CHAPTER XLI.
Clenching the Nail, and the Corona of the Dream Upon the Cardinal.
Cardinal Power sat alone in his front drawing-room at Archbishop’s House, fatigued with preaching a long sermon at Sunday vespers at one of the Kensington churches, and depressed by lugubrious thoughts inevitably suggested by the bad news from headquarters which we have already sketched. Even independently of that, it seemed to him that the Catholic interest was on the wane. ‘True, it had been so before many times in history, but this time the conditions were different. In former ages persecution was looked upon as a fiery trial out of which the faithful emerged more strong in their faith than ever; now it had no such effect; on the contrary, its effect was to show men the disagreeable side of a profession of religion about which they were not very keen, even on its pleasant side. It did not evoke their indignation against the persecutor, nor their chivalrous zeal for the persecuted; it merely set them thinking that perhaps they had better leave the other world alone, and look more sharply after their interests in this. The practical result of such a change of mind was a diminution of the material support hitherto given to the Church; services were less well attended, and those who did come gave less at the offertory. It looked as if Catholicism were going
