Monsignor Talbot: 'he has seen and understands all that is going
on in England.' But Newman had no suspicions. It was true that
persistent rumours of his unorthodoxy and his anti-Roman leanings
had begun to float about, and these rumours had been traced to
Rome. But what were rumours? Then, too, Newman found out that
Cardinal Reisach had been to Oxford without his knowledge, and
had inspected the land for the Oratory. That seemed odd; but all
doubts were set at rest by the arrival from Propaganda of an
official ratification of his scheme. There would be nothing but
plain sailing now. Newman was almost happy; radiant visions came
into his mind of a wonderful future in Oxford, the gradual growth
of Catholic principles, the decay of liberalism, the inauguration
of a second Oxford Movement, the conversion--who knows?--of Mark
Pattison, the triumph of the Church.... 'Earlier failures do not
matter now,' he exclaimed to a friend. 'I see that I have been
reserved by God for this.'

Just then a long blue envelope was brought into the room. Newman
opened it. 'All is over,' he said, 'I am not allowed to go.' The
envelope contained a letter from the Bishop announcing that,
together with the formal permission for an Oratory at Oxford,
Propaganda had issued a secret instruction to the effect that
Newman himself was by no means to reside there. If he showed
signs of doing so, he was blandly and suavely ('blande
suaviterque' were the words of the Latin instrument) to be
prevented. And now the secret instruction had come into
operation-- blande suaviterque: Dr. Newman's spirit had been
crushed.

His friends made some gallant efforts to retrieve the situation;