considered that a formal recognition of the imperial suzerainty was quite compatible with the right of local self-government, and he accordingly approved of the immediate administration of civil affairs being entrusted to the senate and people of Rome. In his enthusiasm for the ancient forms of government, he even went further than this. His political dream fell little short of a complete re-establishment of all the dignities and functions of the old republic; and with this in view he proposed the reconstruction of the equestrian order, the election of consuls, and the appointment of tribunes. At his instigation the ancient Capitol was rebuilt and fortified, and at the same time some of the more important palaces and churches were made available for defence against a papal reaction. History is silent as to the extent to which his projects of reform were actually carried out; a few old coins of the period, bearing republican inscriptions, alone remain to attest the existence of that curious political movement over which the moral authority of Arnold maintained itself for nearly ten years.

At the very outset of his career in Rome, he received a check which bade fair to nip all his fine schemes in the bud Eugene III., as soon as he found himself in firm possession of the papal dignity, determined on bringing his refractory Romans to reason. Having launched a decree of excommunication against the Patrician, he collected a military force, with which he was able, from the neighbourhood of Viterbo, to overawe the city. Unable to cope with their spiritual father in the field, the haughty citizens were obliged to submit to the conditions he proposed. The Patrician was dismissed to make way for the Prefect, the senate, though in a sadly eclipsed condition, being allowed to remain. The republic was thus practically abolished. The Pope, attended by a brilliant train of nobles and clergy, entered the city, and celebrated his triumph amid circumstances of considerable pomp and splendour. But this sudden collapse of the republic proved only temporary. The truce concluded by the Pontiff with the Romans was too hollow to endure. The citizens of Rome were excessively jealous of the neighbouring cities, and particularly of Tivoli, by the help of whose arms the Pope had conquered them. Eugene, seeing no prospect of internal peace so long as he adhered to his allies, and determined on his side not to forsake those who had befriended him in his hour of need, had no alternative but to withdraw, and leave the city once more to the control of the republicans. There being nothing in his absence to hinder the resumption of the democratic programme, the hastily suppressed reforms were once more introduced, and continued in full vigour till about the close of Arnold's life.

In estimating the causes of this elevation to power of a humble monk, who but recently had been chased from country to country by his enemies, it is necessary to take into account various circumstances, the due consideration of which will present his enterprise in a much

less extravagant and unreasonable light than a superficial acquaintance with its details would at first sight suggest. In the first place, much allowance should be made for the eminently favourable character of the times. The revival of republican ideas all over Italy was the characteristic feature of the age, and no appeal thrilled the breast of a Roman with such fervent enthusiasm as that which reminded him of the heritage of political traditions bequeathed to him by an illustrious ancestry. When, moreover, we consider that Pope and Emperor, his real and nominal rulers, were alike absent, and therefore equally unable to assert their supremacy, we cease to wonder that a man, preeminently endowed with every needful quality for the work-eloquence, energy, high moral purpose, practical aims, and profound sympathy with the wants and wishes of his time-should show himself equal to the occasion, and throw himself heart and soul into a movement which promised the means of carrying out his darling scheme of Church reform. Nor should it be forgotten that to be absolute master of the destinies of Rome at an epoch when she was shorn of all her former grandeur, and reduced to the contracted dimensions of more primitive times, did not by any means carry with it such important consequences as a similar title would formerly have done. No conquest of the neighbouring states being attempted by the revived republic, the possession of Rome by any other master than the spiritual ruler of Christendom simply implied the sovereignty of a single great city along with a small portion of surrounding territory; and it should always be borne in mind that this was the furthest limit to which Arnold's influence extended. Still, after making every allowance for the favourable combination of circumstances which rendered his tenure of authority possible, there is much remaining in his whole career and position which cannot otherwise be explained than on the ground of his high personal merits and qualifications. Had no untoward event occurred to mar the prosperity of the republic, it is hard to say how long he might have continued in power, or with what results to Christianity his experiment in Church politics might have been attended. But the disintegrating elements which were already at work in the minds of the Romans against the government of their choice, conspired, with contemporaneous events in the political world, to cut short his term of power. The native fickleness and selfishness of the people had begun to appear, in the shape of discontent at the losses to which their material interests were subjected by the absence of the pontifical court. The clergy also favoured a reaction against an administration which repressed abuses with such unsparing severity, and they were not slow to seize every opportunity off anning the flame. Accordingly, when, towards the close of the year 1153, the chair of St. Peter was at length filled by a man of energy and resolution, at once able and eager to turn to the account of the Church the changing under-currents of

popular opinion, the position of Arnold began to grow dangerous.

