The removal of the Papal court to Avignon gave Italy a rude shock in affecting the good fame of the whole country. The humiliation of the Papacy is resented all over the Peninsula, and the eclipse of the Papal dignity diminishes the prestige not only of Rome but of Italy. A new religion, the cult of Rome, spreads in all Italian hearts, and its ruined monuments are scarcely less venerated than the relics of the Apostles. The glorious memories of the Roman Republic, the pride of the Roman name, give rise both to the unfortunate statesmanship of Arnold of Brescia and, a hundred and fifty years later, to the rash adventure of Cola di Rienzo. All those who cannot boast such an illustrious descent are contemptuously designated as barbarians, and this distinction gives rise to the feeling of the unity of the Italian races. The mystical and religious fervour with which the men of the Risorgimento felt for Rome, so strong that it led them to trample on their religion, was not stronger than that of the first humanists. Petrarch and Boccaccio were already preparing the way for the Renaissance, of which they are rightly considered as the first pioneers. These enthusiasts, who brought such inestimable benefits to the intellectual life of the whole world, nevertheless introduced into their own country the germ of many ills. The men of France and England could never feel at home in the ample folds of Cicero’s toga as the Italians did. It was for them, indeed, a useful garment worn with perfect ease of manners as a ceremonial robe donned on state occasions, or a protective covering unfurled in their intellectual battles. Despite its assimilation and survival as late as the eighteenth century in the ample periods of Dr. Johnson or in the well-balanced sentences of Bossuet, it did not modify to any degree the mentality of countries with which it did not have a close affinity, although it left in the minds a certain number of ideas distinctly pagan, such as that of birthright. French and English scholars looked upon Rome as something definitely outside their own world, like the moon or the sun, and just as illuminating to them as the former is to the night wanderer and the latter to all the labours of mankind. This transcendental quality rendered Rome indeed semi-divine in their eyes, but fortunately kept them from considering themselves the lineal progeny of Marius or Cæsar. Their cult of antiquity was just as profoundly religious as that of the Italian scholars with whom they were often in the closest relations, only their attitude was more detached. They were thus able to cut themselves adrift from their masters with perfect ease when they had assimilated all that was needful to develop their own natural gifts. An abyss stood between them and antiquity; they were unable to appreciate their real connection with antiquity. Their historical information as to the intervening centuries could only be drawn from mediæval chronicles which, full of