facts are based, are now trembling in their shoes. They cannot lay the Frankenstein's monster they have raised.

By force of circumstances, by its candour and outspokenness, and, perhaps, still more by the blunderings of its Catholic critics, the Life of Cardinal Manning is become a test-book, as it were: a criterion of the rival methods in the art of writing history or biography. In all the lands where the English tongue is spoken, the question of the hour is asked: Is the publication of historical facts based on authentic documents almost a crime' or a virtue?

By a careful estimate it is computed that the Life has already been read in England and the United States, in the Colonies and India, by well-nigh 200,000 persons. As a consequential result of the unprecedented circulation of such a book, or rather as the result produced by action and reaction, it has been criticised over and over again by more than 200 writers in the daily and weekly press, in monthly reviews and magazines on two continents. And yet the authenticity of no single document has been impeached or imperilled.

In regard to this test-question the all but unanimous verdict is in favour of candour and truthfulness in biography as well as in history. They who run may read; unless it be those who elect to walk through life blindfold.

What readers at home and abroad are, perhaps, most concerned to learn from me is the opinion of Catholics, first in regard to the Life, and, secondly, as to whether truthfulness and candour in biography is a virtue or no. In the nature of things I am in a position to learn many opinions on the subject from various quarters which find no public expression. Numerous letters from Catholics come to my hands; many more from Anglicans and others. Many of the former indignantly complain of the suppression of their letters. Catholics of position and experience maintain that Catholic opinion on the Life of Cardinal Manning is not fairly represented in The Tablet or the Weekly Register. They draw a broad distinction between those Catholics who have read the Life and those who have only read criticisms in the Catholic papers. They who have read the Life as a rule, in the teeth of its many faults, approve of it; those who have only read Catholic reviews of it denounce it. I will give two typical instances : a priest only the other day denounced it as 'an abominable book,' but admitted he had not read it. This was in England. A nun in Australia refused to read the Life, which was within her reach, because she had heard it was a bad book.' Both priest and nun were honest. They took the opinion of their pet newspaper as gospel truth. They are types of fortunately not a numerous class. On the other hand, fervent and loyal Catholics of independent judgment, who far exceed both in numbers and capacity these good people who believe implicitly what is told to them, have read the book and find it neither bad nor abominable. Quite the contrary. I might justify

this assertion by many quotations from letters sent to me by personal strangers, if space and modesty permitted.

Still more convincing, perhaps, than the opinion expressed in private letters is the judgment given in conversation by literary people, and at clubs, and in general society. One personage, a Catholic of high ecclesiastical position, of wide experience and knowledge of men, recently expressed the following opinion: The Life of Cardinal Manning justifies itself by results. By common consent it is acknowledged that a higher estimate has been formed alike by Catholics and Protestants of Cardinal Manning's character and career than was held before the publication of his Life.'

From the other side of the wall of separation which unhappily divides the Church of Rome and the Church of England-a wall, it is devoutly to be hoped, destined sooner or later, in the inscrutable designs of Providence, to be removed-I am enabled by the kindness of Lord Halifax to recite the following testimony given by his Grace the Archbishop of York: 'I always had a high opinion of Manning's powers, but since reading his Life I look upon him as a saint. The chapter on "Hindrances" is the most attractive and edifying record in the book.'

Such testimonies, however valuable as coming from representative men on either side, are in the nature of things dwarfed by the following words spoken a short time ago by his Holiness Pope Leo the Thirteenth. Though, of course, unofficial, these weighty words will be received with all the more reverence and gratitude inasmuch as they touch upon the test-question raised to-day in all the lands where the English tongue is spoken-namely, whether in great histories or biographies truth is a virtue or a crime?

