My third temptation was held out in the pomp of Rome⁠—the glory of her kingdom. I was taken to the churches on solemn occasions⁠—days of fête and state; I was shown the Papal ritual and ceremonial. I looked at it.

Many people⁠—men and women⁠—no doubt far my superiors in a thousand ways, have felt this display impressive, have declared that though their Reason protested, their Imagination was subjugated. I cannot say the same. Neither full procession, nor high mass, nor swarming tapers, nor swinging censers, nor ecclesiastical millinery, nor celestial jewellery, touched my imagination a whit. What I saw struck me as tawdry, not grand; as grossly material, not poetically spiritual.