Still, he married a girl,[84] as yet ver_Erasmus and the Age of Reformation

still untrained--she had always lived in the country with her parents

and sisters--so that he could better fashion her to his own ways. He had

her taught literature and made her skilled in all kinds of music; and he

had really almost made her such as he would have cared to spend all his

life with, had not an untimely death carried her off while still a girl,

but after she had borne him several children: of whom there survive

three girls, Margaret, Alice[85] and Cecily, and one boy, John. He would

not endure to live long a widower, although his friends counselled

otherwise. Within a few months of his wife's death he married a

widow,[86] more for the care of the household than for his pleasure, as

she was not precisely beautiful nor, as he jokingly says himself, a

girl, but a keen and watchful housewife;[87] with whom he yet lives as

pleasantly and agreeably as if she were a most charming young girl.

Hardly any husband gets so much obedience from his wife by stern orders

as he does by jests and cajolery. How could he fail to do so, after

having induced a woman on the verge of old age, also by no means a

docile character, and lastly most attentive to her business, to learn to

play the cithern, the lute, the monochord and the recorders, and perform

a daily prescribed exercise in this at her husband's wish?

[Illustration: XXIX. SIR THOMAS MORE AND HIS FAMILY, 1527]

He rules his whole household as agreeably, no quarrels or disturbances

arise there. If any quarrel does arise he at once heals or settles the

difference; and he has never let anyone leave his house in anger. His

house seems blest indeed with a lucky fate, for none has lived there

without rising to better fortune, and none has ever acquired a stain on

his reputation there. One would be hard put to it to find any agree as

well with their mothers as he with his stepmother--his father had

already given him two, and he loved both of them as truly as he loved

his mother. Recently his father gave him a third stepmother: More swears

his Bible oath he has never seen a better. Moreover, he is so disposed

towards his parents and children as to be neither tiresomely

affectionate nor ever failing in any family duty.

He has a mind altogether opposed to sordid gain. He has put aside from

his fortune for his children an amount which he considers sufficient for

them; the rest he gives away lavishly. While he still made his living at

the Bar he gave sincere and friendly counsel to all, considering his

clients' interests rather than his own; he would persuade most of them

to settle their differences--this would be cheaper. If he failed to

achieve this, he would then show them a method of going to law at the

least possible expense--some people here are so minded that they

actually enjoy litigation. In the City of London, where he was born, he

acted for some years as a judge in civil causes.[88] This office is not

at all onerous--the court sits only on Thursday mornings--but is

regarded as one of the most honourable. None dealt with so many cases as

he, nor behaved with such integrity; he usually remitted the charge

customarily due from litigants (as before the formal entering of the

suit the plaintiff pays into court three shillings, the defendant

likewise, and it is incorrect to demand more). By this behaviour he won

the deep affection of the City.

He had made up his mind to rest content with this position, which was

sufficiently influential and yet not exposed to grave dangers. Twice he

was forced into embassies; as he acted in these with great sagacity.

King Henry VIII would not rest until he could drag More to Court. Why

not call it 'drag'? No man ever worked so assiduously to gain admission

to the Court as he studied to escape it. But when the King decided to

fill his household with men of weight, learning, sagacity and integrity,

More was one of the first among many summoned by him: he regards More so

much as one of his intimate circle that he never lets him depart from

him. If serious matters are to be discussed, there is none more skilled

than he; or if the King decides to relax in pleasant gossiping, there is

no merrier companion. Often difficult affairs require a weighty and

sagacious arbitrator; More solves these matters with such success that

both parties are grateful. Yet no one has ever succeeded in persuading

him to accept a present from anyone. How happy the states would be if

the ruler everywhere put magistrates like More in office! Meanwhile he

has acquired no trace of haughtiness.

Amid all these official burdens he does not forget his old friends and

from time to time returns to his beloved literature. All the authority

of his office, all his influence with the King, is devoted to the

service of the State and of his friends. His mind, eager to serve all

and wondrously prone to pity, has ever been present to help: he will now

be better able to help others, as he has greater power. Some he assists

with money, some he protects with his authority, others he advances by

introductions; those whom he cannot help otherwise he aids with counsel,

and he has never sent anyone away disappointed. You might call More the

common advocate of all those in need. He regards himself as greatly

enriched when he assists the oppressed, extricates the perplexed and

involved, or reconciles the estranged. None confers a benefit so gladly,

none is so slow to upbraid. And although he is fortunate on so many

counts, and good fortune is often associated with boastfulness, it has

never yet been my lot to meet any man so far removed from this vice.

But I must return to recounting his studies--it was these which chiefly

brought More and myself together. In his youth he chiefly practised

verse composition, afterwards he worked hard and long to polish his

prose, practising his style in all kinds of composition. What that style

is like, I need not describe--particularly not to you, who always have

his books in your hands. He especially delighted in composing

declamations, and in these liked paradoxical themes, for the reason that

this offers keener practice to the wits. This caused him, while still a

youth, to compose a dialogue in which he defended Plato's Communism,

even to the community of wives. He wrote a rejoinder to Lucian's

_Tyrannicide_; in this theme he desired to have me as his antagonist, to

make a surer trial of his progress in this branch of letters. His

_Utopia_ was published with the aim of showing the causes of the bad

condition of states; but was chiefly a portrait of the British State,

which he has thoroughly studied and explored. He had written the second

book first in his leisure hours, and added the first book on the spur of

the moment later, when the occasion offered. Some of the unevenness of

the style is due to this.

