The positive results of the Italian Reformation seem to escape us entirely; and yet it possesses quite as many of those characteristics which charm the mind, captivate the imagination, and touch the heart, as other Reformations do. The new and varied plants which that ancient land began to produce, the brilliant flames which for a moment shed such beautiful light, the men of God at that time scattered all over Italy, deserve to be known, and we must now turn to them. At Pavia, on the Ticino, there lived a bookseller named Calvi, ‘who cultivated the muses.’ Frobenius, the celebrated printer of Basle, having as early as 1519 sent him Erasmus’s Testament and the early writings of Luther, he began to study the Gospel more than the poets. Wishing to help, in proportion to his ability, in ‘the revival of piety,’[792] he undertook to circulate the writings of the reformers not only in his immediate neighborhood, but through all the cities of Italy.[793] Pavia possessed a celebrated university, and the precious volumes were first distributed among its professors and their pupils. The students might often be seen reading these absorbing pages under the porticos of the university and beneath the walls of the cathedral or of the old castle. Other printers and booksellers joined with Calvi in the work of dissemination, and before long a book entitled _Il principii della Theologia di Ippolito di Terranigra_ was read all over Italy, even in Rome. _Terranigra_ was Melancthon, and these _Principles of Divinity_ were his _Theological Commonplaces_. This admirable book was to be found even in the Vatican, along with the works of _Coricius Cogelius_ (Zwingle) and _Aretius Felinus_ (Bucer). Bishops and cardinals pompously extolled them; none of them suspecting that the breath of evangelical piety which animated those writings must necessarily dissipate the false piety of the confessional. _Terranigra’s_ book was read with such eagerness at Rome, that it soon became necessary to ask for a fresh supply. A learned Franciscan of the metropolis, who possessed the Latin edition, struck with the unknown name _Terranigra_,[794] desired to procure the Italian work so much talked of. It soon began to call up certain recollections: he fancied he had seen the work before. He rose from his seat, took down his Latin _Melancthon_, compared it with the Italian, and to his great horror found the two works were the same. Without delay he made known the stratagem of the booksellers, and the volume, which the cardinals had extolled to the skies one day, was condemned to the flames on the next. [Sidenote: Enthusiasm For Luther.]