uld be applied only to the debates; and many bishops spoke
with greater energy and freedom before an assembly of their own order
than they would have done if their words had been taken down by
Protestants, to be quoted against them at home. But printed documents,
distributed in seven hundred copies, could not be kept secret. The rule
was subject to exceptions which destroyed its efficacy; and the Roman
cause was discredited by systematic concealment, and advocacy that
abounded in explanation and colour, but abstained from the substance of
fact. Documents couched in the usual official language, being dragged
into the forbidden light of day, were supposed to reveal dark mysteries.
The secrecy of the debates had a bad effect in exaggerating reports and
giving wide scope to fancy. Rome was not vividly interested in the
discussions; but its cosmopolitan society was thronged with the several
adherents of leading bishops, whose partiality compromised their dignity
and envenomed their disputes. Everything that was said was repeated,
inflated, and distorted. Whoever had a sharp word for an adversary,
which could not be spoken in Council, knew of an audience that would
enjoy and carry the matter. The battles of the Aula were fought over
again, with anecdote, epigram, and fiction. A distinguished courtesy and
nobleness of tone prevailed at the beginning. When the Archbishop of
Halifax went down to his place on the 28th of December, after delivering
the speech which taught the reality of the opposition, the Presidents
bowed to him as he passed them. The denunciations of the Roman system by
Strossmayer and Darboy were listened to in January without a murmur.
Adversaries paid exorbitant compliments to each other, like men whose
disagreements were insignificant, and who were one at heart. As the plot
thickened, fatigue, excitement, friends who fetched and carried, made
the tone more bitter. In February the Bishop of Laval described
Dupanloup publicly as the centre of a conspiracy too shameful to be
expressed in words, and professed that he would rather die than be
associated with such iniquity. One of the minority described his
opponents as having disported themselves on a certain occasion like a
herd of cattle. By that time the whole temper of the Council had been
changed; the Pope himself had gone into the arena; and violence of
language and gesture had become an artifice adopted to hasten the end.

When the Council opened, many bish