Chapter XX (1)

THE GOSPEL AT NAPLES AND ROME.
(1520-1536.)

The Gospel had made noble conquests in the north and centre of the peninsula: it did the same at Naples, and even at Rome.

It was not the Italians alone who spread the Gospel in Italy. Among the contemporaries and acquaintances of Paleario, Peter Martyr, and Occhino, were two twin brothers, descended from one of the oldest families of Leon in Spain, Juan and Alfonso di Valdez. They were so much alike, that Erasmus, who knew Alfonso, wrote to Juan: ‘They tell me you are so like your brother, both in figure and in talent, that when people see you, they do not take you for twins, but for the same person. I shall regard you, then, as one, and not two individuals.’[883] And, indeed, some historians, understanding literally what Erasmus merely intended for a pleasant jest, have converted the two brothers into one person. One of them disappears, and it is usually Alfonso: his actions are recorded, but they are ascribed to Juan. The two Valdez were born in 1500, at Cuença, in New Castile, of which their father was corregidor in 1520. Charles V. made Alfonso his secretary,[884] and took him with him when he left Spain in 1520, to receive the imperial crown at Aix-la-Chapelle. In the following year the young Spaniard was among the gentlemen who attended the emperor at Worms, when Luther made his famous appearance before the Diet. Luther’s writings having been condemned by imperial decree to be burnt, Alfonso, whom all these events interested in the highest degree, desired to be present at the execution of the sentence. When the monks, who surrounded and fed the fire saw all the heretical paper converted into black ashes, as thin as a spider’s web, and blown to and fro by the wind, they exclaimed: ‘There is nothing more to fear now: it is all over;’ and then went away. But such was not Alfonso’s opinion. ‘They call it the end of the tragedy,’ he wrote to his friend Peter Martyr of Anghiera (who must not be confounded with Vermigli), ‘but I believe we are only at the beginning of it.’ Valdez, whom everybody looked upon as a youth of great expectation,[885] became intimate with Erasmus; perhaps at the suggestion of the emperor, who, like Francis I., would willingly have united with the prince of the schools, in order to become master of Luther and the pope, and if possible to reconcile them. Alfonso, who was a great admirer of Erasmus, was considered to be more Erasmian than Erasmus himself; but the disciple went further and higher than the teacher. Erasmus was the bridge by which Alfonso crossed the river, and passed from Rome to the Gospel.

[Sidenote: A Dialogue By Valdez.]

In May, 1527, the emperor and his court were at Valladolid, where the empress awaited her confinement. Valdez was there also. On a sudden the news arrived of the famous sack of Rome by the troops of Charles V. The indignation of the clergy, the agitation of the people, and the emotion of the courtiers were extreme. Although grieved by the excess of which the capital of Romanism had been the theatre, Alfonso believed it was the season to say what he thought of the papacy, and consequently he wrote and published a ‘Dialogue on the Things which happened at Rome.’[886] The afflictions of the metropolis of catholicism, he says, have dispersed a great number of its inhabitants; a Roman archbishop, escaping from the disaster, arrives at Valladolid, and in the town where a prince (the future Philip II.) had just been born, he meets one of the emperor’s knights, by name Lactontio. The guilt of these disasters, says the knight, lies with the pope, who, as instigator of the war and unfaithful to his oaths, has dishonored his holy calling. Lactontio draws one of those contrasts of light and darkness, between Christ and the pontiff, which Luther’s pen could describe so well, but which were quite new in the ‘most catholic’ kingdom. He goes even further, and declares for the separation of the spiritual from the temporal power. ‘Is it useful, is it advantageous,’ he asks, ‘for the high priests of Christendom to possess temporal power? We believe they could occupy themselves much more freely with spiritual interests if they had not this great burden of secular things. In all Christendom there is not a state worse governed than the States of the Church. Erasmus pointed out the faults of the Court of Rome, but his gentle remonstrances did not touch you. Then God permitted Martin Luther unsparingly to expose all your vices in broad daylight, and to detach many churches from their obedience to you. It was all of no use; neither the respectful advice of Erasmus nor the irreverent language of Luther could convince Rome of its errors. God, therefore, had recourse to other appeals, and permitted the calamities of war to fall upon your impenitent city.’ Here the archdeacon, much more sensitive about the punishment of Rome than about its faults, exclaims with mingled sorrow and naïveté: ‘Alas! the sacking of the city has occasioned a loss of fifteen millions of ducats. Rome will never become Rome again, even in half a century. The holy church of St. Peter has been turned into a stable. For forty days not a single mass has been said in the metropolis of Christendom. Even the bones of the Apostles were scattered about.’ ‘The relics of the saints should be honored,’ remarks the knight. ‘Let us understand one another, however; I do not speak of those which require believers to solve some very thorny problems—to decide, for instance, whether the mother of the Virgin had two heads or the Virgin had two mothers.... We should place all our hope in Jesus Christ alone. Honor images, if you like, but do not dishonor Jesus Christ, and do not let Paradise be shut against the man who has no money in his purse.’[887]

This sharp attack, levelled at the papacy, was the more important, as before the dialogue was published and circulated in Spain, Italy, and Germany, it had been submitted by Valdez to several men of mark: to Don Juan Manuel, formerly ambassador of the emperor at Rome, to the celebrated imperial chancellor Gattinara, to Doctor Carrasco, and several other theologians, who with a few unimportant observations, had approved it. Count Castiglione, the papal nuncio, was not to be deceived; he made a violent attack upon the imperial secretary, called him a Lutheran, and declared that he could already see him wearing the ignominious costume of the _autos da fé_.

