was now promoted to the papal throne; and he, like Adrian VI., preferred to retain his original name.

MARCELLUS II. assumed the tiara amid the approbation of the whole Catholic world, and the most sanguine hopes of his own party. "If ever it be possible," said an observer, "for the Church to extinguish heresy, to reform abuses, to compel purity of life, to heal its divisions, and once again be united, it is by Marcellus that this will be brought about."

Vain hope! Had Marcellus been spared for years he would have found all this beyond his power. It must be admitted, however, that the few days of life allowed him were diligently improved, and in such a way as to answer the sanguine expectations of his friends. In his disinterested zeal for the Church, and his abhorrence of the selfish policy of his predecessors, he forbade any of his kindred to approach the capital. He vigorously retrenched the expenditure of the court, and devised measures for repressing many ecclesiastical abuses. His first public act was to enforce the solemn observance of the rites of worship, which it had hitherto been the custom to hurry over with the most indecent haste.

But in the midst of these contemplated alterations, which would doubtless have greatly promoted the real strength of the Roman Church, and have been eventually directed in full force against so-called Protestant heresies, Marcellus was suddenly taken off by the hand of death. He died on the twenty-second day of his pontificate.

It has been the fashion with those who desire a reputation for candor to lavish high praises on Marcellus. Ranke joins in the anthem, but does not cite a particle of evidence to prove that the Pope was a truly pious man. That he was a zealous supporter of the papal system there can be no doubt; but of the wide difference between this and being a Christian the present work has afforded but too many illustrations. The popedom of Marcellus, also, was too brief to permit us to form any accurate judgment of his character from his deeds.

CHAPTER XV.

PONTIFICATE OF PAUL IV. TO THE BATTLE OF ST. QUINTIN. A. D. 1555-1557.

FOR centuries the policy of the popes and of the whole Roman court had been that of expediency, worldliness, and self-indulgence. The tide had now fairly turned, and a REACTION had set in. Under the former régime, the spiritual influence of the Church had rapidly dwindled away; but a party had now arisen that undertook to restore it—a party called into existence by the just clamors of the world, and by the dangerous rivalry of a Protestant Church. Under Paul III. this party had matured its plans, and collected its munitions of war, its Jesuits, and its Inquisition. In raising Marcellus to the popedom they discovered their readiness to assume the reins of power, and they now prepared to launch the thunders they had so silently and secretly forged. The hand, also, that had raised Marcellus to the throne now grasped the tiara for itself, and Giovanni Piero Caraffa came forth from the conclave bearing the title of PAUL IV.

To a pontiff of High-Church propensities, the rival, and sometimes conflicting claims, of his secular and his spiritual offices must have often proved bewildering. Desirous of being a potent sovereign in the councils of Europe, and also of increasing the influence of the Romish Church in every land, he would often find it vexatiously embarrassing to keep both ends in view. On Paul IV. these difficulties produced a very striking effect. His ascension to the throne was hailed by the Church party with acclamations of unfeigned joy, for they reasonably thought that a Churchman so zealous, a cardinal so austerely devout, would most efficiently work out their scheme of papal aggrandizement. But so entirely was the balance of Caraffa's mind upset by

the novel circumstances of his position, that for a long time he almost lost sight of those defects which he had been accustomed all his life to bemoan, in his eagerness to extend the temporal domains of the Church. A worldly spirit quite overcame the superstitious and bigoted spirit which usually governed him.

"How would your holiness wish to be served ?" was the question addressed to him by his chamberlain, "As becomes a great prince!" was the haughty reply. And in this mood did Paul continue throughout the first half of his pontificate. His coronation was celebrated with unusual pomp, and to the foreign ambassadors who came to congratulate him on his accession he behaved with supercilious hauteur, "thundering in their ears that he was superior to all princes, that he would admit none of them on a footing of familiarity, and that he had ample power either to bestow kingdoms or to take them away."

