Chapter V: Residence in Italy--The "praise of Folly" (2)

As to the possibility or probability that Erasmus would definitely settle at Rome, there is room for difference of opinion. If one may judge from his own allusions there was no country, in which he made any considerable stay, which did not at one time or another occur to him as a possible residence for his declining years, and on this general principle, why not Rome as well as another place? Our study of his character up to this point, however, should lead us at once to understand that, of all places in the world, Rome was least suited to his peculiar genius. Although he was quite capable of defending both sides of any argument, he could not be happy where he must either do this all the time or else commit himself without reserve to the dominant tone of a society which would eventually absorb him completely. Furthermore, the almost inevitable condition of a Roman residence was the holding of an ecclesiastical office and this, no matter how high it might be--the higher in fact the worse--was as far as possible from the line of Erasmus' ambition. Beatus says he was offered the very high function of papal penitentiary, with a hint that this might be a stepping-stone to higher dignities. When we consider the kind of official places filled by many of the Italian humanists, such an offer does not seem improbable. Less clear is one's feeling about a proposition made by the Venetian Cardinal Grimani that Erasmus should attach himself to his personal following and, presumably, continue to live the life of an independent scholar. Erasmus' account of his interview with the cardinal is worth while for us because of its many details. It was written in 1531, after the death of Grimani, and is given in a letter[81] apropos of a reference to the cardinal's services to the cause of letters, especially in maintaining so large and valuable a library.

[81] iii.², 1375 A-D.

"When I was at Rome I was invited once and again by him, through
Pietro Bembo, if I am not mistaken, to an interview with him,
and though I was at that time very averse to seeking the company
of great men, I at last went to his palace more from shame than
from desire. Neither in the courtyard nor in the vestibule did
the shadow of a human being appear. It was the afternoon hour.
I gave my horse to my man and went up alone, found no one in
the first hall, nor in the second, and still on to the third,
finding not a door closed and wondering at the solitude. Only
in the last did I find one man, a Greek physician I believe,
with shaven head, guarding the open door. I inquired what the
cardinal was doing. He replied that he was within talking with
some gentlemen, and as I said no more he asked what I wished.
'To make my compliments to him,' I said, 'if convenient, but as
he is not at leisure, I will call again.' Then, as I was about
to go and was looking out of the window, the Greek returned to
me and waited to see if I had any message for the cardinal.
'There is no occasion to interrupt his conference,' I said; 'I
will come again soon.' Finally he asked my name and I gave it
to him. When he heard it he rushed in before I knew it and soon
coming out said I was not to go away and I was summoned at once.
As I came in the cardinal received me not as a cardinal and such
a cardinal might receive a man of the lowest condition, but as
a colleague. A chair was set for me and we talked more than two
hours, during which he did not permit me to take off my hat.
For a man at the very height of fortune his graciousness was
marvellous. Among the many things he said about study, showing
that he had then in mind what I learn he has since done about
his library, he began to urge me not to leave Rome, the nurse
of genius. He invited me to share his palace and the enjoyment
of all his fortunes, adding that the warm and moist climate of
Rome would suit my health, and especially that part of the city
where he had his dwelling, a palace built by a former pope who
had chosen the site as being the most healthful in the city.
After we had had considerable discussion he sent for his nephew,
who had just been made archbishop, a youth of an almost divine
disposition. As I started to rise he forbade me, saying:--'It is
becoming for the pupil to stand before the master.' At length he
showed me his library of books in many tongues.

"If I had known this man earlier I should never have left a
city which I found favourable to me beyond my deserts. But I
had already arranged to go and matters had gone so far that I
could hardly have remained honourably. When I said that I had
been summoned by the king of England, he ceased to urge me, but
begged me over and over again not to suspect him of not meaning
what he had said nor to judge him according to the usual manners
of courtiers. With difficulty I got away from the conference;
but when he was unwilling to detain me longer, he laid it upon
me with his last words that I should see him again on the
subject before I left the city. I did not return, unhappy man
that I was, lest I should be overcome by his kindness and change
my mind. But what can one do against the fates!"

