"If a means of pacification is sought for, I think it might most easily be accomplished if the pope should command that each person prepare a statement of his own belief and set it forth, without abuse of opposing views, so that the madness of tongue and pen may be restrained, especially by those to whom such control belongs. But if there is a difference, as it often happens that our judgments differ like our tastes, let the whole contention be held within the limits of courtesy and not run over into mad excess. And if there be any point specially touching upon doctrine--for everything ought not to be dragged in, neck and heels, under the head of doctrine--let it be discussed by men who are thoroughly versed in the mysteries of the faith, who will not seek their own interests under the pretence of the faith and who will carry on the affair with prudent judgment, not with seditious disturbances." Erasmus thinks he can easily persuade Campeggio and that the cardinal will easily persuade the excellent Leo. Where the superhuman beings are to be found who will carry out his innocent suggestions he does not say. We are bound to give him credit for any constructive ideas he may have had, and in all his writings there is nothing that comes much nearer to positive constructive planning than this. If one may judge from the letter to Leo, Erasmus' early conception of the Lutheran movement was much like that which prevailed at Rome. It was a squabble of monks; Luther was an Augustinian, Tetzel a Dominican. Most monks were enemies of learning--Luther was a man of learning, but inclined to violence and not willing to keep the matter to a purely intellectual issue. He was, of course, right on many points, but was going too fast and was drawing after him many foolish people, who ought to be held in check by the established powers. Quite the same tone appears in a long letter[128] to Albert of Brandenburg, archbishop of Mainz, the papal agent in the German indulgence of 1517 and the principal clergyman in Germany. Erasmus takes the opportunity of acknowledging the gift of a loving-cup from the archbishop to go at length into the Lutheran question. He reaches it again through the medium of his own personal difficulties. For a time, he says, he had made peace with the "theologians" at Louvain. They were to hold their scandalous tongues; he was to do his best to keep his pen still. If only they had had the archbishop's cup to drink their mutual faith in, the agreement might have lasted longer. As it is, an unhappy letter, badly understood and worse interpreted, has brought on an attack more furious than ever. He begs to explain[129]: [128] iii., 513-D. [129] iii.¹, 514-A.