had been brought to him before. The result of these precautions thus taken to prevent the spirit of intrigue and worldly ambition from interfering with the more elevated motives by which the choice of the conclave ought to be dictated, was, that after some stormy debates, the suffrages of the electors were, on the 10th of Nov. 1417, unanimously bestowed on Otto Colonna, a member of a noble Roman family of high distinction, who immediately, on his nomination to the pontificate, assumed the name of Martin V.t Thus terminated the famous schism of the West, but not before this ecclesiastical feud had given a deadly blow to the pontifical authority. Gregory had died about a month before the nomination of Martin; Benedict XIII. though he thundered his anathemas from the fortress of Paniscola, found so few supporters, that his fulminations were regarded as objects of contempt; and Martin was acknowledged as Pontiff by all the powers of Christendom. Still, however, the past could not be forgotten. Princes and deputies had publicly sat in judgment on an impeached Pope; and the detail of his crimes, and his consequent deposition, must have occasioned in the minds of thinking men, most perplexing doubts and difficulties, as to the high question of the infallibility, which had been hitherto supposed to stamp the principles and the actions of the father of the faithful. Though Martin V. was thus elevated to the pontifical dignity, he was not, for the present, enabled to take possession of the territories appended to this exalted station. The dominions of the church were the prey of factions and of petty usurpers, which he had not the means to repress. On the dissolution of the council, therefore, which event took place on the 22d of April, 1418, he repaired to Geneva, whence, after crossing the Alps, he went to Mular and to Mantua, where he remained till the end of the year, when he proceeded to Florence.‡ At the Tuscan capital, Martin was received by the constituted authorities with every token of respect; and soon after his arrival in Florence, he had the satisfaction of receiving the submission of John XXII. the deposed Pontiff, who, having escaped from the place of his confinement, came to throw himself on his mercy. Martin received his fallen predecessor with kindness, and bestowed upon him the dignity of Cardinal, which, however, he did not long enjoy, as he died at Florence before the termination of the year.§ It has been observed, that the Tuscan government treated Martin with the honours due to his rank; but this does not seem to have been the case with the populace, at least towards the close of his residence in their city. To the licentiousness of the vulgar, his poverty was an object of contempt, and they vented their ridicule of him in contumelious songs. Leonardo, who had been assiduous in his attentions to him since the time of his arrival, observed with pain, that the rudeness of the rabble had made a deep impression on his mind, and that he was about to quit the Florentine state with very unfavourable impressions of the character of his countrymen. These impressions, as we learn from the following narrative, Leonardo, with much good sense and judgment, endeavoured to do away. "I remember," says he, "only a few days before Martin's departure, I was with him in his chamber, together with one or two of his chamberlains, and no one else. He was walking from his library to the window which overlooks the gardens, when, after taking a few turns in silence, he suddenly came up to me, and looking stedfastly in my face, and raising his arm a little, he said, 'Pope Martin it seems is not worth a farthing.' I instantly recognized the words, for they were the burden of a song made upon him, and which runs thus in the Italian language, Papa Martino Non vale un quatrino. What, said I, have these children's trifles reached the ears of your holiness? He made no reply, but repeated Pope Martin is not worth a farthing.' Being then aware of the irritation of his feelings, I determined, through my regard for the honour of the state, to soothe them to the best 1420, he expressed his obligations to them for their protection and assisttance, and recounted the fortunate circumstances which had occurred to him during his abode in their capital, in the very order which Leonardo had suggested to him.† From Florence, Martin repaired to Rome, which was now eager to open its gates to receive him. On this accession of prosperity, the Pontiff, who had been long sensible of the abilities and the integrity of Leonardo, wished to engage him in his service. But though his offers of remuneration were splendid, and his promises of advancement highly flattering, he was unable to tempt the learned Florentine again to enter into the Roman chancery. In the year 1426, Leonardo had an opportunity of renewing his friend was then sent to Rome, as envoy from the Tuscan state, to negociate, under the mediation of his holiness, a peace between the Florentine republic and the Duke of Milan.