is so clear, that your Ministry of War assumes the modest and Christian title of ‘the Ministry of Arms.’  As for the interior, a good gendarmerie is all you want.’

“Eh! my dear son,” cried the Prelate, “we ask nothing better.  A people which is never destined to make war does not want an army, but it ought to keep on foot the forces necessary for the maintenance of the public peace.  An army of police and internal security is what we have been endeavouring to create since 1849.  Have we succeeded?  Do we suffice for ourselves?  Are we in a position to ensure our tranquillity by our own forces?  No! no! certainly not.”

“Pardon me, Monsignore, if I think you a little severe.  During the three months I have loitered as an observer in Rome, I have had time to see the pontifical army.  Your soldiers are fine-looking men, their general appearance is good, they have a martial air, and, as far as I can judge, they go through their manoeuvres pretty well.  It would be difficult to recognize in them the old soldier of the Pope, the fabulous personage whose duty it was to escort processions, and to fire off the cannon on firework nights; the well-to-do citizen in uniform who, if the weather looked threatening, mounted guard with an umbrella.  The Holy Father’s army would present a good appearance in any country in the world; and there are some of your soldiers whom—­at a little distance—­I should take for our own.”

“Yes,” he said,

“their appearance is good enough, and if factions could be kept down by mere appearances, I should feel tolerably easy.  But I know many things respecting the army that make me very uncomfortable—­and yet I don’t know all.  I know there is great difficulty in recruiting not only soldiers, but officers; that young men of good family scorn to command, and ploughboys to serve, in our army.  I know that more than one mother would rather see her son at the hulks than with the regiment.  I know that our soldiers, for the most part drawn from the dregs of the people, have neither confidence in their comrades, nor respect for their officers, nor veneration for their colours.  You would vainly look to find among them devotion to their country, fidelity to their sovereign, and all those high and soldierly virtues which make a man die at his post.  To the greater number the laws of duty and honour are a dead letter.  I know that the gendarme does not always respect private property.  I know that the factions rely at least much as we ourselves do on the support of the army.  What good is it to us to have fourteen or fifteen thousand men on foot, and to spend some millions of scudi annually, if after such efforts and sacrifices, foreign protection is now more necessary to us than it was the first day?”

“Monsignore,” I replied,