, raised Newman to the cardinalate. He
visited Rome on the occasion, but returned to Birmingham, where the
Edgbaston Oratory was still his home for the remaining years of his
life. This did not end till 11th August 1890, when almost all men spoke
almost all good things over his grave, though some did not spare to
interpose a sober criticism. The books composed during this long and
eventful career, especially in the first half of it, were very
numerous, Cardinal Newman's works at the time of his death, and before
the addition of Letters, etc., extending to nearly forty volumes. Much
of the matter of these is still _cinis dolosissimus_, not to be trodden
on save in the most gingerly manner in such a book as this. Yet there
are probably few qualified and impartial judges who would refuse Newman,
all things considered, the title of the greatest theological writer in
English during this century; and there are some who uphold him for one
of the very greatest of English prose writers. It is therefore
impossible not to give him a place, and no mean place, here.

Although his chief work, indeed all but a very small part of it, was in
prose, he was a good verse writer. The beautiful poem or hymn usually
called from its first words "Lead, kindly Light," but entitled by its
author "The Pillar of Cloud," is not merely as widely known as any piece
of sacred verse written during the century, but may challenge anything
of that class (out of the work of Miss Christina Rossetti) for really
poetical decoction and concoction of religious ideas. It was written,
with much else, during a voyage in a sailing ship from Sicily to
Marseilles at the close (June 1833) of that continental tour which was
of such moment in Newman's life; and the whole batch ferments with
spiritual excitement. Earlier, and indeed later, Newman, besides plenty
of serious verse, contributed to the _Lyra Apostolica_ or written
independently, was a graceful writer of verse trifles; but his largest
and best poetical work, _The Dream of Gerontius_, was not produced till
he was approaching old age, and had long passed the crisis of his
career. Possibly the new ferment of soul into which the composition of
the _Apologia_ had thrown him, may have been responsible for this, which
is dated a year later. It is the recital in lyrical-dramatic form of an
anticipatory vision, just before death, of the Last Things, and unites
dignity and melody in a remarkable manner. The only other pa