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THE LIFE OF ERASMUS.
E R A S M U S's EPISTLE TO Sir THOMAS MORE.
ERASMUS's Praise of FOLLY.
THE LIFE OF ERASMUS.
ERASMUS,
so deservedly famous for his admirable writings, the vast extent of
his learning, his great candour and moderation, and for being one of
the chief restorers of the Latin tongue on this side the Alps, was
born at Rotterdam, on the 28th of October, in the year 1467. The
anonymous author of his life commonly printed with his Colloquies (of
the London edition) is pleased to tell us that
de anno quo natus est apud Batavos, non constat.
And if he himself wrote the life which we find before the Elzevir
edition, said to be
Erasmo autore, he
does not particularly mention the year in which he was born, but
places it circa
annum 67 supra millesintum quadringentesimum.
Another Latin life, which is prefixed to the above-mentioned London
edition, fixes it in the year 1465; as does his epitaph at Basil. But
as the inscription on his statue at Rotterdam, the place of his
nativity, may reasonably be supposed the most authentic, we have
followed that. His mother was the daughter of a physician at
Sevenbergen in Holland, with whom his father contracted an
acquaintance, and had correspondence with her on promise of marriage,
and was actually contracted to her. His father's name was Gerard; he
was the youngest of ten brothers, without one sister coming between;
for which reason his parents (according to the superstition of the
times) designed to consecrate him to the church. His brothers liked
the notion, because, as the church then governed all, they hoped, if
he rose in his profession, to have a sure friend to advance their
interest; but no importunities could prevail on Gerard to turn
ecclesiastic Finding himself continually pressed upon so disagreeable
a subject, and not able longer to bear it, he was forced to fly from
his native country, leaving a letter for his friends, in which he
acquainted them with the reason of his departure, and that he should
never trouble them any more. Thus he left her who was to be his wife
big with child, and made the best of his way to Rome. Being an
admirable master of the pen, he made a very genteel livelihood by
transcribing most authors of note (for printing was not in use). He
for some time lived at large, but afterwards applied close to study,
made great progress in the Greek and Latin languages, and in the
civil law; for Rome at that time was full of learned men. When his
friends knew he was at Rome, they sent him word that the young
gentlewoman whom he had courted for a wife was dead; upon which, in a
melancholy fit, he took orders, and turned his thoughts wholly to the
study of divinity. He returned to his own country, and found to his
grief that he had been imposed upon; but it was too late to think of
marriage, so he dropped all farther pretensions to his mistress; nor
would she after this unlucky adventure be induced to marry.The
son took the name of Gerard after his father, which in German
signifies amiable,
and (after the fashion of the learned men of that age, who affected
to give their names a Greek or Latin turn) his was turned into
Erasmus, which in Greek has the same signification. He was chorister
of the cathedral church of Utrecht till he was nine years old; after
which he was sent to Deventer to be instructed by the famous
Alexander Hegius, a Westphalian. Under so able a master he proved an
extraordinary proficient; and it is remarkable that he had such a
strength of memory as to be able to say all Terence and Horace by
heart. He was now arrived to the thirteenth year of his age, and had
been continually under the watchful eye of his mother, who died of
the plague then raging at Deventer. The contagion daily increasing,
and having swept away the family where he boarded, he was obliged to
return home. His father Gerard was so concerned at her death that he
grew melancholy, and died soon after: neither of his parents being
much above forty when they died.Erasmus
had three guardians assigned him, the chief of whom was Peter Winkel,
schoolmaster of Goude; and the fortune left him was amply sufficient
