Luther is a man whose character it is difficult to appreciate exactly. At times he spoke and wrote as if he were endowed with a deeply religious feeling, convinced of the truth of his doctrines, and anxious only for the success of the work for which he professed to believe he had been raised up by God. Some of his sermons sounded like a trumpet call from Heaven, warning the people that the hour for repentance had drawn nigh, while his conversations with his intimate friends breathed at times a spirit of piety and fervour redolent of the apostolic age. This, however, was only one feature of Luther's character, and, unfortunately, it was a feature that manifested itself only too rarely. As a general rule his writings, his sermons and speeches, and, in a word, his whole line of conduct were in direct opposition to everything that is associated generally in the popular mind with the true religious reformer. His replies to his opponents, even to those who, avoiding personalities, addressed themselves directly to his doctrines, were couched in the most violent and abusive language. His wild onslaughts and his demands for vengeance on any one who ventured to question his teaching, whether they were Catholics, Zwinglians, Sacramentarians or Anabaptists, were the very antithesis of the spirit of charity and meekness that should characterise a follower, not to say an apostle, of Christ. Nor were his over-weening pride and self-confidence in keeping with the spirit of meekness and humility inculcated so frequently in the writings of the New Testament. In his letters, and more especially in his familiar intercourse with his friends,[37] his conversation was frequently risky and indecent; his relations with women, at least before his marriage with Catherine Bora, were, to put it mildly, not above suspicion, as is evident from his own letters and the letters of his most devoted supporters; while his references to marriage and vows of chastity in his sermons and pamphlets were filthy and unpardonable even in an age when people were much more outspoken on such subjects than they are at present. Though he insisted strongly on the necessity of preaching the pure Word of God, he had little difficulty in having recourse to falsehood when truth did not serve his purpose, or in justifying his conduct by advocating the principle that not all lies were sinful particularly if they helped to damage the Roman Church. His frequent and enthusiastic references to the pleasures of the table were more like what one should expect to find in the writings of a Pagan epicure than in those of a Christian reformer. He was not, as is sometimes asserted, a habitual drunkard. His tireless activity as a writer and preacher is in itself a sufficient refutation of such a charge, but he was convinced that a hard drinking bout was at times good for both soul and body, and in this respect at least he certainly lived up to his convictions.[38]