olence proved to be the only exit from the situation.
His third duty was to that higher culture which Italy dispensed to
Europe, and of which the Papacy had made itself the leading
propagator. Here Leo failed almost as conspicuously as in all else he
attempted. He debased the standard of art and literature by his
ill-placed liberalities, seeking quick returns for careless
expenditure, not selecting the finest spirits of his age for timely
patronage, diffusing no lofty enthusiasm, but breeding round him
mushrooms of mediocrity.

Nothing casts stronger light upon the low tone of Roman society
created by Leo than the outburst of frenzy and execration which
exploded when a Fleming was elected as his successor. Adrian Florent,
belonging to a family surnamed Dedel, emerged from the scrutiny of the
Conclave into the pontifical chair. He had been the tutor of Charles
V., and this may suffice to account for his nomination. Cynical wits
ascribed that circumstance to the direct and unexpected action of the
Holy Ghost. He was the one foreigner who occupied the seat of S. Peter
after the period when the metropolis of Western Christendom became an
Italian principality. Adrian, by his virtues and his failings, proved
that modern Rome, in her social corruption and religious indifference,
demanded an Italian Pontiff. Single-minded and simple, raised
unexpectedly by circumstances into his supreme position, he shut his
eyes absolutely to art and culture, abandoned diplomacy, and
determined to act only as the chief of the Catholic Church. In
ecclesiastical matters Adrian was undoubtedly a worthy man. He
returned to the original conception of his duty as the Primate of
Occidental Christendom; and what might have happened had he lived to
impress his spirit upon Rome, remains beyond the reach of calculation.
Dare we conjecture that the sack of 1527 would have been averted?

Adrian reigned only a year and eight months. He had no time to do
anything of permanent value, and was hardly powerful enough to do it,
even if time and opportunity had been afforded. In the thunderstorm
gathering over Rome and the Papacy, he represents that momentary lull
during which men hold their breath and murmur. All the place-seekers,
parasites, flatterers, second-rate artificers, folk of facile talents,
whom Leo gathered round him, vented their rage against a Pope who
lived sparsely, shut up the Belvedere, called statues "idols of the
Pagans," and spent no farthi