DESIDERIUS ERASMUS
Translated by John Wilson
1668
ERASMUS OF ROTTERDAM
to his friend
THOMAS MORE, health:
As I was coming awhile since out of Italy for England, that I might notwaste all that time I was to sit on horseback in foolish and illiteratefables, I chose rather one while to revolve with myself something of ourcommon studies, and other while to enjoy the remembrance of my friends,of whom I left here some no less learned than pleasant. Among these you,my More, came first in my mind, whose memory, though absent yourself,gives me such delight in my absence, as when present with you I everfound in your company; than which, let me perish if in all my life I evermet with anything more delectable. And therefore, being satisfied thatsomething was to be done, and that that time was no wise proper for anyserious matter, I resolved to make some sport with the praise of folly.But who the devil put that in your head? you'll say. The first thing wasyour surname of More, which comes so near the word Moriae (folly) asyou are far from the thing. And that you are so, all the world will clearyou. In the next place, I conceived this exercise of wit would not beleast approved by you; inasmuch as you are wont to be delighted with suchkind of mirth, that is to say, neither unlearned, if I am not mistaken,nor altogether insipid, and in the whole course of your life have playedthe part of a Democritus. And though such is the excellence of yourjudgment that it was ever contrary to that of the people's, yet such isyour incredible affability and sweetness of temper that you both can anddelight to carry yourself to all men a man of all hours. Wherefore youwill not only with good will accept this small declamation, but take uponyou the defense of it, for as much as being dedicated to you, it is nowno longer mine but yours. But perhaps there will not be wanting somewranglers that may cavil and charge me, partly that these toys arelighter than may become a divine, and partly more biting than may beseemthe modesty of a Christian, and consequently exclaim that I resemble theancient comedy, or another Lucian, and snarl at everything. But I wouldhave them whom the lightness or foolery of the argument may offend toconsider that mine is not the first of this kind, but the same thing thathas been often practiced even by great authors: when Homer, so many agessince, did the like with the battle of frogs and mice; Virgil, with thegnat and puddings; Ovid, with the nut; when Polycrates and his correctorIsocrates extolled tyranny; Glauco, injustice; Favorinus, deformity andthe quartan ague; Synescius, baldness; Lucian, the fly and flattery; whenSeneca made such sport with Claudius' canonizations; Plutarch, with hisdialogue between Ulysses and Gryllus; Lucian and Apuleius, with the ass;and some other, I know not who, with the hog that made his last will andtestament, of which also even St. Jerome makes mention. And therefore ifthey please, let them suppose I played at tables for my diversion, or ifthey had rather have it so, that I rode on a hobbyhorse. For whatinjustice is it that when we allow every course of life its recreation,that study only should have none? Especially when such toys are notwithout their serious matter, and foolery is so handled that the readerthat is not altogether thick-skulled may reap more benefit from it thanfrom some men's crabbish and specious arguments. As when one, with longstudy and great pains, patches many pieces together on the p