liolatry, the "inner-light" pretensions, and the
demonology, which are fruits of the same supernaturalistic tree,
remained in enjoyment of the spiritual and temporal support of a new
infallibility? One does not free a prisoner by merely scraping away the
rust from his shackles.

It will be asked, perhaps, was not the Reformation one of the products
of that great outbreak of many-sided free mental activity included under
the general head of the Renascence? Melanchthon, Ulrich von Hutten,
Beza, were they not all humanists? Was not the arch-humanist, Erasmus,
fautor-in-chief of the Reformation, until he got frightened and basely
deserted it?

From the language of Protestant historians, it would seem that they
often forget that Reformation and Protestantism are by no means
convertible terms. There were plenty of sincere and indeed zealous
reformers, before, during, and after the birth and growth of
Protestantism, who would have nothing to do with it. Assuredly, the
rejuvenescence of science and of art; the widening of the field of
Nature by geographical and astronomical discovery; the revelation of the
noble ideals of antique literature by the revival of classical learning;
the stir of thought, throughout all classes of society, by the printers'
work, loosened traditional bonds and weakened the hold of mediaeval
Supernaturalism. In the interests of liberal culture and of national
welfare, the humanists were eager to lend a hand to anything which
tended to the discomfiture of their sworn enemies, the monks, and they
willingly supported every movement in the direction of weakening
ecclesiastical interference with civil life. But the bond of a common
enemy was the only real tie between the humanist and the protestant;
their alliance was bound to be of short duration, and, sooner or later,
to be replaced by internecine warfare. The goal of the humanists,
whether they were aware of it or not, was the attainment of the complete
intellectual freedom of the antique philosopher, than which nothing
could be more abhorrent to a Luther, a Calvin, a Beza, or a Zwingli.

The key to the comprehension of the conduct of Erasmus, seems to me to
lie in the clear apprehension of this fact. That he was a man of many
weaknesses may be true; in fact, he was quite aware of them and
professed himself no hero. But he never deserted that reformatory
movement which he originally contemplated; and it was impossible he
should have deserted the specif