CHAPTER X.

I. ERASMUS GOES TO BASLE TO PRINT HIS NEW TESTAMENT (1514).

[Sidenote: Erasmus crosses the Channel.]

It was on a July morning in the year 1514 that Erasmus again crossed the Channel. The wind was fair, the sea calm, the sky bright and sunny; but during the easy passage Erasmus had a heavy heart. He had once more left his English friends behind him, bent upon a solitary pilgrimage to Basle, in order that his edition of the letters of St. Jerome and his Greek New Testament might be printed at the press of Froben the printer. But, always unlucky on leaving British shores, he missed his baggage from the boat when, after the bustle of embarkation, he looked to see that all was right. To have lost his manuscripts--his Jerome, his New Testament, the labours of so many years--to be on his way to Basle without the books for the printing of which he was taking the long journey--this was enough to weigh down his heart with a grief which he might well compare to that of a parent who has lost his children. It turned out, after all, to be a trick of the knavish sailors, who threw the traveller’s luggage into another boat in order to extort a few coins for its recovery. Erasmus, in the end, got his luggage back again; but he might well say that, though the passage was a good one, it was an anxious one to him.[483]

[Sidenote: Letter from Servatius.]

On his arrival at the castle of _Hammes_, near Calais, where he had agreed to spend a few days with his old pupil and friend Lord Mountjoy, he found waiting for him a letter from Servatius, prior of the monastery of Stein, in Holland--_the_ monastery into which he had been ensnared when a youth against his judgment by treachery and foul play.

It was a letter doubtless written with kindly feeling, for the prior had once been his companion; but still he evidently took it as a letter from the prior of the convent from which he was a kind of runaway, not only inviting, but in measure _claiming_ him back again, reproachfully reminding him of his vows, censuring his wandering life, his throwing off the habit of his order, and ending with a bribe--the offer of a post of great advantage if he would return.

Erasmus return! No, truly; that he would not! But the very naming of it brought back to mind not only the wrongs he had suffered in his youth; the cruelty and baseness of his guardians; his miserable experience of monastic life; how hardly he had escaped out of it; his trials during a chequered wandering life since; but also his entry upon fellow-work with Colet; the noble-hearted friends with whom he had been privileged to come in contact; the noble work in which they were now engaged together. What! give up these to put his neck again under a yoke which had so galled him in dark times gone by! And for what? To become perchance the father-confessor of a nunnery! It was as though Pharaoh had sent an embassy to Moses offering to make him a taskmaster if he would but return into Egypt.

No wonder that Erasmus, finding this letter from Servatius waiting for him on his arrival at the castle of his friend, took up his pen to reply somewhat warmly before proceeding on his journey. His letter lies as a kind of waymark by the roadside of his wandering life, and with some abridgment and omissions may be thus translated:--

_Erasmus to Servatius._

‘... Being on a journey, I must reply in but few words, and confine myself to matters of the most importance.

[Sidenote: Erasmus alludes to his youth.]

[Sidenote: Erasmus hates the monastic life.]

‘Men hold opinions so diverse that it is impossible to please everybody. That _my_ desire is in very deed to follow that which is really the best, God is my witness! It was never my intention to change my mode of life or my habit; not because I approved of either, but lest I should give rise to scandal. _You_ know well that it was by the pertinacity of my guardians and the persuasion of wicked men that I was forced rather than induced to enter the monastic life. Afterwards, when I found out how entirely unsuited it was for me, I was restrained by the taunts of Cornelius Wertem and the bashfulness of youth.... But it may be objected that I had a year of what is called “probation,” and was of mature age. Ridiculous! As though anyone could require that a boy of seventeen, brought up in literary studies, should have attained to a self-knowledge rare even in an old man--should be able to learn in one year what many men grow grey without learning! Be this as it may, I never liked the monastic life; and I liked it less than ever after I had tried it; but I was ensnared in the way I have mentioned. For all this, I am free to confess that a man who is really a good man may live well in any kind of life.

[Sidenote: His ill health.]

[Sidenote: His works.]