Someone in the presence of the Pope was regretting that Manning's character should have been so hurt by what had appeared in his biography, and Pope Leo the Thirteenth spoke as follows: Truth is the only thing that matters. What would the Bible have been if the writers had considered the effect of what they wrote? What would have become of Mary Magdalene and her sin; what of Peter and his fall?'1

Such a verdict is in keeping with all the known acts and utterances of his Holiness. It is not so long since that the well-known author of The History of the Popes, before recording the life of Alexander the Sixth, consulted Pope Leo. His Holiness's advice to the eminent German priest was in substance: Tell the truth and the whole truth, no matter though the reputation of a Pope should suffer thereby.'

The correspondent a personage of honour and truthfulness-who conveyed to me the above words of the Pope writes as follows: 'This is, as far as I can remember, what I heard, but of course it was spoken in Italian, and I cannot vouch for the accuracy of every word.' The accuracy of this statement is confirmed by another witness of equal authority.

In the face of the verdict of public opinion in England and America, all but unanimous, as already recorded, in favour of candour and truthfulness in biography, his Eminence Cardinal Vaughan ought to look to it lest he come to be regarded as a sort of introverted 'Athanasius,' standing alone, contra mundum, in defence of an almost condemned proposition.

At the beginning of this brief article I quoted an effective passage from Cardinal Newman's Historical Sketches on the endemic perennial fidget among Catholics of giving scandal. I cannot do better in bringing my remarks to a close than to recite Cardinal Newman's judgment on the true method of writing a biography. The authority of the illustrious Oratorian on ethical and literary questions is recognised to-day by the world at large. Even they who in their haste suggested the suppression of contemporary letters will, I am persuaded, in deference to such a judgment, be only too eager to abandon, or at least qualify, an ill-considered opinion.

In a letter addressed to his sister, Mrs. Mozley, John Henry Newman wrote as follows:

It has been a hobby of mine, though perhaps it is a truism and not a hobby, that the true life of a man is in his letters. . . . Not only for the interests of a biography, but for arriving at the inside of things, the publication of letters is the true method.

Biographers varnish, they assign motives, they conjecture feelings, they interpret Lord Burleigh's nods; but contemporary letters are facts.

In these pregnant sentences Cardinal Newman touched by anticipation the heart of the controversy which was raised by the publication of the Life of Cardinal Manning. Even before publication I was urged, with singular vehemence and pertinacity, to adopt the policy of suppression. What would have been the result of such a disastrous policy? Contemporary letters, which Newman says are facts, would have disappeared from an emasculated Life. The relations between Manning and Newman would never have been known in their truth and fulness had I consented to the suppression of their letters. The disclosure of those relations was absolutely essential, not only for the sake of historic truth, but for the real manifestation of Manning's character in one of its most salient aspects. In like manner, the suppression of the Manning and Talbot correspondence, out of fear of giving scandal to Protestants, would have been in itself the greatest of all scandals.

In a word, had I in writing Cardinal Manning's Life not followed Newman's leading, but had regarded, according to the suggestion of men of faint heart, the suppression of letters, not their publication, as the true method of biography, the world would never have arrived 'at the inside of things' in regard to the character and career of Cardinal Manning. Happily, I was inspired to follow Cardinal Newman's precept and example. Unfairness in controversy or in writing

history is a detestable practice. I can conceive little or nothing more prejudicial to Catholic interests, especially to-day in England, than the policy of suppressing historical facts and documents. In his Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine, page 185, John Henry Newman uttered the following warning, which Catholics of the timid and mistrustful sort might well take to heart to-day :-'If the Catholic hypothesis is true, it neither needs nor is benefited by unfairness. Adverse facts should be acknowledged, explained if but apparent, accounted for if real; or let alone and borne patiently as being fewer and lighter than the difficulties of other hypotheses.' In like manner, in his preface to the Life of St. Chrysostom, Newman points out the virtue of letters as forming the best sources or materials of biography. The personality of the saints is known to us, he says, not by their learned treatises, but by their letters. Nothing is known of the personality of St. Thomas Aquinas, called by his contemporaries the 'Dumb Ox,' though his learned works extort the admiration of all men; whereas, on the other hand, the letters of St. Augustine bring his personality home to our hearts. Speaking of Cicero, John Henry Newman said, 'Cicero is personally known to us, not by his Orations, but by his letters.'