This interview was held at the last moment of Erasmus' stay in Rome, before his departure for England. His account makes it clear that he had not known Grimani before, so that we cannot reckon him among Erasmus' Roman patrons. Nor can we give too much weight to the promises of employment. From the connection in which Erasmus introduces the story it seems quite probable that the cardinal had some idea of making use of him in connection with his library; but the great scholar had no fancy for being anybody's librarian. His laments that he had not listened to Grimani's proposition may safely be treated as conventional.

From Rome Erasmus journeyed rapidly by way of Bologna, through Lombardy, over the Splügen Pass to Chur, Constance, and Strassburg, where he took ship on the Rhine for Holland. We hear of him at Louvain and Antwerp and then in England early in July, 1509. What was the fruit of his nearly three years in Italy? He had perfected himself in Greek, as far at least as he needed to go for the purposes he had most at heart. He was Doctor Erasmus, and needed no longer to feel himself overshadowed by the superior display of some inferior talent. He had given to the world in his Adages a great and serious work, which was welcomed with the greatest approval by those most competent to judge. He had seen for himself something of the life of that people which had done most to bring pure learning to honour. Finally he had made personal connections within the world of scholars, which were likely to be of great future service to him.

It would be most interesting if we could perceive with any distinctness the direct effect of this experience upon Erasmus' literary production, but such effect cannot be traced in any instructive way. There are of course references to Italy to be found henceforth in many of his writings, but it would be too much to say that the Italian visit was in any way epoch-making for his literary character. Literature was not a thing of nationalities; it was cosmopolitan, and the scholar was as much, or as little, at home in one place as in another. The genius of Erasmus ripened slowly and naturally, following the lines of its early choice and moving on without noteworthy interruption to its highest achievement.

Still, few biographers have failed to fancy a connection of cause and effect between the Italian impressions of Erasmus and the famous satire, in which almost at once on his arrival in England he gave free rein to his criticism of church and society. Certainly his illustrations in the Praise of Folly point often to abuses which he might have seen and felt in Italy. His direct attacks upon popes and cardinals can hardly fail to have gained an added point from his observation at first hand. What is not clear is that such stimulus to his reforming zeal was anything more than incidental.

In all the earlier writing of Erasmus we have noted especially the quality of the moral preacher. Whatever he touched took on inevitably the tone of exhortation. And this same quality continues to appear in all his work, whenever the subject rises, even ever so little, above the level of mere grammatical detail. One ought to have this prevailing seriousness of purpose especially in mind in coming to such a piece of work as the Praise of Folly.[82] Of all Erasmus' writing, none was and is more widely known than this. It is called a satire and was intended to make men laugh. Erasmus had to apologise for it, as he did for most things he wrote, and in the introductory epistle to his dear More he apologises in advance for allowing himself so lively a diversion. There can be no doubt that the men of his day were vastly amused by it. It had for them the charm that always belongs to literary references to familiar types and figures, especially if these references are couched in colloquial phrase. Erasmus was tolerably sure of his audience, and could count upon applause from every class for the amusement it got out of his criticism of all other classes of men. Yet it is a little difficult for one of us to raise more than an honest smile at this elaborate fooling. After all, one feels the sermon underneath, and pays his tribute to the author, not primarily as a humourist, but as a man of sense who lightens his style a little, to be sure, yet remains all through plainly conscious of his mission. If one seeks an analogy, one may say, perhaps, that the Praise of Folly is about as funny as an average copy of Punch.

[82] iv., 405-503.

Erasmus' account of the origin of the Μωρία is as trifling as in the case of most of his works. He tells More that he thought it out during his journey from Italy to England in 1509, and he put it into form at More's house in London soon after. The title, Μωρίας ἐγκώμιον, he explains as a pun on More's name, the humour of it being that More was "as far from the thing as his name was near it." The book is written under the form of an oration, a _declamatio_ the author calls it, delivered by Folly in person to an imaginary audience made up of all classes and conditions of men. Folly is a female, and this is quite in harmony with most of Erasmus' references to the sex. She wears cap and bells as her academic garb and brings to the lecture-room her attendant spirits, Self-love, Flattery, Oblivion, Laziness, Pleasure, Madness, Wantonness, Intemperance, and Sleep. Folly is the offspring of Wealth and Youth, born in the Fortunate Isles, where all things grow without toil, and nursed by the jovial nymphs, Drunkenness and Ignorance.

