and the dread which it everywhere inspired, increased the ardor with which its erection was called for by those, who believed all means holy which were employed for the preservation of the Catholic religion. But the same circumstances which contributed to strengthen its power, increased the difficulties which attended its erection. The opposition arose not from the people alone, but in many instances from their rulers also, who looked upon the Inquisition rather as an instrument for the confirmation of the Roman prerogative, than as a useful means of preserving the Roman dogma.

In Rome itself, where the spiritual and temporal power were united, the establishment of the "Holy Office" was comparatively easy. But the frightful tumults and wild excesses which followed the death of Paul IV., its warmest advocate, are sufficient to show in what light it was viewed by the immediate subjects of the church. In Venice, its action was generally more or less subject to the control of the civil authority, and it was rarely left free to follow its own relentless course. But in Naples, the authority of the Emperor, although supported by the cool barbarity of his viceroy, and the strong arm of a powerful garrison, was nearly overthrown, by the simple proposal for its establishment. And even when the Neapolitans, abandoned by all those to whom they had looked for succor, and intimidated by the near approach of an overwhelming force, were constrained to submit to the will of their sovereign, so strong had been the expression of popular feeling, that the Emperor gladly renounced all thoughts of the odious tribunal.

But the dread, which was so justly entertained of the Roman court, was founded rather upon its profound artifice, than its real power; and the designs, which it was apparently compelled to abandon, were often no less successful than those which it openly pursued. Neither the fears of the people, nor the jealousy of government, availed to prevent the erection of the Inquisition. In some of the minor states, it was received from respect to the papal power. Others were led to accept its jurisdiction, by means of advantageous offers or judicious flattery. While they who viewed it with most abhorrence, were induced to submit to its control, by the artful distinction which was made between the Inquisition of Italy, and that of Spain. Rome was alike triumphant over prejudice and power, over the people and their rulers.

The consequences of this triumph were soon apparent throughout every portion of Italy. Neither wealth, nor rank, the privileges of republics, nor the favor of kings, were a safeguard against the arms of the Inquisition. The timid convert who confined his belief to the privacy of his own bosom, and the enthusiastic proselyte who boldly courted the crown of martyrdom, were equally exposed to accusation and trial. The cassock and the cowl were no longer a protection; monks were drawn forth from the secrecy of their cloisters, the learned from the seclusion of their studies; the sanctity of domestic life was violated, and even the throne itself only served to mitigate the punishment of its suspected occupants. Suspicion and fear usurped the place of that free communication which constitutes the chief charm of society; each unguarded expression gave rise to accusation; and private enmity often sought its vengeance under the cloak of religious zeal. A deep and voiceless terror pervaded the whole of Italy.*

Nor was it an empty dread of some indefinite evil. Ochino was compelled to fly for life, and take refuge in Geneva; Martire to abandon the church which he had so fondly planted in Lucca. Carnesecchi, the confidant and friend of princes, was sent from the table of Cosimo, to the stake prepared for him by Paul IV. One by one the Protestant leaders were subjected to the attacks of the Inquisition; and happy were they, who, by prompt and painful flight, were able to exchange the sweets of home, and the security of independent fortunes, for a foreign land, and the bitter bread of a stranger's compassion. The racks and dungeons of the Inquisition were soon found insufficient to satisfy the rage of persecution. The flames of the stake were again kindled in the same spots, where, but a little more than a thousand years before, the foundations of the church had been laid amid the bones and ashes of its martyrs. At the same time the sword was laying waste those portions, which the slower arm of the Inquisitor could not reach.†

Happy were the subjects of Venice; for there, instead of the stake, and the robe of pitch, and the applause of an im

*Botta, Lib. xii. p. 181.

We would refer our readers, for a perfect description of one of the modes of torture, to the eloquent story in "Outre Mer," entitled the "Baptism of Fire."

placable multitude, the depths of the Adriatic and the silence of midnight, were the means and the scene of martyrdom. Happy too were they, who, through the intercession of powerful friends, were kept back from the flames, until life had been destroyed by the cord or the sword of the executioner. And although we may shudder to think of those, who, in the flower of life, were brought out to die a death of torture in the presence of their fellow men, and in the pure light of day, happy too were they, when compared with the far greater proportion, whose fate is still concealed in the dark archives of the Inquisition.