‘I have in the meantime tried to find that mode of living in which I should be least prone to evil. And I think assuredly that I have found it; I have lived with sober men, I have lived a life of literary study, and these have drawn me away from many vices. It has been my lot to live on terms of intimacy with men of true Christian wisdom, and I have been bettered by their conversation.... Whenever the thought has occurred to me of returning into your fraternity it has always called back to my remembrance the jealousy of many, the contempt of all; converse how cold, how trifling! how lacking in Christian wisdom! feastings more fit for the laity! the mode of life, as a whole, one which, if you subtract its ceremonies from it, has nothing left that seems to me worth having. Lastly, I have called to mind my bodily infirmities, now increased upon me by age and toil, by reason of which I should have both failed in coming up to your mark and also sacrificed my own life. For some years now I have been afflicted with the stone, and its frequent recurrence obliges me to observe great regularity in my habits. I have had some experience both of the climate of Holland and of your particular diet and habits, and I feel sure that, had I returned, nothing else could have come of it but trouble to you and death to me.

‘But it may be that you deem it a blessed thing to die at a good age in the midst of your brotherhood. This is a notion which deceives and deludes not you alone, but almost everybody. We think that Christ and religion consist in certain places, and garments and modes of life, and ceremonial observances. It is all up, we think, with a man who changes his white habit for a black one, who substitutes a hat for a hood, and who frequently changes his residence. I will be bold to say that, on the other hand, great injury has arisen to Christian piety from what we call the “religious orders,” although it may be that they were introduced with a pious motive.... Pick out the most lauded and laudable of all of them, and you may look in vain, so far as I can see, for any likeness to Christ, unless it be in cold and Judaical ceremonies. It is on account of these that they think so much of themselves; it is on account of these that they judge and condemn others. How much more accordant to the teaching of Christ would it be to look upon all Christendom as one home; as it were, one monastery; to regard all men as canons and brothers; to count the sacrament of baptism the chief religious vow; not to care where you live, if only you live well!... And now to say a word about my works. The “Enchiridion” I fancy you have read.... The book of “Adagia,” printed by Aldus, I don’t know whether you have seen.... I have also written a book, “De Rerum et Verborum Copiâ,” which I inscribed to my friend Colet.... For these two years past, amongst other things, I have been correcting the text of the “Letters of Jerome.”... By the collation of Greek and ancient codices, I have also corrected the text of the whole New Testament, and made annotations not without theological value on more than one thousand places. I have commenced Commentaries on St. Paul’s Epistles, which I shall finish when the others are published; for I have made up my mind to work at sacred literature to the day of my death. Great men say that in these things I am successful where others are not. In your mode of life I should entirely fail. Although I have had intercourse with so many men of learning, both here and in Italy and in France, I have never yet found one who advised me to betake myself back again to you.... I beg that you will not forget to commend me in your prayers to the keeping of Christ. If ever I should come really to know that it would be doing my duty to _Him_ to return to your brotherhood, on that very day I will start on the journey. Farewell, my once pleasant companion, but now reverend father.

‘From Hammes Castle, near Calais, 9th July, 1514.’[484]

[Sidenote: Visits the Abbot of St. Bertin.]

[Sidenote: On his way to Basle.]

This bold letter written, Erasmus took leave of his host, and hastened to repay by a short embrace the kindness of another friend, the Abbot of St. Bertin.[485] After a two days’ halt to accomplish this object, he again mounted his horse, and, followed by his servant and baggage, set his face resolutely towards Basle: cheered in spirit by the marks of friendship received during the past few days, and anxious to reach his journey’s end that he might set about his work.

[Sidenote: Accident near Ghent.]

But all haste is not good speed. As he approached the city of Ghent, while he chanced to be turning _one_ way to speak to his servant, his horse took fright at something lying on the road, and turned round the _other_ way, severely straining thereby Erasmus’s back.

