I shall be wise for the future, and look out for myself rather than for others.

You have, my dearest Tutor, almost all the news about your Erasmus, for I should consider it very wrong if Tutor were kept in ignorance of anything Erasmian. About the affair of Dismas, I am placing special confidence in your performing of your kind offices. Wherefore I am bold to promise both in your name and his. For the rest, tell me all the news about your affairs, what the Bredani brothers are doing, who indeed in my opinion should be restrained by strict rules from studying too much. What news of my Augustine, of whom so far I have been unable to find out anything? And finally, what is my Bensrott doing? Write to me briefly but faithfully of whatever is of interest to you or to me. My friend Batt loves you no less ardently than he does myself. Beware of deeming this false, dear Tutor, for there is nothing truer. I am thinking, or rather dreaming, of visiting Italy this autumn, but nothing hopeful in that direction thus far appears. I hear that Busleiden, the brother of the Bishop of Besançon, has arranged to set out thither; that he is a man who appreciates literary characters and thinks my own talent not the worst; a fact which makes me think that, if my brain had not been altogether stupid, I could have crept into his friendship by some crevice or other. Farewell. July 17, 1501.1

17

This letter was written from Tournehem, to which place he had hurried, after his trip through Holland, with the purpose of visiting Batt, who was seriously ill; and of making a last attempt to secure something from the Lady of Veere. He found that the Lady had married, as we have said, and that henceforward nothing was to be expected from that source. He also found his old and much-tried friend Batt, the one who had stood by him in good fortune and ill, who had lifted him up when he was down, who had encouraged him in his moments of depression, who had given him freely of his own money, and when this did not suffice, had gone and borrowed more from his friends to relieve the necessities of this most exacting of friends, he found his good friend Batt, alas, in very poor case, and like to die of some fatal disease, the particulars of which have not come down to us. The two had had dreams of a time and an opportunity to come when, with financial worries solved, and prosperity shining on them, they were to live together in a literary world all their own, where creditors would enter not, neither would the carking cares for the morrow come in to disturb their minds from loftier things. All literary men have had such dreams; some few have attained to this blissful existence, but the most of them see their airy visions blown away like gossamer threads in the summer breeze. So it had come to pass with the plans of Erasmus and his faithful Batt. The latter's illness, though gentle and gradual, proved to be mortal, and he died sometime in 1502, the exact date being unknown to us. It must have been with mingled feelings of sorrow

17 Ibid.. 157.

for Batt and apprehension for himself that Erasmus left Tournehem for the last time and betook himself to St. Omer, where he hoped to stay with the Abbot of St. Bertin, the brother of the Bishop his former patron, or elsewhere as chance might offer. A few days after arriving here he wrote to Batt a short letter in what he calls a joking vein, and this was the last letter of his to Batt that we possess. But he had kept his promise to Batt to make him famous, though at this moment there. seemed little chance of such a thing. Yet, wherever the name and early struggles of Erasmus are read and pondered over, the name of Batt, his earliest and most faithful disciple, shall be remembered. This is the letter:

18

I need not bid you be of good cheer, since I well know that you are long ago rejoicing that you have shaken from your back such a troublesome burden as I have been. Just now Adrian is inviting me to come to him. The Warden openly advises me that I had better stay with the Abbot, if I can profitably do so. On the other hand, the Doctor urges me to go to Adrian's. Each acts, I suppose, as dogs are wont to do who love no rival in the kitchen. I doubt if the Warden will be a sincere friend in all things, for I feel that he is somewhat arrogant. Nor did he ever say a word about Adrian when with you, although through him the matter ought to have been brought about. Whatever may be the issue, I will keep cheered up. Take care of your health, my dear Batt. As soon as a chance will offer, send me all my belongings and all my dialogues; perchance I may feel like completing them. Urge on Louis to transcribe as much of my letters as he is able. Farewell. On the advice of the Doctor I will not delay Louis any longer, lest those cowled friends of mine murmur at me still more. St. Omer, August, 1501.19 * Ibid., 163.

CHAPTER XIII

SEEKING PATRONS: THE "ENCHIRIDION"

So Batt passes from the stage, and Erasmus looks about him for those who may be able and willing to take his place. The wealthy Abbot of St. Bertin's monastery at St. Omer, brother of the Bishop of Cambrai, his former patron, offers him hospitality. Adrian, who was, like Augustine, a sort of transcriber and dealer in books and manuscripts, solicited him to share a similar partnership, but he was mostly moved to seek the friendship and assistance of Nicholas Bensrott, one of his former pupils, who had already relieved his financial necessities by a timely loan, and who, he thought, could easily take the place and perform the offices of both Batt and Augustine. Even before Batt's death he had very delicately tried Bensrott out in the following letter addressed to him at Paris:

Frequent and accurate reports are borne to me daily that the plague is raging widely and sparing nothing at Paris. So, since I was afraid that you might have taken flight in some direction, I did not consider it wise either to write at great length, or to send you much material, lest, on account of your absence, my efforts should go for naught. But I will now touch on the principal topics.

This messenger is the first by whom I have been able to write to you, dear Bensrott. I send you Euripides and Isocrates, and others are ready which will reach you later. I will take measures to meet your wishes about the Defense of Milo as soon as I shall procure the oration and the books necessary for the task. If anything has happened there which you feel I ought to know, inform me of it. If Augustine has returned, give him the letter which I have enclosed with yours. And I bespeak again and again your earnest care for the trifles which I have left in your charge.