[Sidenote: Mercury And Charon.]

Alfonso was silent; but a voice was raised in his defence—it was that of his twin brother. In 1528[888] Juan published a _Dialogue_, half serious and half in jest, _between Mercury and Charon_, which bears the mark of a young writer. While the ferryman of Hades is busy taking over the souls which come to him on the banks of the Styx, he is accosted by the messenger of heaven, who makes use of strong language about the papacy. ‘So great is the corruption of those who call themselves Christians,’ he says, ‘that I should consider it a great insult if they wanted to change their name and be called _Mercurians_. One day,’ he continues, ‘seeing a number of people approaching the altar to receive the host, I followed them, with the pious design of partaking one of the wafers the priests were distributing. But I was refused; and why? Solely because I would not pay for it.’ Then, turning to the relics, whose dispersion was considered to be the greatest outrage in the sack of Rome, Juan introduces St. Peter, and puts wiser words into his mouth on this subject than those of Mercury. According to the fervent apostle, the plunder of Rome teaches Christians that they ought to set more value upon one of the epistles of St. Paul or of himself than upon all the _relics_ of their bodies. ‘The homage hitherto paid to our bones,’ he continues, ‘must now be paid to the spirit which, for the good of Christians, we have enshrined in our writings.’ But the satire immediately begins again. At the thought of the sack of Rome, Mercury bursts out into an ‘Olympian laugh.’ ‘Behold the judgment of God!’ he says; ‘the sellers have been sold, the robbers have been robbed, and the ill-doers ill-done!’ And when Charon complains that the pretended vicars of heaven often forget to keep their word, ‘It is quite the rule,’ answers Mercury, ‘that at the place where the best wine grows you drink the worst; that the cobbler is always ill-shod, and the barber never shaved.’ The dialogues of the twin brothers, so full of wit and yet of Christian truth, excited loud recriminations; for the moment, however, persecution did not touch them. It is true, the priests raised a violent storm against them; but they were protected by the name of Charles V. In March, 1529, Erasmus wrote to Juan, congratulating him on having escaped safe and sound from the tempest.[889]

When the emperor returned to Germany, Alfonso accompanied him. At Augsburg, in 1530, as we have said in another place,[890] he played the part of mediator between Charles V. and the protestants, and immediately translated the celebrated evangelical confession into Spanish. But in April, 1533, when Charles V. embarked at Genoa on his return to Spain, Valdez remained in Italy. If he had accompanied his master, even that powerful monarch, it was said, could not have preserved him from the death the monks were preparing for him. From this period Alfonso seems to have shared his time between Germany and Italy: henceforward his brother occupies the foremost place. He was converted to the Gospel after Alfonso, but eventually outstripped him.

[Sidenote: Juan Valdez At Naples.]

Juan had been forced to leave his native country.[891] He did not go to Germany, as some have said, confounding him with his brother; but henceforward he occupies an important position in Italy. In 1531 he went to Naples, thence he proceeded to Rome, returning again to Naples in 1534, where he spent the remainder of his days. Some zealous protestants, who formed part of the German army, and had been sent, in 1528, to drive off the French, who were besieging that city, were the first to propagate the knowledge of the Gospel in that district. ‘But when Juan Valdez arrived,’ says the Roman-catholic Caracciolo, ‘he alone committed greater ravages among souls than many thousands of heretic soldiers had done.’[892] Some have thought that he occupied the post of secretary to the viceroy of Naples. But if he had an office at court, he soon resigned it to enjoy his independence. ‘He did not frequent the court very much,’ says Curione, ‘after Christ was revealed to him.’[893]

Persecution had made Juan more serious; the experiences of his inner life had matured him; he was still busy with literature and languages,[894] but he loved the Gospel above everything, and sought to make it known by his conversation as well as by his writings. There was such grace in his mind, such peace and innocence in his features, such attraction in his character, that he exercised an irresistible charm over all who came near him. He soon gathered a circle of scholars and gentlemen about him; he strove to extricate them from their worldliness, to convince them of the nothingness of their own righteousness, and to lead them to the salvation that is in Christ Jesus. He was even a torch to enlighten some of the most celebrated preachers of Italy. ‘I know it,’ says Curione, ‘for I have heard it from their own mouths.’ But at the same time he had so much love in his heart and so much simplicity in his manners, that he put the poor at their ease, and won the confidence even of the rudest men, the lazzaroni of that day. He became all things to all men to bring souls to Christ.[895] Valdez was not robust; he was thin, and his limbs were weak; and it would appear that the state of his health induced him to settle at Naples. ‘But,’ said his friends, ‘one part of his soul served to animate his delicate and puny nature, while the greater part of that clear, bright spirit was devoted to the contemplation of truth.’ He generally collected his friends together at Chiaja, near Pausilippo and Virgil’s tomb, in a villa whose gardens looked over the wide sea, in front of the island of Nisida. In that delightful country ‘where Nature exults in her magnificence and smiles on all who behold her,’ Juan Valdez, and such as were attracted by the loveliness of his doctrine and the holiness of his life, passed hours and days never to be forgotten. He was not content to admire with them the magnificence of nature; he introduced them to the magnificence of grace. ‘An honored and brilliant knight of the emperor,’ says Curione, ‘he was a still more honored and brilliant knight of Jesus Christ.’[896]

[Sidenote: Peter Martyr Vermigli.]