The oration begins by Folly commending herself as indispensable to the well-being of men. Their very existence is owing to her, for no man would put his head into the halter of marriage if he thought it over carefully beforehand as a wise man would; and no woman would marry if she carefully considered the sorrows of childbirth. Marriage therefore is owing wholly to Madness, the companion of Folly. But no woman, having once experienced the pains of child-bearing, would ever submit herself to them again but for another of Folly's ministers, Oblivion, who comes in thus to save the race. From this first example we can see how Erasmus plays with the meaning of the word "folly." It is quite impossible to define it by any one term which would cover his numerous variations, but we may see plainly from the start that it is very far from being what we mean, in plain modern English, by the word "foolishness." It comes nearer to the meaning we find in Shakespeare of "innocent" or "thoughtless." "Folly" is the opposite of studied calculation for a mere material end. It is the impulse by which men perform their noblest actions. It is imagination, idealism, sacrifice of self for others. Nowhere does Erasmus lay down any such general definition as this, but his examples show that some such meaning was in his mind, and the Folly whom he allows to praise herself is therefore really a very praiseworthy person. She hates the materialism of the Philistine--the cool, calculating merchant-spirit which would reduce life to a thing of dollars and cents--and she finds her illustrations of what is noble pretty nearly where an optimistic philosopher of modern times would find them.

The happiest times of life, says Folly, are youth and old age, and this for no reason but that they are the times most completely under the rule of folly, and least controlled by wisdom. It is the child's freedom from wisdom that makes it so charming to us; we hate a precocious child. So women owe their charm, and hence their power, to their "folly," _i. e._, to their obedience to impulse. "But if, perchance, a woman wants to be thought wise, she only succeeds in being doubly a fool, as if one should train a cow for the prize-ring, a thing wholly against nature." A woman will be a woman, no matter what mask she wear, and she ought to be proud of her folly and make the most of it.

In dealing with Friendship, Folly first reminds her hearers that every man has his faults and plenty of them, and that everyone is all too keen in spying out the faults of others and forgetting his own. But now there could be no such thing as friendship "were it not for that which the Greeks so beautifully call εὐήθεια, and which may be translated 'folly' or 'good nature.'" Here Erasmus himself makes "_stultitia_" the equivalent of "_morum facilitas_." And not the relation of friends merely, but of husband and wife, ruler and ruled, scholar and tutor, all human relations, in short, are made tolerable by this rule of human kindness. And as the blindness of love to others makes human life bearable, so Self-love, one of Folly's intimates, is the indispensable aid to happiness, since if a man were continually ashamed of himself, of his person, his country, he would never rise to any worthy action. Courage is the very inspiration of Folly, and the proof is the stupid bungling of great thinkers when they try to do things. Socrates could not make a political speech, and showed his wisdom by declaring that a wise man ought to keep out of public business. Plato's famous saying: "happy the state that is ruled by a philosopher, or whose ruler is given to philosophy," is false, for history shows that there were never more unfortunate states than those so governed. Theorisers, in short, have ruined what they undertook to manage, but states have been saved by such divine folly as that of Quintus Curtius, who, possessed by some demon of vainglory, sacrificed himself to the infernal gods. Wise men would condemn such acts, but the pens of eloquent men have glorified them. Strange as it may seem, even the virtue of prudence is owing to folly,

"for the wise man goes to the books of the ancients and gets out
of them nothing but wordy discussions, while the fool, grappling
with the world in hand-to-hand conflict, learns, if I mistake
not, the true prudence." "Modesty and fear are the two great
obstacles to the understanding of affairs; but Folly, being
hindered by neither of these, blushes at nothing and attempts
everything."

The wise man thinks of reason only and leaves all the passions to Folly, but when this kind of thing has its perfect work, as among the Stoics, then you have left

"not so much a man as a new kind of god that never yet
existed anywhere and never will; or rather, to say it plainly,
a marble image of a man, dull and almost devoid of human
sensibility; a man who measures everything by the line, never
makes any mistakes himself, but has the eye of a lynx for the
least failings of others. That's the kind of a beast your truly
wise man is!"

But who has any use for such a creature? Who would have him for a ruler, a general, a husband, a friend?