It was with the greatest difficulty and torture that he reached Ghent. There he lay for some days motionless on his back at the inn, unable to stand upright, and fearing the worst. By degrees, however, he again became able to move, and to write an amusing account of his adventure to Lord Mountjoy;[486] telling him that he had vowed to St. Paul that, if restored to health, he would complete the Commentaries he was writing on the Epistle to the Romans; and adding that he was already so much better that he hoped ere long to proceed another stage to Antwerp. Antwerp was accordingly reached in due course, and from thence he was able to pursue his journey.

At Louvain he prepared for publication a collection of stray pieces, including amongst them the ‘_Institutes of a Christian Man_,’ written by Colet for his school in English prose, and turned into Latin verse by Erasmus. In the letter prefixed to the collection[487] he spoke of Colet as a man ‘_than whom, in my opinion, the kingdom of England has not another more pious, or who more truly knows Christ_.’[488] Two editions of this volume were published at Cologne in the course of a few months by different typographers.[489]

[Sidenote: At Maintz.]

[Sidenote: Reuchlin and his friends.]

At Maintz he appears to have halted a while, and he afterwards informed Colet[490] that ‘much was made of him there.’ That it was so may be readily conjectured, for it was at Maintz that the Court of Inquisition had sat in the autumn of the previous year, which, had it not been for the timely interference of the Archbishop of Maintz, would have condemned the aged Reuchlin as a heretic. In this city Erasmus would probably fall in with many of Reuchlin’s friends, and as the matter was now pending the decision of the authorities at Rome, they may well have tried to secure his influence with the Pope, to whom he was personally known. Be this as it may, from the date of his visit to Maintz, Erasmus seems not only never to have lost an opportunity of supporting the cause of Reuchlin at Rome or elsewhere, but also to have himself secured the friendship and regard of Reuchlin’s protector, the archbishop.[491]

[Sidenote: Erasmus at Strasburg.]

Leaving Maintz, he proceeded to Strasburg, where he was surrounded and entertained by a galaxy of learned men. Another stage brought him to Schelestadt.[492] The chief men of this ancient town, having heard of his approach, sent him a present of wines, requested his company to dinner on the following day, and offered him the escort of one of their number for the remainder of his journey. Erasmus declined to be further detained, but gladly accepted the escort of _John Sapidus_.

After having been thus lionised at each stage of the journey, and to prevent a similar annoyance, on his arrival at Basle, Erasmus requested his new companion to conceal his name, and if possible to introduce him to a few choice friends before his arrival was known. Sapidus complied with this request. He had no difficulty in making his choice.

[Sidenote: Arrives at Basle incognito.]

[Sidenote: Circle of learned men at Basle.]

[Sidenote: Amerbach.]

[Sidenote: His three sons.]

[Sidenote: Froben.]

[Sidenote: Beatus Rhenanus.]

[Sidenote: Lystrius.]

Round the printing establishment of Froben, the printer had gathered a little group of learned and devoted men, whose names had made Basle famous as one of the centres of reviving learning. There was a university at Basle, but it was not this which had attracted the little knot of students to the city. The patriarch of the group was _Johann Amerbach_. He was now an old man. More than thirty years had passed since he had first set up his printing-press at Basle, and during these years he had devoted his ample wealth and active intellect to the reproduction in type of the works of the early Church Fathers. The works of St. Ambrose and St. Augustine had already issued from his press at vast cost of labour, time, and wealth. To publish St. Jerome’s works before he died, or at least to see the work in hand, was now the aged patriarch’s ambition. Many years ago he had imported Froben, that he might secure an able successor in the printing department. His own three sons, also, he had educated in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, so as to qualify them thoroughly for the work he wished them to continue after he was gone. And the three brothers Amerbach did not belie their father’s hopes. They had inherited a double portion of his spirit.[493] Froben, too, had caught the old printer’s mantle, and worked like him, for love, and not for gain.[494] Others had gathered round so bright a nucleus. There was Beatus Rhenanus, a young scholar of great ability and wealth, whose gentle loving nature endeared him to his intimate companions. He, too, had caught the spirit of reviving learning, and thought it not beneath his dignity to undertake the duties of corrector of the press in Froben’s printing-office.[495] Gerard Lystrius, a youth brought up to the medical profession, with no mean knowledge both of Greek and Hebrew, had also thrown in his lot with them.[496]

[Sidenote: Erasmus introduced incognito to Froben and his friends.]