As a

The closing scenes of Arnold's life possess a more than ordinary attraction for the English reader, in consequence of their connection with the name of Nicholas Breakspear, the only Englishman who has ever worn the Papal tiara. His personal disposition and antecedents held out little hope of his submitting as quietly as his predecessor to the anomalous state of affairs in Rome. Beginning life as a poor boy, dependent for his bread upon the charity of the monks of St. Albans, it was no effeminate or gently-nurtured character which he brought to the task of setting the affairs of the Holy See in order. Driven, as the story runs, from the door of the monastery by his own father, he had turned his back upon England while yet a youth, crossed the Channel, and travelled over France, till he reached Arles, where he took service with a body of canons regular. The handsome lad soon proved deft and quick at his duties, and spared no pains to ingratiate himself with his masters. In course of time he became so popular that he was chosen one of their number. canon of the order of St. Rufus, he made such good use of his opportunities for the acquisition of knowledge and the extension of his influence, that when the abbot's place fell vacant, he got himself elected to the office. His appointment seems to have procured him a fair share of the envious detraction which not uncommonly accompanies success in life; and in order to meet the slanders of his enemies, he found it necessary to visit the court of Rome. On that occasion his gifts of speech, powers of mind, and graces of person so fascinated Pope Eugene, that Nicholas received orders to remain at court for special service in the interests of the Church. He soon received the see of Albano in compensation for the loss of his abbey; and having been sent on a mission to Norway, to regulate and establish on a permanent basis the affairs of the infant Church of that country, he distinguished himself by the consummate skill and tact with which he discharged his functions. Shortly after returning from Norway, his services received, in his appointment to the pontifical dignity, the highest recognition which the Church could bestow. But the stern experiences of life had exercised no softening influence upon his character; prosperity had only served to develop its harsher and more arrogant features.

Under his official designation of Adrian IV., he lost no time in inaugurating the new and more vigorous policy which he considered it necessary for the Roman curia to pursue, in order to regain its lost supremacy. Elected Pope in December 1154, he replied in the following spring to the demand of the republic for a formal acknowledgment of its authority, by pronouncing upon Arnold the double sentence of excommunication and outlawry. For a time the papal thunders played harmlessly about the head of the intrepid monk. Protected by the senate and nobles, who still stood true to him,

he fearlessly remained at his post, and continued to preach as before, ignoring the ban as innocuous, and pronouncing the excommunication illegal and invalid. In this posture of affairs a trivial incident occurred to turn the scale and precipitate events. It happened that Cardinal Santa Pudenzianza, one of the Pope's most devoted adherents, was attacked in the streets, and in the skirmish that ensued between his retinue and the rabble received a wound which proved fatal. Nothing could have occurred more opportunely for carrying out Adrian's designs. Seizing with prompt and daring alacrity the advantage so unexpectedly presented, he made this petty street brawl the pretext for laying the city under interdict. The unprecedented character of this extreme proceeding united with the season of its occurrence to invest the solemnity with terrors well calculated to work upon the minds of an ignorant and superstitious people. Never before in Rome had the crowds, which thronged to listen to the Lent sermons of their favourite preachers, found the church doors closed. Mass was no longer said in church or chapel; the familiar tinkle of the bell, announcing the passage of the host on its way to the couch of the dying, was hushed; the new-born infant and the venerated dead were alike denied those solemn rites which religion and humanity accord; and, as Holy Week was rapidly approaching, the people became uneasy and even clamorous. Stimulated by the clergy, they at last yielded to the Pope's demands; and, like some unruly child brought by terror to its knees, humbly consented to the abrogation of the republic. From that moment Arnold's career was at an end. With the fall of the republic perished all his hopes, and the fruit of his long and laborious exertions was blasted. He was driven with a few followers from the city, and compelled to seek refuge in the neighbourhood. Tracked to his hiding-place by the emissaries of the Cardinal St. Nicholas, he was arrested at Otricoli, and would have been conveyed to Rome as a prisoner, but for the timely arrival of certain Counts of Campania, who, on hearing of his danger, hurried to the spot and effected his rescue. By them he was carried off and concealed in one of their strongholds, where he passed in tranquillity and honour the closing weeks of his life.