+ of my ability. I therefore took the liberty to say to him:-"No state, most holy father, has bestowed upon yourself and the holy see, such signal services as those which you have received from the Tuscan republic. You came to Florence at a time, when you were destitute of temporal dominion. At that period, the country was so fully occupied by your adversaries, that instead of procceding hither for Ferrara, by way of Bologna, which was in a state of rebellion, you were obliged to take a long circuit through Ravenna and Forli. During your residence in Florence, the other towns of the papal | territory have yielded to your authority; and Bologna has submitted. And these happy effects have been brought about by the interposition of the Tuscan state, which, by procuring for your holiness the aid of Braccio dily intercourse with the Pontiff, as he Montone, has enabled you to reduce your rebellious subjects to obedience, so that your power is now most widely extended. During your residence here, also, the Spanish cardinals, deserting the cause of Benedict, have come to you in person, to offer you their homage; and, which is of the utmost importance, John XXII. concerning the regularity of whose abdication, as having been obtained by force, doubts might have been entertained, trusting his person to the honour of our republic, has thrown himself at your feet, and acknowledged you as the true Pontiff. As this event, which was speedily followed by his death, clears away all doubts as to your title to the pontificate, so you may be assured that John would have ventured to take this step in no other city but this, where he was sheltered from danger by the security of public and of private friendship. These are the advantages which you have derived from your residence in the city of Florence; and permit me to remark to your holiness, that it is hardly consistent with the dignity of your character to suffer the remembrance of them to be obliterated by resentment at an idle song." 770 Martin listened to this remonstrance with patience. It should seem, also, that he profited by the advice of Leonardo, for, on taking leave of the Florentine magistracy, in the year Leon. Aret. Rerum Italic. Historia, p. 259. +Ibid. No. 38.-Vol. IV. This employment was the prelude to more permanent honours; for, in the year 1427, he was promoted to the office of Secretary to the Republic, which he held, occasionally in conjunction with other municipal honours, till the time of his death, which event took place in the year 1444.§ The loss of Leonardo was regarded by his countrymen as a public calamity; and, in testimony of their respect for his memory, they resolved to inter his remains with extraordinary honours. Reviving, then, an ancient custom, they invited the public functionaries, and the ambassadors from foreign states, to attend his obsequies. In the midst of this august assemblage, Gianozzo Manetti, a scholar of considerable reputation, pronounced an eulogium on his virtues, and concluded the ceremony by encircling the brows of his deceased friend with a crown of laurel. Leonardo was buried in the church of Santa Croce ; and the spot where his remains were deposited is still marked by a monument, which bears the following inscription, POSTQVAM LEONARDVS E VITA MIGRAVIT HISTORIA LVGET ELOQVENTIA MVTA EST FERTVRQVE MVSAS TVM GRAECAS TVM LATINAS LACRIMAS TENERE NON POTVISSE. + Mehi Vita Leon. Aret. p. xliv. P pouring out their own lives whilst seeking that of another, as true victims to the grim Moloch of destruction as ever thronged the altars of a barbarous and idolatrous people. Whilst the earth has swallowed up her own offspring, with a voracity that sets the earthquake at defiance; the ocean, too, murmurs for her share, and the mingled sounds of vengeance and destruction, of agony and despair, have risen up in one uniform unremitting course throne. The agonies of a premature and violent death have been more than doubled by the desolation and wretchedness of those who survive. The warrior sleeps on his gory bed,— the blood of the brave stains the ocean flood,-they are at rest, and they are honoured, while the living are left to mourn them; not unfrequently with no other support, but unavailing sighs and tears. Orphans, widows, and the childless, are left a prey to the varied calamities of life. These public marks of esteem, thus bestowed upon the memory of Leonardo Aretino, evince the respect which the Italian states paid to literary merit in the fifteenth century. For it was to his scholarship that this illustrious reviver of literature was indebted for the employments which he obtained in the pontifical chancery, and for the rank to which he was elevated in his native republic. He was a true lover of his country, jealous of its independence, and ambitious for the promo--a hateful sacrifice before the eternal tion of its honour. If we may judge from his writings, his principles were upright; and he had imbibed from the study of the ancients, a familiar acquaintance with the best maxims of morality and of civil polity. The works of the classic writers, indeed, were the objects of his daily studies, and of his nightly vigils. His industry must have been truly exemplary; for, though his engagements of business must have occupied much of his time, he constantly carried on an extensive correspondence with men the most distinguished by their rank and their literary acquirements, of the age in which he lived; and the catalogue of his published works, as arranged by the accurate and diligent Mehus, extends to no less than sixty-three articles. His Latin style is correct, but deficient in elegance, partaking more of the abruptness of Sallust, than the copious fluency