Such was the little circle of choice friends into which Sapidus, without betraying who he was, introduced the stranger who had just arrived in Basle, who, addressing himself at once to Froben, presented letters from Erasmus, with whom he said that he was most closely intimate, and from whom he had the fullest commission to treat with reference to the printing of his works, so that Froben might regard whatever arrangement he might make with him as though it had been made with Erasmus himself. Finding still that he was undiscovered, and wishing to slide easily from under his _incognito_, he soon added drily that Erasmus and he were ‘so alike that to see one was to have seen the other!’ Froben then, to his great amusement, discovered who the stranger was. He was received with open arms. His bills at the inn were forthwith paid, and himself, servant, horses, and baggage transferred to the home of Froben’s father-in-law, there to enjoy the luxuries of private hospitality.

When it was known in the city that Erasmus had arrived he was besieged by doctors and deans, rectors of the University, poets-laureate, invitations to dine, and every kind of attention which the men of Basle could give to so illustrious a stranger.

But Erasmus had come back to Basle not to be lionised, but to push on with his work. He was gratified; and, indeed, he told his friends, almost put to the blush by the honours with which he had been received; but, finding their constant attentions to interfere greatly with his daily labours at Froben’s office, he was obliged to request that he might be left to himself.[497]

[Sidenote: Erasmus at work in Froben’s printing office.]

At Froben’s office he found everything prepared to his hand. The train was already laid for the publication of St. Jerome. Beatus Rhenanus and the three brothers Amerbach were ready to throw themselves heart and soul into the work. The latter undertook to share the labour of collating and transcribing portions which Erasmus had not yet completed, and so the ponderous craft got fairly under way. By the end of August, he was thoroughly immersed in types and proof-sheets, and, to use his own expression, no less busy in superintending his little enterprise than the Emperor in his war with Venice.[498]

* * * * *

[Sidenote: Writes to his English friends.]

Thus he could report well of his journey and his present home to his English friends. He felt that he had done right in coming to Basle, but, none the less on that account, that his true home was in the hearts of these same English friends. In his letters to them he expressed his longing to return.[499] His late ill-fortune in England he had always set down to the war, which had turned the thoughts of the nation and the liberality of patrons into other channels, and he hoped that now, perhaps, the war being over, a better state of things might reign in England, and better fortunes be in store for the poor scholar.

What Colet thought of this and things in general, how clouds and storms seemed gathering round him, may be learned from his reply to his friend’s letter, brief as was his wont, but touchingly graphic in its little details about himself and his own life during these passing months. He was already preparing to resign his preferments, and building a house within the secluded precincts of the Charterhouse at Sheene near Richmond, wherein, with a few bosom friends, he hoped to spend the rest of his days in peace, unmolested by his evil genius, the Bishop of London.

_Colet to Erasmus._[500]

[Sidenote: Colet still harassed by Bishop Fitzjames.]

‘Dearest Erasmus--I have received your letter written from Basle, 3 Cal. Sept. I am glad to know where you are, and in what clime you are living. I am glad, too, that you are well. See that you perform the vow which you say you made to St. Paul. That so much was made of you at Maintz, as you tell me, I can easily believe. I am glad you intend to return to us some day. But I am not very hopeful about it. As to any better fortune for you, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know, because those who have the means have not the will, and those who have the will have not the means. All your friends here are well. The Archbishop of Canterbury keeps as kindly disposed as ever. The Bishop of Lincoln [Wolsey] now reigns “Archbishop of York!” The Bishop of London never ceases to harass me. Every day I look forward to my retirement and retreat with the Carthusians. My nest is nearly finished. When you come back to us, so far as I can conjecture, you will find me there, “_mortuus mundo_.” Take care of your health, and let me know where you go to. Farewell.--_From London, Oct. 20 (1514)._’

II. ERASMUS RETURNS TO ENGLAND--HIS SATIRE UPON KINGS (1515).

[Sidenote: Erasmus arrives in England.]