Meanwhile the great Barbarossa, lately elected Emperor by the unanimous consent of the German nation, had crossed the Alps on his march into Italy, to receive from the hand of the Pope the crown of the empire. His rapid and vigorous advance filled even the haughty Adrian with trepidation, and determined him upon sending an embassy to meet the German potentate on his route southward. Three cardinals were dispatched from Viterbo, who, whilst empowered to offer Frederick the imperial diadem, were charged to make certain stipulations in favour of his Holiness and the Church. One of the demands of the Pope was the surrender of Arnold's person. The emperor, willing to gratify

Adrian in an affair so insignificant as the delivery of an individual who had proved a dangerous enemy to all constituted authority, both temporal and spiritual, instantly issued orders for the seizure and imprisonment of a member of the noble family to which Arnold owed protection, and kept him in durance till the fugitive's place of retreat was disclosed. In this way the poor monk was discovered, and dragged off without loss of a moment by the prefect's officers to Rome, where he was lodged in the castle of St. Angelo. A council of cardinals having been convened there and then to dispose of his case, sentence of death was passed upon him, and amid circumstances of the most indecent haste he was led out to execution. He met his fate about midsummer of the year 1155. To make doubly sure of their victim, the clergy caused him to be hanged, impaled, and burnt; and at the same time, to prevent the people from revering his remains as a martyr's, they gave the finishing touch to their work by throwing his ashes into the Tiber. The closing tragedy of his life, sudden and barbarous though it was, does not seem to have taken him by surprise. With prophetic instinct he had long foreseen that the relentless animosity of the priesthood would not spare him, if he should ever fall into their hands; and on one occasion, when preaching before the assembled members of the sacred college, he was frank enough to give expression to his foreboding in their hearing. "I know," said he, "that you will in a short time secretly kill me......I call heaven and earth to witness that I have declared to you those things which the Lord directs me, but you despise both your Creator and me. Nor is it wonderful that you should deliver up to death a sinful man like me, who tells you the truth, since even if St. Peter were to rise from the dead and censure your manifold vices, you would spare him least of all." Of one thing there can be no doubt, that Arnold's blood lies at the door of the Catholic Church, and of Nicholas Breakspear as its responsible head. Even in that dark and bigoted time there were to be found ecclesiastics possessed of sufficient candour and humanity to disown the part the Church had taken in this cruel transaction. In particular, the words of Gerard of Reichersperg, a German canon, should not be forgotten in this connection: "I could have wished that he had been punished for such teaching as his, wicked though it was, either with exile or imprisonment, or some other penalty short of death; or at least, put to death in such a way that the Roman Church or its curia might be free from all question regarding it."

We should carry away a very imperfect conception of Arnold's character, did the prominence of his public

position lead us to the conclusion that he was nothing more than a restless political agitator. It should be remembered on his behalf, that if in the prosecution of his designs he resorted to the doubtful expedients of party politics, he adopted this course merely as the means of attaining a noble end. The establishment of a republic was the only medium by which he conceived it possible to effect a permanent separation of the temporal and spiritual prerogatives of the Roman pontiffs, and this separation was regarded in turn as the most powerful instrument for the restoration of primitive purity of discipline to the ranks of the clergy. The lead he took in the arena of politics was therefore entirely subservient to the accomplishment of a higher ecclesiastical purpose.

In our desire to give his attempt full justice, we must not on the other hand overlook the fact that the great aim which he set before himself as the goal of all his efforts was, from its very nature, partial and inadequate. A movement which aimed at nothing deeper than a reform of the clergy contained within itself germs of weakness, which could not fail to manifest themselves with disastrous effect when the hour of trial came. Arnold never went the length of questioning any of the received beliefs of the Church; so far as we can ascertain, he seems to have confined his attention almost exclusively to questions of Church discipline and administration. We are not therefore surprised to find that his preaching, eagerly as it was greeted by both Lombards and Romans, was never attended with purely religious results. Deeply as it influenced the people in politics, it never appears, to any great extent at least, to have possessed sufficient vitality to penetrate and stir their inner life; and the readiness with which they finally parted with him both at Rome and Brescia, can be explained, we fear, on no other supposition than that his previous popularity had been due as much to political as to religious influences. A reform, which was clerical rather than lay, canonical rather than doctrinal, outward rather than inward, was intrinsically one-sided in character, and doomed in consequence to decay. In a word, with much that was good on the destructive side, his teaching contained too little of the constructive element to insure it permanent success; or, as Dorner comprehensively puts it, "Opposition sects had never been wanting in the middle ages, but the church-forming and nation-reforming power was wanting, because the evangelical principle had neither appeared in its purity and constructive power, nor been able to set the nation in motion."

