by enemies at Home and in England in 1866-7. The extreme
party, with Manning, now Archbishop, at their head, seemed to be
victorious all along the line. They were able to proceed to their
supreme triumph in the Vatican Council which issued the dogma of Papal
Infallibility. Newman, while others were intriguing and haranguing, was
quietly engaged in preparing his subtlest and (on one side) his most
characteristic work, 'The Grammar of Assent,' an attempt at a Catholic
apologetic on a 'personalist,' as opposed to an 'intellectualist' basis.
He declined to take an active part in the theological conferences about
infallibility, being by this time well aware how little weight such
arguments as he could bring were likely to have at Rome. He was
disgusted at the insolent aggressiveness of the Ultramontanes, but he
had no wish to combat it. The situation was hopeless, and he knew it.
The death of several friends increased the sense of isolation, and
during the years 1875 to 1879 his silence and depression were very
noticeable to those who lived with him. His dearest friend, Ambrose St.
John, was one of several who died about this time. But Trinity College,
Oxford, made him an honorary fellow in 1877, an honour which seemed to
prognosticate the far higher distinction which was soon to be conferred
upon him.

The death of Pius IX in 1878 brought to an end the long reign of
obscurantism at the Vatican, and with the election of Leo XIII Newman
emerged from the cloud under which he had remained for more than a
generation. The new Pope lost no time in making him a Cardinal, though
even now the prize seemed to be on the point of slipping through his
fingers. He valued the honour immensely as setting the official seal of
approbation on his life's work, and the last ten years of his life were
quietly happy. He was able to mingle actively in affairs of public
interest, and to write long letters, till near the end. He died on
August 11, 1890, in his ninetieth year, and was buried, by his own
request, in the same grave with his friend Ambrose St. John.

Why is it that this sad, isolated, broken life, in which the young man
renounces the creed of the boy, and the elder man pours scorn upon the
loyalties of his prime; which found its last haven in a society which
wished to make a tool of him but distrusted him too much for even this
pitiful service, has still an absorbing interest for our generation? For
it is not only in England that Newman