of Cicero. For his zeal and perseverance in prosecuting the discovery of the lost works of the ancients, modern scholars are more indebted to him than many of them are aware; and whosoever estimates his literary character with candour, and even with justice, will be much more inclined, in consideration of the disadvantages under which he laboured, to admire his excellencies, than to find fault with his deficiencies, and will be ready to acknowledge, that though he lived during the dawn of the revival of literature, he contributed not a little to the bringing on of the splendour of the risen day. But we shall, perhaps, be told that it is necessary for the honour of nations, like that of individuals, that wars, as well as duels, should be tolerated,-that they are in many instances unavoidable, and should be acquiesced in and continued, if not perpetuated and approved. Of this occasional necessity, in both cases, we freely admit the justice of the argument, in other times and circumstances, and in the primitive stages of society, before the light of the gospel, and of civilization, had shone upon mankind. When every man's arm was against every one, and tribes swore vengeance and blood against tribes, such mode of warfare we allow to have been just and necessary. But where is the parallel between the rudest ages, and the most savage and untamed inhabitants of the earth, with the enlightened times in which we live, to draw any argument in favour of the ferocious customs of our ancestors? The very arguments which once supported the use of them, equally demonstrate, in this age, their abuse: -and it is a wretched excuse for re ON THE PROBABILITY OF ABOLISHING taining the elements of barbarism, WAR. (Concluded from col. 140.) Thousands, tens of thousands, have fallen by the hands of their fellow men, and the unprincipled vices of “man the savage," by contending that they are still requisite to protect the member of civilized society. This last resource of culpable passions, and of ignorant prejudice and superstition,— this appeal to the fears, and reliance upon the infatuation of mankind, will, doubtless, in time, be brought to yield, like our inquisitions, slave traffics, and despotisms, to the united and overwhelming powers of religion, intelligence, and truth.--Even on the grounds of cautious policy, and the interests of aggrandisement and wealth, what fears need we entertain, in the supposition of abolishing wars, that national honour and safety would be endangered? What degree of probability is there, that the Otaheitan, the Tartar, the wild Arab, or the North American savage, will, as the barbarians of old, make a descent, and attack the regions of the civilized European, if he be not in readiness to receive them with a pistol, for an imagined insult, and a musket and bayonet, in case of invasion? Nothing but an insane idea can excuse the supposition. The fears to be entertained of a rival nation, may, also, be proved as groundless. Were the standing army, and every soldier in a country, instantaneously disbanded, are we absurd enough to suppose that the army of the next people would march instanter | to invade and occupy it?-No such thing. It would doubly respect, and doubly fear, the motives and character of a nation, capable of exhibiting such an instance of magnanimity, humanity, and true courage and confidence in themselves. It would be felt that the army, in becoming part of the people, the whole people had become a formidable army, and such a nation, in its very nature alone, would be invincible. More than this, its example would be followed, instead of violated and scouted, until a standing army would become a standing jest, We see that societies and communities of Quakers, truly deserving the appellation of Friends, can not only subsist, but flourish, by virtue of the principles we would recommend. Their enmity is only to war, and their battle to withstand the payment of taxes-those sinews which support it. Now, would it not be possible that a colony or a nation of Quakers might exist, and acquire national reputation, integrity, wealth, and power, in the same manner as among individuals and societies? We think it might and supposing the worst, that it was wantonly attacked by the avarice or ambition of another, the invaders would be quickly destroyed, or rather devoured at a mouthful. They would be stung to death like a drone in a bee hive. They would be sent to work and to the Meeting, and speedily reclaimed from the error of their ways.-Why then should we indulge fears for the consequences of eradicating out of human commerce and human institutions, one of the very worst principles, (that of authorized bloodshed,) which the depravity of our nature admits?