"Who would not prefer one taken out of the very midst of the
crowd of fools, who being a fool himself would know how to
command and obey fools, who would be agreeable to his kind,
namely, the great majority of men, pleasant to his wife, merry
with his friends, a lively table-companion, a good-tempered
comrade, in short a man '_qui nihil humani a se alienum
putet_'--'who holds nothing human foreign to himself.'"

This comes as near a definition of his "_stultus_" as any hinted at by Erasmus. In this sense the book might have been called "the praise of human nature," for "wisdom" is treated systematically as meaning something contrary to natural human instinct. Such over-wise wisdom embitters life, but folly makes it sweet and precious.

"Now, I think, you see what would happen if men were wise all
the time. Faith! we should have need of another clay and another
Prometheus for a potter. But I, Folly, sometimes by ignorance,
sometimes by thoughtlessness, sometimes by forgetfulness
of evils or the hope of good, and scattering the sweetest
pleasures, so comfort men in the greatest misfortunes that
they are not glad to die even when the measure of the Fates is
fulfilled and life has actually left them. The less reason they
have to cling to life the more they rejoice in living, so far
are they from being wearied with its burden."

Real misery is to be out of harmony with Nature--shall we call man miserable because he cannot fly like the birds, nor walk on all fours like beasts? "We might as well call a war-horse unhappy because he doesn't know grammar and cannot eat pie." So Erasmus goes on, in extravagant praise, to glorify Nature as contrasted with Art. That life alone is happy which comes near to Nature, as that of bees and birds; the nearer these natural creatures are brought to the life of man, the more they degenerate. Of all men the happiest are those we call "_moriones_," "_stultos_," "_fatuos_," "_bliteos_"; they have no fears, no ambitions, neither envy nor love. They are always merry; everyone likes them and pets them; the very beasts recognise in them a kind of sacred being. Princes cannot live without them, and value their plain-speaking more than the flatteries of their counsellors.

How much pleasure comes in this world from hobbies! One man delights in hunting, with all its absurd ceremonies; another has a rage for building; others are chasing after new inventions, hunting for a fifth essence. Others take to gaming and go to ruin with it, but Folly is not quite clear whether to claim these as her children or not. She has no doubt, however, about those who show their folly by superstitious observances in religion, and here, it will be observed, Erasmus' definition of folly gradually shifts. From this point on it begins to slide over into a meaning something more nearly like what we should be inclined to give it. Folly herself cannot be consistent when she comes to religious fraud. Self-deception is a very useful and pleasant thing, but no gentleness of judgment is due to those

"who hug the silly though pleasant persuasion that if they see a
wooden or painted Polyphemus-Christopher, they will not die that
day; or who salute a statue of St. Barbara with a fixed formula
of words if they get home safe from a battle; or, if they call
upon Saint Erasmus on certain days with candles and prayers,
fancy that they will soon get rich. Now they have invented a
George-Hercules, like a new Hippolytus, and come precious near
worshipping the very horse of him, decked out with breastplates
and ornaments." "But what shall I say of those who flatter
themselves so sweetly with counterfeit pardons for their crimes,
who have measured off the duration of Purgatory without an error
as if by a water-clock, into ages, years, months, and days like
the multiplication-table?... Now suppose me some tradesman,
or soldier, or judge, who by paying out a penny from all his
stealings, thinks the whole slough of his life is cleaned out at
once--all his perjuries, lusts, drunkennesses, all his quarrels,
murders, cheats, treacheries, falsehoods, bought off by a
bargain and bought off in such a way that he may now begin over
again with a new circle of crimes!... And isn't it much the same
thing when the several countries claim for themselves each its
special saint with his special function and his special forms of
worship?--as, for example, this one is good for the toothache,
that one helps women in travail, another restores stolen
property; this one shines upon shipwreck and that one takes
care of the flocks and so on--for it would be too long a story
to go through the whole list. There are some that are good for
more things than one and of these especially the virgin mother
of God, to whom the mass of men now pay more honour than to the
Son."

And yet after all, the things men get from the saints are only the appurtenances of Folly.

The world is full of fools, yet the priests are glad to get them all for their own profit.