One could hardly find a better _ex tempore_ speaker: a happy talent has

complete command of a happy turn of speech. He has a present wit, always

flying ahead, and a ready memory; and having all this ready to hand, he

can promptly and unhesitatingly produce whatever the subject or occasion

requires. In arguments he is unimaginably acute, so that he often

puzzles the best theologians on their own ground. John Colet, a man of

keen and exact judgement, often observes in intimate conversation that

Britain has only one genius: although this island is rich in so many

fine talents.

[Illustration: XXX. ERASMUS AT THE AGE OF 54]

He diligently cultivates true piety, while being remote from all

superstitious observance. He has set hours in which he offers to God not

the customary prayers but prayers from the heart. With his friends he

talks of the life of the world to come so that one sees that he speaks

sincerely and not without firm hope. Such is More even in the Court. And

then there are those who think that Christians are to be found only in

monasteries!... There you have a portrait not very well drawn by a very

bad artist from a most excellent model. You will like it less if you

happen to come to know More better. But for the time being I have

prevented your being able to cast in my teeth my failure to obey you,

and always accusing me of writing too short letters. Still, this did not

seem long to me as I was writing it, and I know that you will not find

it long drawn out as you read it: our friend More's charm will see to

that. Farewell.

XVI. TO WILLIBALD PIRCKHEIMER[89]

Basle, 14 March 1525

To the illustrious Willibald Pirckheimer, greetings:

... I received safely the very pretty ring which you desired me to have

as a memento of you. I know that gems are prized as bringing safety when

one has a fall. But they say too, that if the fall was likely to be

fatal, the evil is diverted on to the gem, so that it is seen to be

broken after the accident. Once in Britain I fell with my horse from a

fairly high bank: no damage was found to me or my horse, yet the gem I

was wearing was whole. It was a present from Alexander, Archbishop of

St. Andrews,[90] whom I think you know from my writings. When I left him

at Siena, he drew it off his finger and handing it to me said: 'Take

this as a pledge of our friendship that will never die.' And I kept my

pledged faith with him even after his death, celebrating my friend's

memory in my writings. There is no part of life into which magical

superstition has not insinuated itself: if gems have some great virtue,

I could have wished in these days for a ring with an efficacious remedy

against 'slander's tooth.' As to the belief about falls, I shall follow

your advice--I shall prefer to believe rather than risk myself.

Portraits are less precious than jewels--I have received from you a

medallic and a painted portrait--but at least they bring my Willibald

more vividly before me. Alexander the Great would only allow himself to

be painted by Apelles's hand. You have found your Apelles in Albrecht

Duerer,[91] an artist of the first rank and no less to be admired for his

remarkable good sense. If only you had likewise found some Lysippus[92]

to cast the medal! I have the medal of you on the righthand wall of my

bedroom, the painting on the left; whether writing or walking up and

down, I have Willibald before my eyes, so that if I wanted to forget you

I could not. Though I have a more retentive memory for friends than for

anything else. Certainly Willibald could not be forgotten by me, even

were there no memento, no portraits, no letters to refresh my memory of

him. There is another very pleasant thing--the portraits often occasion

a talk about you when my friends come to visit me. If only our letters

travelled safely, how little we should miss of each other! You have a

medal of me. I should not object to having my portrait painted by

Duerer,[93] that great artist; but how this can be done I do not see.

Once at Brussels he sketched me, but after a start had been made the

work was interrupted by callers from the Court. Though I have long been

a sad model for painters, and am likely to become a sadder one still as

the days go on.[94] I read with pleasure what you write, as witty as it

is wise, on the agitations of certain persons who are destroying the

evangelical movement, to which they imagine themselves to be doing

splendid service: and I have much to tell you in my turn about this. But

this will be another time, when I have more leisure. Farewell.

XVII. TO MARTIN LUTHER

Basle, 11 April 1526

To Martin Luther, greetings:

... Your letter has been delivered too late;[95] but had it arrived in

the best of time, it would not have moved me one whit. I am not so

simple as to be appeased by one or two pleasantries or soothed by

flattery after receiving so many more than mortal wounds. Your nature is

by now known to all the world, but you have so tempered your pen that

never have you written against anyone so frenziedly, nay, what is more

abominable, so maliciously. Now it occurs to you that you are a weak

sinner, whereas at other times you insist almost on being taken for God.

You are a man, as you write, of violent temperament, and you take

pleasure in this remarkable argument. Why then did you not pour forth

this marvellous piece of invective on the Bishop of Rochester[96] or on

Cochleus?[97] They attack you personally and provoke you with insults,

while my _Diatribe_[98] was a courteous disputation. And what has all

this to do with the subject--all this facetious abuse, these slanderous

lies, charging me with atheism, Epicureanism, scepticism in articles of

the Christian profession, blasphemy, and what not--besides many other

points on which I[99] am silent? I take these charges the less hardly,

because in all this there is nothing to make my conscience disturb me.

If I did not think as a Christian of God and the Holy Scriptures, I

could not wish my life prolonged even until tomorrow. If you had

conducted your case with your usual vehemence, without frenzied abuse,

you would have provoked fewer men against you: as things are, you have

been pleased to fill more than a third part of the volume with such

abuse, giving free rein to your feelings. How far you have given way to

me the facts themselves show--so many palpable crimes do you fasten on

me; while my _Diatribe_ was not even intended to stir up those matters

which the world itself knows of.