If you have thought out any tangible plan for our living together, you will find me most agreeable to it. You will understand, I suppose, what I am alluding to. I could hardly make you believe, dearest Nicholas, how eagerly I long for it; but as I scarcely dare hope for such a thing, so I dare not advise you. It irks me that your character, so upright and so philosophic, is even now scarcely known to me, although I have always appreciated it and spoken of it most highly. Still I know not how it happens, whether by the excessive modesty of both of us, or by the operation of other causes, that I have never dared to promise myself the close friendship of Bensrott. And yet, as I am wont to be constant in fulfilling the duties of friendship, so am I reserved in adding to my friends.

If there has been borne thither anything new in Greek, load this man with a bundle and me with a favor. Do not fear, Nicholas, that I shall make you a poor return for your kindness to me; but trust me that I shall seek neither recreation nor rest until I shall have repaid the whole debt to the best of my ability. And when I say debt, I do not mean only those coins which I accepted from you as a loan (and, in truth, I consider myself indebted to you for no very trifling sum), but much more for your good will and your exceeding kindness to me, the remembrance of which shall never fade from my memory.

You will be satisfied with this for the present, dear Bensrott; as soon as I know for certain that you are in Paris, I will see to it that some evidence of my labors shall go to you forthwith. I wish that you would see that the letter written to James Tutor may be carried by a safe messenger to Orléans. Farewell. From the Castle of Tournehem, July 17, 1501.

Meanwhile Peter of Courtebourne, a connection of the Baron of that name, had invited Erasmus to pay him a visit at his country residence, an invitation which he accepted with alacrity, since it relieved him for the present of the necessity of making any radical decision as to his future abode. Here he devoted himself once more to his studies with greater vigor than ever; he writes to Edmund, a monk of the Franciscan community at St. Omer, for books, books, and still more books to work on.

To Edmund:

I have buried myself in the country house of the accomplished prince of Courtebourne for these winter months, in order to meditate on sacred literature; and would that I might have your company, my dearest Edmund, with the permission of the Prior. But in this matter, as likewise in others, we must willingly make use of the common proverb: "When you cannot have what you want, you must want what you can have." However, it would be in keeping with your goodness to suggest to Adrian that he oblige me with a few books. Pray, let him send me some on Paul, Augustine, and Ambrose. Let him borrow Origen from the monks of St. Bertin at the same time, and let him go bond for my assured trustworthiness; for he will not be deceived. Besides this, I especially desire, if possible, that The Homilies of Origen, which the Prior possesses, may be sent with them. I should like also to receive the Lyran❜ or anyone else who has written on Paul. A wagon will be sent on Saturday, by which all these things may be brought here. Meanwhile you will see to it that the books are ready at that time. If at any time either Adrian or the Prior will deign to visit me, I will gladly see them whenever they wish. Farewell, my dearest Edmund; I beg you to give this matter your most diligent attention. From the Castle Courtebourne (late in 1501).*

1 Eras. Ep. 158.

Nicholas of Lyra.

Eras. Ep. 165.

It was about this time that he made the intimate acquaintance of John Vitrarius, or Jean Vitrier, as he is sometimes called, who was destined by his life and example to exert a great influence on him. At this time Vitrarius was Warden or Prior of the Franciscan monastery at St. Omer, and had acquired a reputation for strictness of conduct and sanctity of life which was not unattractive to Erasmus, if we may judge by the effect it produced on him. His first impression of Vitrarius was that he was a reserved and frigid character, but he soon found that underneath his ascetic exterior there dwelt a warm heart and a soul full of holy zeal. Like all really good men, he had been misunderstood and misprised, and yet he bore his wrongs in a manner that won the admiration of all men, even of Erasmus himself. But though Erasmus could admire his conduct under adversity, he could never have imitated him. They were the two extremes of strength and weakness; and it was the recognition in Vitrarius of those qualities lacking in himself that attracted him so strongly to this great and noble man. And so he linked his name with that of Colet, and drew for posterity a picture of these two men whose characters, dissimilar as they were, had equally attracted him. His portrayal of Vitrarius, despite the fact that it shows traces of his favorite obsession, the monks, and is in one or two instances extravagant, notably in his depicting Vitrarius as being strangled by eight desperate nuns, gives us nevertheless the outlines of a soul that was truly filled with the apostolic spirit; and one loves to dwell on the spirit of tender love for God and fellow-man that actuated both Colet and Vitrarius, manifesting itself differently in each. Erasmus has made of his sketch a classic, and it is strange that, with the exception of three English translations, it lies buried in the ponderous tomes of the Leyden edition of his works.

Much as the sickness of Batt had disarranged his plans, his purpose to visit Italy by hook or by crook still held firm. In another letter to Tutor (Voecht) he says:

Here are my plans for the future. At times I think of visiting England again, in order to spend a month or two with Colet in studying the higher theology; for I am well aware how profitable it might be for me. But those detestable cliffs, where formerly I suffered shipwreck, still terrify me. I long as much as ever to see Italy; but, as Plautus says, "It is not easy to fly without wings." The pestilence shuts me out of France; the climate suits me in Holland, but I hate her Epicurean meals. Add to this that the men there are a sordid, uncultivated sort, with a strenuous distaste for study, paying no tribute to erudition but that of the deepest envy. And further, all my brethren seem to be tacitly demanding this one thing especially, that I shall return to them accredited with a degree, and be thereby armed as it were against the arrogance of the unlearned. So I have no settled policy up to the present, but will bend my course in that direction where favoring winds may summon me.* • Ibid., 159.