This frenzy for the ancient republic not only menaced the pontificate, but their Platonic or their pagan ardours seemed to be striking at the foundation of Christianity itself.  Such were Marcellus Ficinus, and that learned society who assembled under the Medici.  Pomponius Laetus, who lived at the close of the fifteenth century, not only celebrated by an annual festival the foundation of Rome, and raised altars to Romulus, but openly expressed his contempt for the Christian religion, which this visionary declared was only fit for barbarians; but this extravagance and irreligion, observes Niceron, were common with many of the learned of those times, and this very Pomponius was at length formally accused of the crime of changing the baptismal names of the young persons whom he taught for pagan ones!  “This was the taste of the times,” says the author we have just quoted; but it was imagined that there was a mystery concealed in these changes of names.

At this period these literary societies first appear:  one at Rome had the title of “Academy,” and for its chief this very Pomponius; for he is distinguished as “Romanae Princeps Academiae,” by his friend Politian, in the “Miscellanea” of that elegant scholar.  This was under the pontificate of Paul the Second.  The regular meetings of “the Academy” soon excited the jealousy and suspicions of Paul, and gave rise to one of the most horrid persecutions and scenes of torture, even to death, in which these academicians were involved.  This closed with a decree of Paul’s, that for the future no one should pronounce, either seriously or in jest, the very name of academy, under the penalty of heresy!  The story is told by Platina, one of the sufferers, in his Life of Paul the Second; and although this history may be said to bear the bruises of the wounded and dislocated body of the unhappy historian, the facts are unquestionable, and connected with our subject.  Platina, Pomponius, and many of their friends, were suddenly dragged to prison; on the first and second day torture was applied, and many expired under the hands of their executioners.  “You would have imagined,” says Platina, “that the castle of St. Angelo was turned into the bull of Phalaris, so loud the hollow vault resounded with the cries of those miserable young men, who were an honour to their age for genius and learning.  The torturers, not satisfied, though weary, having racked twenty men in these two days, of whom some died, at length sent for me to take my turn.  The instruments of torture were ready; I was stripped, and the executioners put themselves to their work.  Vianesius sat like another Minos on a seat of tapestry-work, gay as at a wedding; and while I hung on the rack in torment, he played with a jewel which Sanga had, asking him who was the mistress which had given him this love-token?  Turning to me, he asked, ’why Pomponio, in a letter, should call me Holy Father?  Did the conspirators agree to make you pope?’ ‘Pomponio,’