Among the eminently gifted men who gathered round him was Peter Martyr Vermigli, abbot of St. Peter’s _ad aram_. Peter Martyr, as we have said, had gone from Spoleto to Naples in 1530, where he had made great progress in the knowledge of the Gospel. Nothing could divert him from the search after truth; neither fear of the world, nor the great income he possessed, nor the high dignity with which he was invested. That earnest soul, that profound mind, pursued after the knowledge of God with indefatigable zeal. Being called to give drink to the sheep which, attracted by his voice, crowded to the sheepfold, he was thirsty himself, and alas! he had no water. He experienced that tormenting, that bitter, that violent thirst under which the strongest men sometimes give way. It was then he heard those words of Christ: _If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink_. He knew that man _comes_ to Christ by faith,—by believing in his holiness, in his love, in his promises, and in his almighty power to save. Putting scholasticism aside, and no longer contenting himself with the Fathers of the Church, he hastened to the fountain of Scripture and drank of the cup of salvation.[897] He knew the fulness of grace which is in the Redeemer, and understood how those who seek consolation elsewhere labor in vain. Growing more enlightened every day by the Spirit of God, he discovered the grievous errors of the Church and the simple grandeur of the Gospel. It was at Naples that the light of the divine Word shone into his soul with increasing glory and splendor.[898] Vermigli admired the beauties of creation,[899] the sea glittering in the sunshine, and the graceful promontories of the bay; but he loved still better to plunge into the mysterious splendors of grace. He did not confine himself to the writings of the Apostles, but added those of the reformers,—of Bucer, Zwingle, Luther, and Melancthon. Zwingle’s treatise on _False and True Religion_ showed him the necessity of returning to the simplicity and primitive customs of the Church. Almost every day he conversed upon Holy Scripture with friends who, like himself, loved religion pure and undefiled, and principally with Flaminio and Valdez.[900] But above all things he sought to impart by preaching the light which he had received.

[Sidenote: Purgatorial Fire.]

To this end Vermigli undertook to preach on the First Epistle to the Corinthians, which he did in the presence of a large audience, including even bishops. When he came to the third chapter,[901] he first showed what was the foundation upon which the whole of Christian doctrine must be built: _For other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ_, says the Apostle. But what is built on that stone? When the architect has laid the foundations of the edifice he intends to raise, he employs various materials to complete the work. Marble, porphyry, and jasper shall form the pillars, the mantel-pieces, the pavement, and the statues; gold and silver will serve for the internal decorations; but there will also be wood and paper, stubble and other coarse materials employed in the structure. It is so with the edifice of God. On the foundation, which is Christ, we must build sound doctrines which flow from Christ himself, from his divinity, truth, grace, and spirit. If false doctrines are substituted for them,—doctrines proceeding from man’s own righteousness and from the darkness with which sin has overshadowed his understanding, what will happen? When a conflagration breaks out, the fire makes manifest the divers materials with which the house was built: the flame consumes the wood and stubble; but it attacks in vain the marble and the jasper, the silver and gold: these it cannot destroy. So it will be with the doctrines taught in the Church. ‘False teachings cannot eternally pass for true,’ said Peter Martyr. ‘There is nothing hidden which shall not be revealed; if the falsehood of the dogmas put forth is not detected at the first, time will make it known.[902] The day will come when every error hidden under an appearance of truth shall be declared to be error in the most striking manner; all darkness shall be scattered, everything will be valued in conformity with its strict reality.[903] The eternal judgment of God is the _fire that shall try every man’s work_. It is not enough that the doctrines should be approved by the judgment of men, they must be able to stand before the fire of God’s trial.[904] The day and the fire of which the Apostle speaks are the piercing investigation, the sure touchstone, which will enable us at last to distinguish between true doctrines and false.[905] _Gold, stubble, fire_—they are all metaphors.’

Peter Martyr’s audience, and especially the ecclesiastics, were unable to conceal their surprise. The passage which he thus explained was that on which the Romish Church based the doctrine of purgatorial fire; but the learned doctor found something quite different in it. The priests and monks not only saw that precious fire taken away from which they had derived so much profit, but saw another fire substituted for it, which threatened to consume their traditions and practices, _their hay and stubble_. And hence the sermon aroused a storm in the hitherto calm waters of Naples. The monks accused the prior of St. Peter’s _ad aram_, and his friends of Chiaja defended him. His enemies succeeded in closing the pulpit against him; but on the intervention of the powerful protectors he possessed at Rome, his liberty of preaching was restored.

[Sidenote: Illustrious Women At Chiaja.]