for his support, if his executors had faithfully discharged their
trust Although he was fit for the university, his guardians were
averse to sending him there, as they designed him for a monastic
life, and therefore removed him to Bois-le-duc, where, he says, he
lost near three years, living in a Franciscan convent The professor
of humanity in this convent, admiring his rising genius, daily
importuned him to take the habit, and be of their order. Erasmus had
no great inclination for the cloister; not that he had the least
dislike to the severities of a pious life, but he could not reconcile
himself to the monastic profession; he therefore urged his rawness of
age, and desired farther to consider better of the matter. The plague
spreading in those parts, and he having struggled a long time with a
quartan ague, obliged him to return home.His
guardians employed those about him to use all manner of arguments to
prevail on him to enter the order of monk; sometimes threatening, and
at other times making use of flattery and fair speeches. When Winkel,
his guardian, found him not to be moved from his resolution, he told
him that he threw up his guardianship from that moment Young Erasmus
replied, that he took him at his word, since he was old enough now to
look out for himself. When Winkel found that threats did not avail,
he employed his brother, who was the other guardian, to see what he
could effect by fair means. Thus he was surrounded by them and their
agents on all sides. By mere accident, Erasmus went to visit a
religious house belonging to the same order, in Emaus or Steyn, near
Goude, where he met with one Cornelius, who had been his companion at
Deventer; and though he had not himself taken the habit, he was
perpetually preaching up the advantages of a religious life, as the
convenience of noble libraries, the helps of learned conversation,
retirement from the noise and folly of the world, and the like. Thus
at last he was induced to pitch upon this convent. Upon his admission
they fed him with great promises, to engage him to take the holy
cloth; and though he found almost everything fall short of his
expectation, yet his necessities, and the usage he was threatened
with if he abandoned their order, prevailed with him, after his year
of probation, to profess himself a member of their fraternity. Not
long after this, he had the honour to be known to Henry a Bergis,
bishop of Cambray, who having some hopes of obtaining a cardinal's
hat, wanted one perfectly master of Latin to solicit this affair for
him; for this purpose Erasmus was taken into the bishop's family,
where he wore the habit of his order. The bishop not succeeding in
his expectation at Rome, proved fickle and wavering in his affection;
therefore Erasmus prevailed with him to send him to Paris, to
prosecute his studies in that famous university, with the promise of
an annual allowance, which was never paid him. He was admitted into
Montague College, but indisposition obliged him to return to the
bishop, by whom he was honourably entertained. Finding his health
restored, he made a journey to Holland, intending to settle there,
but was persuaded to go a second time to Paris; where, having no
patron to support him, himself says, he rather made a shift to live,
than could be said to study. He next visited England, where he was
received with great respect; and as appears by several of his
letters, he honoured it next to the place of his nativity. In a
letter to Andrelinus, inviting him to England, he speaks highly of
the beauty of the English ladies, and thus describes their innocent
freedom: "When you come into a gentleman's house you are allowed
the favour to salute them, and the same when you take leave." He
was particularly acquainted with Sir Thomas More, Colet, dean of
Saint Paul's, Grocinus, Linacer, Latimer, and many others of the most
eminent of that time; and passed some years at Gam-bridge. In his way
for France he had the misfortune to be stripped of everything; but he
did not revenge this injury by any unjust reflection on the country.
Not meeting with the preferment he expected, he made a voyage to
Italy, at that time little inferior to the Augustan age for learning.