Erasmus had at first intended to remain at Basle till the Ides of March (1515), and then, in compliance with the invitation of his Italian friends, to spend a few weeks in Italy.[501] But after working six or eight months at Froben’s office, he was no longer inclined to carry out the project; and so, a new edition of the ‘Adagia’ being wellnigh completed, and the ponderous folios of Jerome proceeding to satisfaction, under the good auspices of the brothers Amerbach, when spring came round Erasmus took sudden flight from Basle, and turned up, not in Italy, but in England. Safely arrived in London, he was obliged to do his best, by the discreet use of his pen, to excuse to his friends at Rome this slight upon their favours.

[Sidenote: Supports the cause of Reuchlin.]

He wrote, therefore, elegant and flattering letters to the Cardinal Grimanus, the Cardinal St. George, and Pope Leo,[502] describing the labours in which he was engaged, the noble assistance which the little fraternity at Basle were giving, and which could not have been got in Italy nor anywhere else; alluding in flattering terms to the advantages offered at Rome, and the kindness he had there received on his former visit; but describing in still more glowing terms the love and generosity of his friends in England, and declaring ‘with that frankness which it becomes a German to use,’ that ‘England was his adopted country, and the chosen home of his old age.’[503] He also took the opportunity of strongly urging the two cardinals to use their utmost influence in aid of the cause of Reuchlin. He told them how grieved he was, in common with all the learned men of Germany, that these frivolous and vexatious proceedings should have been taken against a man venerable both on account of age and service, who ought now in his declining years to be peacefully wearing his well-earned laurels. And lastly, in his letter to the Pope, Erasmus took occasion to express his hatred of the wars in which Europe had been recently involved, and his thankfulness that the efforts of his Holiness to bring about a peace had at last been crowned with success.

[Sidenote: Peace between England and France.]

[Sidenote: Death of Louis XII. and accession of Francis I.]

Peace had indeed been proclaimed between France and England, while Erasmus had been working at Basle, but under circumstances not likely to _lessen_ those feelings of indignation with which the three friends regarded the selfish and reckless policy of European rulers. For peace had been made with France merely to shuffle the cards. Henry’s sister, the Princess Mary (whose marriage with Henry’s ally, Prince Charles, ought long ago to have been solemnised according to contract), had been married to their common enemy, Louis XII. of France, with whom they had just been together at war. In November, Henry and his late enemy, Louis, were plotting to combine against Henry’s late ally, King Ferdinand; and England’s blood and treasure, after having been wasted in helping to wrest Navarre from France for Ferdinand, were now to be wasted anew to recover the same province back to France from Ferdinand.[504] On the first of January this unholy alliance of the two courts was severed by the death of Louis XII. The Princess Mary was a widow. The young and ambitious Francis I. succeeded to the French throne, and he, anxious like Henry VIII. to achieve military glory, declared his intention, on succeeding to the crown, that ‘the monarchy of Christendom should rest under the banner of France as it was wont to do.’[505] Before the end of July he had already started on that Italian campaign in which he was soon to defeat the Swiss in the great battle of Marignano--a battle at the news of which Ferdinand and Henry were once more to be made secret friends by their common hatred of so dangerous a rival![506]

These international scandals, for such they must be called, wrung from Erasmus other and far more bitter censure than that contained in his letter to the Pope. He was laboriously occupied with great works passing through the printing-press at Basle, but still he stole the time to give public vent to his pent-up feelings. It little mattered that the actors of these scandals were patrons of his own--kings and ministers on whose aid he was to some extent dependent, even for the means wherewith to print his Greek New Testament. His indignation burst forth in pamphlets printed in large type, and bearing his name, or was thrust into the new edition of the ‘Adagia,’ or bound up with other new editions which happened now to be passing through Froben’s press.[507] And be it remembered that these works and pamphlets found their way as well into royal courts as into the studies of the learned.