This petty persecution was salutary to the Christian circle at Chiaja. It grew wider, and its meetings were attended by nobles and scholars, among others by Benedetto Gusano de Verceil, and a Neapolitan nobleman, Giovanni Francesco Caserta.[906] The latter had a young relative, at that time living in the midst of the splendors of the world. The Marquis Caraccioli, one of the grandees of Naples, had an only son, Galeazzo. Ardently desiring to perpetuate his name, he married him early to a wealthy heiress, Vittoria, daughter of the Duke of Nocera, who bore him four sons and two daughters. As soon as the old marquis saw that his desire for posterity would be satisfied, he turned his ambition in another direction, and sent his son to the court of the emperor, who invested him with one of the great offices of his household. As Galeazzo was not always on service, he returned from time to time to Naples, where he gave himself up entirely to the vanities of the world, to the pleasures of the earth, and to projects of ambition. A close friendship, however, bound him to the pious Caserta. The Christian, taking advantage of this intimacy, spoke to the worldling about the Word of God and the only way of salvation which is Christ Jesus; but after these conversations, the youthful chamberlain of Charles V. would hurry off to theatre or ball. Caserta took him to hear Peter Martyr; and then thinking that a society so cultivated as that which met at Chiaja might perhaps win over his friend, he introduced him to Valdez. For some time longer the seed continued to fall among thorns; but a little later the young marquis received with joy the salvation of the Gospel, and, desiring to remain faithful to it, he took refuge in Geneva. Calvin, who welcomed him like a son, dedicated one of his writings to him, to show his respect for the firmness of his faith. Although Caraccioli ‘did not court the applause of men, and was content to have God alone for a witness,’ the reformer, when he saw the illustrious Neapolitan refugee, exclaimed with emotion: ‘Here is a man of ancient house and great parentage, flourishing in honors and in goods, having a noble and virtuous wife, a family of children, quiet and peace in his house, in short, happy in everything that concerns the state of this life, but who has voluntarily abandoned the place of his birth to stand beneath the banner of Christ. He made no difficulty in leaving his lordship, a fertile and pleasant country, a great and rich patrimony, a convenient, comfortable, and cheerful palace; he broke up his household, he left father, wife, children, relations, and friends, and after abandoning so many allurements of the world, he is content with our littleness, and lives frugally according to the habits of the commonalty—neither more nor less than any one of us.’[907]

In the select society which gathered round Valdez, there were also, as at Thessalonica in the days of St. Paul, _of the chief women not a few_. Among these high-born dames was Vittoria Colonna, widow of that famous general the Marquis of Pescara, a woman illustrious for her beauty, and her talent, whose poems were much admired at the time, and in whose society, the poet Bernardo Tasso, father of him who wrote the ‘Jerusalem Delivered,’ and Cardinal Bembo, learned some of the truths of the Gospel. There also might be seen Isabella di Bresegna, to whom Curione dedicated the works of Olympia Morata; but above all Guilia di Gonzaga, widow of Vespasiano Colonna, Duke of Trajetto,[908] the most beautiful woman in Italy. So great was the reputation of her beauty in Europe, and even beyond it, that Barbarossa the corsair determined to carry her off. Having undertaken in 1534 to terrify Naples, he suddenly appeared before that city with a hundred sail, and landing near Fondi, between Gaeta and Terracina, where the duchess was living on her estate, he tried to surprise her; but she escaped the bird of prey, though not without difficulty. This attempt was one of the motives which determined Charles to undertake the expedition to Tunis. It is thus that men and women, of whom the 16th century is proud, adorned the evangelical circle of Chiaja.

While Valdez reposed on the beautiful hills of Pausilippo, in the midst of orange and fig trees, and in front of the wide sea, he loved to indulge peacefully in religious meditations, and not unfrequently the thoughts with which he was busy formed the subject of interesting conversations with his friends. Certain topics—_Considerazioni_, as he called them—occupied a mind at once eminently original and Christian. Virgil’s tomb, which was situated a few paces off, might have suggested other thoughts: the dying poet had ordered the following words to be carved on his sepulchre:

_Parthenope, cecini pascua, rura, duces._

The country life and the warlike exploits which the prince of Latin poets sang have great attractions to many minds; but the visitors at Pausilippo, whose history we are relating, had higher aspirations, and conversed on topics which it is our duty to record.

‘In what do the sons of God differ,’ they asked, ‘from the sons of Adam?—Why is the state of a Christian who believes with difficulty better than that of him who believes with ease?—Why does God give a child to a Christian and suddenly take it away?—The man from whom God takes away the love of the world, and to whom He gives the love of God, experiences nearly the same thing as he who ceases to love one woman and becomes enamored of another.[909]—To believe with difficulty is the sign of a call from God.—Those who tread the Christian path without the inward light of the Holy Spirit, are like those who walk by night without the light of the sun.—How can God make himself _felt_, and how can he permit himself to be _seen_?—The evils of curiosity, and how we ought to read the Scriptures without curiosity.—Why are the superstitious severe, while true Christians are merciful?—How God reigns by Christ, and Christ is the head of the Church.—The three kinds of conscience: that of the natural law, that of the written law, and that of the Gospel.—Is justification the fruit of piety, or piety the fruit of justification?—How does it happen that the wicked cannot believe, that the superstitious believe easily, and that pious men believe with difficulty?—How to resist the imaginations which confuse our Christian faith.’—Such are some of the thoughts with which the noblest minds were then busy on the enchanting shores of the bay of Naples.[910]

[Sidenote: The Sermons Of Occhino.]

The sermons of the celebrated Occhino helped to give a wider circulation to the thoughts which engrossed the evangelicals of Chiaja. In the early part of 1536, the great orator of Italy was invited to Naples to preach the Lent course. Valdez immediately felt the living faith by which the orator was animated: he became intimate with him, and introduced him to the Christian circle around him. The well-known name of Occhino, his strange appearance, his coarse dress, and reputation for holiness, attracted an immense crowd to the church of S. Giovanni Maggiore. He seemed called to scatter among the people the religious ideas which Valdez and Peter Martyr were propagating among the noble and the learned. De Vio, Cardinal of Gaeta, before whom Luther had appeared, was a man of singular perspicacity, and he immediately suspected heresy.[911] Struck with the power of the three doctors, he fancied he saw the formation of a league, one of those triumvirates which destroyed the Roman republic. ‘These triumvirs of the republic of Satan,’[912] he said, ‘are circulating doctrines of startling novelty, and even of detestable impiety about purgatory, the power of the sovereign pontiff, freewill, and the justification of the sinner.’ The cardinal protested in vain: not only the Christian society of Naples, but a great crowd of the nobility and people, attended Occhino’s sermons.