He took his doctor of divinity degree in the university of Turin;
stayed about a year in Bologna; afterward went to Venice, and there
published his book of Adages from the press of the famous Aldus. He
removed to Padua, and last to Rome, where his fame had arrived long
before him. Here he gained the friendship of all the considerable
persons of the city, nor could have failed to have made his fortune,
had he not been prevailed upon by the great promises of his friends
in England to return thither on Henry VIIIth coming to the crown. He
was taken into favour by Warham, archbishop of Canterbury, who gave
him the living of Aldington, in Kent; but whether Erasmus was wanting
in making his court to Wolsey, or whether the cardinal viewed him
with a jealous eye, because he was a favourite of Warham, between
whom and Wolsey there was perpetual clashing, we know not; however,
being disappointed, Erasmus went to Flanders, and by the interest of
Chancellor Sylvagius, was made counsellor to Charles of Austria,
afterward Charles V., emperor of Germany. He resided several years at
Basil; but on the mass being abolished in that city by the
Reformation, he retired to Friberg in Alsace, where he lived seven
years. Having been for a long time afflicted with the gout, he left
Friberg, and returned to Basil. Here the gout soon left him, but he
was seized by a dysentery, and after labouring a whole month under
that disorder, died on the 22nd of July, 1536, in the house of Jerome
Frobenius, son of John, the famous printer. He was honourably
interred, and the city of Basil still pays the highest respect to the
memory of so great a man.Erasmus
was the most facetious man, and the greatest critic of his age. He
carried on a reformation in learning at the same time he advanced
that of religion; and promoted a purity of style as well as
simplicity of worship. This drew on him the hatred of the
ecclesiastics, who were no less bigotted to their barbarisms in
language and philosophy, than they were to their superstitious and
gaudy ceremonies in religion; they murdered him in their dull
treatises, libelled him in their wretched sermons, and in their last
and most effectual efforts of malice, they joined some of their own
execrable stuff to his compositions: of which he himself complains in
a letter addressed to the divines of Louvain. He exposed with great
freedom the vices and corruptions of his own church, yet never would
be persuaded to leave her communion. The papal policy would never
have suffered Erasmus to have taken so unbridled a range in the
reproof and censure of her extravagancies, but under such
circumstances, when the public attack of Luther imposed on her a
prudential necessity of not disobliging her friends, that she might
with more united strength oppose the common enemy; and patiently bore
what at any other time she would have resented. Perhaps no man has
obliged the public with a greater number of useful volumes than our
author; though several have been attributed to him which he never
wrote. His book of Colloquies has passed through more editions than
any of his others: Moreri tells us a bookseller in Paris sold twenty
thousand at one impression.
E R A S M U S's EPISTLE TO Sir THOMAS MORE.
IN
my late travels from Italy into England, that I might not trifle away
my time in the rehearsal of old wives' fables, I thought it more
pertinent to employ my thoughts in reflecting upon some past studies,
or calling to remembrance several of those highly learned, as well as
smartly ingenious, friends I had here left behind, among whom you
(dear Sir) were represented as the chief; whose memory, while absent
at this distance, I respect with no less a complacency than I was
wont while present to enjoy your more intimate conversation, which
last afforded me the greatest satisfaction I could possibly hope for.
Having therefore resolved to be a doing, and deeming that time
improper for any serious concerns, I thought good to divert myself
with drawing up a panegyrick upon Folly. How! what maggot (say you)
put this in your head? Why, the first hint, Sir, was your own surname
of More, which comes as near the literal sound of the word,* as you
yourself are distant from the signification of it, and that in all
men's judgments is vastly wide.*
Mwpia.In
the next place, I supposed that this kind of sporting wit would be by
you more especially accepted of, by you, Sir, that are wont with this
sort of jocose raillery (such as, if I mistake not, is neither dull
nor impertinent) to be mightily pleased, and in your ordinary
converse to approve yourself a Democritus junior: for truly, as you
do from a singular vein of wit very much dissent from the common herd
of mankind; so, by an incredible affability and pliableness of
temper, you have the art of suiting your humour with all sorts of
companies. I hope therefore you will not only readily accept of this
rude essay as a token from your friend, but take it under your more
immediate protection, as being dedicated to you, and by that tide
adopted for yours, rather than to be fathered as my own. And it is a
chance if there be wanting some quarrelsome persons that will shew
their teeth, and pretend these fooleries are either too buffoon-like
for a grave divine, or too satyrical for a meek christian, and so
will exclaim against me as if I were vamping up some old farce, or
acted anew the Lucian again with a peevish snarling at all things.
