ed to; the ambassadors of the Catholic powers
utter their official exhortations to harmony and a single eye to the
good of the Church; and when they withdraw, the mason of the conclave
steps gravely forth, trowel in hand, to build up a solid wall of brick
and mortar betwixt the electors and that world which still looks forward
with curious interest, although with diminished faith, to the result of
the election.

The conclave, as the name indicates, is a room, and when the
constitution of the customary circular letters announcing his election,
the new Pope, John XXI., better known, if known at all, by his
"Thesaurus Pauperum" than by his administration of the Holy See, issued
a Bull confirming the suspension of the obnoxious constitution, as
containing things "obscure, impracticable, and opposed to the
acceleration of the election." The next conclave lasted six months and
eight days.

Still the conclave is a kind of imprisonment, which nothing but that
love of power which reconciles man to so many things he hates, and those
hopes that never die in hearts that have once cherished them, could
induce seventy men accustomed to lives of luxury and indulgence to
submit to. The usual place of holding it is the Quirinal, a cooler and
healthier palace than the Vatican; and, in a spirit very different from
that of the Gregorian constitution, everything is done to make it as
comfortable as is consistent with narrow space and walled-up doors. Each
cardinal has four small rooms for himself and his two companions, and
the number and quality of the dishes at his dinner and supper depend
upon his own habits and the skill of his cook. The approaches are
guarded by the senators and _conservatori_, patriarchs and bishops, and
at meal-times, a judge of the _Rota_ is stationed at the dumb-waiter to
examine the dishes as they are brought up, and make sure that the
intrigues within get no help from the intrigues without. Daily mass
forms, of course, a part of the daily routine, and is followed by the
morning vote.

The voting usually begins with the _scrutinio_, or, as we should term
it, the ballot. Each cardinal writes his own name and that of his
candidate on a ticket. Then, with many ceremonies and genuflections, not
very edifying to profane eyes, if profane eyes were permitted to see
them, but each of which has its mystical interpretation, he ascends to
the altar and lays his ticket on the communion-plate, whence it is
transferred to t