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ulent crowd of little princelings, the good
burghers were more directly at the mercy of their bishops and
prelates. These dignitaries were trying to collect large sums
of money for the benefit of those enormous churches which
were a hobby of the Popes of the Renaissance. The Germans
felt that they were being mulcted and quite naturally they did
not like it.
And then there is the rarely mentioned fact that Germany
was the home of the printing press. In northern Europe books
were cheap and the Bible was no longer a mysterious manu-
script owned and explained by the priest. It was a household
book of many families where Latin was understood by the
father and by the children. Whole families began to read it,
which was against the law of the Church. They discovered that
the priests were telling them many things which, according to
the original text of the Holy Scriptures, were somewhat different.
This caused doubt. People began to ask questions. And
questions, when they cannot be answered, often cause a great
deal of trouble.
The attack began when the humanists of the North opened
fire upon the monks. In their heart of hearts they still had
too much respect and reverence for the Pope to direct their
sallies against his Most Holy Person. But the lazy, ignorant
monks, living behind the sheltering walls of their rich monasteries,
offered rare sport.
The leader in this warfare, curiously enough, was a very
faithful son of the church Gerard Gerardzoon, or Desiderius
Erasmus, as he is usually called, was a poor boy, born in
Rotterdam in Holland, and educated at the same Latin school
of Deventer from which Thomas a Kempis had graduated.
He had become a priest and for a time he had lived in a monastery.
He had travelled a great deal and knew whereof he wrote,
When he began his career as a public pamphleteer (he would
have been called an editorial writer in our day) the world was
greatly amused at an anonymous series of letters which had
just appeared under the title of ``Letters of Obscure Men.''
In these letters, the general stupidity and arrogance of the
monks of the late Middle Ages was exposed in a strange
German-Latin doggerel which reminds one of our modern
limericks. Erasmus himself was a very learned and serious
scholar, who knew both Latin and Greek and gave us the first
reliable version of the New Testament, which he translated
into Latin together with a corrected edition of the original
Greek text. But he believed with Sallust, the Roman poet,
that nothing prevents us from ``stating the truth with a smile
upon our lips.''
In the year 1500, while visiting Sir Thomas More in Eng-
land, he took a few weeks off and wrote a funny little book,
called the ``Praise of Folly,'' in which he attacked the monks
and their credulous followers with that most dangerous of all
weapons, humor. The booklet was the best seller of the sixteenth
century. It was translated into almost every language
and it made people pay attention to those other books of
Erasmus in which he advocated reform of the many abuses of
the church and appealed to his fellow humanists to help him
in his task of bringing about a great rebirth of the Christian
faith.
But nothing came of these excellent plans. Erasmus was
too reasonable and too tolerant to please most of the enemies
of the church. They were waiting for a leader of a more
robust nature.
He came, and his name was Martin Luther.
Luther was a North-German peasant with a first-class
brain and possessed of great personal courage. He was a
university man, a master of arts of the University of Erfurt;
afterwards he joined a Dominican monastery. Then he became
a college professor at the theological school of Wittenberg
and began to explain the scriptures to the indifferent ploughboys
of his Saxon home. He had a lot of spare time and this he used
to study the original texts of the Old and New Testaments.
Soon he began to see the great difference which existed between