go round the circle, and examine one by one
the faces of these living Pauls and Peters. Verily, if their prototypes
were like their modern representatives, the spread of the gospel at
first was by far the mightiest miracle the world ever saw. On one you
find the unmistakeable marks of sordid appetite and self-indulgence: on
another, low intrigue has imprinted the most sinister lines: a third is
a mere man of the world;--his prayers and vigils have been kept at the
shrine of pleasure. But along with much that is sordid and worldly,
there are astute and far-seeing minds in the sacred college; and
foremost in this class stands Antonelli. His pale face, and clear, cold,
penetrating eye, reveal the presiding genius of the Papacy. He is the
Prime Minister of the Pope; and though his is not the brow on which the
tiara sits, he is the real head of the system. From his station on the
Seven Hills his keen eye watches and directs every movement in the papal
world. Those mighty projects which the Papacy is endeavouring to realize
in every part of the earth have their first birth in his fertile and
daring brain.

His family are well known at Rome, and some of his ancestors were men of
renown in their own way. His uncle was the most famous Italian brigand
of modern times, and his exploits are still celebrated in the popular
songs of the country. The occupation of the yet more celebrated nephew
is not so dissimilar after all; for what is Antonelli, but the leader of
a crew of bandits, whose hordes scour Europe, arrayed in sacerdotal
garb, and in the name of heaven rob men of their wealth, their liberty,
and their souls, and carry back their booty to their den on the Seven
Hills.

Next come the Bishops and Priests. These men are the agents and spies of
the cardinals, as the cardinals of the Pope. The time which they are
required to devote to spiritual, or rather, I should say, to official
duties, is small indeed. To study the Scriptures, visit the sick,
instruct the people, which form the proper work of ministers of the
gospel, are duties altogether unknown in Rome. There, as I have said,
they convert and save men, not by preaching, but by giving them wafers
to swallow. This is a short and simple process; and when a priest has
gone through this pantomime once, he can repeat it all his days after
without the slightest preparation. Their time and energies, therefore,
can be almost wholly devoted to other work. And what is that work? It