You imagine, I suppose, that Erasmus has no supporters. More than you

think. But it does not matter what happens to us two, least of all to

myself who must shortly go hence, even if the whole world were

applauding us: it is _this_ that distresses me, and all the best spirits

with me, that with that arrogant, impudent, seditious temperament of

yours you are shattering the whole globe in ruinous discord, exposing

good men and lovers of good learning to certain frenzied Pharisees,

arming for revolt the wicked and the revolutionary, and in short so

carrying on the cause of the Gospel as to throw all things sacred and

profane into chaos; as if you were eager to prevent this storm from

turning at last to a happy issue; I have ever striven towards such an

opportunity. What you owe me, and in what coin you have repaid me--I do

not go into that. All that is a private matter; it is the public

disaster which distresses me, and the irremediable confusion of

everything, for which we have to thank only your uncontrolled nature,

that will not be guided by the wise counsel of friends, but easily turns

to any excess at the prompting of certain inconstant swindlers. I know

not whom you have saved from the power of darkness; but you should have

drawn the sword of your pen against those ungrateful wretches and not

against a temperate disputation. I would have wished you a better mind,

were you not so delighted with your own. Wish me what you will, only not

your mind, unless God has changed it for you.

XVIII. TO THEOPHRASTUS PARACELSUS[100]

Basle, _c._ March 1527

To the most skilled physician Theophrastus of Einsiedeln, etc.,

greetings:

... It is not incongruous to wish continued spiritual health to the

medical man through whom God gives us physical health. I wonder how you

know me so thoroughly, having seen me once only. I recognize how very

true are your dark sayings, not by the art of medicine, which I have

never learned, but from my own wretched sensations. I have felt pains in

the region of the liver in the past, and could not divine the source of

the trouble. I have seen the fat from the kidneys in my water many years

ago. Your third point[101] I do not quite understand, nevertheless it

appears to be convincing.

As I told you, I have no time for the next few days to be doctored, or

to be ill, or to die, so overwhelmed am I with scholarly work. But if

there is anything which can alleviate the trouble without weakening the

body, I beg you to inform me. If you will be so good as to explain at

greater length your very concise and more than laconic notes, and

prescribe other remedies which I can take until I am free, I cannot

promise you a fee to match your art or the trouble you have taken, but I

do at least promise you a grateful heart.

You have resurrected Froben[102], that is, my other half: if you restore

me also, you will have restored both of us by treating each of us

singly. May we have the good fortune to keep you in Basle!

I fear you may not be able to read this letter dashed off immediately

[after receiving yours]. Farewell.

Erasmus of Rotterdam, by his own hand.

XIX. TO MARTIN BUCER[103]

Basle, 11 November 1527

Best greetings:

You plead the cause of Capito with some rhetorical skill; but I see

that, eloquent advocate as you are otherwise, you are not sufficiently

well equipped to undertake his defence. Were I to advance my battle-line

of conjectures and proofs, you would realize that you had to devise a

different speech. But I have had too much of squabbling, and do not

easily bestir myself against men whom I once sincerely loved. What the

Knight of Eppendorff[104] ventures or does not venture to do is his

concern; only that he returns too frequently to this game. I shall not

involve Capito in the drama unless he involves himself again; let him

not think me such a fool as not to know what is in question. But I have

written myself on these matters. Furthermore, as to your pleading your

own cause and that of your church, I think it better not to give any

answer, because this matter would require a very lengthy oration, even

if it were not a matter of controversy. This is merely a brief answer on

scattered points.

The person who informed me about 'languages'[105] is one whose

trustworthiness not even you would have esteemed lightly; and he thinks

no ill of you. Indeed I have never disliked you as far as concerns

private feelings. There are persons living in your town who were

chattering here about 'all the disciplines having been invented by

godforsaken wretches'. Certainly persons of this description, whatever

name must be given them, are in the ascendancy everywhere, all studies

are neglected and come to a standstill. At Nuremberg the City Treasury

has hired lecturers, but there is no one to attend their lectures.

You assemble a number of conjectures as to why I have not joined your

church. But you must know that the first and most important of all the

reasons which withheld me from associating myself with it was my

conscience: if my conscience could have been persuaded that this

movement proceeded from God, I should have been now long since a soldier

in your camp. The second reason is that I see many in your group who are

strangers to all Evangelical soundness. I make no mention of rumours and

suspicions, I speak of things learned from experience, nay, learned to

my own injury; things experienced not merely from the mob, but from men

who appear to be of some worth, not to mention the leading men. It is

not for me to judge of what I know not: the world is wide. I know some

as excellent men before they became devotees of your faith, what they

are now like I do not know: at all events I have learned that several of

them have become worse and none better, so far as human judgement can

discern.

