ber of Charles's council he insisted that 'severity had
been often tried in such cases and had always failed; unless Luther was
encountered calmly and reasonably, a tremendous convulsion was
inevitable.'

Wisely said all this, but it presumed that those whom he was addressing
were reasonable men; and high officials, touched in their pride, are a
class of persons of whom Solomon may have been thinking when he said,
'Let a bear robbed of her whelps meet a man rather than a fool in his
folly.'

So to Luther, so to the people, Erasmus preached moderation. It was like
preaching to the winds in a hurricane. The typhoon itself is not wilder
than human creatures when once their passions are stirred. You cannot
check them; but, if you are brave, you can guide them wisely. And this,
Erasmus had not the heart to do.

He said at the beginning, 'I will not countenance revolt against
authority. A bad government is better than none.' But he said at the
same time, 'You bishops, cease to be corrupt: you popes and cardinals,
reform your wicked courts: you monks, leave your scandalous lives, and
obey the rules of your order, so you may recover the respect of mankind,
and be obeyed and loved as before.'

When he found that the case was desperate; that his exhortations were
but words addressed to the winds; that corruption had tainted the blood;
that there was no hope except in revolution--as, indeed, in his heart he
knew from the first that there was none--then his place ought to have
been with Luther.

But Erasmus, as the tempest rose, could but stand still in feeble
uncertainty. The responsibilities of his reputation weighed him down.

The Lutherans said, 'You believe as we do.' The Catholics said, 'You are
a Lutheran at heart; if you are not, prove it by attacking Luther.'

He grew impatient. He told lies. He said he had not read Luther's books,
and had no time to read them. What was he, he said, that he should
meddle in such a quarrel. He was the vine and the fig tree of the Book
of Judges. The trees said to them, Rule over us. The vine and the fig
tree answered, they would not leave their sweetness for such a thankless
office. 'I am a poor actor,' he said; 'I prefer to be a spectator of the
play.'

But he was sore at heart, and bitter with disappointment. All had been
going on so smoothly--literature was reviving, art and science were
spreading, the mind of the world was being reformed in the best sense by
the classics of Gr