But those who are offended at the lightness and pedantry of this
subject, I would have them consider that I do not set myself for the
first example of this kind, but that the same has been oft done by
many considerable authors. For thus several ages since, Homer wrote
of no more weighty a subject than of a war between the frogs and
mice, Virgil of a gnat and a pudding-cake, and Ovid of a nut
Polycrates commended the cruelty of Busiris; and Isocrates, that
corrects him for this, did as much for the injustice of Glaucus.
Favorinus extolled Thersites, and wrote in praise of a quartan ague.
Synesius pleaded in behalf of baldness; and Lucian defended a sipping
fly. Seneca drollingly related the deifying of Claudius; Plutarch the
dialogue betwixt Gryllus and Ulysses; Lucian and Apuleius the story
of an ass; and somebody else records the last will of a hog, of which
St. Hierom makes mention. So that if they please, let themselves
think the worst of me, and fancy to themselves that I was all this
while a playing at push-pin, or riding astride on a hobby-horse. For
how unjust is it, if when we allow different recreations to each
particular course of life, we afford no diversion to studies;
especially when trifles may be a whet to more serious thoughts, and
comical matters may be so treated of, as that a reader of ordinary
sense may possibly thence reap more advantage than from some more big
and stately argument: as while one in a long-winded oration descants
in commendation of rhetoric or philosophy, another in a fulsome
harangue sets forth the praise of his nation, a third makes a zealous
invitation to a holy war with the Turks, another confidently sets up
for a fortune-teller, and a fifth states questions upon mere
impertinences. But as nothing is more childish than to handle a
serious subject in a loose, wanton style, so is there nothing more
pleasant than so to treat of trifles, as to make them seem nothing
less than what their name imports. As to what relates to myself, I
must be forced to submit to the judgment of others; yet, except I am
too partial to be judge in my own case, I am apt to believe I have
praised Folly in such a manner as not to have deserved the name of
fool for my pains. To reply now to the objection of satyricalness,
wits have been always allowed this privilege, that they might be
smart upon any transactions of life, if so be their liberty did not
extend to railing; which makes me wonder at the tender-eared humour
of this age, which will admit of no address without the prefatory
repetition of all formal titles; nay, you may find some so
preposterously devout, that they will sooner wink at the greatest
affront against our Saviour, than be content that a prince, or a
pope, should be nettled with the least joke or gird, especially in
what relates to their ordinary customs. But he who so blames men's
irregularities as to lash at no one particular person by name, does
he (I say) seem to carp so properly as to teach and instruct? And if
so, how am I concerned to make any farther excuse? Beside, he who in
his strictures points indifferently at all, he seems not angry at one
man, but at all vices.Therefore,
if any singly complain they are particularly reflected upon, they do
but betray their own guilt, at least their cowardice. Saint Hierom
dealt in the same argument at a much freer and sharper rate; nay, and
he did not sometimes refrain from naming the persons: whereas I have
not only stifled the mentioning any one person, but have so tempered
my style, as the ingenious reader will easily perceive I aimed at
diversion rather than satire. Neither did I so far imitate Juvenal,
as to rake into the sink of vices to procure a laughter, rather than
create a hearty abhorrence. If there be any one that after all
remains yet unsatisfied, let him at least consider that there may be
good use made of being reprehended by Folly, which since we have
feigned as speaking, we must keep up that character which is suitable
to the person introduced.But
why do I trouble you, Sir, with this needless apology, you that are
so peculiar a patron; as, though the cause itself be none of the
best, you can at least give it the best protection. Farewell.On
the Argument and Design of the following Oration.WHATEVER
the modern satyrs o' th' stage,
To jerk the failures of a sliding age,
Have lavishly expos'd to public view,
For a discharge to all from envy due,
Here in as lively colours naked lie,
With equal wit, and more of modesty,
Those poets, with their free disclosing arts,
Strip vice so near to its uncomely parts,
Their libels prove but lessons, and they teach
Those very crimes which they intend t' impeach:
While here so wholesome all, tho' sharp t' th' taste,
So briskly free, yet so resolv'dly chaste;
The virgin naked as her god of bows,
May read or hear when blood at highest flows;
Nor more expense of blushes thence arise,
Than while the lect'ring matron does advise
To guard her virtue, and her honour prize.
