ions, his false modesty. He
points out to him how ill monastic life had suited his constitution, how
it outraged his love of freedom, how detrimental it would be to his
delicate health, if now resumed. Had he, then, lived a worse life in the
world? Literature had kept him from many vices. His restless life could
not redound to his dishonour, though only with diffidence did he dare to
appeal to the examples of Solon, Pythagoras, St. Paul and his favourite
Jerome. Had he not everywhere won recognition from friends and patrons?
He enumerates them: cardinals, archbishops, bishops, Mountjoy, the
Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, and, lastly, John Colet. Was
there, then, any objection to his works: the _Enchiridion_, the
_Adagia_? (He did not mention the _Moria_.) The best was still to
follow: Jerome and the New Testament. The fact that, since his stay in
Italy, he had laid aside the habit of his order and wore a common
clerical dress, he could excuse on a number of grounds.

The conclusion was: I shall not return to Holland. 'I know that I shall
not be able to stand the air and the food there; all eyes will be
directed to me. I shall return to the country, an old and grey man, who
left it as a youth; I shall return a valetudinarian; I shall be exposed
to the contempt even of the lowest, I, who am accustomed to be honoured
even by the greatest.' 'It is not possible', he concludes, 'to speak out
frankly in a letter. I am now going to Basle and thence to Rome,
perhaps, but on my return I shall try to visit you ... I have heard of
the deaths of William, Francis and Andrew (his old Dutch friends).
Remember me to Master Henry and the others who live with you; I am
disposed towards them as befits me. For those old tragedies I ascribe to
my errors, or if you like to my fate. Do not omit to commend me to
Christ in your prayers. If I knew for sure that it would be pleasing to
Him that I should return to live with you, I should prepare for the
journey this very day. Farewell, my former sweetest companion, now my
venerable father.'

Underlying the immediate motives of his high theological aspirations,
this refusal was doubtless actuated by his ancient, inveterate,
psychological incentives of disgust and shame.[13]

* * * * *

Through the southern Netherlands, where he visited several friends and
patrons and renewed his acquaintance with the University of Louvain,
Erasmus turned to the Rhine and rea