-No evils, we think, could possibly be incurred, were one, or all nations, in this, to join the society of Friends to-morrow. We might sit down in worse than Turkish apathy and fatality, were no improvement to take place, for fear of risking the alteration. One of the most fatal enemies to the tranquillity and happiness of human life, is, that jealous and timid apprehension, which foresees evils at too great a distance, and often imagines them when they do not exist; nor is it seldom that this weak and foolish policy, by exciting appearances of preparative hostility, has occasioned those very quarrels, against the effects of which it was intended to provide. On these subjects, the selfish principle has sometimes been carried to such an extreme, as almost to border on insanity. The most remote effects become present;-the most improbable consequences appear certain ;-the most trifling things seem of the highest importance: for nothing is so contagious as fear. We have, in our own times, seen this great nation agitated to its centre, about a barren rock, called Falkland's Island, and trembling for our possessions in the East Indies, if we should part with the key of them, by relinquishing, in pursuance of a solemn treaty, the island of Malta. When one nation, without a just cause of offence, attacks another by force of arms, she commits a crime against her not the less heinous, because there is no earthly judicature by which it can be punished. Is aggrandizement the object? If this were allowed to be a legitimate cause of war, it would only be a general license to the stronger to oppress the weaker, or, in other words, a concession to the odious and profligate maxim that, power constitutes right. the western and northern barbarians; and thus, whatever remained of the Greek empire, its literature and its art, were finally obliterated by the desolating power of the Mahometan tribes, who had, at one time, threatened to establish their authority in the central provinces of Europe. Regarding it, therefore, on its greatest scale, war is so far from having contributed to the improvement and prosperity of mankind, that it may rather be considered as the extinguisher which has put out the light of civilization, and for a long course of centuries has involved the fairest portions of the earth in hopeless and impenetrable darkness. Is it to prevent another nation from increasing her strength, and improving her internal resources?-This is the fair contest in which every nation, as well as every individual, is engaged; and if we were allowed to wreak our vengeance on all those, who, by their ability or their industry, surpass us in the career of life, there would be an end of human society. All nations are benefited by the exertions of any particular nation; and to repress the energies, or prevent the improvement, of any, is a crime against the human race. Even in the agitated state, and imperfect regulations, under which Europe has existed, what nation is there, to which mankind has not been indebted for some useful discoveries, some beneficial results, some addi-saries for some advancement in useful tions to the comforts and conveniencies, or the pleasures, of life? But it may, perhaps, be objected, that if wars are not inevitable, yet that in many points of view they would be desirable. That by means of war and conquest, knowledge has been diffused through the most unenlightened portions of the earth, and that they are in fact the implements, of which Providence has thought proper to make use, for the civilization of mankind. This objection may admit of a distinction. It may either be considered as the assertion of a mere historical fact, or as a justification of war. But if we were to discover, or to admit, that conquered nations have, at times, been indebted to their adver knowledge, or for some beneficial acquirements; will any person have the hardihood to assert that this would be a justification of war?-Would it not be the most glaring hypocrisy in any people, to pretend that they made war on another nation to promote their prosperity, honour, and happiness? Of all the pretexts by which ambition, superstition, or animosity, have ever attempted to impose on the world, this would be the most absurd and contemptible, the most false, and the most detestable. In its own opinion, every nation is the most enlightened, and consequently rejects the officious kindness of instruction, at the point of the sword. But it has not been possible, on all occasions, to avoid these efforts of extraordinary benevolence. And the progress of the Turks in the establishment of their dominion in the three quarters of the old world,-and the Spaniards, by tormenting and extirpating the inhabitants of the new,afford a fair specimen of the effects of wars, undertaken to civilize and en With regard to the first, it must be allowed, that as in the order and course of Providence, good is often educed from evil, and as infinite power and wisdom can, even from the enormities and crimes of the wicked, accomplish the most beneficial purposes; so it may have been, that the contests of exasperated and hostile nations may eventually have been productive of some benefit. If, however, we turn to the annals of former ages, we shall find it difficult to sup-lighten mankind. port such an opinion, upon the authority of established facts; whilst, on the contrary, we have innumerable instances, where the progress of civilization has been impeded, and the order and happiness of society overthrown, by the irruption of an ambitious and a barbarous foe. It was thus, that the polished states of Greece sunk before the ravages of Whether war be successful or unsuccessful, the consequences of it are almost equally to be deprecated. The result of an unsuccessful war is an implicit submission to the will of a conqueror,-disgrace, slavery, and death,-whatever the victor may prescribe; and all these have been prescribed in their turn. The consequences of a successful warfare, if |