me years ago when I found the book
being privately passed about. I glanced through it (I can hardly be
said to have read it); and I tried vigorously to get it suppressed.
This is the work of the enemies of good learning, to try and fasten
this book upon me.' Finally, to clinch his argument, he asseverates
with audacious ingenuity: 'I have never written a book, and I never
will, to which I will not affix my own name.'

Jortin points out that the only thing which Erasmus specifically
denies is the publication of the _Julius_. As we have seen, an author
of consequence in those days rarely troubled to correct his own
proof-sheets. Erasmus left his _Moria_ behind in Paris for Richard
Croke to see through the press; More committed his _Utopia_ to
Erasmus, who had it printed for him at Louvain; Linacre sent his
translations of Galen to Paris by the hands of Lupset, who supervised
the printing. It is therefore quite probable that Erasmus did not
personally superintend the publication of the _Julius_; but until
students of typography can tell us definitely which is the first
printed edition, and where it was printed, we cannot be certain. But
besides this point of practice born of convenience, there was another
born of modesty. With compositions that were purely literary--poems
and other creations of art and fancy, as opposed to more solid
productions--the convention arose of pretending that the publication
of them was due to the entreaties of friends, or even in some cases
that it had been carried out by ardent admirers without the author's
knowledge. Printing, with its ease of multiplication, had made
publication a far more definite act than it was in the days of
manuscripts. In the prefaces to his early compositions, Erasmus almost
always assumes this guise. More actually wrote to Warham and to
another friend that the _Utopia_ had been printed without his
knowledge. Of course this was not true, but nobody misunderstood him.
Dolet's _Orationes ad Tholosam_ appeared through the hand of a friend,
but with the most transparent figments.

There was, therefore, abundant precedent for denying authorship. But
there is a difference between the light veil of modesty and clouds of
dust raised in apprehension. The publication of the _Julius_ certainly
placed Erasmus in a dilemma; he extricated himself by equivocation,
which barely escapes from direct untruth. It is possible that a public
man of his position at the present day might fin