"But if some hateful wise man were to arise and say what is
true:--'to live well is the way to die well; you will best get
rid of your sins by adding to your money hatred of vice, tears,
vigils, prayers and fasting, and a better life; the saint will
help you if you imitate his life'--I say if a wise man were to
come prating such stuff as this, how much happiness he would
destroy and what trouble he would bring upon mortals!"

There is no class of fools to whom Erasmus pays his respects with heartier good will than to those whom he calls "grammarians." Folly claims these for her choicest sons. Nothing could be more wretched than their profession were it not for their foolish self-esteem and the skill with which they make others have as good an opinion of them as themselves. The pettiness of their aims, the nastiness of their schoolrooms, the tumult of their pupils, are all concealed by the friendly aid of Folly, who makes them believe themselves "rulers of a kingdom as great as that of Phalaris or Dionysius."

"What a joy if they find out who was the mother of Anchises
or discover some little word unknown to the vulgar, for
instance, '_bubsequa_' (a cowherd), '_bovinator_' (a brawler),
'_manticulator_' (a cut-purse), or dig up somewhere a piece of
an old rock, cut with worn-out letters--by Jove! what bragging,
what triumphs, what glorification! as if they had conquered
Africa or taken Babylon."

The grammarians enjoy nothing so much as rubbing each other's back--unless it be roundly abusing each other.

The quibblings of the philosophers are among Folly's choicest products, and from these she runs on naturally to Erasmus' especial black beasts, the scholastic theologians. Quite in the spirit of the _Epistolæ obscurorum virorum_, but more decently, he enumerates the problems which, so Folly says, chiefly interest them,--

"whether there was any instant of time in the divine generation?
whether there was more than one 'filiation' in Christ? is it a
possible proposition that the Father could hate the Son? Could
God have taken the form of a woman, a devil, an ass, a squash,
or a stone? How the squash would have preached, done miracles,
hung upon the cross? What would Peter have consecrated if he had
celebrated the Eucharist while Christ was still hanging on the
cross? etc."

Not the eyes of Lynceus, which could see through a stone wall, could penetrate the refinements of these people. And these difficulties are all increased by the multitude of the schools,

"so that one might sooner get out of a labyrinth than out of
the windings of Realists, Nominalists, Thomists, Albertists,
Occamists, Scotists. And these not all by any means, only the
chief of them. In them all there is so much learning, so much
refinement, that I should say the very apostles themselves
would have to be of another spirit if they were compelled to
discuss these matters with this new race of theologians. Paul
knew something about faith; but when he says 'faith is the
substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen,'
that is far from being a definition fit for a _Magister_; and
though he knew well enough about charity, his definition and
division of it in the thirteenth chapter of his first letter
to the Corinthians was by no means good dialectics." "The
apostles knew the mother of Jesus, but which of them has shown
as philosophically as our theologians have done, how she was
preserved from the sin of Adam? Peter received the keys, and
from one who would not have given them to an unworthy keeper,
but I doubt whether he ever reached the subtilty of knowing
how one who has no knowledge can hold the keys of knowledge."
"The apostles worshipped, but in spirit, following simply that
apostolic rule:--'God is a spirit, and they that worship him
must worship him in spirit and in truth'; but it does not appear
that it was revealed to them that an image drawn with a crayon
on the wall was to be worshipped, provided only it have two
fingers held upright, hair flowing, and three rays in the halo
about its head. For who can understand these things unless he
has ground out six and thirty years in the study of physics and
the superhuman notions of Aristotle and the Scotists?

"Meanwhile the actual words of the apostles are utterly
neglected. While they keep up their fooleries in the schools,
they fancy that, like Atlas in the poets, they are holding up
the tottering Church with their syllogistic pillars, and what
joy they take in moulding and remoulding Scripture according to
their will as if it were made of wax; yet their own conclusions,
if a few schoolmen have subscribed to them, they think more
weighty than the laws of Solon or the decretals of popes, and
like censors of the world, if anything does not square to the
line with their conclusions implicit and explicit, they declare
as by an oracle 'this proposition is scandalous; this is lacking
in reverence; this smacks of heresy; this hasn't the right
sound.' So that, by this time, neither Baptism, nor Gospel, nor
Paul, nor Peter, nor St. Jerome, nor Augustine--nay, not even
the most Aristotelian Thomas himself, can make a man a Christian
unless the reckoning of these bachelors be added."

