"All honest men, then," he exclaimed, "all real lovers of their country, will abandon us! Surely the wrath of God hangs over us.... May I be taken hence before I see the punishment that is preparing for this unhappy country!" Such were the parting words of the good man, as he dismissed me from his presence. It is well known how he subsequently was the victim of his own philanthropy.[74] I next visited Cardinal Micara, an old friend of mine, long before he found out that I was also intimate with Luigi da Bagnaja, his enemy and rival, but whom I esteemed for his many good qualities. I esteemed Micara also for his talents and his liberality, and above all things, I liked to hear him declaim against the Court of Rome. No cardinal was ever so severe as he was, against the vices and luxury of this court. He always himself, on gala days, appeared in his old shabby dark-coloured coach, drawn by very ordinary horses, and with servants in the plainest livery. He generally resided in the Capuchin monastery, where he dined with the monks, on the common fare. Being made Bishop of Frascati, he inhabited an apartment in the Seminary, and accustomed himself to the same table as the Professors. He would have been accounted an excellent man, in every respect, had he not retained too much of his early education in the cloister, which rendered him jealous, invidious, and censorious; faults too generally the result of an intercourse with the brotherhood. The Cardinal was not much liked by his colleagues. I have frequently heard them openly abuse him. This, however, was by no means to his disadvantage; indeed, the common people, who instinctively hate the whole race of cardinals, liked him all the better on that account. Many of his sayings were in great repute among them, as well as many passages in his discourses before the pope and cardinals, in which he boldly denounced the manner of living among these "princes of the Church." At length, having paid and received all my visits, I quitted Rome with a lacerated heart. I had never before experienced so much reluctance to absent myself as I felt on the present occasion. I seemed to have given up so many things! I could not express my sensations: I was like one who is obliged to leave his family at the very moment when they most require his assistance! I was separated from them in body, but present in spirit. My affections were divided between love for the people, and hatred for the priests. Yet, although I was overcome with grief, I did not despair. I remembered our Redeemer, who wept over Jerusalem; and my trust in the providence of the Almighty was a balm to my soul. A voice appeared to sound in my ears, with words of comfort to my heart--"Weep not, endure yet for a season, and you will witness the salvation of your country!"