These sublime pretensions, worthy of Hildebrand himself, Paul soon set himself to enforce. Although nearly eighty years old, his deep-set eyes still retained all the fire of his youth, his tall spare form seemed instinct with energy, and his walk was yet firm and quick. He was one of those men who are born to command, and whose imperious will, when once opposed, must either break forth in vengeful fury on the adversary, or roll back its burning tide on its unhappy possessor.

There can be no doubt that Paul sincerely intended on his accession to commence a reformation of the Church, according to his poor notions of what reformation was. As for doctrine, he wished for none other than that already taught; but he desired that a far different manner of life should be adopted by the clergy, so that their influence over the laity might be maintained and increased. In his first bull he vowed that he would make it his "first care that the reform of the universal Church and of the Roman court be at once entered on." He appointed also a con

gregation for the promotion of reforms, and sent two monks into Spain, with full powers to reëstablish good discipline in all the convents of that kingdom. Especially did he breathe vengeance against heretics, whether Protestant or others. The Inquisition, which he had been the means of reconstructing under Paul III., was now set upon a broader and firmer basis; and so zealous was the Pontiff for its success, that whatever other business he neglected, and although he often forgot the meetings of the consistory, he never throughout his reign once missed attending the Thursday meetings of the holy office.

But a surprising change came over the new Pontiff's mind as soon as his attention was turned to political questions. Like Julius II., Paul was a patriotic Italian, and he had always viewed with jealousy the growing power of the emperor in Naples and Milan. He was old enough to remember the independence of Italy, prior to the invasion of Charles VIII. Then," he would say, our country was a well-tuned instrument; Naples and Milan, Venice and the States of the Church were strings of delightful accord; but now that harmony is broken, and all through the base machinations of those lost and accursed spirits, Alfonso of Aragon and Ludovico Sforza of Milan.”

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To this dislike of all foreign interference in Italian affairs, was joined in the mind of Paul a fierce personal hatred to the emperor. Charles knew well the character of the proud Caraffa. He had once expelled him from the Council of Naples, and had decreed that he should never hold office in that kingdom. He had now openly complained that a cardinal so hostile to himself had been raised to the popedom. And the imperialists in Italy, aware of their royal master's indignation, began immediately to plot and cabal, and even dared to begin hostilities, by carrying off from the harbor of Civita Vecchia some ships which they claimed as their own.

An outrage like this was all that was needed to kindle to

a flame the fire which was already smouldering in the bosom of Paul. Always intemperate of speech, he gave the most vehement expression to his wrath. Sitting at table he would drink much more than he would eat, his beverage being a strong, brisk, black wine, "so thick that one might almost cut it," called mangiaguerra, or champ-the-war. Then, heated with his fiery potations, he would continue for hours declaiming against the emperor, and declaring that "Charles wanted to finish him by a kind of mental fever, but that he would nevertheless contend with him in open fight, and with the help of France would yet free Italy from the tyranny of Spain. French princes should ere long sit on the thrones of Naples and Milan, and he would sweep away from the Italian soil that scum of the world, that evil generation of Jews and Moors, those schismatics and heretics accursed of God, the Spaniards. The time was coming for the emperor Charles and his son, King Philip, to receive the punishment of their crimes, and he himself would inflict it. God would support him in this, and the promise would receive its fulfillment: Thou shalt tread upon the lion and the adder; the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under foot.'"

These ravings, wild as they may seem, were accompanied by corresponding deeds. The avowed imperialists, from the cardinal to the monk or serf, were all put under arrest. If they fled, their property was seized and confiscated to the State. The Pope next entered into negotiation with France, and secured the alliance of the duke of Ferrara. In a formal process of law, he roundly threatened both Charles and Philip with excommunication, and to release their subjects from their oaths of allegiance. All necessary preparations were made for a general war, and Italy seemed doomed to witness new scenes of carnage and ruin.

But this absorption of the Pontiff's whole soul in political affairs led to other actions equally at variance with his professed principles and the tenor of his former life. None