[Sidenote: Satire upon Kings.]

What could exceed the sternness and bitterness of the reproof contained in the following passages?--

‘Aristotle was wont to distinguish between a _king_ and a _tyrant_ by the most obvious marks: the tyrant regarding only his own interest; the king the interests of his people. But the title of “king,” which the first and greatest Roman rulers thought to be immodest and impolitic, as likely to stir up jealousy, is not enough for some, unless it be gilded with the most splendid lies. Kings who are scarcely men are called “divine;” they are “invincible,” though they never have left a battlefield without being conquered; “serene,” though they have turned the world upside down in a tumult of war; “illustrious,” though they grovel in profoundest ignorance of everything noble; “Catholic,” though they follow anything rather than Christ.

‘And these divine, illustrious, triumphant kings ... have no other desire than that laws, edicts, wars, peaces, leagues, councils, judgments, sacred or profane, should bring the wealth of others into their exchequer--_i.e._ they gather everything into their leaking reservoir, and, like the eagles, fatten their eaglets on the flesh of innocent birds.

‘Let any physiognomist worth anything at all consider the look and the features of an eagle--those rapacious and wicked eyes, that threatening curve of the beak, those cruel jaws, that stern front ... will he not recognise at once the image of a king?--a magnificent and majestic king? Add to this a dark ill-omened colour, an unpleasing, dreadful, appalling voice, and that threatening scream at which every kind of animal trembles. Every one will acknowledge this type who has learned how terrible are the threats of princes, even uttered in jest.... At this scream of the eagle the people tremble, the senate yields, the nobility cringes, the judges concur, the divines are dumb, the lawyers assent, the laws and constitutions give way, neither right nor religion, neither justice nor humanity, avail. And thus while there are so many birds of sweet and melodious song, the unpleasant and unmusical scream of the eagle alone has more power than all the rest.... Of all birds the eagle alone has seemed to wise men the type of royalty--not beautiful, not musical, not fit for food; but carnivorous, greedy, hateful to all, the curse of all, and, with its great powers of doing harm, surpassing them in its desire of doing it.’[508]

Again:--

‘The office of a prince is called a “dominion,” when in truth a prince has nothing else to do but to administer the affairs of the commonwealth.

‘The intermarriages between royal families, and the new leagues arising from them, are called “the bonds of Christian peace,” though almost all wars and all tumults of human affairs seem to rise out of them. When princes conspire together to oppress and exhaust a commonwealth, they call it a “just war.” When they themselves _unite_ in this object, they call it “_peace_.”

‘They call it the extension of the empire when this or that little town is added to the titles of the prince at the cost of the plunder, the blood, the widowhood, the bereavement of so many citizens.’[509]

[Sidenote: Rapid sale of the ‘Praise of Folly.’]

These passages may serve to indicate what feelings were stirred up in the heart of Erasmus by the condition of international affairs, and in what temper he returned to England. The works in which they appeared he had left under the charge of Beatus Rhenanus, to be printed at Basle in his absence. And some notion of the extent to which whatever proceeded from the pen of Erasmus was now devoured by the public, may be gained from the fact that Rhenanus, in April of this very year, wrote to Erasmus, to tell him that out of an edition of 1,800 of the ‘Praise of Folly’ just printed by Froben, with notes by Lystrius, only sixty remained in hand.[510]

III. RETURNS TO BASLE TO FINISH HIS WORKS.--FEARS OF THE ORTHODOX PARTY (1515).

It will be necessary to recur to the position of international affairs ere long; meanwhile, the quotations we have given will be enough to show that, buried as Erasmus was in literary labour, he was alive also to what was passing around him--no mere bookworm, to whom his books and his learning were the sole end of life. As we proceed to examine more closely the object and spirit of the works in which he was now engaged, it will become more and more evident that their interest to him was of quite another kind to that of the mere bookworm.

[Sidenote: Erasmus returns to Basle.]