The third thing which deterred me is the intense discord between the

leaders of the movement. Not to mention the Prophets and the

Anabaptists, what embittered pamphlets Zwingli, Luther and Osiander

write against each other! I have never approved the ferocity of the

leaders, but it is provoked by the behaviour of certain persons; when

they ought to have made the Gospel acceptable by holy and forbearing

conduct, if you really had what you boast of. Not to speak of the

others, of what use was it for Luther to indulge in buffoonery in that

fashion against the King of England, when he had undertaken a task so

arduous with the general approval? Was he not reflecting as to the role

he was sustaining? Did he not realize that the whole world had its eyes

turned on him alone? And this is the chief of this movement; I am not

particularly angry with him for treating me so scurrilously: but his

betrayal of the cause of the Gospel, his letting loose princes, bishops,

pseudo-monks and pseudo-theologians against good men, his having made

doubly hard our slavery, which is already intolerable--that is what

tortures my mind. And I seem to see a cruel and bloody century ahead, if

the provoked section gets its breath again, which it is certainly now

doing. You will say that there is no crowd without an admixture of

wicked men. Certainly it was the duty of the principal men to exercise

special care in matters of conduct, and not be even on speaking terms

with liars, perjurors, drunkards and fornicators. As it is I hear and

almost _see_, that things are far otherwise. If the husband had found

his wife more amenable, the teacher his pupil more obedient, the

magistrate the citizen more tractable, the employer his workman more

trustworthy, the buyer the seller less deceitful, it would have been

great recommendation for the Gospels. As things are, the behaviour of

certain persons has had the effect of cooling the zeal of those who at

first, owing to their love of piety and abhorrence of Pharisaism, looked

with favour on this movement; and the princes, seeing a disorderly host

springing up in its wake made up of vagabonds, fugitives, bankrupts,

naked, wretched and for the most part even wicked men, are cursing, even

those who in the beginning had been hopeful.

It is not without deep sorrow that I speak of all this, not only because

I foresee that a business wrongly handled will go from bad to worse, but

also because at last I shall myself have to suffer for it. Certain

rascals say that my writings are to blame for the fact that the

scholastic theologians and monks are in several places becoming less

esteemed than they would like, that ceremonies are neglected, and that

the supremacy of the Roman Pontiff is disregarded; when it is quite dear

from what source this evil has sprung. They were stretching too tight

the rope which is now breaking. They almost set the Pope's authority

above Christ's, they measured all piety by ceremonies, and tightened the

hold of the confession to an enormous extent, while the monks lorded it

without fear of punishment, by now meditating open tyranny. As a result

'the stretched string snapped', as the proverb has it; it could not be

otherwise. But I sorely fear that the same will happen one day to the

princes, if they too continue to stretch _their_ rope too tightly.

Again, the other side having commenced the action of their drama as they

did, no different ending was possible. May we not live to see worse

horrors!

However it was the duty of the leaders of this movement, if Christ was

their goal, to refrain not only from vice, but even from every

appearance of evil; and to offer not the slightest stumbling block to

the Gospel, studiously avoiding even practices which, although allowed,

are yet not expedient. Above all they should have guarded against all

sedition. If they had handled the matter with sincerity and moderation,

they would have won the support of the princes and bishops: for they

have not all been given up for lost. And they should not have heedlessly

wrecked anything without having something better ready to put in its

place. As it is, those who have abandoned the Hours do not pray at all.

Many who have put off pharisaical clothing are worse in other matters

than they were before. Those who disdain the episcopal regulations do

not even obey the commandments of God. Those who disregard the careful

choice of foods indulge in greed and gluttony. It is a long-drawn-out

tragedy, which every day we partly hear ourselves and partly learn of

from others. I never approved of the abolition of the Mass, even though

I have always disliked these mean and money-grabbing mass-priests. There

were other things also which could have been altered without causing

riots. As things are, certain persons are not satisfied with any of the

accepted practices; as if a new world could be built of a sudden. There

will always be things which the pious must endure. If anyone thinks that

Mass ought to be abolished because many misuse it, then the Sermon

should be abolished also, which is almost the only custom accepted by

your party. I feel the same about the invocation of the saints and about

images.

Your letter demanded a lengthy reply, but even this letter is very long,

with all that I have to do. I am told that you have a splendid gift for

preaching the Word of the Gospel, and that you conduct yourself more

courteously than do many. So I could wish that with your good sense you

would strive to the end that this movement, however it began, may

through firmness and moderation in doctrine and integrity of conduct be

brought to a conclusion worthy of the Gospel. To this end I shall help

you to the best of my ability. As it is, although the host of monks and

certain theologians assail me with all their artifices, nothing will

induce me wittingly to cast away my soul. You will have the good sense

not to circulate this letter, lest it cause any disturbance. We would

have more discussions if we could meet. Farewell. I had no time to read

this over.

Erasmus of Rotterdam, by my own hand.

[Illustration: XXXI. ERASMUS AT THE AGE OF 60]

XX. TO ALFONSO VALDES[106]

Basle, 1 August 1528

To the most illustrious Alfonso Valdes, Secretary to His Imperial

Majesty, greetings:

... I have learned very plainly from other men's letters what you

indicate very discreetly, as is your way--that there are some who seek

to make _Terminus_,[107] the seal on my ring, an occasion for slander,

protesting that the addition of the device _Concedo nulli_ [I yield to

none] shows intolerable arrogance. What is this but some fatal malady,

consisting in misrepresenting everything? Momus[108] is ridiculed for

criticizing Venus's slipper; but these men outdo Momus himself, finding

something to carp at in a ring. I would have called _them_ Momuses, but

Momus carps at nothing but what he has first carefully inspected. These

fault-finders, or rather false accusers, criticize with their eyes shut

what they neither see nor understand: so violent is the disease. And

meanwhile they think themselves pillars of the Church, whereas all they

do is to expose their stupidity combined with a malice no less extreme,

when they are already more notorious than they should be. They are

dreaming if they think it is Erasmus who says _Concedo nulli_. But if

they read my writings they would see that there is none so humble that I

rank myself above him, being more liable to yield to all than to none.