The same method of direct denunciation, with no special reference to the main thesis of Folly, is pursued in the case of the monks, or "religious," both titles false, Erasmus says, for the greater part of them are as far as possible from religion, and there is no kind of men whom you are more apt to meet in all places. They pride themselves upon their ignorance, carry the psalm-books they cannot read into the churches, and bray out their words as if they could thereby please the ear of God. Some of them crowd the taverns, waggons, and ships, showing off their poverty and filth and howling for alms. Yet the merry knaves try to pass themselves off as living the life of the apostles.

"What a joke it is that they do all things by rule, as it were
by a kind of sacred mathematics; as, for instance, how many
knots their shoes must be tied with, of what colour everything
must be, what variety in their garb, of what material, how many
straws' breadth to their girdle, of what form and of how many
bushels' capacity their cowl, how many fingers broad their
hair, and how many hours they may sleep. Now who cannot see
what an unequal equality this is, when there is such a variety
of persons and tastes? and yet with all this nonsense, they not
only make light of others, but come to despise one another, and
these men who profess apostolic charity make a terrible row at a
dress girded in another fashion or at a colour a little darker
in shade. Some of them are so very 'religious' that they wear no
outer garment but one of hair-cloth, with soft linen underneath;
others on the contrary wear linen without and woollen within.
Others again would as soon touch poison as money, but meanwhile
make free with wine and women. They are all trying not to agree
in their manner of life; none of them to follow the example of
Christ, but all to be different one from the other....

"The greater part of them have such faith in their ceremonies
and human traditions that they think one heaven is not reward
enough for such great doings, never that the time will come when
Christ shall set all this aside and claim his rule of charity.
One will show his belly stuffed with every sort of fish; another
will pour out a hundred bushels of psalms; another will count
up myriads of fasts and make up for them all again by almost
bursting himself at a single dinner. Another will bring forward
such a heap of ceremonies that seven ships would hardly hold
them; another will boast that for sixty years he has never
touched a penny except with double gloves on his hands; another
wears a cowl so greasy and filthy that no sailor would think it
decent. Another will boast that for eleven lusters he has led
the life of a sponge, always fixed to the same spot; another
will display his voice hoarse with much chanting; another a
drowsiness contracted from solitary living; another a tongue
palsied by long silence. But Christ will interrupt their endless
bragging and will demand:--'whence this new kind of Judaism?
One law and that my own I recognise, and that is the only thing
I hear nothing about. In that day I promised openly and using
no twisted parables, the inheritance of my Father, not to cowls
and prayers and fastings, but to deeds of love.' And yet no one
dares reproach those people, who belong, as it were, to another
commonwealth--and especially the Begging Friars, because they
know everybody's secrets through what they call 'confessions.'"

Erasmus more than hints that the friars had ways enough of playing fast and loose with the secrets confided to them, and, running together his assaults upon the schoolmen and the monks, shows up the scholastic preaching of the friars by some excellent specimens.

"I myself have heard one distinguished fool--I beg his pardon,
a scholar I would say--who, in a famous sermon on the mystery
of the Holy Trinity, in order to show his uncommon learning and
please the ears of the theologians, took a quite new method,
namely from the letters, syllables, and discourse itself and
then from the agreement of nouns and verbs, of adjective and
substantive, to the great admiration of some, but causing others
to grumble in the words of Horace: 'what is all this rot about?'

"At last he got the thing down so fine, that he showed as
plainly as any mathematician could chalk it out, that the
mystery of the whole Trinity is expressed in the rudiments of
grammar. This most highly theological person sweat away for
eight months over that speech, so that the whole sight of his
eyes ran into his wits and he is now as blind as a mole; but the
creature cares naught for his eyesight and thinks his glory very
cheaply bought.

