The Church cannot change its character in a day; and its past history, like the history of any priesthood under the sun, is uniformly marred by such weaknesses. The life of Cardinal Pie in France, though written by a Catholic for Catholics, gives the same impression; the relations of the Irish prelates and of the American prelates are quite analogous; Rome, of course, is quite a school of diplomacy and intrigue of no gentle character. Such things are inevitable, and it is a clumsy policy to attempt to conceal them and to support the idea that ecclesiastical dignitaries are only guided by preternatural influences. To paint idealised pictures of its own champions and grotesque caricatures of its adversaries (and then sternly suppress all alien descriptions) is rather an antiquated custom; though it is still found amongst many aboriginal tribes.
The actual condition of Catholicism in London is a matter of anxious discussion, even in clerical circles. As will be explained subsequently, grave doubts are expressed as to whether the Church is making any progress at all in England; and this is especially true of London. Catholic journals are not unlike Egyptian monuments: they write large (and in good round numbers) the conquests of the Church, but they do not see the utility of chronicling its losses. Of converted Anglican ministers they speak in warm terms; of seceding priests they are silent—until some other cause brings them into public notice, when they publish a series of reckless attacks upon them and refuse to
