mind. Stultitia was truly born in the manner of
her serious sister Pallas.

As to form and imagery the _Moria_ is faultless, the product of the
inspired moments of creative impulse. The figure of an orator
confronting her public is sustained to the last in a masterly way. We
see the faces of the auditors light up with glee when Folly appears in
the pulpit; we hear the applause interrupting her words. There is a
wealth of fancy, coupled with so much soberness of line and colour, such
reserve, that the whole presents a perfect instance of that harmony
which is the essence of Renaissance expression. There is no exuberance,
in spite of the multiplicity of matter and thought, but a temperateness,
a smoothness, an airiness and clearness which are as gladdening as they
are relaxing. In order perfectly to realize the artistic perfection of
Erasmus's book we should compare it with Rabelais.

'Without me', says Folly, 'the world cannot exist for a moment. For is
not all that is done at all among mortals, full of folly; is it not
performed by fools and for fools?' 'No society, no cohabitation can be
pleasant or lasting without folly; so much so, that a people could not
stand its prince, nor the master his man, nor the maid her mistress, nor
the tutor his pupil, nor the friend his friend, nor the wife her husband
for a moment longer, if they did not now and then err together, now
flatter each other; now sensibly conniving at things, now smearing
themselves with some honey of folly.' In that sentence the summary of
the _Laus_ is contained. Folly here is worldly wisdom, resignation and
lenient judgement.

He who pulls off the masks in the comedy of life is ejected. What is the
whole life of mortals but a sort of play in which each actor appears on
the boards in his specific mask and acts his part till the stage-manager
calls him off? He acts wrongly who does not adapt himself to existing
conditions, and demands that the game shall be a game no longer. It is
the part of the truly sensible to mix with all people, either conniving
readily at their folly, or affably erring like themselves.

And the necessary driving power of all human action is 'Philautia',
Folly's own sister: self-love. He who does not please himself effects
little. Take away that condiment of life and the word of the orator
cools, the poet is laughed at, the artist perishes with his art.

Folly in the garb of pride, of vanity, of vainglory, is the hidden
spring of