[Illustration: XXXII. ERASMUS'S DEVICE]

Now those who know me intimately from close association will attribute

any vice to me sooner than arrogance, and will acknowledge that I am

closer to the Socratic utterance, 'This alone I know, that I know

nothing,' than to this, 'I yield to none.' But if they imagine that I

have so insolent a mind as to put myself before all others, do they also

think me such a fool as to profess this in a device? If they had any

Christian feeling they would understand those words either as not mine

or as bearing another meaning. They see there a sculptured figure, in

its lower part a stone, in its upper part a youth with flying hair. Does

this look like Erasmus in any respect? If this is not enough, they see

written on the stone itself _Terminus_: if one takes this as the last

word, that will make an iambic dimeter acatalectic, _Concedo nulli

Terminus_; if one begins with this word, it will be a trochaic dimeter

acatalectic, _Terminus concedo nulli_. What if I had painted a lion and

added as a device 'Flee, unless you prefer to be torn to pieces'? Would

they attribute these words to me instead of the lion? But what they are

doing now is just as foolish; for if I mistake not, I am more like a

lion than a stone.

They will argue, 'We did not notice that it was verse, and we know

nothing about Terminus.' Is it then to be a crime henceforward to have

written verse, because _they_ have not learned the theory of metre? At

least, as they knew that in devices of this kind one actually aims at a

certain degree of obscurity in order to exercise the guessing powers of

those who look at them, if they did not know of Terminus--although they

could have learned of him from the books of Augustine or Ambrose--they

should have inquired of experts in this kind of matter. In former times

field boundaries were marked with some sign. This was a stone projecting

above the earth, which the laws of the ancients ordered never to be

moved; here belongs the Platonic utterance, 'Remove not what thou hast

not planted.' The law was reinforced by a religious awe, the better to

deter the ignorant multitude from daring to remove the stone, by making

it believe that to violate the stone was to violate a god in it, whom

the Romans call Terminus, and to him there was also dedicated a shrine

and a festival, the Terminalia. This god Terminus, as the Roman

historian has it, was alone in refusing to yield to Jupiter because

'while the birds allowed the deconsecration of all the other

sanctuaries, in the shrine of Terminus alone they were

unpropitious.'[109] Livy tells this story in the first book of his

_History_, and again in Book 5 he narrates how 'when after the taking of

auguries the Capitol was being cleared, Juventas [Youth] and Terminus

would not allow themselves to be moved.'[110] This omen was welcomed

with universal rejoicing, for they believed that it portended an eternal

empire. The _youth_ is useful for war, and _Terminus_ is fixed.

Here they will exclaim perchance, 'What have _you_ to do with a mythical

god?' He came to me, I did not adopt him. When I was called to Rome, and

Alexander, titular Archbishop of St. Andrews,[111] was summoned home

from Siena by his father King James of Scotland, as a grateful and

affectionate pupil he gave me several rings for a memento of our time

together. Among these was one which had _Terminus_ engraved on the

jewel; an Italian interested in antiquities had pointed this out, which

I had not known before. I seized on the omen and interpreted it as a

warning that the term of my existence was not far off--at that time I

was in about my fortieth year. To keep this thought in my mind I began

to seal my letters with this sign. I added the verse, as I said before.

And so from a heathen god I made myself a device, exhorting me to

correct my life. For Death is truly a boundary which knows no yielding

to any. But in the medal there is added in Greek, [Greek: Ora telos

makrou biou], that is, 'Consider the end of a long life,' in Latin _Mors

ultima linea rerum_. They will say, 'You could have carved on it a dead

man's skull.' Perhaps I should have accepted that, if it had come my

way: but this pleased me, because it came to me by chance, and then

because it had a double charm for me; from the allusion to an ancient

and famous story, and from its obscurity, a quality specially belonging

to devices.

There is my defence on _Terminus_, or better say on hair-splitting. And

if only they would at last set a _term_ to their misrepresentations! I

will gladly come to an agreement with them to change my device, if they

will change their malady. Indeed by so doing they would be doing more

for their own authority, which they complain is being undermined by the

lovers of good learning. I myself am assuredly so far from desiring to

injure their reputation that I am deeply pained at their delivering

themselves over to the ridicule of the whole world by these stupid

tricks, and not blushing to find themselves confuted with mockery on

every occasion. The Lord keep you safe in body and soul, my beloved

friend in Christ.