We have already alluded to the Waldenses of Piedmont. Colonies from these secluded valleys had long been established in southern Italy; and the fruits of their industry were everywhere to be seen, in the populous towns which they had founded, and the fertile fields which they had redeemed from the forests and marshes of Calabria. Devoted to agriculture, and industrious as much from habit as by necessity, their sober and secluded lives had never attracted much of the attention of their Catholic neighbours. Contented with the privilege of enjoying their own opinions, they cared not to inquire into those of others, and confined themselves to that quiet and unpretending mode of life, which is the only safeguard of those whose existence is rather tolerated than acknowledged. But when the fame of the religious revolution in Germany reached them, the sectarian pride which had so long lain dormant, was raised to a dangerous pitch. Calling to their assistance teachers from the Protestant cantons of Switzerland, they first reformed the abuses which had insensibly crept into their own worship, and then began to venture upon the dangerous task of reforming their Catholic neighbours. We are far from believing that, amid the general persecutions of Italy, they would have been suffered to escape, even if they had not abandoned the course which they had so long followed in safety. But it certainly could not be expected, that the Catholic party should view their efforts at proselytism without opposing them. Tremendous in fact was the persecution that ensued, and they who escaped the snares, and withstood the persuasions of their adversaries, were driven for shelter to the forests and mountains, where, hunted like beasts of prey, some fell by the sword, and others, less happy, perished by famine, in the desolate caverns that had given VOL. XLIV. - NO. 94.

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them a last asylum. The greater portion being thus cut off, the few who had fallen alive into the hands of their enemies were reserved for every species of torture, perishing by the knife, at the stake, precipitated from the summits of lofty towers, or stifled by the foul air of damp and crowded dungeons.

Thus fell the Protestant religion in Italy. Its end was everywhere attended with the same horrors, and its history is but a repetition of racks, and dungeons, and stakes. Terrible period when the powers of the human mind seem to have acquired a greater developement, only in order to open a broader field of suffering; and the convictions which should inspire sentiments of calm and beneficent philanthropy, served as stronger stimulants to ferocious persecution. Bitter, and even more humiliating than bitter, are the scenes that we have traced; but bitterer still is the reflection, that the spirit which distinguished them is still alive, and that in our own, as in every other age, the persecuted but awaits a moment of success, to seize, for his own use, the arms of the persecutor. Happy are we, not that our passions are milder, but that our laws are better; and that persecution, from being a moral, has become also a political crime.

C. C. Felton,

ART. X.-1. A Discourse on the Studies of the University, by ADAM SEDGWICK, M. A., F. R. S., Woodwardian Professor and Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. Fourth Edition. Cambridge, 1835. Svo. pp. 157. 2. Alma Mater, or Seven Years at the University of Cambridge. By a Trinity Man. London; Black & Torry & Torry. 1827. Two Volumes. 12mo. pp. 323 and 272. 3. The Cambridge University Calendar for the year 1830. Cambridge. 18mo. pp. 464.

THE spirit of English reform has not spared the two great Universities, the pride and glory of the United Kingdom. Their close connexion with church and state has naturally turned the sharpest scrutiny of Reformers and Radicals to their real or supposed abuses; and many violent attacks have

been made upon these time-hallowed seats of learning. As is common in such cases, the unjustifiable harshness which has been dealt upon them, has been met by an uncompromising spirit of resistance on the part of their friends. There appears to be a great deal of wilful blindness on both sides. The wants of different ages require changes in great institutions, which their governors are not always willing to permit ; and there are difficulties in the way of changing long-established usages and methods, for which heated reformers make no allowance. Let us hope, that the resultant of these two clashing forces will be in the direction of wisdom and common sense. One thing is pretty certain, that the most violent clamorers for alterations in long-established systems of education, are those who know least about any system; and the remark is true both of England and the United States. It is no uncommon thing to find beardless boys, under the inspiration of this precocious age, passing bold and unhesitating judgments upon institutions founded by the wisdom, and cherished by the zeal, of our sturdy ancestors; weighing systems of study, in the scales of their puny understandings, and finding them wanting, though the sagacity, learning, and experience of men grown gray in the high places of church and state, have been exhausted in devising them. We venture to say, there never was a period in which speculations on the subject of liberal education were so abundant in showy confidence of assertion, accompanied by real and disgraceful ignorance.

We strongly suspect that all sound thinkers will, sooner or later, settle down in the conviction, that the great principles of university education, as established in England and among us, are the true ones. They are true, because they are founded in the nature of man. Unquestionably the basis of all just thinking, in literature, science, art, and philosophy, must be laid in a knowledge of the ancient classics, the mathematics, and intellectual philosophy. Moral philosophy and theology are concerned with the everlasting interests of man, and belong to every form of education. These are the branches of study, which the greatest minds of England and the United States have decided to be the most important for intellectual discipline, and the formation of taste. Is not their decision just? The histories of both countries, the great men to whom English liberty and English literature owe their support,