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 mediæval 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