CARDINAL CONTARINI AND HIS

FRIENDS.

THE general impression that the influence of the Renaissance culture upon Italian society was corrupt is, on the whole, a just one. That influence began to show itself distinctly at the opening of the sixteenth century. The period of humanistic study and acquisition had passed; the period of application had begun. And Rome was the focus of the application, as Florence had been the seat of the earlier efforts to acquire. At Rome society gathered round the court of the Vatican and the head of the Church. But it was a Church in which Aretino might aspire to the purple; in which Bandello was a bishop and La Casa inquisitor and compiler of the first "Index Expurgatorius." The society was corrupt, but eminently refined, displaying a finish and a charm which captivated the gentler temper of men like Erasmus and made them cry that only the floods of Lethe could drown for them the memory of Rome, though in the sterner nature of Luther this refinement merely added disgust to indignation. It is needless here to dwell at any length upon this point, for the whole subject has lately received ample and eloquent treatment by an English historian. But it is well to bear the fact in mind when we turn

to the pleasanter contemplation of a portion of this society which was refined and not corrupt. The nature of men like Contarini, Pole, Sadoleto, Giberti, and their friends stands out with additional sweetness and lustre when we remember the dark setting of intrigue, of dissoluteness, and of ruin which surrounded them. They were a company of noble men animated by noble objects of ambition, and bound together by the closest bonds of friendship. We come across them with a feeling of pure pleasure; they shine like good deeds in an evil world. It does not matter that they failed in their ecclesiastical policy; that the via media which they espoused between the youthful vigour of Protestantism and the corruption of the Roman Church was never adopted ; that it exposed them only to suspicion from the Lutherans and to charges of heresy from Farnese and Caraffa; that they foundered between the two great and divergent lines of Reform and counter-Reformation. Their object was a noble one, and it ennobled lives singularly adapted to take the lustre of nobility.

To understand the place of these men in the ecclesiastical policy of the Reformation, it is needful to look a little more closely at the conditions which surrounded them. The aims of the papacy had become secularized in the hands of such mundane and warlike popes as Sixtus, Alexander, and Julius. The desire to found a reigning house and to realize that ever-present, ever-vanishing dream of the Church, a temporal kingdom, determined the policy of these pontiffs, and the Venetian ambassador thus summed up Julius in a despatch to his government: "The

pope," he said, "wishes to be the lord and master in this world's game." As the head was so was the body. The bishops endeavoured to make their Sees heritable property-the basis on which to establish a family. The secularization of aim resulted in a secularization of manner. The pope who aspired to be a prince adopted the manners of a prince. The bishops who contemplated founding a house adopted the bearing which became the head of a house. Mundane aspirations induced mundane habits, splendour of life, of dress, of retinue, of board. And again, a Venetian summed up Leo as a pendant to Julius. Julius desired to be lord and master of this life's game. Leo "desired to live." Beyond the immediate region of the Church the Italians had been engaged in breaking open the treasure-house of the dead languages, and the perfume invaded the country. The secularized manners of the churchmen came in contact with a wavering ethical standard, the outcome of humanism. and the free play of intellect that recognized nothing superior to itself. The result of this contact was twofold, a deterioration in the manners, habits, and thoughts of society, and a confirmation of the secular tendency among the clergy. For humanism brought with it scepticism as to the foundations of Christianity, and with this scepticism there arose a doubt whether the Church had any rights other than secular. In Rome this twofold result soon disclosed itself in a brilliant and intellectual atmosphere that was at the same time corrupt. Poets and scholars and accomplished women crowded to the court of the Vatican or to the palaces of cardinals, princes, and ambassadors.

Each great house had its clique, its coterie of parasites enjoying the refined sunshine and speculating on the prizes that lay in store should their patron attain to the рарасу. To the charm of life was added the zest of a hazard, and the adventurer who sought the favour of this or that prince of the Church secretly prayed that his cardinal might draw the winning number. But at the very moment when the Italians had so prepared life as to be able to enjoy the papacy, should God give it to them, the cup of pleasure slipped from their hands. The refinement and brightening of intelligence which rendered the papacy enjoyable, the secularization of its aims which added a further colour to life's game, were preparing beyond the Alps the very means by which the papacy was to be robbed of all enjoyment, were paving the way for Luther's advent and the sack of Rome. The expansion of intelligence, the discovery of intellectual muscles, and the pleasure experienced in their play, which resulted from these years of humanistic study and training, opened for the ancient and organized people of Italy the door of delightful existence. But the quickening element passed beyond the borders of Italy itself. On the other side of the Alps it found a different nidus, harder and more vigorous, in which to germinate. And so among the Teutonic people the revival took the character of religious earnestness; let us reform the Church, they cried. In Italy it had taken the aspect of cynical pliability; let us enjoy the Church, said the Italians. The result was Luther's advent with all its compulsive power over the papacy. The schism north of the Alps put into the hands of two great princes,

the king of England and the emperor of Germany, a weapon for mastering the papacy so powerful that Clement could not stand against it. At any hostile movement on his part Charles threatened to release Luther; on the first refusal to obey, Henry declared the secession of England. The screw was too powerful, and had bitten only too well. Escape was impossible. It remained to be seen what compliance could do; to test the appeasing efficacy of compromise and reform.

But before reform had become a necessity publicly acknowledged by the Church, there existed inside the Church itself a party of men who had begun to recognize the need, and who turned their thoughts to the question. These men used to meet together for discussion at the Church of SS. Dorothy and Silvester, in the Trastevere, and under the presidency of Padre Dato, its parish priest. In the midst of corrupt and indifferent Rome, of Rome that was enjoying the Church, this handful of earnest men had caught an echo of the elemental movement that was in progress beyond the Alps. Reform and not enjoyment was the subject of their thoughts. This company, which met in the gardens of SS. Dorothy and Silvester, called itself "The Oratory of Divine Love." It was composed of men drawn together from various parts of Italy; from Venice, Modena, Vicenza, and Naples; all of them distinguished, but for whom the future. reserved widely differing issues. There was John Peter Caraffa, the lean and impetuous Neapolitan, with the fierceness of the Inquisition in his heart, destined to become Paul IV., to wage a hopeless war against Spain, to be forced by circumstances he could.