T. T. G.

prayers and cries were in vain. The son, who, even as a boy, was very self-willed, grew up to be a worldly, godless young man, who prepared endless care and sorrow for his parents; and at length, feeling his father's house too strait for him, hired himself as sailor on board a ship.

There he was one day engaged on the rigging, when he lost his balance and fell overboard. A boat was sent to his rescue as soon as possible; but as the ship was speeding on at a rapid rate, it was a considerable time before her course could be checked, and they could reach him; and when the young man was at last brought on board, he was apparently lifeless. The ship's doctor immediately used every possible means for his recovery; but it seemed as if all were fruitless, and they had already given up all hopes of being able to save him, when at last he gave some signs of life. Then the efforts for his revival were renewed, and after some time the young man opened his eyes, and uttered the joyful cry, "Jesus Christ has saved me!" Then he relapsed into silence, and it was a good while before he could relate what had passed in his mind while he was struggling with death in the midst of the waves.

"As I fell from the ship," he said, "and felt that I was in danger of death, it was as if at once all the sins of my whole life rose up before me. I saw how awfully great my guilt had been, and was afraid, not so much of death, as of the damnation to which I felt I was going. In the midst of my agony, a word came back to me that my father had often uttered in my hearing 'This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners; of whom I am chief.' To him, therefore, I turned in my time of deep need; and I know that I have obtained mercy."

He continued firm in this conviction, and his subsequent life showed that his faith was no transient flame. As soon as possible he went back to his parents, who received their returning prodigal with the heartiest joy, and gave him every help they could, so that he might become a preacher of the gospel.

III. A VISIT TO VINET.

A POOR woman in Switzerland, of but little education, who had to struggle with many spiritual doubts and perplexities, was made very uneasy and unhappy by these conflicts. She had repeatedly made known her difficulties to her minister; but he did not rightly understand her, and could give her no comfort. In her unhappy state of mind she not only read her Bible much, but many good books, even such as are not very easy to understand, and understood them very well. In that way most of Vinet's writings were well known to her, and she loved them well; and a longing desire grew up in her heart to see and speak, if even for a very short time, with this man, who she believed would be able to understand her difficulties.

But then, how could she get at so distinguished a man? "Lausanne is not far off," said her pastor; "just go and seek the Professor yourself." But she had not courage for that, and her minister did not persuade her to it, knowing how oppressed Vinet was with business, and visits, and every kind of claim on his attention.

But at last, after a long struggle, the poor woman one Sunday morning took heart, and set off to Lausanne. She found herself at Professor Vinet's house between ten and eleven in the morning, and pulled the bell with a beating heart. She was not admitted to him just at once; for as Vinet was so overborne with work, they tried to spare him every unnecessary disturbance; but at last she was admitted to his presence. No one was witness of their interview; but the issue of it was that Vinet kept the woman to dinner, and devoted the entire day to her, till she had to depart in order to reach home that night.

"Now," asked her pastor, on the evening of her return, "have you really seen and spoken with the Professor?"

"Yes, truly; and never before have I found any man who so humbled me."

"Humbled?

How so? It is not Vinet's usual way to humble any one."

"Yes, humbled; indeed, deeply humiliated me. By contact with his own humility and goodness, my highmindedness was broken down, and I was humbled to the dust. Often when I have spoken with you, or with others from whom I sought teaching and comfort, my pride rose up in arms; for what you said to me was indeed true and good, but you said it with the air of a teacher, who speaks to me as from a higher level than mine. He placed himself beside me, on my level, and spoke as if he were just like myself. I have been with him the whole day, and have not heard a word-no, not one single word-that was as if he held himself for better than I am. All that I have felt, he too had felt; and it was as if he were my brother. And such a man too!"

Some days after, Vinet sent the woman a newly published volume of his writings, one of the last of his works.

IV. THE TAP-ROOT.

A MINISTER of the gospel relates the following incident::

On a beautiful evening early in March I was returning from visiting a distressed family. The setting sun with its crimson rays spread a peculiar glory over the western heavens. Whilst I feasted my eyes on its splendour, I came to where one of my flock, an intelligent farmer, was sitting on a block of wood. He was evidently resting a little from some stiff piece of work. "What are you about?" I inquired in a friendly

manner.

"I am anxious," he replied, "to transplant this