the reputation of being an institution to be trifled with; and,
in those days, the Pope was still ruling as a temporal Prince
over the fairest provinces of Italy. Surely, if the images of Guy
Fawkes had not been garnished, on that fifth of November, with
triple crowns, it would have been a very poor compliment to His
Holiness.

But it was not only the honest Protestants of England who had
cause to dread the arrival of the new Cardinal Archbishop; there
was a party among the Catholics themselves who viewed his
installation with alarm and disgust. The families in which the
Catholic tradition had been handed down uninterruptedly since the
days of Elizabeth, which had known the pains of exile and of
martyrdom, and which clung together an alien and isolated group
in the midst of English society, now began to feel that they
were, after all, of small moment in the counsels of Rome. They
had laboured through the heat of the day, but now it seemed as if
the harvest was to be gathered in by a crowd of converts who were
proclaiming on every side as something new and wonderful the
truths which the Old Catholics, as they came to be called, had
not only known, but for which they had suffered for generations.
Cardinal Wiseman, it is true, was no convert; he belonged to one
of the oldest of the Catholic families; but he had spent most of
his life in Rome, he was out of touch with English traditions,
and his sympathy with Newman and his followers was only too
apparent. One of his first acts as Archbishop was to appoint the
convert W. G. Ward, who was not even in holy orders, to be
Professor of Theology at St. Edmund's College-- the chief
seminary for young priests, in which the ancient traditions of
Douay were still flourishing. Ward was an ardent Papalist and his