What should we have really known of the personality of Cardinal Manning from his sermons and lectures had his letters, journals, and diaries been suppressed, or such portions of them as revealed his real character or mind in its most salient features?

Let the robuster faith and trust of Cardinal Newman prevail over the wave of mistrust and timidity, over the endemic perennial fidget of giving scandal' which for the moment possesses the heart of a small minority, at all events, of the educated Catholics of England. The old English proverb, 'Honesty is the best policy,' has come true in regard to Cardinal Manning's Life. His character, public and private, as Archdeacon of Chichester, as Archbishop of Westminster, as Father of the Vatican Council, as Cardinal and champion of the Holy See, has been brought in its true light and colour to the knowledge of all men. The crowning labours of his later life as Father of the Poor, as social reformer, as champion of the oppressed; his incessant work, his mental vigour displayed to the end without the remotest trace of senile decay'—a cruel slur cast on his closing years which Mr. Sydney Buxton, his fellow-labourer to the last, indignantly repudiates-endeared Cardinal Manning, as no man of his generation was endeared, to the hearts of the toiling masses of London. The upshot is that without an attempt to conceal his faults and weaknesses, the character of Cardinal Manning is held today in higher esteem than ever; his personality-the real Manning as he lived and breathed-is known far and wide; honoured and appreciated by all men, Catholic and Protestant alike; honoured all the more because his whole nature stands revealed, and because no

gloss is put on human frailties, which were indeed overshadowed by the virtues of his higher spiritual nature. After the experiences of the last few months, it would be politic, to say the least, on the part of the advocates of suppression to forego their fears and their folly, and take to heart the words of Pope Leo-Truth is the only thing that matters.'

To the biographer of Cardinal Manning, truth was indeed the only thing that mattered. To me it is a supreme and singular satisfaction that it fell to my lot to be called upon to stand up before the world against the faint-hearted or craven advocates of suppression in defence of the cause of historic truth: to write, if I may say so, my name on the annals of the day as a champion of candour and outspokenness, at all events in biography.

Before concluding this brief survey there are two special points to be noted.

It is curious as a psychological study to examine for a moment the mental attitude of Catholic critics in regard to the Life of Cardinal Manning. Not one of them has ventured to utter a word on Cardinal Manning's change of front in regard to the Temporal Power of the Pope. This conspicuous and startling change has been absolutely suppressed in the Catholic newpapers; not one of those pious Catholics, whose knowledge of the Life is derived solely from what is told to them in their newspaper, is aware to this hour that Cardinal Manning, not long after the death of Pope Pius the Ninth, declared that the policy of upholding the Temporal Power was bringing spiritual ruin and disaster on the Catholics of Italy. The motives of this suppression on the part of Catholic newspapers was not fear of giving scandal to Protestants, for, as a fact, Protestants were not scandalised by such a change of principle. The habit of suppressing what they regard as awkward facts seems to come naturally to these light-hearted papers. Cardinal Manning's inconsistency about the Temporal Power, it was considered, would give scandal to pious but weak-kneed Catholics. What easier, then, than to suppress the fact?

On the other hand, Cardinal Manning (which is the second special point I wish to note) was consistent from beginning to end in his opposition to the Jesuits. But consistency on this point was also regarded as an ugly fact, and therefore to be kept out of sight.

Cardinal Manning's opposition to the Jesuits came too near home to the hearts of Catholics, was too prolonged and obstinate, to be altogether concealed even by the adroit handling of the astute suppressors of things that be. From Protestants, Cardinal Manning's relations with the Jesuits were, even during his lifetime, carefully concealed. It was feared that if Manning's disputes with the Jesuits got abroad, Catholics would be taunted with suffering just as much as Protestants from the plague of internal dissensions. Catholic quarrels, however, are not on theological questions, but on matters of policy or