8, New Square, Lincoln’s Inn, Jan. 2nd, 1852. My dear Sir, The festivals of this holy season have not left me leisure to reply to your letter as I ought, until now, and deeply I regret that it should not have called for a different answer from this. When I wrote last, I submitted for your consideration, not all that occurred to me in behalf of the true meaning of the Constitution, but so much as it seemed to me might be urged without implying a misgiving as to the charity and fairness of mind of the person to whom it should be addressed,—a misgiving I am unwilling to entertain with regard to you or any one. But it is, I confess, with greatly diminished confidence as to the result of what I shall say, that I now proceed to add to what I have said already. When you say that whatever were the intention of the writer, you think the version you have given of the passage is most in accordance with the Latin, and that though very possibly it may be differently understood by members of the Society, you are convinced that the majority of Latin scholars would translate it as you do, you surely forget that the question we are concerned with is, not one of scholarship, not one of mere words, but simply a question of fact,—What is the Constitution? The question is precisely, What did the founder mean, what do the members understand? What he meant, and what they understand, that the Constitution is and nothing else. However, as a mere question of Latin I should have no reason to fear the result of an appeal to scholars, for those to whom I have submitted it, two Oxford men and a Cambridge man, and all Protestants, agree in construing the passage as I do; on the other hand, I suppose I may safely assert that you cannot produce any Catholic authority for the correctness of your version—not even Pascal. But supposing the words capable of receiving the sense which you impute to them, surely you are not therefore justified in making your statement, if, as you seem to allow, another and an unexceptionable meaning is also admissible. Ambiguity, in some degree or other, is a property of all language, even of inspired language; the fact does not leave us at liberty to choose which of several possible meanings we will, but obliges us to have recourse to recognised principles of construction, to ascertain the determinate meaning of the author. Every fair principle of interpretation with which I am acquainted seems to me to be disregarded in your translation.