[Sidenote: Struggles Of Giulia.]

The beautiful Duchess of Trajetto did not miss one of them. She was at that time suffering under great domestic trouble: her brother Luigi, wishing to recover a castle that had been taken from his sister, perished in the assault, and Luigi’s widow, Isabella Colonna, who was also the duchess’s daughter-in-law, went to law with her for a portion of her inheritance. Giulia, roused by her vexations from the worldly indifference in which she had lived, sought consolation in God, and hoped to find in Occhino’s words a relief from her sorrow. An event which at this time gave splendor to Naples might have diverted her from these thoughts: the emperor arrived, and held a brilliant court. It was natural that the monarch and the daughter of Gonzaga should meet, for he had desired to avenge her when he gave up Tunis to be pillaged; but Giulia would willingly have dispensed with the honor done to her in Africa. Besides, her troubles and the awakening of her mind estranged her from the court; the great lady, the ornament of every fête, did not appear at those which were given to Charles V. If they did not meet at court or ball, they probably met at church. The emperor having heard much of the great orator of Italy, went like the rest to the church of S. Giovanni Maggiore. He was surprised and struck by Occhino’s eloquence, and said as he went out: ‘That monk would make the very stones weep.’[913]

It was easier to draw tears from Giulia Gonzaga’s eyes. That young woman, whose heart was wrung by sorrow, was agitated more and more every day by the powerful words of the great preacher; and it was at this time that the Christian life truly began in her. One day, as she was leaving the church of S. Giovanni Maggiore, Juan Valdez observed her emotion, and accompanied her to her palace. The stricken and agitated widow begged him to stay and enlighten her, and made known to him the distress, the hopes, and the struggles of her soul. Valdez felt that he was called to disperse the darkness in the midst of which Giulia was struggling, and the conversation lasted till evening. The Duchess of Trajetto desired to have nothing more to do with the world, but as yet she had not tasted the peace of God. ‘Ah!’ she exclaimed to Valdez, ‘there is a combat within me. The monk’s words fill me with fear of hell, but I fear evil tongues also. Occhino inspires me with love for paradise, but I feel at the same time a love for the world and its glory. How can I escape from the contest under which I am sinking? Is it by harmonizing these two tendencies, or by rejecting one of them? Pray show me the way; I promise to follow it.’ Valdez replied that the agitation she felt was occasioned by the renewing of the image of God in her. ‘The law has wounded you,’ he said, ‘the Gospel will heal you; for if the Law gives death, the Gospel gives life.[914] What I fear,’ he continued, ‘is lest you should attempt to regulate your Christian life in such a manner that those about you should not remark any change in you.’ The duchess confessing that such was her secret wish, Valdez told her to choose between God and the world, adding: ‘I will show you the path of perfection: Love God above everything, and your neighbor as yourself.’—‘Your words surprise me,’ she said; ‘I have heard all my life that monastic vows alone lead to perfection.’—‘Let them say on,’ replied Valdez firmly; ‘the monks have no Christian perfection except so far as they possess the love of God, and not an atom more.’ Valdez then tried to make her understand the only means by which that charity, which is perfection, is produced in the heart. ‘Our works are good,’ he said, ‘only when they are done by a justified person. Fire is needed to give warmth; a living faith to produce charity. Faith is the tree, charity the fruit. But when I speak of faith, Madam, I mean that which lives in the soul, that which proceeds from God’s grace, and which clings with boundless confidence to every word of God. When Christ says: _He that believes shall be saved_, the disciple who believes must not have the slightest doubt of his salvation.’[915]—‘Ah!’ exclaimed the duchess, ‘I will yield to no one in faith.’—‘Take care,’ rejoined Valdez; ‘if you were asked whether you believed in the articles of the faith, you would reply, Yes! but if you were asked whether you believed God had pardoned all your sins, you would say that you think so ... that you are not quite sure, however.... Ah! Madam, if you accept with full faith the words of Christ, then, even while suffering under the pain caused by your sins, you would not hesitate to say with perfect assurance: _Yes, God himself has pardoned all my sins_.’[916]

Such evangelical sentiments, uttered by a Spaniard in a palace at Naples, and received with humility by a Gonzaga, are a feature of the Reformation. We must humble ourselves before we can be exalted. Conscience spoke in Giulia. We have here a woman whose family had given many sovereigns to Italy and princesses to royal houses, the widow of a Colonna, the chief of the most ancient family in the peninsula, which has counted among its members cardinals, illustrious generals, and the celebrated Pope Martin V.; and this Gonzaga, touched by grace, lent an ear to the truth with more humility than her own servants: she had become a little child. If the Acts of the Apostles remark more than once that among the persons converted to Christ in Asia and in Greece, where St. Paul preached, were women of distinction, history will also remark that at the epoch of the Reformation of the sixteenth century the wave mounted from the lowest levels of the shore to the highest peaks. Or rather, _the hills did bow_ before it. Valdez having spoken of a ‘_path_,’ the duchess manifested a desire to know it. ‘There are three paths,’ he answered, ‘which lead to the knowledge of God: the natural light which teaches us the omnipotence of God; the Old Testament, which shows us the Creator as hating iniquity; and lastly, Christ, the sure, clear, and royal way. Christ is love; and accordingly, when we know God through him, we know him as a God of love. Christ has made satisfaction for sin. An infinite God alone could pay an infinite debt. But it is not sufficient to believe it, we must experience it also.’[917]

[Sidenote: Meditation And Preaching.]

