s obvious. Erasmus wished to please the
Pope and not exasperate Luther. Of course he pleased neither, and
offended both.

Luther, who did not comprehend his motive, was needlessly angry. Adrian
and the monks were openly contemptuous. Sick of them and their quarrels,
he grew weary of the world, and began to wish to be well out of it.

It is characteristic of Erasmus that, like many highly-gifted men, but
unlike all theologians, he expressed a hope for sudden death, and
declared it to be one of the greatest blessings which a human creature
can receive.

Do not suppose that he broke down or showed the white feather to
fortune's buffets. Through all storms he stuck bravely to his own proper
work; editing classics, editing the Fathers, writing paraphrases--still
doing for Europe what no other man could have done.

The Dominicans hunted him away from Louvaine. There was no living for
him in Germany for the Protestants. He suffered dreadfully from the
stone, too, and in all ways had a cruel time of it. Yet he continued,
for all that, to make life endurable.

He moved about in Switzerland and on the Upper Rhine. The lakes, the
mountains, the waterfalls, the villas on the hill slopes, delighted
Erasmus when few people else cared for such things. He was particular
about his wine. The vintage of Burgundy was as new blood in his veins,
and quickened his pen into brightness and life.

The German wines he liked worse--for this point among others, which is
curious to observe in those days. The great capitalist winegrowers,
anti-Reformers all of them, were people without conscience and humanity,
and adulterated their liquors. Of course they did. They believed in
nothing but money, and this was the way to make money.

'The water they mix with the wine,' Erasmus says, 'is the least part of
the mischief. They put in lime, and alum, and resin, and sulphur, and
salt--and then they say it is good enough for heretics.'

Observe the practical issue of religious corruption. Show me a people
where trade is dishonest, and I will show you a people where religion is
a sham.

'We hang men that steal money,' Erasmus exclaimed, writing doubtless
with the remembrance of a stomach-ache. 'These wretches steal our money
and our lives too, and get off scot free.'

He settled at last at Basle, which the storm had not yet reached, and
tried to bury himself among his books. The shrieks of the conflict,
however, still troubled his ears. He heard hi