Before the summer of 1515 was over he was again on his way to Basle, where his editions of Jerome and of the New Testament were now really approaching completion. Their appearance was anxiously expected by learned men all over Europe. The bold intention of Erasmus to publish the Greek text of the New Testament with a new Latin translation of his own, a rival of the sacred Vulgate, had got wind. Divines of the traditional school had already taken alarm. It was whispered about amongst them that something ought to be done. The new edition of the ‘Praise of Folly,’ with notes by Lystrius, had been bought and read with avidity. Men now shook their heads, who had smiled at its first appearance. They discovered heresies in it unnoticed before. Besides, the name of Erasmus was now known all over Europe. It mattered little what he wrote a few years ago, when he was little known; but it mattered much what he might write now that he was a man of mark.

[Sidenote: Rumours of opposition.]

While Erasmus was passing through Belgium on his way to Basle, these whispered signs of discontent found public utterance in a letter from Martin Dorpius,[511] of the Louvain University, addressed to Erasmus, but printed, and, it would seem, in the hands of the public, before it was forwarded to him. He met with it by accident at Antwerp.[512] It was written at the instigation of others. Men who had not the wit to make a public protest of this nature for themselves, had urged Martin Dorpius to employ his talents in their cause, and to become their mouthpiece.[513]

Thus this letter from Dorpius was of far more importance than would at first sight appear. It had a representative importance which it did not possess in itself. It was the public protest of a large and powerful party. As such it required more than a mere private reply from Erasmus, and deserves more than a passing mention here, for it affords an insight into the plan and defences of a theological citadel, against which its defenders considered that Erasmus was meditating a bold attack.

[Sidenote: Letter from Dorpius.]

‘I hear’ (wrote Dorpius, after criticising severely the ‘Praise of Folly’)--‘I hear that you have been expurgating the epistles of Saint Jerome from the errors with which they abound ... and this is a work in all respects worthy of your labour, and by which you will confer a great benefit on divines.... But I hear, also, that you have been correcting the text of the New Testament, and that “you have made annotations not without theological value on more than one thousand places.”’

Here Dorpius evidently quotes the words of the letter of Erasmus to _Servatius_, so that _he_ too is silently behind the scenes, handing Erasmus’s letter about amongst his theological friends, perhaps himself inciting Dorpius to write as he does.

[Sidenote: Dorpius asserts that there are no errors in the Vulgate.]

‘... If I can show you that the Latin translation has in it no errors or mistakes’ (continued Dorpius), ‘then you must confess that the labour of those who try to correct it is altogether null and void.... I am arguing now with respect to the truthfulness and integrity of the translation, and I assert this of our Vulgate version. For it cannot be that the unanimous universal Church now for so many centuries has been mistaken, which always has used, and still both sanctions and uses, this version. Nor in the same way is it possible that so many holy fathers, so many men of most consummate authority, could be mistaken, who, relying on the same version, have defined the most difficult points even in _General Councils_; have defended and elucidated the faith, and enacted canons to which even kings have bowed their sceptres. That councils rightly convened never can err in matters of faith is generally admitted by both divines and lawyers.... What matters it whether you believe or not that the Greek books are more accurate than the Latin ones; whether or not _greater_ care was taken to preserve the sacred books in all their integrity by the Greeks than by the Latins;--by the Greeks, forsooth, amongst whom the Christian religion was very often almost overthrown, and who affirmed that none of the gospels were free from errors, excepting the one gospel of John. What matters all this when, to say nothing of anything else, amongst the Latins the Church has continued throughout the inviolate spouse of Christ?... What if it be contended that the sense, as rendered by the Latin version, differs in truth from the Greek text? Then, indeed, adieu to the Greek. I adhere to the Latin because I cannot bring my mind to believe that the Greek are more correct than the Latin codices.

‘But it may be said, Augustine ordered the Latin rivulets to be supplied from the Greek fountain-head. He did so; and wisely in his age, in which neither had any one Latin version been received by the Church as now, nor had the Greek fountain-head become so corrupt as it now seems to be.

[Sidenote: A single error would destroy the authority of the Bible.]

