So he went riding back and forth, stopping at cities and towns,
nunneries and monasteries, until his name became a familiar one to every
scholar of England, Germany and Italy. Scholarly, always a learner,
always a teacher, gracious, direct, witty, men began to divide on an
Erasmus basis. There were two parties: those for Erasmus and those
against him.
In Fifteen Hundred Seventeen, came Luther with his bombshells of
defiance. This fighting attitude was far from Erasmus--his weapons were
words. Between bouts with prelates, Luther sent a few thunderbolts at
Erasmus, accusing him of vacillation and cowardice. Erasmus replied with
dignity, and entered into a lengthy dispute with Melanchthon, Luther's
friend, on the New Humanism which was finding form in revolution.
Erasmus prophesied that by an easy process of evolution, through
education, the monasteries would all become schools and workshops. He
would not destroy them, but convert them into something different. He
fell into disfavor with the Catholics, and was invited by Henry the
Eighth to come to England and join the new religious regime. But this
English Catholicism was not to the liking of Erasmus. What he desired
was to reform the Church, not to destroy it or divide it.
His affairs were becoming critical: monasteries where he had once been
welcomed now feared to have him come near, lest they should be
contaminated and entangled. It was rumored that warrants of arrest were
out. He was invited to go to Rome and explain his position.
Erasmus knew better than to acknowledge receipt of the letter. He headed
his horse for Switzerland, the land of liberty. At Basel he stopped at
the house of Froben, the great printer and publisher. He put his horse
in the barn, unsaddled him, and said, "Froben, I've come to stay."
* * * * *
I was mousing around the other day in a book that is somewhat disjointed
and disconnected, and yet interesting--"The Standard Dictionary"--when I
came across the word "scamp." It is a handy word to fling, and I am not
sure but that it has been gently tossed once or twice in my direction.
Condemnation is usually a sort of subtle flattery, so I'm not sad. To
scamp means to cut short, to be superficial, slipshod, careless,
indifferent--to say, "Let 'er go, who cares--this is good enough!" If
anybody ever was a stickler for honest work, I am that bucolic party. I
often make things so fine that only one man out of t
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