XXI. TO CHARLES BLOUNT[112]

Freiburg im Breisgau, 1 March 1531

To the noble youth Charles Mountjoy, greetings:

... I have determined to dedicate to you Livy, the prince of Latin

history; already many times printed, but never before in such a

magnificent or accurate edition: and if this is not enough, augmented by

five books recently discovered; these were found by some good genius in

the library of the monastery at Lorsch by Simon Grynaeus,[113] a man at

once learned without arrogance in all branches of literature and at the

same time born for the advancement of liberal studies. Now this

monastery was built opposite Worms, or Berbethomagium, by Charlemagne

seven hundred years and more ago, and equipped with great store of

books; for this was formerly the special care of princes, and this is

usually the most precious treasure of the monasteries. The original

manuscript was one of marvellous antiquity, painted[114] in the antique

fashion with the letters in a continuous series, so that it has proved

very difficult to separate word from word, unless one is knowledgeable,

careful and trained for this very task. This caused much trouble in

preparing a copy to be handed to the printer's men for their use; a

careful and faithful watch was kept to prevent any departure from the

original in making the copy. So if the poor fragment which came to us

recently from Mainz was justly welcomed by scholars with great

rejoicing,[115] what acclamation should greet this large addition to

Livy's _History_?

Would to God that this author could be restored to us complete and

entire. There are rumours flying round that give some hope of this: men

boast of unpublished Liviana existing, now in Denmark, now in Poland,

now in Germany. At least now that fortune has given us these remnants

against all men's expectations, I do not see why we should despair of

the possibility of finding still more. And here, in my opinion at least,

the princes would be acting worthily if they offered rewards and

attracted scholars to the search for such a treasure, or prevailed upon

them to publish--if there are perchance any who are suppressing and

hiding away to the great detriment of studies something in a fit state

to be of public utility. For it seems perfectly absurd that men will dig

through the bowels of the earth almost down to Hades at vast peril and

expense in order to find a little gold or silver: and yet will utterly

disregard treasures of this kind, as far above those others in value as

the soul excels the body, and not consider them worth searching for.

This is the spirit of Midases, not of princes; and as I know that your

character is utterly at variance with this spirit, I doubt not that you

will most eagerly welcome this great gain. Now, there are chiefly two

considerations which remove all possible doubt as to this half-decade's

being genuinely by Livy: in the first place that of the diction itself,

which in all features recalls its author: secondly that of the arguments

or epitomes of Floras, which correspond exactly with these books.

And so, knowing that there is no kind of reading more fitting for men of

note than that of the historians, of whom Livy is easily the chief (I

speak of the Roman historians), particularly as we have nothing of

Sallust beyond two fragments, and bearing in mind what an insatiable

glutton, so to speak, your father has always been for history (and I

doubt not that you resemble him in this also): I thought I should not be

acting incongruously in publishing these five books with a special

dedication to you. Although in this point I should not wish you to

resemble your father too closely. He is in the way of poring over his

books every day from dinner until midnight, which is wearisome to his

wife and attendants and a cause of much grumbling among the servants; so

far he has been able to do this without loss of health; still, I do not

think it wise for you to take the same risk, which may not turn out as

successfully. Certainly when your father was studying along with the

present king while still a young man, they read chiefly history, with

the strong approval of his father Henry VII, a king of remarkable

judgement and good sense.

Joined to this edition is the Chronology of Henry Glareanus, a man of

exquisite and many-sided learning, whose indefatigable industry refines,

adorns and enriches with the liberal disciplines not the renowned

Gymnasium at Freiburg alone, but this whole region as well. The

Chronology shows the order of events, the details of the wars, and the

names of persons, in which up till now there has reigned astonishing

confusion, brought about through the fault of the scribes and dabblers

in learning. Yet this was the sole guiding light of history! Without

this Pole star our navigation on the ocean of history is completely

blind: and without this thread to help him, the reader becomes involved

in an inextricable maze, learned though he be, in these labyrinths of

events. If you consider your letter well repaid by this gift, it will

now be your turn to write me a letter. Farewell.

XXII. TO BARTHOLOMEW LATOMUS[116]

Basle, 24 August 1535

To Bartholomew Latomus, greetings:

... In apologizing for your silence you are wasting your time, believe

me; I am not in the habit of judging tried friends by this common

courtesy. It would be impudent of me to charge you with an omission

which you have an equal right to accuse me of in turn.... The heads of

the colleges are not doing anything new. They are afraid of their own

revenues suffering, this being the sole aim of most of them. You would

scarcely believe to what machinations they stooped at Louvain in their

efforts to prevent a trilingual college being established. I worked

strenuously in the matter, and have made myself accordingly very

unpopular. There was an attempt to set up a chair of languages at

Tournai, but the University of Louvain and the Franciscans at Tournai

did not rest until the project was abandoned. The house erected for this

purpose overlooked the Franciscans' garden--that was the cause of the

trouble....

I have had a long life, counting in years; but were I to calculate the

time spent in wrestling with fever, the stone and the gout, I have not

lived long. But we must patiently bear whatever the Lord has sent upon

us, Whose will no one can resist, and Who alone knows what is good for

us.... The glory [of an immortal name] moves me not at all, I am not

anxious over the applause of posterity. My one concern and desire is to

depart hence with Christ's favour.

Many French nobles have fled here for fear of the winter storm, after

having been recalled.[117] 'The lion shall roar, who shall not fear?'

says the Prophet.[118] A like terror has seized the English, from an

unlike cause. Certain monks have been beheaded and among them a monk of

the Order of St. Bridget[119] was dragged along the ground, then hanged,

and finally drawn and quartered. There is a firm and probable rumour

here that the news of the Bishop of Rochester having been co-opted by

Paul III as a cardinal caused the King to hasten his being dragged out

of prison and beheaded--his method of conferring the scarlet hat. It is

all too true that Thomas More has been long in prison and his fortune

confiscated. It was being said that he too had been executed, but I have

no certain news as yet.[120] Would that he had never embroiled himself

in this perilous business and had left the theological cause to the

theologians. The other friends who from time to time honoured me with

letters and gifts now send nothing and write nothing from fear, and

accept nothing from anyone, as if under every stone there slept a

scorpion.

