people." (p. 66f. 87.) Had Luther considered his personal interests as
Erasmus did, he would not have become the Luther that we know. Erasmus
in his day was regarded as the wisest of men; Luther in his own view,
like Paul, frequently had to make a fool of himself in order to achieve
his purpose. For instance, when he wrote against the dullards at the
University of Louvain, against the sacrilegious coterie at Rome that was
running the Church and the world pretty much as they pleased, or against
the brutal "Hans Wurst" (Duke Henry of Brunswick). Erasmus and his
school of gentle reformers always counseled a slackening of the pace and
the use of the soft pedal. Where is Erasmus to-day in the world's
valuation? Even Rome, in whose bosom he nestled, and who fondled him for
a season, has cast him aside as worthless. Luther lives yet, to the
delight not only of Coleridge, but of millions of the world's best men,
who, with the British divine, regard him this very hour as "a purifying
and preserving spirit to Christianity at large."

Luther was conscious of the difference in the method of warfare between
himself and his colaborer Melanchthon. He says: "I am rough, boisterous,
stormy, and altogether warlike. I am born to fight against innumerable
monsters and devils. I must remove stumps and stones, cut away thistles
and thorns, and clear wild forests; but Master Philip comes along softly
and gently, sowing and watering with joy, according to the gifts which
God has abundantly bestowed upon him," (14, 176.)

Dr. Tholuck, writing on "Luther's rashness," says: "What would have
become of the Church if the Lord's servants and prophets had at all
times done nothing else than spread salves upon sores and walk softly?"
He introduces Luther in his own defense: "On one occasion, when asked by
the Marquis Joachim I why he wrote against the princes, he returned the
beautiful answer: 'When God intends to fertilize the ground, He must