exclaimed that at length, for the first time, those ancient
Gothic arches had resounded with the accents of truth. The new
unbelief was as intolerant as the old superstition. To show
reverence for religion was to incur the suspicion of
disaffection. It was not without imminent danger that the priest
baptized the infant, joined the hands of lovers, or listened to
the confession of the dying. The absurd worship of the Goddess of
Reason was, indeed, of short duration; but the deism of
Robespierre and Lepaux was not less hostile to the Catholic faith
than the atheism of Clootz and Chaumette.

Nor were the calamities of the Church confined to France. The
revolutionary spirit, attacked by all Europe, beat all Europe
back, became conqueror in its turn, and, not satisfied with the
Belgian cities and the rich domains of the spiritual electors,
went raging over the Rhine and through the passes of the Alps.
Throughout the whole of the great war against Protestantism,
Italy and Spain had been the base of the Catholic operations.
Spain was now the obsequious vassal of the infidels. Italy was
subjugated by them. To her ancient principalities succeeded
the Cisalpine republic, and the Ligurian republic, and the
Parthenopean republic. The shrine of Loretto was stripped
of the treasures piled up by the devotion of six hundred
years. The convents of Rome were pillaged. The tricoloured
flag floated on the top of the Castle of St. Angelo. The
successor of St. Peter was carried away captive by the
unbelievers. He died a prisoner in their hands; and even the
honours of sepulture were long withheld from his remains.

It is not strange that in the year 1799, even sagacious observers