"Then I have heard another, an octogenarian and such a
theologian that you would think Scotus had been born again in
him. He set out to explain the mystery of the name of Jesus
and showed with marvellous subtilty that in those letters lay
concealed whatever could be predicated of him. For a word that
is inflected with but three cases is evidently the image of the
divine Trinity. Then because the first case, _Jesus_, ends in
_s_, the second, _Jesum_, in _m_, the third, _Jesu_, in _u_,
beneath this fact there lies an unspeakable mystery, the three
letters indicating, of course, that he is the beginning, middle,
and end. Still there remained a mystery more obscure than all
this, according to the principles of mathematics: he so divided
the word Jesus into two equal parts that the third letter was
left alone in the middle; then he showed that this was called by
the Hebrews _syn_ and that _syn_ in the language, I believe, of
the Scots [_Scotorum_], means _sin_, and hence it was plainly
demonstrated that Jesus was he who should take away the sin of
the world."

The assault on the friars ends with some amusing criticism of their manner of public speaking, which they seem to have acquired by misapplying and exaggerating the good principles of rhetoric they have somehow picked up here and there.

As to secular princes and courtiers, Folly borrows from the oration of "her friend Erasmus" to Duke Philip, and adds little to the commonplaces of criticism upon their wild and reckless living and their disregard of the good of their subjects. She carries her argument along from secular to clerical princes and finally reaches the pope, to whom she pays her respects in this monumental passage:

"Those supreme pontiffs, who stand in the place of Christ, if
they should try to imitate his life, that is his poverty, his
toil, his teaching, his cross, and his scorn of this world, or
if they should think of the meaning of 'pope,' that is 'father,'
or even of 'most holy,' what position in the world could be
more dreadful? Who would buy it with all his resources, or,
when he had bought it, would defend it by sword and poison
and every violence? What joys they would lose, if once wisdom
should get hold of them! Wisdom, say I? nay, even a grain of
that salt Christ tells us of. What wealth, what honours, riches,
conquests, dispensations, taxes, indulgences, horses, mules,
guards, pleasures, they would lose!... and in their place they
would have vigils, prayers, fasts, tears, sermons, study, groans
and a thousand other painful toils of the same sort.

"And we ought not to forget that such a mass of scribes,
copyists, notaries, advocates, promoters, secretaries,
mule-drivers, grooms, money-changers, procurers, and gayer
persons yet I might mention, did I not respect your ears,--that
this whole swarm which now burdens--I beg your pardon--honours
the Roman See, would be driven to starvation. This would be an
inhuman and an abominable deed, but still more execrable would
it be that those chief princes of the Church and true lights of
the world should be reduced to scrip and staff. As it is now,
if there is any work to be done, it is left to Peter and Paul,
who have plenty of leisure for it; but if there is anything of
show or of pleasure, they keep that for themselves. And so it
happens that, through my assistance, there is scarce any class
of men who live more jovially and less burdened with care. They
think they are fulfilling the rule of Christ if they play the
part of bishops with mystical and almost theatrical decorations,
ceremonies, titles of benediction, of reverence, of sanctity,
with blessings and cursings. Doing miracles is quite antiquated
and out of date; to teach the people is hard work; to interpret
the holy scripture is a matter for the schools; praying is
tedious; shedding tears is a wretched business fit for women; to
be poor is base; to be conquered is dishonourable and unworthy
of him who will scarce allow the greatest of kings to kiss his
blessed feet; to die is unbecoming and to be lifted on a cross
is infamous."

The end of the Μωρία is an attempt on Folly's part to support her case by references to authority, and especially, of course, to the classics and to Scripture. It is laboured, and neither very ingenious nor very amusing. The joke-machine goes a little hard at this stage of its progress--yet the solid seriousness of the author's purpose is as clear here as anywhere. In his references to Scripture he cannot resist the temptation to give a parting fling at the foolish interpretations which it was the most important work of his life to correct. For instance, he makes Folly say:

"I was myself but lately present at a theological
discussion--for I often go to such meetings--when someone asked
what authority there was in Holy Writ for burning heretics
instead of convincing them by argument. A certain hard old
man, a theologian by the very look of him, answered with great
scorn, that the apostle Paul had laid down this law when he
said '_hereticum hominem post unam et alteram correptionem
devita_'--'avoid an heretic after one or two attempts to
convince him.' And when he had yelled out these same words over
and over again and some were wondering what had struck the man,
he finally explained '_de vita tollendum hereticum_'--'the
heretic must be put out of life.' Some burst out laughing, but
there were not wanting some to whom this commentary seemed
perfectly theological."