It seems that the Pope is seriously thinking of a Council here. But I do

not see how it is to meet in the midst of such dissension between

princes and lands. The whole of Lower Germany is astonishingly infected

with Anabaptists: in Upper Germany they pretend not to notice them. They

are pouring in here in droves; some are on their way to Italy. The

Emperor is besieging Goletta; in my opinion there is more danger from

the Anabaptists.

I do not think that France is entirely free of this plague; but they are

silent there for fear of the cudgel....

Now I must tell you something about my position which will amuse you. I

had written to Paul III at the instance of Louis Ber, the distinguished

theologian. Before unsealing the letter he spoke of me with great

respect. And as he had to make several scholars cardinals for the coming

Council, the name of Erasmus was proposed among others. But obstacles

were mentioned, my health, not strong enough for the duties, and my low

income; for they say there is a decree which excludes from this office

those whose annual income is less than 3,000 ducats. Now they are busy

heaping benefices on me, so that I can acquire the proper income from

these and receive the red hat. The proverbial cat in court-dress. I have

a friend in Rome who is particularly active in the business; in vain

have I warned him more than once by letter that I want no cures or

pensions, that I am a man who lives from day to day, and every day

expecting death, often longing for it, so horrible sometimes are the

pains. It is hardly safe for me to put a foot outside my bedroom, and

even the merest trifle upsets me.[121] With my peculiar, emaciated body

I can only stand warm air. And in this condition they want to push me

forward as a candidate for benefices and cardinals' hats! But meanwhile

I am gratified by the Supreme Pontiff's delusions about me and his

feelings towards me. But I am being more wordy than I intended. I should

easily forgive your somewhat lengthy letter, if you were to repeat that

fault often.... Farewell.

FOOTNOTES:

[21] Servatius Roger (d. 1540), whom Erasmus came to know as a young

monk soon after his entry into Steyn, became eighth Prior of Steyn; it

was as Prior that he wrote to Erasmus in 1514 to urge him to return to

the monastery, see pp. 11, 87 f., 212 ff.

[22] Juvenal, ix. 18-20.

[23] N. Werner (d. 5 September 1504), later Prior of Steyn.

[24] Probably James Stuart, brother of James IV of Scotland, Archbishop

of St. Andrews, 1497, aged about twenty-one at this time.

[25] Relative of John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester. Took his doctor's

degree in Italy, returned to England 1507.

[26] William Grocyn (_c._ 1446-1519), Fellow of New College, one of the

first to teach Greek in Oxford.

[27] Thomas Linacre (_c._ 1460-1524), Fellow of All Souls College,

Oxford, 1484. Translator of Galen. Helped to found the College of

Physicians, 1518.

[28] James Batt (1464?-1502), secretary to the council of the town of

Bergen.

[29] Anne of Burgundy, the Lady of Veere (1469?-1518), patroness of

Erasmus until 1501-2, when she remarried.

[30] i.e. to replace Greek words either corrupted or omitted. Erasmus is

here referring probably to the text of the _Letters_ of Jerome; he uses

the same expression in his letter of 21 May 1515 to Leo X (Allen 335, v.

268 ff.): 'I have purified the text of the Letters ... and carefully

restored the Greek, which was either missing altogether or inserted

incorrectly'.

[31] Brother of Henry of Bergen (Bishop of Cambrai) and by this time

Abbot of St. Bertin at St. Omer, where he was forcibly installed by his

brother the bishop in 1493.

[32] 'And my sin is ever before me,' where _contra_ could be rendered as

either 'before' or 'against'; the ambiguity is resolved by referring to

the Greek, where [Greek: enopion] = face to face with.

[33] Apparently a loose statement of the _Constitutions_ of Clement V,

promulgated after the Council of Vienne, 1311-12, Bk. 5, tit. 1, cap. 1,

in which for the better conversion of infidels it was ordained that two

teachers for each of the three languages, Hebrew, Arabic, and Chaldaean

be appointed in each of the four Universities, Paris, Oxford, Bologna

and Salamanca. Greek was included in the original list, but afterwards

omitted.

[34] Probably George Hermonymus of Sparta.

[35] Cf. Juvenal, iii.78. (_Graeculus esuriens_.)

[36] William Warham (1450?-1532) became Archbishop of Canterbury in

1503, Lord Chancellor of England, 1504-15, Chancellor of Oxford

University from 1506. This letter forms the preface to _Hecuba_ in

_Euripidis_ ... _Hecuba et Iphigenia; Latinae factae Erasmo Roterodamo

interprete_, Paris, J. Badius, September 1506.

[37] [Greek: en to pitho ten kerameian], i.e., to run before one can

walk, to make a winejar being the most advanced job in pottery.

[38] Politian translated parts of Iliad, 2-5 into Latin hexameters,

dedicating the work to Lorenzo dei Medici. Published by A. Mai,

Spicilegium Romanum, ii.

[39] Nicholas de Valle translated the _Works and Days_ (_Georgica_),

Bonninus Mombritius the _Theogonia_.