‘Devote some time every day,’ continued Valdez, ‘to meditation on the world, on yourself, on God, and on Jesus Christ, without binding yourself to it in a superstitious manner; do it in liberty of spirit, selecting any of your rooms that may seem most convenient, perhaps even as you lie awake in bed. Two images should be continually before your eyes: that of Christian perfection and that of your own imperfection. These books will cause you to make greater progress in a day than any others would in ten years. Even the Holy Scriptures, if you do not read them with that humility which I point out to you, might become poison to your soul.’[918]

‘Listen to preaching with a humble mind,’ continued Valdez.—‘But,’ said Giulia, ‘if the preacher is one of those who, instead of preaching Christ, give utterance to vain and foolish things, drawn from philosophy or some empty theology—one of those who tell us dreams and fables—would you have me follow him?’—‘In that case, do what seems best. The worst moments of all the year are to me those which I waste in listening to preachers such as you have described; and hence it rarely happens to me.’[919]

The day was coming to an end when Valdez rose: the duchess was like a person who has discovered the road to happiness, and fears to go astray in the new path. Valdez desired to leave, but she detained him: ‘Only two words more before you go,’ she said; ‘what use must I make of Christian liberty?’—‘The true Christian,’ replied the Spanish gentleman, ‘is free from the tyranny of sin and death; he is the absolute master of his affections; but at the same time he is the servant of all.... Farewell, madam, from this very moment pray follow my advice, and to-morrow I will ask how you have found yourself after it.’ He withdrew.[920]

It was during these solemn hours, when Valdez traced out for her the order of salvation, that the daughter of the Gonzagas sat in spirit at her Saviour’s feet, and gave herself to him with all her soul. It is possible that in the instructions given by this pious layman we may here and there discover some slight shades not strictly evangelical, tinged either with a mystic or a Roman color; and possibly the Holy Scriptures do not occupy a place sufficiently prominent; yet the two great Christian facts—the work of Christ on the cross, and that which He accomplishes in the heart—were clearly laid down by the Spanish gentleman, and that was the essential thing.

The religious awakening then going on in the Duchess of Trajetto and in many others at Naples, happened at a difficult moment. Some days before, Charles V., excited by the priests who were growing alarmed at a movement which they could not understand, had published an edict forbidding all intercourse with those infected with or only suspected of Lutheranism. When the emperor left Naples shortly after (22 March, 1536), the viceroy, driven onwards by the same influence, and ascribing to Occhino’s eloquence a religious agitation which was so novel in the Parthenopean city, interdicted the preaching of that great orator; but his eloquence and energy, backed by his numerous friends and the protests of those who so liked to hear him, prevailed. He was able to continue the course of his sermons, and did not end them until Easter (April 16). The Duchess of Trajetto, without leaving the church, endeavored more and more to walk in that new path which Valdez had shown her; the latter zealously directed her, and not long after dedicated to her a translation of the Psalms from the Hebrew, with a practical explanation. Somewhat later he published _Commentaries_ on the Epistles of Paul to the Romans and to the Corinthians.[921]

[Sidenote: Pietro Carnesecchi.]

In this charming circle at Chiaja, and among the habitual guests of Valdez, Vittoria Colonna, and Giulia Gonzaga, was a patrician of Florence, as distinguished by his person as by the important offices he had filled: he was Pietro Carnesecchi.[922] Although for a long time placed as near as possible to the pontifical throne, he found a strange and indefinable charm in the conversations of Valdez, attended with pleasure the sermons of Occhino, drew light from the lamp of Peter Martyr, formed a close friendship with Galeazzo Caraccioli, and was touched by that mixture of grace, intelligence, humility, faith, and good works then to be found in some of the most distinguished women of Italy. As soon as Charles V. arrived at Naples, he desired Carnesecchi to come and see him. The noble Florentine was surprised at the order, but the emperor’s motive was this. Carnesecchi, a native of the city of the Medicis,[923] was early distinguished by his knowledge of polite literature, by his talent in the art of writing, and particularly by that penetrating mind which can discern the secret springs of events and see clear in the obscurest matters. From his early youth he had felt a desire for great things,[924] and had placed himself in connection with the most eminent men, with the view of running a more useful career. His fine countenance struck observers all the more because with nobility of features he combined modesty, purity, sobriety, and admirable mildness tempered by imposing gravity. By these qualities he gained the favor of the Medicis, and when Julius became pope, under the name of Clement VII., Carnesecchi received a message appointing him secretary to the new pontiff. Having at that time no evangelical convictions, he thought that the invitation would open a noble career before him; he therefore accepted it, and soon found himself in possession of great influence. Clement, who had so much to do with politics, with Charles V., Francis I., and Henry VIII., committed the direction of the Church to Carnesecchi, and it was generally said that ‘the pontificate was at that time filled by Pietro Carnesecchi rather than by Clement.’[925] The pope several times offered him a cardinal’s hat, which he always refused. This is surprising, for he was naturally ambitious; but after he had seen the papacy closely, he probably feared to ally himself too intimately with it; possibly, also, the first beams of evangelical light were dawning upon his soul.