An opportunity for Erasmus to express his usual detestation of war is furnished by his references to the papal warfare, which seemed to him the most unjustifiable of all forms of military action. Indeed one may fairly say that in this year, 1509, Erasmus had clearly in mind and had already given expression to the views which were to form the ground-work of the Reformation. This was the year before Luther's journey to Rome, and Erasmus himself was just fresh from the impressions of an Italian residence. The worldly lives of clergymen, from pope to friar, the burden of monastic vows, the ignorance of theologians and their scholastic backers, the wickedness of indulgences, the follies and superstitions of saint-worship, the cruel weight of ceremonies which had no support in any worthy authority--all these things were as boldly pointed out by Erasmus in 1509 as ever they were to be shown by any reformer of a later day. The Praise of Folly carried his proclamation into a thousand hands that would never have touched the more sober, but not more serious, criticism of less broadly human critics.

Naturally the Praise of Folly called forth a certain criticism from individuals belonging to some of the classes attacked. To this criticism Erasmus replied only by renewed and more bitter comment in the same spirit. Quite different, however, was the admonition he received from his excellent friend, Martin Dorpius of Louvain, and different to correspond was the spirit of his reply.[83] He addresses Dorpius throughout as a sincere man and scholar, whose view had been obscured by the misunderstandings of others; in fact, when you came to the bottom of it, of one man, by whom is doubtless meant the unhappy scapegoat, Nicholas Egmund. Dorpius had disapproved the _Moria_ chiefly on account of what seemed to him its flippant tone and the tendency it must have to excite hostility against really good and valuable things. Erasmus defends himself on the ground that the flippancy is only apparent, a mere lightness of touch to commend the serious purpose underneath. He had been bitterly abused, but he abuses no man; on the contrary, he has taken great pains to avoid any personal attack or even an attack upon any class of men as such.

[83] _Epistola apologetica ad Martinum Dorpium Theologum_, ix., 1.

"I had in view no other object in the _Moria_ than I have had in other works, but used only a different method." He mentions specially the _Enchiridion_, the _Institutio Principis_, and the Panegyric on Philip of Burgundy, serious works enough in all conscience. He gives the familiar story of the composition and first publication of the book. He had just returned from Italy, ill and worn out by the journey. He was at More's house and began to play with the idea of the _Moria_, not with any intention of publication, but just to while away the time.[84] He showed his friends what he had written, only that he might enjoy his laugh the better in company. They liked it, and not only urged him to finish it, but sent it over to Paris, and there it was printed, but from corrupt and even mutilated copy. How displeasing it was Dorpius may judge from the fact that within a few months it was reprinted seven times in different places. "If you think this was a foolish performance on my part, I shall not deny it."

[84] He says elsewhere that More was the cause (_auctor_) of his
writing the book. iii.¹, 474-D.

Yet it has been approved by the most famous theologians, men of the highest character and learning, "who have never been more friendly with me than since its publication, and who like it far better than I do." He would give their names and titles were it not that this might expose them to the abuse of

"those three theologians or rather, when you come to that, of
_that one_." "If I should paint him in his true colours no one
could wonder that the _Moria_ is displeasing to such a man; nay,
I should be sorry if it did not displease such people, though it
does not suit me either. Yet it comes the nearer to pleasing me
because it does not suit such characters as that."

If Dorpius could only look into his soul he would see how many things Erasmus has _not_ touched upon, lest he give offence, and lest he say anything indecent or seditious.

Our analysis of the _Moria_ is well sustained by Erasmus' attempt here to show that by _stultitia_ he does not mean mere human foolishness. "There is no danger that any person will here imagine that Christ and the apostles were really fools." They only had a certain element of weakness common to all humanity, and which, compared with the eternal wisdom, may well seem not altogether wise. The tone of the whole defence is admirably calm, and shows a sincere regard for Dorpius, though, like certain islanders, he does need to have a joke explained now and then.

Erasmus did not exaggerate the immense and immediate popularity of the _Moria_. Our bibliography enumerates forty-three editions in the author's lifetime, and it has been translated and reprinted since then an infinite number of times. Holbein amused himself by decorating the margin of his copy with these rude but clever wood-cuts which have come to be the permanent types of the various orders of Erasmian fools.