Even before his accession to the Archbishopric, Manning had
scented a peculiar peril in Newman's Oxford scheme, and so soon
as he came into power, he privately determined that the author of
the Apologia should never be allowed to return to his old
University. Nor was there any lack of excellent reasons for such
a decision. Oxford was by this time a nest of liberalism; it was
no fit place for Catholic youths, and they would inevitably be
attracted there by the presence of Father Newman. And then, had
not Father Newman's orthodoxy been impugned? Had he not been
heard to express opinions of most doubtful propriety upon the
question of the Temporal Power? Was it not known that he might
almost be said to have an independent mind? An influence? Yes, he
had an influence no doubt; but what a fatal kind of influence to
which to subject the rising generation of Catholic Englishmen!

Such were the reflections which Manning was careful to pour into
the receptive car of Monsignor Talbot. That useful priest, at his
post of vantage in the Vatican, was more than ever the devoted
servant of the new Archbishop. A league, offensive and defensive,
had been established between the two friends. 'I daresay I shall
have many opportunities to serve you in Rome,' wrote Monsignor
Talbot modestly, 'and I do not think any support will be useless
to you, especially on account of the peculiar character of the
Pope, and the spirit which pervades Propaganda; therefore, I wish
you to understand that a compact exists between us; if you help
me, I shall help you.' And a little later he added, 'I am glad
you accept the league. As I have already done for years, I shall
support you, and I have a hundred ways of doing so. A word
dropped at the proper occasion works wonders.' Perhaps it was
hardly necessary to remind his correspondent of that.