Satire and panegyric, distant be,
Yet jointly here they both in one agree.
The whole's a sacrifice of salt and fire;
So does the humour of the age require,
To chafe the touch, and so foment desire.
As doctrine-dangling preachers lull asleep
Their unattentive pent-up fold of sheep;
The opiated milk glues up the brain,
And th' babes of grace are in their cradles lain;
While mounted Andrews, bawdy, bold, and loud,
Like cocks, alarm all the drowsy crowd,
Whose glittering ears are prick'd as bolt-upright,
As sailing hairs are hoisted in a fright.
So does it fare with croaking spawns o' th' press,
The mould o' th' subject alters the success;
What's serious, like sleep, grants writs of ease,
Satire and ridicule can only please;
As if no other animals could gape,
But the biting badger, or the snick'ring ape.
Folly by irony's commended here,
Sooth'd, that her weakness may the more appear.
Thus fools, who trick'd, in red and yellow shine,
Are made believe that they are wondrous fine,
When all's a plot t' expose them by design.
The largesses of Folly here are strown.
Like pebbles, not to pick, but trample on.
Thus Spartans laid their soaking slaves before
The boys, to justle, kick, and tumble o'er:
Not that the dry-lipp'd youngsters might combine
To taste and know the mystery of wine,
But wonder thus at men transform'd to swine;
And th' power of such enchantment to escape,
Timely renounce the devil of the grape.
So here,
Though Folly speaker be, and argument,
Wit guides the tongue, wisdom's the lecture meant.So
here, Though Folly speaker be, and argument,
Wit guides the tongue, wisdom's the lecture meant.
ERASMUS's Praise of FOLLY.
An oration, of feigned
matter, spoken by Folly in her own person.HOW slightly soever I am esteemed in the common vogue of the
world, (for I well know how disingenuously Folly is decried, even
by those who are themselves the greatest fools,) yet it is from my
influence alone that the whole universe receives her ferment of
mirth and jollity: of which this may be urged as a convincing
argument, in that as soon as I appeared to speak before this
numerous assembly all their countenances were gilded oyer with a
lively sparkling pleasantness: you soon welcomed me with so
encouraging a look, you spurred me on with so cheerful a hum, that
truly in all appearance, you seem now flushed with a good dose of
reviving nectar, when as just before you sate drowsy and
melancholy, as if you were lately come out of some hermit's cell.
But as it is usual, that as soon as the sun peeps from her eastern
bed, and draws back the curtains of the darksome night; or as when,
after a hard winter, the restorative spring breathes a more
enlivening air, nature forthwith changes her apparel, and all
things seem to renew their age; so at the first sight of me you all
unmask, and appear in more lively colours. That therefore which
expert orators can scarce effect by all their little artifice of
eloquence, to wit, a raising the attentions of their auditors to a
composedness of thought, this a bare look from me has commanded.
The reason why I appear in this odd kind of garb, you shall soon be
informed of, if for so short a while you will have but the patience
to lend me an ear; yet not such a one as you are wont to hearken
with to your reverend preachers, but as you listen withal to
mountebanks, buffoons, and merry-andrews; in short, such as
formerly were fastened to Midas, as a punishment for his affront to
the god Pan. For I am now in a humour to act awhile the sophist,
yet not of that sort who undertake the drudgery of tyrannizing over
school boys, and teach a more than womanish knack of brawling; but
in imitation of those ancient ones, who to avoid the scandalous
epithet of wise, preferred this title of sophists; the task of
these was to celebrate the worth of gods and heroes. Prepare
therefore to be entertained with a panegyrick, yet not upon
Hercules, Solon, or any other grandee, but on myself, that is, upon
Folly.And here I value not their censure that pretend it is foppish
and affected for any person to praise himself: yet let it be as
silly as they plea [...]