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Luther was a man of genius; yet Luther was in this respect no better off
than Spurgeon,--he was as totally destitute of wings, of the possibility
of aerial flight. His power we consider to be far higher than that of
Spurgeon; but this we argue from the fact, that, although equally with
Spurgeon he was excluded from the sovereignty of the air, although he was
equally denied both the faculty to create and the capacity to receive
subtile speculation, he had what Spurgeon has _not_, an almighty,
irresistible _impetus_ in his movements,--movements which, though
_centripetal_, forever seeking the earth, and forever trailing their
mountain-weight of glory along the line of and through the midst of
flesh-and-blood realities, yet never found any impediment in all their
course, but swept the ground like a whirlwind. This distinction between
Spurgeon and Luther in the matter of _strength_ is an important one; and
it is, moreover, a distinction which may easily be derived--even if no
other source lay open to us--from a palpable difference between their
faces. But the resemblance between these two men as to tendencies and
modes of operation is still more important, and especially as helping us
to draw the line between two distinct orders of human genius. Upon this
resemblance we desire to dwell at some length.

Luther and Spurgeon are both grossly _realistic_. They are both
_groundlings_. In their art, they build after the simple, but grand style
of the Cyclops; they have no upward reach; with no delicate steppings do
they haunt the clouds; because they _will_ not soar, they draw the sky
down low about them, and, wrapping themselves about with its thunders and
its sunlights, play with these mysteries as with magnificent toys. In them
there is no subtilizing of human affections, of human fears, or of human
faith. All these maintain their alliance magnetically, by channels seen or
unseen, but forever _felt_, with the earth, and, Antaeus-like, from the
earth they derive all their peculiar strength as sentiments of the human
heart.

How widely different are these men from Bacon, Kant, or Fichte,--or, to
compare them more directly with the artists of literature, by what chasms
of space are they removed from Milton, Shakspeare, and even from Homer,
who, although he was a _realist_, yet had eagles' wings, and was at home
on the earth and in the clouds, amongst heroes, amongst the light-footed
nymphs, and amongst the Olympian gods! In th