noble specimen both of a man and Christian, whose deeds and example form part of the inheritance of an admiring posterity.  We pity his closing days, after such a career of power and influence; but we may as well compassionate Socrates or Paul.  The greatest lights of the world have gone out in martyrdom, to be extinguished, however, only for a time, and then to loom up again in another age, and burn with inextinguishable brightness to remotest generations, as examples of the power of faith and truth in this wicked and rebellious world,—­a world to be finally redeemed by the labors and religion of just such men, whose days are days of sadness, protest, and suffering, and whose hours of triumph and exaltation are not like those of conquerors, nor like those whose eyes stand out with fatness, but few and far between.  “I have loved righteousness, I have hated iniquity,” said the great champion of the Mediaeval Church, “and therefore I die in exile.”

In ten years after this ignominious execution, Raphael painted the martyr among the sainted doctors of the Church in the halls of the Vatican, and future popes did justice to his memory, for he inaugurated that reform movement in the Catholic Church itself which took place within fifty years after his death.  In one sense he was the precursor of Loyola, of Xavier, and of Aquaviva,—­those illustrious men who headed the counter-reformation; Jesuits, indeed, but ardent in piety, and enlightened by the spirit of a progressive age.  “He was the first,” says Villari, “in the fifteenth century, to make men feel that a new light had awakened the human race; and thus he was a prophet of a new civilization,—­the forerunner of Luther, of Bacon, of Descartes.  Hence the drama of his life became, after his death, the drama of Europe.  In the course of a single generation after Luther had declared his mission, the spirit of the Church of Rome underwent a change.  From the halls of the Vatican to the secluded hermitages of the Apennines this revival was felt.  Instead of a Borgia there reigned a Caraffa.”  And it is remarkable that from the day that the counter-reformation in the Catholic Church was headed by the early Jesuits, Protestantism gained no new victories, and in two centuries so far declined in piety and zeal that the cities which witnessed the noblest triumphs of Luther and Calvin were disgraced by a boasting rationalism, to be succeeded again in our times by an arrogance of scepticism which has had no parallel since the days of Democritus and Lucretius.  “It was the desire of Savonarola that reason, religion, and liberty might meet in harmonious union, but he did not think a new system of religious doctrines was necessary.”