[Sidenote: Carnesecchi And Charles V.]

The death of Clement VII. broke the golden chains which were beginning to oppress Carnesecchi. He quitted Rome, and, attracted by the mild light which was shining over the hills of Chiaja, he went to Naples with the desire of remaining for a time in the society of those men of God who were so much talked about in Italy.[926] The treasures of truth and life which he found there surpassed his expectations. But suddenly the command of Charles V. disturbed him in the midst of the Christian joy by which his soul was filled. What did the puissant emperor want with him? Did he design to open once more that career of politics and glory which he, Carnesecchi, had renounced forever? Was there some political scheme brewing, or did Charles V. desire to become a disciple of the Gospel? Carnesecchi could not make it out, but he went to the palace all the same. The emperor had a very different object: knowing full well that the Florentine had been initiated into all the thoughts of Clement VII., he desired to learn what schemes that pope had formed with Francis I. at Marseilles.[927] In that interview Carnesecchi did not forfeit the confidence which Clement had reposed in him; he did not violate the fidelity he had sworn,[928] but answered the emperor with a nobleness and respect which quite won the esteem of that prince. Francis I., however, when he heard of this conference at Naples, was exasperated; it seemed to him that the kindness he had shown Carnesecchi during the famous interview at Marseilles should have led him to refuse his rival’s invitation, and he confiscated the revenues of an abbey which Carnesecchi possessed in France. The Medicis, however, and even Catherine, having known this excellent man well, never withdrew their esteem from him, although he was everywhere decried as a heretic.

However great was the honor of a conference with Charles V., Carnesecchi much preferred those he had with Valdez, Peter Martyr, and Occhino. These pious men were not content with _vain babbling_: they read the Holy Scriptures together, enlightened each other on their meaning, and carefully compared one passage with another.[929] Carnesecchi had that love of truth and that boldness of thought which make rapid progress in the knowledge of Christ. A gleam of light shone into his heart. He did not oscillate for years in doubt between light and darkness; he was one of those noble spirits who attain their end at a bound. Ere long, the influential secretary of Clement VII., by turns the object of the attentions of the two greatest monarchs in Europe, sat humbly at the foot of the cross. He believed in those truths which he afterwards confessed before the college of cardinals, and on account of which he was put to death by the pope. Looking unto Christ, he could say: ‘Certainly justification proceeds from faith alone in the work and love of a crucified Saviour. We can have the assurance of salvation, because it was purchased for us by the Son of God at so great a price. We must submit to no authority except the Word of God, which has been handed down to us in Holy Scripture.’[930] These doctrines formed from that hour the happiness of his eminent spirit, and filled with sweetness the intercourse he enjoyed at Naples with Valdez and Peter Martyr.

[Sidenote: Marco Antonio Flaminio.]

Two groups of pious men took part at this time in the revival of Italy: the independent Christians, all of whom ended their lives in exile or at the stake; and men of a hierarchical tendency, who, though religious, still remained in Romanism, some of them even rising to the highest posts in the Church. Carnesecchi and Paleario belonged to the first group, and no doubt Valdez also; and if his life had been much prolonged, it is probable that he also would have come to a tragic end. As for the second group, it included many of those who had belonged to the oratory of _Divine Love_, the most distinguished of whom (Contarini) we shall mention presently. One of them, Caraffa, who became pope under the name of Paul IV., fell lower than all the others, and became a persecutor. These two groups, however, did not include all the Italians who were touched by the Reformation. Between them were many truly Christian people, who, as regards faith, were with the evangelicals, but as regards the Church, clung to Rome through dread of falling into what they called schism. Of this number was Flaminio, one of Valdez’ best friends. He was born between Ferrara and Florence, but we meet with him in the south. Political disturbances having broken out at Imola in the early part of the sixteenth century, one of the burgesses of that city, named Flaminio, who had acquired a reputation in literature, fled hastily, carrying with him a very young child, and took refuge in a castle in the Venetian territory.[931] That child was Marco Antonio Flaminio, and his flight was almost a type of what his whole life would be—one of anguish, and often of pressing want. When he grew older, he went to study at Padua, where he displayed very remarkable poetic talents. ‘His poems,’ it was afterwards said, ‘possess all the simplicity and grace of Catullus, but untainted with his license. They penetrate into the soul with their wonderful sweetness.’ With the gifts, Flaminio also shared the adversities of the poet. He was often greatly straitened during his studentship, and his university friends had to subscribe to supply him with clothes.[932] Whatever were the hardships of his position and the weakness of his health, he worked assiduously and made great progress in philosophy and the study of languages, and attained a thorough knowledge of the poets and orators. At the same time, trial was telling upon his soul: his literary and philosophical studies could not satisfy him. Shut up in his little room, he said to himself ‘that there was a science higher than that of Cicero and Plato, the science of the sacred writings, the knowledge of divine things handed down to us by the everlasting Word.’[933] Such was the only treasure he longed for in the midst of his poverty. ‘The study of heavenly truth is the goal I set before me,’ he said. ‘I desire to adore the eternal God with fervor, and devote my life to the salvation of souls.’[934] He might have received considerable sums for his writings; but he could not bear the idea of making a trade of his books, as if they were merchandise. He might, as he grew older, have attained high ecclesiastical dignity and earthly distinction; but he loved the spiritual heights of faith more than the elevations of the world, and, disdaining empty decorations, preferred a life hidden with Christ in God. He visited in succession Rome, Venice, and Verona, and was received in the last city by the Bishop Giovanni Matteo Giberto, who esteemed learning, had published the _Homilies of Chrysostom on St. Paul_, and ‘thus revived the doctrine of the Greek fathers in Europe.’ This prelate, perhaps from devotion, but perhaps also because he wished to be made a cardinal, had adopted an exceedingly austere life; Flaminio, who cared nothing for the hat with its red cords, followed, however, the rough paths by which Giberto hoped to attain his end. The bishop, combining labor with ascetic practices, desired his guest to make a translation and commentary of the Psalms. The latter applied zealously to his work, and endeavored to make the labor attractive;[935] but his constitution being too weak to bear up against the severities of the ascetic prelate, he fell ill and nearly died.[936]

