on his future life in London. Even the Oratorians were shocked by his four course meal habit - even in Lent, a man who often had a lobster with every sitting.

He was sent to the English College in Rome, just as the city was recovering from French oppression. It must have been a vibrant time in the Eternal City; Pope Pius VII was keen to restore the city. He was quickly recognised as a great mind, and became a doctor of divinity - his examination was observed, among others, by the future Gregory XVI, who had travelled to the college in his Benedictine habit specifically to hear the words of this young English soon-to-be pirest. Before he had reached his quarter-century, he had become rector of the college, and served on the staff of La Sapienza.

Though he was deeply attached to Rome, he yearned to return to England, enthused by the potential conversion of the country at the hands of the Oxford movement. Before he left perminantly for Albion, he was consecrated bishop on the order of that Benedictine supporter - now Pope. Thankfully, his mother was able to attend his consecration in 1840. He departed for England, and resided in Birmingham, though he was not popular: too Roman.

He travelled to Rome in 1850 to receive the red hat, at which point he was to return to England as Archbishop of Westminster. His brother bishops felt he was too magisterial, too primatial, as excellently demonstrated in the painting of the Synod of Westminster in 1852, held at Oscott college, where Newman preached his 'Second Spring' sermon from the high pulpit. The archbishop is arrayed in scarlet, while the other bishops and clergy are gathered around him in choir.

The first few years of his reign were not easy ones. The state was opposed to the Pope's move, and being the bishop of the Parliamentary city, Wiseman spent much effort in calming the popular hostility against Catholics, which was stirred up by the government (an act was hurried through parliament in 1850 which made holding non-Anglican ecclesiastic titles illegal). Many feared his life was in danger, though the Cardinal appeared very relaxed about the situation, certain of himself and of his own mission.

He welcomed with open arms many Anglican converts to the Catholic fold, including his successor, Manning and the Venerable Newman. English Catholics with long pedigrees were often hostile to these converts, as well as Ultramonatane bishops like Wiseman. The Duke of Norfolk was so horrified in 1850, he went the other way and became Anglican (his grandson made up for it, though, by building some Cathedrals). His Roman attitude was far too exotic for many of his clergy; everyone was aware that he had spent more years abroad that at home.

While in London, he invited many priestly orders: Oratorians, Redemptorists, Passionists, Rosiminians and Marists. He opposed the visit of Garibaldi in 1864 and poplarlised forms of worship lost on the English in the penal years, including the Divine Office and Benediction (maybe we should be thinking the same mind as Wiseman today).

Wiseman's lobsters and four course dinners caught up with him, however. Fortunately for him, he was aware of his impending demise, and meticulously planned every detail of his funeral, ordering his secretary to ensure every rubric was followed. He died in early 1865, after nearly 15 years as Archbishop. The nation was enthralled by the Catholic splendour of his Requiem, sung in St Mary Moorfields, the pro-Cathedral at the time. So much black was draped in this Church that, according to the Times of London, the sunlight was blocked out, the sable broken only by silver candlesticks and embroidery on his funeral pall. The Tablet reported that a million people mourned Wiseman on his way to be buried (though we know how accurate the Tablet is). His galero was carried on a golden cushion on a carriage behind the herse; it now hangs above his grave - which was carved later by Pugin (the less famous one) - in the crypt of a Cathedral which he never dreamt would be built.