‘You may say in reply, “I do not want you to change anything in your codices, nor that you should believe that the Latin version is a false one. I only point out what discrepancies I discover between the Greek and Latin copies, and what harm is there in that?” In very deed, my dear Erasmus, there is great harm in it. Because, about this matter of the integrity of the Holy Scriptures many will dispute, many will doubt, if they learn that even one jot or tittle in them is false, ... and then will come to pass what Augustine described to Jerome: “If any error should be admitted to have crept into the Holy Scriptures, what authority would be left to them?” All these considerations, my dear Erasmus, have induced me to pray and beseech you, by our mutual friendship, by your wonted courtesy and candour, either to limit your corrections to those passages only of the New Testament in which you are able, without altering the sense, to substitute more expressive words; or if you should point out that the sense requires any alteration at all, that you will reply to the foregoing arguments in your preface.’

[Sidenote: Erasmus replies to Dorpius.]

Erasmus replied to this letter of Dorpius with singular tact, and reprinted the letter itself with his reply.

He acknowledged the friendship of Dorpius, and the kind and friendly tone of his letter. He received, he said, many flattering letters, but he had rather receive such a letter as this, of honest advice and criticism, by far. He was knocked up by sea-sickness, wearied by long travel on horseback, busy unpacking his luggage; but still he thought it was better, he said, to send some reply, rather than allow his friend to remain under such erroneous impressions, whether the result of his own consideration, or instilled into him by others, who had over-persuaded him into writing this letter, and thus made a cat’s-paw of him, in order to light their battles without exposure of their own persons.

He told him freely how and when the ‘Praise of Folly’ was written, and what were his reasons for writing it, frankly and courteously replying to his criticisms.

He described the labour and difficulty of the correction of the text of St. Jerome--a work of which Dorpius had expressed his approval. But he said, with reference to what Dorpius had written upon the New Testament, he could not help wondering what had happened to him--what could have thrown all this dust into his eyes!

[Sidenote: There _are_ errors in the Vulgate.]

‘You are unwilling that I should alter anything, except when the Greek text expresses the sense of the Vulgate more clearly, and you deny that in the Vulgate edition there are any mistakes. And you think it wrong that what has been approved by the sanction of so many ages and so many synods should be unsettled by any means. I beseech you to consider, most learned Dorpius, whether what you have written be _true_! How is it that Jerome, Augustine, and Ambrose all cite a text which differs from the Vulgate? How is it that Jerome finds fault with and corrects many readings which we find in the Vulgate? What can you make of all this concurrent evidence--when the Greek versions differ from the Vulgate, when Jerome cites the text according to the Greek version, when the oldest Latin versions do the same, when this reading suits the sense much better than that of the Vulgate,--will you, treating all this with contempt, follow a version perhaps corrupted by some copyist?... In doing so you follow in the steps of those vulgar divines who are accustomed to attribute ecclesiastical authority to whatever in any way creeps into general use.... I had rather be a common mechanic than the best of their number.’

With regard to some other points, it was, he said, more prudent to be silent; but he told Dorpius that he had submitted the rough draft of his Annotations to divines and bishops of the greatest integrity and learning, and these had confessed that they threw much light on Scripture study. He concluded with the expression of a hope that even Dorpius himself, although now protesting against the attempt, would welcome the publication of the book when it came into his hands.

[Sidenote: Erasmus at Basle.]

This letter[514] written and despatched to the printer, Erasmus proceeded with his journey. The Rhine, swollen by the rains and the rapid melting of Alpine snows, had overflowed its banks; so that the journey, always disagreeable and fatiguing, was this time more than usually so. It was more like swimming, Erasmus said, than riding. But by the end of August[515] he was again hard at work in Froben’s printing-office putting the finishing strokes to his two great works.[516] By the 7th of March, 1516, he was able to announce that the New Testament was out of the printer’s hands, and the final colophon put to St. Jerome.[517]

It is time therefore that we should attempt to realise what these two great works were, and what the peculiar significance of their concurrent publication.