[40] Martin Phileticus.

[41] No. 3; his Funeral Orations were printed _c._ 1481 at Milan.

[42] Aldus Manutius (1449-1515) founded the Aldine Press at Venice,

1494.

[43] Published by Aldus, 1513.

[44] Published by Aldus, 1528.

[45] Published by Aldus, 1518, although projected in 1499.

[46] _Euripidis ... Hecuba et Iphigenia_ [in Aulide]; _Latinae factae

Erasmo Roterodamo interprete_, Paris, J. Badius, 13 September 1506.

Reprinted by Aldus at Venice, December 1507 (and by Froben at Basle in

1518 and 1524).

[47] Thomas More (1478-1535). This letter is the preface to the _Moriae

Encomium_, published by Gilles Gourmont at Paris without date, reprinted

by Schuerer at Strasbourg, August 1511.

[48] The Greek 'laughing philosopher'.

[49] John Colet (1466?-1519), Dean of St. Paul's 1504, had founded St.

Paul's School in the previous year (1510).

[50] Raffaele Riario (1461-1521), Leo X's most formidable rival in the

election of 1513.

[51] Francesco Alidosi of Imola, d. 1511.

[52] Robert Guibe(_c._ 1456-1513), Cardinal of St. Anastasia and Bishop

of Nantes (1507).

[53] Leo X.

[54] Wolsey.

[55] _Enchiridion militis Christiani_, printed in _Lucubratiunculae_,

1503.

[56] A new and enlarged edition under the title _Adagiorum Chiliades_,

printed by Aldus in 1508.

[57] _De duplici copia verborum ac rerum commentarii duo_, Paris,

Badius, 1512.

[58] The Hebrew scholar, who adhered to the Reformation, 1523.

[59] F. Ximenes (1436-1517), confessor of Queen Isabella, Archbishop of

Toledo, 1495, founded Alcala University, 1500; he promoted the Polyglot

Bible.

[60] (1428-1524), taught medicine at Ferrara and made translations from

Aristotle, Dio Cassius, Galen and Hippocrates.

[61] (d. 1525) Professor of Medicine at Naples, and from 1507 at Venice;

physician to Aldus's household, where he met Erasmus.

[62] (1466-1532), physician, astronomer and humanist; learned Greek with

Erasmus in Paris. He was physician to the Court of Francis I.

[63] (1479-1537), Dean of the Medical Faculty at Paris, 1508-9, and

Physician to Francis I.

[64] (1467/8-1540), the Parisian humanist, whose _Annotationes in xxiv

Pandectarum libros_ were published by Badius in 1508.

[65] Ulrich Zaesi or Zasius (1461-1535) Lector Ordinarius in Laws at

Freiburg from 1506 until his death.

[66] Henry Loriti of canton Glarus, usually known as Glareanus

(1488-1563), had an academy at Basle where he took in thirty boarders.

[67] Published at Basle, March 1519.

[68] A translation of Galen's _Methodus medendi_, not printed until June

1519. Lupset supervised the printing.

[69] This may be the _De pueris statim ac liberaliter instituendis_,

composed in Italy. More writes to Erasmus in 1516 (Allen 502) that he

has received part of the MS. from Lupset, but it was not published until

1529.

[70] Luther's _Theses_, posted 31 October 1517 and printed shortly

afterwards at Wittenberg.

[71] The proposals for a crusade drawn up at Rome, 16 November 1517.

[72] The _Julius Exclusus_, an attack on Pope Julius II, who died 1513.

Erasmus never directly denied his authorship, and More speaks of a copy

in Erasmus's hand (Allen 502).

[73] Beat Bild (1485-1547), whose family came from Rheinau near

Schlettstadt, became M.A., Paris, in 1505. He worked as a corrector at

Henry Stephanus's press in Paris, with Schuerer in Strasbourg, and from

1511 for fifteen years with Amerbach and Froben in Basle, where he

edited and superintended the publication of numerous books.

[74] Haecceity, 'thisness', 'individuality', t.t. of Scotistic

philosophy, cf. quiddity, 'essence'.

[75] I.e. the Literary Society of Strasbourg. A letter survives,

addressed to Erasmus in the name of this Society, dated 1 September

1514, in which occur all the names mentioned here, with the exception of

Gerbel's.

[76] A portrait drawing of Varnbueler by Albrecht Duerer is in the

Albertina, Vienna; Duerer made also a woodcut from it.

[77] Hermann, Count of Neuenahr (1492-1530), a pupil of Caesarius, with

whom he visited Italy in 1508-9. In 1517 he lectured in Cologne on Greek

and Hebrew, and became later Chancellor of the University. Among his

works is a letter in defence of Erasmus.

[78] _Operationes in Psalmos_. Wittenberg, 1519.

[79] James Probst or Proost (Praepositus) of Ypres (1486-1562).

[80] Ulrich Hutten (1488-1523), the German knight and humanist.

[81] Satires 2, vii. 96 (where however the gladiators are the subject,

and not the artists, of a crude charcoal sketch).

[82] Sir Thomas More's portrait at the age of fifty was painted by Hans

Holbein; it is now in the Frick Collection, New York. Two portrait

drawings of him by Holbein are in the Royal Library at Windsor Castle.

Still, he married a girl,[84] as yet very young, of good family, but