[Sidenote: The Way Of Peace.]

Flaminio went into the Venetian campagna to recover his strength, and entered, as soon as he was well, the household of another future cardinal, Giovanni Pietro Caraffa, Bishop of Chieti. Caraffa, a violent and impetuous man, and afterwards, when pope, under the name of Paul IV., the restorer of the inquisition and of the strictest Roman-catholicism, had had his seasons of struggle and even of faith in the truth. Oppressed by the agitation caused within him by his ardent and fanatical nature, he often felt that he would never find peace except by sacrificing his will to that of God; and this it was that bound him to Flaminio. Unhappily, his evil nature afterwards prevailed. Caraffa being made cardinal, went to Rome, and Flaminio to Naples, at the time when Valdez, Peter Martyr, Carnesecchi, and their friends were there.

Association with these pious men was of great use to Flaminio: he had been prepared to seek God by adversity, by sickness, and by the approach of death; in his intercourse with the Christians of Pausilippo he learnt the way of peace. ‘God,’ he said, ‘does not call those happy who are clear from every stain; alas! there is not one! but those whom his mercy pardons, because they believe with all their heart that the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ is the atonement for all sin. If our conscience accuses us before the tribunal of God, if death is imminent, let us still be full of hope, for the mercy of the Supreme Ruler infinitely exceeds the wickedness of the whole human race.’ Flaminio having dedicated his book on the _Psalms_ to the famous cardinal Farnese, he boldly confessed his faith before that grandson of Paul III. ‘Herein will be found,’ he said, ‘many things about Christ, our Lord and our God; his bitter death and his everlasting kingship;—his death, by which, sacrificing himself on the cross and blotting out all our sins by his most precious blood, he has reconciled us with God—his kingship, by which He defends us against the eternal enemy of the human race, and, governing us by his Spirit, leads us to a blessed and immortal life.’[937]

Valdez, charmed by the simplicity of Flaminio’s character, the beauty of his genius, and the liveliness of his faith, was accustomed to say: ‘Of all men, Flaminio is the one for whom I feel the greatest love and admiration.’[938] Carnesecchi also appreciated Flaminio, but without being so enthusiastic in his affection as Valdez. He had a less glowing imagination than the poet of Imola, and perhaps his feelings were less quick, but his understanding was clearer, more logical, and more practical. While Flaminio desired to remain in the Roman Church, Carnesecchi was still more resolved to walk in the paths of the Gospel. These two eminent men had serious discussions about universal consent (_catholicus consensus_) and the sacrifice of the mass, which Flaminio defended, but to which Carnesecchi opposed the sacrifice offered once for all at Golgotha, as the only real one. Still, it was not until later that these two Christians entered into a correspondence on the subject which shows us the diversity of their faith.[939] Notwithstanding their differences, they remained united in close affection; and when they were forced to separate, Flaminio addressed his friend in a graceful little poem, the very first lines of which indicate the charms of the sweet and serious conversations of the Chiaja.[940] ‘Although I must now depart far from thee, O dear Carnesecchi,’ he said in conclusion, ‘neither time, nor distance, nor death itself, shall deprive me of the sweetness of thy friendship. I shall remain with thee; I shall be ever with thee; I shall leave thee always the greater half of my soul.’

Flaminio returned to Rome, and Reginald Pole, cousin to Henry VIII., who was then in the city, endeavored to gain for the papacy a man whose value he appreciated. The intercourse of Flaminio with Caraffa and Pole had an unfortunate influence upon him. Somewhat later he said to Carnesecchi: ‘O my friend, if we do not wish to be wrecked in the midst of the dangerous breakers that surround us, let us bend humbly before God, and permit no motive, however lawful it may appear, to separate us from the catholic Church.’[941] Since that time, Romish and evangelical writers have continually disputed possession of him, each affirming that he belonged to them: he belonged entirely to neither. He was able to keep himself evenly balanced between the two powers that then disputed the sovereignty of Christendom, and did not fall into the abyss. But, whatever men may say, if the reformers had desired to follow that middle path which pleases certain minds, it would assuredly have been fatal to truth and liberty. Christendom would have fallen back into the servility of the middle ages; and if the yoke had appeared too heavy, it would have plunged into the license of incredulity. The narrow path of evangelical truth runs between these two gulfs: it is a refuge to those whom they threaten to swallow up.

[Sidenote: Oratory Of Divine Love.]